He says he gets the beatings almost every day, so when my shift ends, I leave – but intend to only leave for an hour, then make an excuse to return quietly. I even set it up in my office, leaving my keys behind and some scattered documents. I'm going to pull an all-nighter, and I suspect I'll be brain fried, but sometimes you have to do the right thing.
It's chilly outside, so I tuck my hands into my black leather jacket pockets, and watch as my breath unfurls in the air. I don't smoke, though I think sometimes it might provide a nice distraction. I never liked the sensation of smoke filling my lungs and clogging my throat, though I tried when my friends offered me a smoke a long time ago.
I know Bob and Jason are both on duty this night, so I have extra incentive. I'm out of line of sight of the CCTV camera. And I'm ready to go in and confront. It still pisses me off that I'm seeing baton marks on him. He's strong, but not strong enough to resist two protected guards slamming their sticks onto him. They're careful to avoid his face, of course. They don't want to be caught doing the wrong thing. The most vindictive thing though is the deliberate erasure of the footage that indicates them going to his cell.
It's a breach of trust. It shouldn't happen. And it shows intent to bodily harm someone.
I go back inside, determined to catch them. I'm quiet, and I head straight to the security room. The man there, Bradley, gives me a suspicious stare.
“I want to look at wing C,” I tell him. “The footage keeps getting erased here. Someone is beating up the prisoner in the cell.”
“Huh.” Bradley scratches his red beard. “I suppose if footage is being erased, that's true. Not seen anyone go there yet.”
“If you do, make sure to save it as evidence.”
I sit with Bradley for almost a full hour, bored, zoning out, starting to get a little too sleepy, when I see two men pace down wing C. Jason and Bob. I become alert, hungry, watching as they prowl along the corridor, until they stop by Danny's cell.
“This is it,” I say. “I'm going down there now.”
“Alright,” Bradley says, now leaning in intensely to what's probably the most exciting moment for him this night. I walk rapidly to the cell, my heart pounding in rage and adrenaline, determined to sort out this mess. Determined to help. I've been standing around too long now, doing little else, despite my initial gut instincts. I storm into wing C and arrive outside Danny's door. Then, hands shaking, I take my cellphone, which has been set to record, open the slot, and press it. I need every last shred of evidence to make sure I can fire, since law systems have a way of somehow wriggling free the ones who should be incarcerated.
I don't like what I see. Danny is cowering against the wall, and the guards are posturing around him, yelling. He starts crying, and this seems to trigger Jason, who cracks the baton against Danny's back. Danny collapsed to the ground, and there's another smack. Bob laughs, and my heart squeezes in absolute fury. This isn't right. Oh, fucking hell this isn't right. My hand trembles, recording this. I get about a minute of footage, then tuck my cellphone away, and barge in.
“Get the fuck away from him now. Now!” I scream this at them, and they blink, dumbfounded, Jason frozen halfway through squeezing Danny's face, pinching up the skin, and Bob on the verge of tugging down Danny's pants. “Oh, you two are going to be fucking fired for this.” I snarl, and Bob is stupid enough to allow himself to cloud over, and step up to me, his baton raised.
“You're going to hit the head correctional officer?” I snap my fingers, and he seems to blink out of his dumb rage.
“He's scum,” Jason defends, weakly. “He killed those five people and he still acts like it wasn't his fault. He ain't feeling guilty at all.”
Because he isn't, I think, before barking, “That doesn't give you a right to do something like this. There's protocol. You know the protocol, otherwise you wouldn't be deleting the fucking footage, would you?”
Both guards slouch out, with Bob wheedling, “C'mon, man, you know he deserves it, just let us off, we won't do it again, we're good guards.”
“No. Get your things. You're fired. Effective immediately. I'll ring up the head warden myself if I have to.”
“The fuck?” Jason's eyes bulge. “You in love with him or something? He's not worth losing our jobs over!”
“Then you shouldn't have broken protocol,” I hiss. “Fuck off.”
They curse and leave. Danny is still lying on the floor, trembling. I sigh. “I'm sorry, Danny.” I help pick him up, then hug him. “We'll take you to the infirmary. We need to make sure your injuries aren't severe.” I think about the bruises he already had, and how he's going to have so much more. I'm trying so hard not to tremble. He doesn't deserve this, poor man. I kiss his hair and ruffle the back of his head, and he clings to me, sobbing uncontrollably. He's so honest with his emotions. It's almost embarrassing, but something of a relief as well. I wonder if this honesty is what prompted the guards to do so. Because it seems to them as something weak and pathetic.
Then, after clearing my throat, since Danny actually kissed me there, causing all sorts of interesting feelings to start floating through me, I say, “Come on. But first... I'll need to take photos of you.”
He stares at me incredulously after stepping back. I grimace. “I don't know how these guards will react. Sometimes they'll try to come up with some kind of fake story on media, like how they didn't deserve it. I intend to collect evidence to disprove them. I'll need to see your back.”
“O-okay.” Danny obliges, and I snap a picture of his back, but not without feeling sick from doing so. It looks horrific. There’s a mess of red, blood spotted welts over yellow and purple ones. If the guards had kept this up, they might have seriously crippled him. It frustrates me that people think they can be above the law in this instance. They're not. They're just fucking not.
As I help carry him to the infirmary, I set my jaw, determined that I'll look deeper into the matter. Determined to make sure that I'll actively start helping him. If I can exonerate him, then I have to try. Inside the infirmary, nurse Fredrickson looks at me with irritation, shaking his head.
“The way they harm each other in there, they're animals.” He helps to put Danny onto a chair, ready to start cleaning and tending to his injuries, and I correct Fredrickson, telling him it was two guards that did this. He scowls further, and starts muttering something about “People thinking they can get away with anything,” without admitting his bad assumption.
I briefly squeeze Danny's hand when no one is looking, and tell him that it will all be okay. He doesn't have to keep putting up with such issues. Danny gives me a wan smile, though I can tell he's nervous about being perceived as weak. He shouldn't have to be so nervous. It shouldn't matter. And it makes me sad to see it.
I’m sorry, Danny. I'll do my best to help you. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, and see where the investigation goes.
Chapter Three
Jason and Bob are fired. As predicted, they go to the media, and they protest against the unfair allegations, that the prisoner was beaten by his fellow inmates and they got the stick for it.
So, with the permission of the head warden, since obviously we don't want to admit our staff is corrupt, but sometimes it is necessary to, for the good of justice, I release footage of them beating him up, and his photos to the local newspaper, which laps it up like a thirsty dog.
Then, I call my friend, Beatrice Liesemann, and send her over the documents via google docs, and my scribbled suspicions.
She messages me shortly afterwards, stating: I think you're right. There's too many holes in this one. Guess someone wanted a quick arrest. I'll be there in four days. Just need to wrap up another case here. Some man claims he was possessed by a demon and was instructed to kill a woman and her daughter. Needless to say, we don't think that's a good excuse.
I grin. Good old Beatrice. She's in her early fifties, and has more than just a few strands of white hair in her formerly blonde locks, and perhaps a few too many wr
inkles on the corners of her lips and eyes, but that hasn't diminished the raw power she has when it comes to her job. I have sent her interesting cases her way before. She especially loves the unusual ones.
This one isn't so unusual, but she's happy enough to pounce.
We meet together in Light Café precisely five days later, after Danny has recovered, and is no longer accumulating fresh bruises upon his skin. About two weeks after I fired Bob and Jason, and dealt with their propensity towards vindictiveness. Danny still continues to plague my thoughts, and I'm becoming more and more convinced that he's innocent, that we have erred grievously with convicting him, even though no other suspects have appeared. I've rechecked the files again and again, considering the questions we need to ask.
Beatrice wastes no time after obtaining her coffee, which is black, without sugar or milk. Her graying hair is tied back in a severe ponytail, and she wears an elegant business blouse, with a tight fitting gray jacket and gray pants, with low cut heels. She takes her notebook laptop out of her bag and immediately starts pointing out the things that need to be sorted.
“Whoever took over this trial was clearly drunk, incompetent, or both.” Her accent has a faint German lilt to it. Her red nails tap the screen, and she bites her lower, bright red lip. “First off, Danny's prints were found in the house. His were not the only ones, and a remarkable amount of them are likely from the open viewing that the family made, one week before the murder. Second, he cycles to work every day, and is rather distinctive in his uniform, which will make people pay more attention to him. Third, his mother clearly has issues, and in my opinion, is a valid reason to leave work within the day of the murder. He is seen cycling four times past the point, with two of them being within the timeframe of the murder. Once to work. Once back to his mother. A gap there. Then back to work again, and back home when he finishes.”
“Yes,” I say. “Though no one else seems to remember anyone else in that time frame.”
“We need to map out the route, seize the camera that overlooks the street. A shame there isn't one that looks at the house. We need to speak to the pharmacy he went to. But the key thing is his bike. We need to know where his bike was during this time frame.”
“Bike?” Now I'm baffled.
Beatrice gives me a confident smile. “It is rather distinctive, no? A bike, he cycles all around with it. We would see it outside the house, perhaps, or parked nearby. Or perhaps we find cameras near his house, see if he took the bike inside or parked it. The bike will be a stronger alibi than his mother.”
“You really believe he's innocent, don't you?” I say, amazed.
“Don't you?” She continues looking through her bullet points, wondering if she's missed anything. “He does not look like type. Perhaps I am wrong, but there is something missing here. A crime of passion, perhaps. Passion suggests knowing the people personally.”
“But it's a ruthless, cold blooded murder!” I state.
“Not cold blooded, I should think. The two who have been desecrated the worst are the husband and wife. The rest, they are more afterthoughts. People who might have told of what happened. There is no sign of forced entry. Yes... fascinating how this suspicious evidence gets buried, no?” Beatrice's mouth puckers, trapping her thoughts.
Seeing her supreme confidence makes me feel more confident in return, that Danny is indeed innocent.
I pass the news to Danny, and he's allowed to meet Beatrice, and agrees to pay for her, since it looks like his mother is unwilling to do anything with the money his grandmother left him. She can barely get out of bed at times. It's a sad tale to be sure. And I hope that there will be a light at the end of the tunnel.
The meetings, in which I'm the officer present for each one, with my excuse being that Danny seems to trust me over the others, so I'll be there if he needs it, go productively. Beatrice's manner helps galvanize Danny, and inject hope into his formerly defensive features.
We obtain direct evidence from the pharmacy that he did indeed visit them on that day, within the timeframe. We check the CCTV camera of the street the house was located in. It doesn't show the house, unfortunately, but does have him cycling past in that timeframe. It also shows him cycling past every day, because he travels like this to work. It makes sense for people to identify him, because he works in a high-quality restaurant, cycles when most people drive cars, and wears his work uniform.
The pharmacy is good evidence, but it still gives him a timeframe to kill. The previous frame was one hour and a half. With the pharmacy, it's reduced to one hour, but that's still enough time to commit the murders. We need something a little more solid.
One time, when I visit Danny in his cell room, his face lights up, and he springs over to me, all smiles, gleaming green eyes and perfect muscles, wrapping himself in my embrace. It hurts my heart to see him so open like that, and although I also want to bend him over and fuck him – now that his case is officially underway, I can't risk compromising the investigation by fraternizing with him.
“How are you keeping, Danny?” I give him a quick kiss on the lips, hold his hand.
“Better. So much better! Beatrice, she really knows what she's doing, doesn't she?” He grins, excited, clearly drunk on the idea he might be free. There's a horrible, sneaking doubt in my brain that even after all this, we might find Danny guilty after all. I hope to hell that we don't.
“I have to tell you something,” I say, when his hand dips down to my pant line, and he starts massaging my dick. “We shouldn't be doing this any longer.” I sigh with regret as I say it, and Danny's eyes fog over in momentary confusion.
“What? Why?”
I hold him by the arms gently, hoping he can see the sincerity in my eyes. “I don't want to risk your case by having you be found out at any point that I'm... affectionate over you. They may turn it against you, accuse me of tampering evidence, find a way to throw the case out the window. I have... enjoyed what I had with you. But I absolutely can't risk you losing the chance for freedom. Do you understand?” It breaks my heart, it really does, but I know it's the right thing to do. I've already done something wrong. I already took him, stared at his bruised back, heard him grunt as I thrust into him. Something I'm not supposed to do as a responsible correctional officer.
His eyes seem to frost over slightly, but he nods. “I see. I understand.” He still leaves a lingering hand with mine, and I kiss it.
“Seriously, though. I spent all my life not being so interested in relationships. All this time – and then you have to go and get yourself thrown in jail and subsequently steal the breath out of my lungs.” I raise an eyebrow at him and grin.
His expression lightens. “Funny old world, isn't it?”
“Fucking hilarious,” I mutter. “I don't even think I'm gay, you know. I just seem to like you... specifically. I tried testing myself out you know, jerking off to some gay porn. Just didn't do it for me.”
“Hah.” Danny gives off a wry smile. “Well, I'm not sure if I am, either. I sure seemed to feel like it around you.” His green eyes crinkle as they stare into my brown ones. “It is confusing, though. Why bother believing me so intently? No one else does. And those guards... they got tired of me crying.”
This isn't something I can answer, honestly. I try, anyway, though the words are difficult. “I don't know. I saw something in you. You caught my attention from the start. And I guess I wanted to keep going and see where it led. Though a lot of the time I was just convincing myself that I was being stupid, that you were a criminal, and it was just my wishful thinking that you were innocent. Got harder over time.” I pick at my teeth, awkward, whilst Danny absorbs what I've said.
“I understand. I suppose if I were a guard, I wouldn't get it either.”
I sigh, this time in relief. I'm glad he's not angry at me. “Anyway, I better leave now, before people get suspicious. Keep yourself strong. And try not to act intimate, because I don't want to risk your freedom at all.”
It's hard
departing from him. It's hard knowing that the brief attraction I've felt for him can't be continued, because it's more than what his freedom and my job is worth.
Somehow, I need to push him out of mind in that way, and let Beatrice do her job.
Chapter Four – Six Months Later
Beatrice built up a strong case, but I don't know what happens today in the courtroom. Danny's already has his belongings cleared out, and documents sorted, pending an instant release, but we still don't know what the final result is going to be.
I won't know, and it's not being broadcast, so I won't know when the trial is over, though it will be done by the evening. I'm nervous the whole time, though. It's nice to see that Danny's cell is empty, though I'm anxious all the same that he'll have to return. A life sentence is a grim thing for a social life, even if he eventually makes it into section A and has better jobs within the prison and more interaction with others.
To Love A Hitman Page 4
