Tortured Teardrops (Tamara's Teardrops Book 3)

by P. D. Workman

  “Maybe talk to a guard. Let them know what’s going on. You can’t just fly into a fight every time someone looks at you sideways.”

  “I’m not! But I’m sure as hell not going to wait until someone’s got me pinned down before I fight back.”

  Silence drew out between them.

  “Why do you think you’re experiencing so much more opposition right now?” Sutherland asked finally. “Has that changed? Or has your reaction toward it changed?”

  “You’re acting like it’s my fault,” Tamara said sullenly.

  “I’m inviting you to examine your own reactions. Is this something that has changed externally or internally? Are you being targeted or are you reacting differently?”

  Tamara folded her arms across her chest. Things were not going as she had expected. Knowing how Dr. Sutherland felt about putting juveniles in isolation, she had assumed that it would be no challenge to persuade him to overrule the guards and order that her restrictions be lifted. But he wasn’t acting like an ally. Instead of seeing she was in an untenable situation and needed to be let out of her cell, he was accusing her of being the problem. When all she had ever done was defend herself against others.

  For the first time, she saw Dr. Sutherland as an enemy. Not just someone she had to meet with occasionally to prove her mental health. Not just an inconvenience. All this time, he had been her enemy and she hadn’t even seen it. She stood up.

  “Guess I’ll go back to my cell, then.”

  Sutherland leaned back in his chair, eyebrows up. “I think we still have some more work to do here, Tamara. We’re just starting to investigate what the problem might be.”

  “I see what the problem is.” Tamara’s face twisted into a sneer even though she tried to keep is smooth and impassive. It was no wonder the other girls were behaving toward her like they were, if Sutherland was feeding them his lies. He had been poisoning them against her.

  “Are you sure you’re ready to go?” Dr. Sutherland glanced in the direction of his desk drawer, where he kept the sweet treats that were a reward for finishing a session with him. He obviously intended to withhold her reward, since she was leaving of her own accord instead of waiting until he said they were done.

  She wanted to grab the edge of his desk the same way she had grabbed the table in the canteen, and flip it right into his lap. That would show him. He’d see that she wasn’t a little girl who could be pushed around and manipulated. She’d had men lie to her and manipulate her before. She wasn’t going to fall for it again.

  But the desk was big and solid, not a cheapie little particle board thing. It probably weighed two hundred pounds. She would cut a ridiculous figure trying to grasp the edge and flip it like the light canteen tables. Instead, she just stood like a statue, arms folded across her chest, waiting for him to release her.

  “I am sorry you are having such difficulty, Tamara,” Dr. Sutherland said in a soft, persuasive voice. “I wish that you would stay and work it out with me. I think we could make some progress on getting to the bottom of these issues and helping you to find another way to deal with your problems. But if you’re not willing to…”

  “You’re not helping me. That’s obvious.”

  “I would like to help, if you would let me in.”

  Tamara shook her head.

  Dr. Sutherland made a motion and the door opened behind Tamara. She turned and walked out with the guard, seething, to return to her room.

  4

  TWO DAYS IN her cell was more than enough for Tamara. She was up and waiting for the reveille bell again the next day. A junior guard who was patrolling the hall when she opened her door shadowed her. Tamara glared at him, irked by having someone in her space. He didn’t pull back. Tamara didn’t know the names of all of the new guards. Turnover was high and she only paid attention to the names of the guards who stayed there more than just a few weeks or months. She looked at his name bar.

  “Back off, Calver.”

  At first, it looked like he was just going to pretend he hadn’t heard her, but then he gave a little shrug and spoke. “I’ve been given my orders.”

  “To dog me?”

  “To keep an eye on you, yes. Make sure that you’re not harassed.”

  Tamara narrowed her eyes at him. She had her suspicions that he was not following her to make sure she wasn’t harassed, but to make sure she didn’t get herself into any more trouble. But there was no way to prove it one way or the other.

  “Give me some space,” she snapped. “I don’t need you right on my heels. I got personal space, you know?”

  He slowed, letting her get a little farther ahead of him. A knot tightened in Tamara’s gut. The anxiety that had been building in her during her two days in her cell was not getting any looser with a guard on her heels. They might be able to prevent her from being bothered for a day or two, but once they backed off the personal guard assignment, she was going to be an even bigger target than she had been before. The other girls were not going to appreciate the staff showing special attention to Tamara by assigning her personal security.

  She was lucid enough not to go to the library or yard before showers and the canteen again. She focused on keeping the schedule fixed in her mind so that she wouldn’t do anything stupid. She went to the showers and glared at Calver again when he followed her in and stood by to watch her strip and shower.

  “You mind?”

  He shrugged and didn’t leave or turn away. The little brown-noser had been given his instructions and he wasn’t going to deviate one inch. Tamara was going to have his eyes on her all day. She couldn’t assert that she wasn’t going to start any trouble or be targeted in the showers, because that was just what had happened before.

  Tamara turned her back to him to strip down and kept it to him as she stepped into the shower. She could have skipped her shower for one day, but then the staff would be flagging the change in behavior and wanting to know what was wrong with her.

  There were whispers from the other girls as they observed that Tamara had a guard on her. She had an even quicker shower than usual, barely skimming the soap over her limbs and body. She stepped back out of the shower to grab a towel and dress.

  There had not been a lot of girls in the shower, since she had been ready when the reveille bell had rung, but the canteen was another story. Everyone was either already there or would be once they finished dressing. After grabbing a piece of toast and juice, Tamara chose a seat away from anyone else and away from the tables where the gangs typically sat. She stared down at her tray, her jaw clenched, as everyone stared at her.

  Lewis and the rest of the Sharks were out of segregation, as Tamara had expected. Lewis went out of her way to walk by Tamara, eyeing her and nodding. The rest of the Sharks followed suit, winding around the tables so that each one of them could walk past Tamara and glare at her. Tamara wasn’t sure who it was, but one of them whispered to her as they filed by, and the others snickered.

  Tamara turned her head to look at Calver and see if he had heard, but his eyes were elsewhere. He had one job and he’d already fouled it up, failing to hear the threat. Tamara banged the leg of the table she was sitting at, which drew Calver’s attention back to her. He raised his eyebrow, wanting to know what was up. Tamara glanced to the side, at the Sharks who had just passed her. He studied them for a few moments, but they didn’t appear to be a threat, so he shrugged it off and continued to watch elsewhere in the canteen.

  Tamara coughed and again indicated the Sharks with her eyes, but he still didn’t see any reason to be concerned. Tamara looked around for one of the more senior guards, someone who knew the political structure of the inmates and would know to keep an eye on the Sharks, but she couldn’t catch anyone’s eye. They all knew that Calver was supposed to be assigned to Tamara. Tamara put down what remained of her toast and sat back, watching and waiting for the end-of-meal bell.

  By free time, it was obvious that Calver was already bored with his job. He yawned sever
al times and whenever Tamara looked at him to see what he was doing, he was gazing off in the other direction, paying no attention to her. He was checking back in on her every few minutes, but he didn’t see any threats and she wasn’t starting any fights, so he didn’t see any reason for concern.

  Tamara walked toward the yard with him trailing several steps behind. She made an effort to keep her head up and be alert for any threats. She knew better than to stare at her shoes and just curl up within herself. She had to be tough and vigilant.

  In the yard, she found her own space, away from the gangs, milling around the other independents, even though she wasn’t friendly with any of them. Just because they weren’t in the gangs, that didn’t make them close. They didn’t share or watch each other’s backs. Tamara picked up a cigarette butt that someone else had left behind and walked over to Millican to have him light it for her. His brows drew down.

  “Why not have Calver light it? He looks like he needs something to do.”

  “He’s useless. He thinks this is all a game. That nothing is going to happen.”

  Millican took a slow look around the yard before returning his gaze to Tamara. “All quiet right now. You see or hear something?”

  “The Sharks. They want me for dissing their boss. You think Lewis is just going to let that go?”

  Millican glanced at Lewis, but didn’t keep his gaze locked on her, didn’t make it obvious that he was evaluating her. His eyes flicked back and forth to the other Sharks, the higher-ranking members.

  “I’m not saying you’re wrong,” his words were carefully considered, “but I don’t see anything. So Calver isn’t derelict…”

  “So maybe they don’t do anything today. Maybe they wait for another day or two, until everyone lets down their guard.” Tamara took a deep drag on the cigarette, knowing it wasn’t going to satisfy her craving. Her heart was racing, but it wasn’t because of the nicotine. “That doesn’t mean the threat isn’t real.”

  He gave a conciliatory shrug. “We can’t read what’s on anyone’s mind here. We can’t tell what they’re thinking or planning.”

  “Yeah. Exactly.”

  Calver realized that his protectee was talking to another guard and drifted over, his jaw clenched. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  “Just doing a threat assessment,” Millican advised. “Tell me what you see.”

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “Really?” Tamara challenged. “Nothing?”

  “Take it easy,” Millican told her, before turning his attention back to Calver. “Come on. What do you see?”

  Calver looked over the yard, teeth still clenched. Tamara didn’t like the look in his eye. She moved away slightly, just an infinitesimal readjustment, orienting her body away from his.

  “I see inmates in the yard,” Calver announced. “No special threats. The same as always.”

  “Go on.”

  “With what? Who’s here?” Calver was impatient. “Sharks, TMJ, other kids.”

  Millican raised his brows.

  “Okay, yeah, French too,” Calver said impatiently. “And you and me and two other guards.”

  “Threats?”

  “One of the inmates could be armed. A shiv or some other homemade weapon. Or they could just use their bodies. Hands and feet. Several attack at once, overwhelm her.”

  Millican nodded. “Anything else?”

  “No one is going to get over the fence. French isn’t going to go after anyone, are you?” he sneered at Tamara.

  “What’s happened lately? What’s likely?”

  “Fight in the canteen. Fight in the showers. What of it? Neither one was in the yard.”

  “Who? You have to think about what happened.”

  Tamara reached the end of the cigarette and dropped it to the pavement, stepping on it and grinding it out. Both guards watched her, waiting. Tamara stared back at Calver.

  “You don’t think there’s any real threat?”

  “No. I don’t see anything to be concerned about.”

  “You always need to be concerned in the yard,” Millican warned. “If there’s going to be a problem, this is one of the places it’s likely to break out. Lots of people in a small place. Not much to do. Wanting to burn off some energy.” He looked back toward the building. “Only one way in and out, that means it’s a bottleneck if something happens. Harder to get more guards in and the inmates out efficiently. Tempers boil over out here. Someone steps on someone’s toes. Nudges someone. Decides to do something when it’s harder for us to see.”

  Millican and Calver scanned the inmates again. Calver not so casual about it anymore.

  “The fight in the canteen was with the Sharks,” Millican said.

  “And the one in the shower was with a TMJ,” Calver said. He shrugged. “So what? What does that tell you?”

  “It tells me the Sharks are the bigger threat.”

  Calver frowned. “Why?”

  Millican raised his eyebrows. “Why? One girl versus a large portion of the gang. Fighting the leader of the gang where everyone else can see. Dissing her by dumping her breakfast in her lap and putting her on the ground. What do you think?”

  “Oh.” Calver cleared his throat. “Sure.”

  “They threatened me,” Tamara tried to speak quietly and without moving her lips. So that no one nearby could see or hear her talking. She didn’t look at the Sharks.

  “What did they say?” Millican asked.

  “I was right with her all morning,” Calver protested. “There was nothing said. I can guarantee that.”

  Tamara’s temper flared. “You haven’t been paying any attention! How would you know?”

  “Maybe I should just slam you back in your cell.”

  “What the—”

  Millican nudged Tamara. Not a poke with his baton or anything threatening, just getting her attention.

  “Now you’re losing it,” he warned. “You’re not paying any attention to the threats. You’re just focused on Calver.”

  Tamara realized instantly it was true and cut her tirade short. She looked quickly around the yard, checking for anyone who had moved or who was paying attention to her and the guards. Several girls looked quickly away. Tamara swore.

  “Maybe you should go somewhere else,” Calver suggested. “This doesn’t seem like a bright place for you to be right now.”

  Tamara shook her head. She knew that running away would be the worst thing she could do. Glock had trained her mercilessly. If Tamara wanted to have a good rep, she needed to be there, right in the thick of things. She had to confront it straight on, or she would be deemed a coward and they would not leave her alone. Glock would have told her to watch for the first girl to look her in the eye and then smash her teeth in. That was how to get a rep in juvie.

  But then, Glock wouldn’t have had a personal guard standing there to make sure she didn’t get in any trouble, either.

  Tamara had to be content with watching for anyone to meet her eyes, and giving them a stare that left no doubt that she was coming after them when she was no longer being so closely guarded. A few Sharks looked in her direction, and quickly looked away from her angry glare. They started to talk among themselves, jostling each other and throwing only fleeting, tentative glances in Tamara’s direction.

  “What did they say to you?” Millican asked.

  Tamara didn’t look at him. She barely moved her lips and didn’t speak above the buzz of the yard.

  “Blood in the water.”

  5

  TAMARA MADE IT through the day. The next day was visitor day, which meant there was no yard time or other free time when they were allowed to hang out in the common areas or the library or participate in the crafts room. Instead, nearly all of the guards on duty were needed in the visitor rooms and inmates could choose between staying in their rooms or going to classes. Unless, of course, they had a visitor. Since Tamara had never had a visitor, that had never been an option.

  She stay
ed in her room. The door was open so it wouldn’t feel so claustrophobic. Inmates were allowed to leave their rooms only to communicate with their assigned unit guards. If, like a two-year-old repeatedly getting up to ask for a glass of water, an inmate took advantage of this liberty, she would be returned to their cell with the door locked, punishing both the offender and the offender’s cell mate. So cellies tended to monitor each other to make sure they didn’t both end up getting locked up.

  Tamara was still on her own, so she didn’t have to worry about a chatterbox cellie getting both of their privileges revoked.

  She was startled when a shadow fell across her doorway. She tensed instantly, preparing for an attack. But it wasn’t one of the Sharks. It was Kirk.

  “French, you’ve got a visitor.”

  Tamara just stared at him. She ran the words back in her brain and replayed them. She was sure it couldn’t be true. She didn’t get visitors. Who would want to visit her? She didn’t have a soul in the world.

  Was she hallucinating like she had when she was with the Bakers? She was sure that Kirk must have said something different, so she didn’t respond, waiting for some indication of what he had really said.

  When she had been on the outside after Vernon let her go, after she had taken Amy and was trying to avoid capture, she’d had visual hallucinations. At one point, when she had been yelling at Mr. Baker, telling him that he could never get Amy back again, trying to avoid his grip, he had vanished, leaving her alone in the middle of a busy intersection, holding the baby and screaming at bewildered motorists.

  She had told herself then that she was just short on sleep. That happened when a person didn’t get the sleep their brain needed. They went crazy. But her feeling of being on the edge of reality didn’t go away when she got back into a normal sleep schedule at juvie. It eased a bit, but she could still feel herself on the verge of the precipice, about to take the plunge.

  Kirk stood there, looking at her expectantly. Tamara looked back at him, waiting for him to start melting at the edges or fading away into static like a TV with bad reception. Eyebrows up, he raised his hands in a questioning shrug.