Tortured Teardrops (Tamara's Teardrops Book 3)

by P. D. Workman

  “You think she wants to take this to trial?”

  “Probably.”

  “Why? Why would she want that?”

  Tamara looked down at her feet, considering. “Maybe she wants the attention. I don’t know. She wants people to look at her and know what she did. She wants to get out of prison on a day trip. How do I know?”

  “Do you think maybe she wants to throw some of the blame back on you? Say that it was all your idea? Maybe that you wimped out in the end, but it was all your plan.”

  Tamara lifted her hands in a helpless shrug. “I don’t know what’s in her head.”

  “Put yourself in her head. You said you shared a cell for two years. You must have gotten some insight into her thought processes.”

  “Yeah… enough to know that her brain isn’t somewhere I want to be.”

  16

  TAMARA HAD A couple more visits with her lawyer over the ensuing weeks, occasional blips in the otherwise mind-numbing routine of juvie. Tamara knew that she should be happy that things weren’t interesting or exciting. She’d had enough excitement, she didn’t need any more. Lewis and the Sharks seemed to have forgotten about her, letting her fade back into the woodwork. Though things weren’t quite the same as they had been; Tamara had been quiet and unobtrusive before, which had made her easy to ignore. That had changed.

  Tamara was sitting in math class when she heard it.

  At first it seemed quiet and far away, like a squeak in the ventilation. Something that was just at the edge of her ability to hear. She looked around covertly at the others, seeing if anyone gave any sign of having heard it as well.

  Everyone sat casually, bored attitudes, slumped to one side or leaning on an elbow, head thrown back in algebra overload or nodding to their chests. No one seemed the least bit interested in the lesson or the noise.

  Tamara cocked her head, listening for it, trying to catch it again.

  It seemed a little closer. A little more clear. A bird call or a small animal. But there were no outside windows in the room. No way they could hear anything from the outside. Unlikely there would be any kind of animal on the inside. Not even rats.

  Tamara tried to tune it out and focus on the lesson. The teacher had noticed her distraction and was trying to catch her eye. Tamara stared at the board and tried to work out the next step to solve the problem.

  It was closer. Clearer still. Not an animal. A voice.

  Quavering high notes. A throbbing sob. More wails, followed by chugs. Tamara looked around her.

  “What is that?”

  Girls’ heads snapped up. They looked at Tamara.

  “What?”

  Eyes grew wider and heads cocked as others tried to identify what Tamara was talking about. But it wasn’t hard to hear. They shouldn’t have had to strain to hear it or question what it was Tamara was talking about. It was as clear as a bell.

  “That. That crying. Is it a baby?” Tamara looked around at the faces, all turned in her direction. They all seemed baffled. Tamara listened. It was. It was a baby. But who would bring a baby to juvie? It wasn’t even visiting day. Some of the girls were pregnant; it was a fact of life, a foregone conclusion that some of the girls would, like Tamara, enter juvie pregnant. They were allowed the option of carrying a pregnancy to term if they really wanted to, though few did. What was the point when the baby would just be apprehended when it was born, given to some foster family DFS chose at random? Who would want to go through all of the trouble and risk of a pregnancy, just to have a baby in juvie and give it away?

  Some of the girls figured they’d be able to get their babies back once they got out, if they only had a short time before release. Someone with a sentence like Tamara’s would be crazy to think they could carry a baby to term and have a chance of parenting it someday.

  But there was a baby. Tamara could hear it.

  Maybe one of the girls who had been pregnant had delivered. It could happen unexpectedly. Too early or too fast to get a girl to hospital in time. Tamara couldn’t think of anyone in the unit who was that close, but that didn’t mean anything. Some girls hid their pregnancies well, and it was a possibility that someone who hadn’t even been identified as being pregnant had made it to delivery without being discovered.

  “A baby?” echoed Perez, eyeing Tamara. “What are you talking about? There’s no baby.”

  “Are you deaf?” Tamara challenged. “I can hear it as clear as day. You don’t hear anything?”

  “No.”

  Tamara frowned at her, wondering if Perez were trying to gaslight her or just being funny. Perez didn’t crack a grin. If she were baiting Tamara, she was a pro. There were no tells. No facial expression indicating she was lying.

  One of the other girls swore. “You’re flippin’ crazy, French. There’s no baby here. No one is crying.”

  Tamara looked around at their faces, trying to find a crack in their armor. They couldn’t all pull it off. One of them would look away. One would be unable to hide a smile.

  For a minute, it was quiet. The crying ceased and Tamara could hear nothing but restless feet under desks, papers shuffling, whispered comments.

  “It… I guess it stopped,” Tamara said, her face getting warm. She hadn’t been making it up. It had been there.

  The other students turned away from her, the teacher resuming the interrupted lesson. A few seconds went by and then the crying started again.

  “There it is!” Tamara exclaimed. “You can hear that, can’t you?”

  She wasn’t talking to anyone in particular, but she desperately wanted someone else to agree that yes, they heard a baby crying too. But they all just looked at her.

  “Do you want to be excused, French?”

  Mrs. Hawkins was one of the older teachers. Crusty, but fair, and a good teacher. Good at explaining concepts to girls at all different levels and with all sorts of challenges. She was the kind of teacher who could actually tell them when they were going to need to know a particular skill in their lives. Going grocery shopping. Balancing a check book. Budgeting. Maybe going to college to upgrade their skills and have a chance at a better life and a bigger paycheck.

  Did she think that Tamara was just looking for an excuse to get out of class? Tamara didn’t need an excuse. She’d been there long enough to know that all she had to do if she didn’t want to stay was to walk out. She could go back to her bunk if she wanted to. She could put her head under her pillow and see and hear nothing and pretend that math class didn’t even exist.

  “You can hear that, can’t you?”

  Mrs. Hawkins raised her brows, cocked her head to the side and appeared to be paying attention.

  “No. I’m sorry. Old ears. Listened to too much heavy metal.” Mrs. Hawkins gave a little laugh and waited for everyone else to do the same.

  Tamara swore and slammed her hand down hard on the top of her desk. “This isn’t funny! Don’t laugh at me! I can hear it. You can all hear it. Quit messing around with me!”

  The good-humored smile on Mrs. Hawkins’ face disappeared. “No, Miss French. I’m not making fun of you. Maybe… maybe your ears are ringing. You have a cold? Coming down with the flu?”

  Tamara shook her head impatiently. She knew the difference between ringing ears and a baby crying. It was closer now. She knew it had to be very close by. She stood up. She inadvertently knocked several books to the floor, but she didn’t try to retrieve them. She just headed for the door. It was ridiculous for them to keep telling her they couldn’t hear something that was so plain. Tamara didn’t understand the point.

  She pulled open the classroom door and looked around, expecting to see the baby in the hallway. Someone would be holding it. A guard who had been unable to find child care for their sick baby before coming to work. A couple of paramedics with a gurney, taking out an inmate who had just delivered a premature baby. Somebody playing a sound effect from a digital recorder.

  But the hallway was nearly empty. Tamara looked at the guard she had
startled by opening the door. He looked at her as she looked up and down the silent, still hallway. “Something wrong, French?”

  “Shut up,” Tamara snapped. She looked back and forth. Which way had the baby gone? Around the corner one way or the other. There were only two possibilities. She moved to the right. Chances were, she’d run right into them. If the baby started crying and it was coming from the other direction, Tamara could reverse direction and find it.

  As she moved, the guard shadowed her. Tamara wanted to tell him to get lost, but she was too busy trying to find the baby to spend any time arguing with him. She had to prove to herself that there was a baby. She hadn’t just been hearing things. Who knew why the class had been trying to fool her? She’d sort that out later.

  Tamara rounded the corner at the end of the hall and again faced an empty hall.

  “Where did they go?” she demanded. Not that there was anyone to ask but the guard trailing behind her. Tamara hurried on. They had to be close by. She hesitated about which direction to go, and then heard it again. A chugging sob. Close by. Very close by. She went to the end of the hall and looked around. Nothing.

  Nothing and no one.

  Were they broadcasting it on the speakers? Through the PA system? Maybe it was some kind of feedback loop? Or were they running an experiment, seeing if they could actually drive her crazy, or at least make her think that she was?

  “Stop it!” she shouted. “Just cut it out!”

  Silence. And then the low throb of a baby’s cry. Farther away. They were trying to take it away. Erase the evidence. Make everyone think that Tamara had just been hearing things.

  There was a hand on her arm. Grabbing her and pulling her back. Tamara threw back an elbow into her attacker and whirled around to face him. One of the guards. His hands still reached out, threatening.

  “Just chill, French. You want to tell me what this is all about? What’s going on?”

  “You know what is going on,” Tamara accused. “You know as well as anyone here what is going on. Whatever this is, it isn’t going to work. You hear me?” Tamara looked up and yelled at the surveillance cameras. “You hear me?”

  “I’m not sure what’s bothering you, but I think you need to take a deep breath and relax.” The guard took a deep breath himself to demonstrate. “Just a nice, deep breath. Can you do that?”

  “Go to hell!” She didn’t need anyone giving her relaxation exercises. She wasn’t cracking up. She was the only sane one there. She took a step toward him, and he took a step back, keeping a cushion of space in between them, even though he had been the one pursuing Tamara.

  “It’s okay. Just take it easy. Why don’t you fill me it? Tell me what it is that has upset you.”

  “Like you don’t already know?” She swore at him. “Get out of here. Just leave me alone.”

  She was allowed to walk around without an escort. She wasn’t on any restrictions.

  “I can’t leave you alone when you’re so agitated.”

  “I’m not agitated. I’m going for a walk. Back to my bunk. So just leave me be and I’ll get there just fine.”

  He stood there, not arguing with her, but Tamara knew very well that as soon as she started walking again, he was going to be with her. She looked down the hallway, listening for the sound of the baby. Had they taken the baby away? Had it ever been in the hallway, or just in the PA system? Or transmitted directly to her brain? She was sure they had the technology. It wouldn’t be so hard to do.

  “What are you looking for?” the guard prompted.

  “I want to know how they did that. Made me hear that when no one else could. Was it a trick?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe we should go see someone, find out.”

  “Go see who? No one is going to admit it.”

  “But maybe we should get you checked out. Just make sure everything is okay.”

  “Where, the infirmary? There’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “I’m not saying there is,” he soothed. “I just think it would be better at this point if we checked in, made sure there was nothing to be concerned about.”

  “Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “No. I just think you’re confused. You’re acting confused.”

  Then the baby started crying again. Tamara’s head went up as if she’d received an electric shock. It was close. Very close. She glanced at the nearest speaker, just to make sure the noise wasn’t coming out of the system, and then dashed down the hall, determined this time to be fast enough to catch them and prove what was going on.

  “I hear you! I know you’re there!”

  But it wasn’t in the next hall, or the next, and Tamara’s legs were starting to shake like she’d run a marathon instead of a few hallways. What kind of shape was she going to be in at the end of ten years, if after three she couldn’t even run down a couple of corridors?

  Tamara stopped, bracing herself with a hand on the wall. She took a few long breaths.

  “It was here,” she told the guard who approached her. “I swear, it was.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  “It’s not the flu. I don’t have a fever.” Tamara felt her own forehead. That never worked.

  “We should probably check, just to be sure,” the guard suggested. “The doc, he’s got one of those electronic ear-temperature testers. It’s so quick…”

  “I don’t want to go to the doctor,” Tamara groaned. “I’m not sick.”

  “It will only take a few minutes and then you can go back to your bunk.”

  Tamara started walking with him. The halls seemed long, like marching in a desert. Maybe she was coming down with something. Maybe she did have a temperature. It was possible.

  “I was just fooling around,” she told the guard. “I didn’t really hear anything. I was just joking.”

  “Okay.”

  They walked a little farther. “What was it that you didn’t hear?”

  “A baby. I heard—I didn’t hear—a baby crying. It wasn’t. I just made it up. Having a little fun with you.”

  “Funny girl.”

  “It doesn’t mean anything. It was just a silly thing. A whim. A dare.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why would there be a baby here?” Tamara gave a little laugh. “There’s no babies around here. If I was going to hear something, it should at least be something that I could actually have heard. Something that made sense.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Everybody else does logical, why follow the crowd?”

  Tamara turned her head to look at him. He was familiar to her, but she couldn’t match a name to the face. The turnover of guards at juvie was getting worse and worse. It seemed like there were new faces every week. The old ones went on to do something else, and new ones were brought in. It must have been hell trying to train them all. Constantly trying to teach the policies and procedures to brand new faces.

  “You’re okay?” he asked.

  Tamara nodded. She looked at his name bar. Durham. She thought she had seen that name before. The name and the face; he must not have been brand new. She’d seen him and talked to him before.

  Tamara shook her head. She turned a corner to head back to her room.

  “This way,” Durham corrected, motioning.

  Tamara looked at the direction he motioned. “Uh… no. My room is this way.”

  “We’re going to stop at the infirmary first. Remember?”

  “No. I’m just going to my bunk.”

  “French. It will only take a few minutes. Just long enough to make sure everything is hunky-dory.”

  “I’ve had enough of doctors.”

  “Since when? Have you been seeing a lot of doctors lately?” he challenged, a grin on his face and teasing note in his voice.

  “I’ve… no, I just want to… I don’t want to see Dr. Sutherland. I just want to go read a book.”

  “Not Dr. Sutherland,” he coaxed. “Just a quick visit with Dr. Eastport. He’ll want to see you.”

&nb
sp; Tamara hesitated. He put his hand on her arm. For the moment, she was free of handcuffs, but if she fought him, if she pushed it too hard, he would stop being so patient and chain her. She didn’t really have the choice whether to go to the infirmary or not. He acted like she had the choice, but she recognized that she really didn’t. She had only one choice, whether to go on her own, or whether to be forced.

  “I’m just fine,” she insisted. “He’ll tell you.”

  “I’m sure he will,” Durham agreed. “Let’s just go see.”

  “It was a joke,” Tamara repeated, looking up at the ceiling steadily. “I was just messing around with everyone.”

  Dr. Sutherland had been informed of Tamara’s latest episode, and was trying to cajole the truth out of her and to persuade her that it was time to cooperate with him to get some proper testing done.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “It was the middle of algebra,” Tamara informed him. “It was boring!”

  “It was boring. So you thought, ‘let’s stir things up a little by pretending to hear a baby crying.’”

  “Exactly. And it worked! No more boring algebra.”

  “Tamara…”

  “I’m fine. F-I-N-E. Fine.” She was being deliberately obnoxious. If she riled Dr. Sutherland up enough, maybe he would give up. He would call the guard back in to take her away, making a point of not giving her a candy at the end of the session, and she could go back to normal. Whatever normal was. Whatever it had become.

  So she stared up at the ceiling and swung her feet over the arm of the chair, kicking.

  “I don’t think you’re telling me the truth. I don’t think you’re okay at all, and I believe you know it. I’ve been getting a lot of reports and concerns about you since you returned here a few months ago, Tamara. You know that. I want you to trust me. Have I ever done anything to make you think you can’t trust me?”

  Yup.

  Tamara nearly answered him aloud, the word coming to her lips. She clamped down her teeth and pressed her finger over her lips to make sure they stayed shut.

  Did he really think that she would trust him? She knew that he lied to her. He didn’t care what the truth was, just that she and the other inmates stayed quiet and didn’t cause the administration any trouble.