by Diane Capri
She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. She’d have one chance today, and she couldn’t be late. When she passed Santa Irene, the Mustang’s big engine growled as she gunned it on the empty road toward the prison. Cars slowed as they saw the Mustang approach to give her plenty of time to pass them.
She reached her destination with only minutes to spare.
The prison’s outer gate was a simple affair. A tall chain link fence and an entrance that looked like two flimsy sections of fence bolted together and set on wheels.
Jess thought the arrangement absurd considering the worst felons in the state were housed here. Until she realized the designers hadn’t expected an escaped convict to reach the perimeter. As far as she knew, none of them ever had.
The first guard at the outer gate collected Jess’s ID and called to check with another in a control room somewhere inside the giant prison. He must have received a thumbs up. He handed the ID back and rattled off directions like the fine print in a radio ad for pharmaceuticals.
The first part of the route was a straight gravel road that the Mustang turned to a dust cloud behind its wide tires.
The second ring of fences was far more intimidating. The pillars were encircled with razor wire all the way up. No one could climb them without his skin being ripped to shreds. The top of the fence had the same razor wire curled into a broad spiral across from one pillar to the next.
Surveillance cameras enclosed in smoked gray glass dotted the length of this second fence. They were the multispectral kind. They blended visible light with infrared, which meant they could see as clearly in the dark as in daylight.
The gate was an airlock affair. She waited for it to open and she was admitted to an enclosure made from the same razor wire as the rest of the fence. The roof was nothing but layers of razor wire, but the layers were thick enough to block the harsh blue sky.
A second guard checked her ID again. His instructions were slow and clear as if he wanted to ensure she accepted the rules under which she would be admitted.
“Everything inside the prison is valuable,” he warned.
Jess nodded. She’d been inside prisons before. Too many times.
“Take nothing inside unless you’ll absolutely need it.”
Jess pulled a pad and pencil from her bag and held it up for examination.
“Lock everything else in your car.” He nodded approval and handed back her ID. “Do not get out of the car until you’re told to.” He stuck a prison pass on the middle of the windshield and tapped on the Mustang’s roof.
The airlock opened, and she drove on.
The final ring of fencing was the same as the second. Same height, same razor wire, same airlock.
Another guard removed the prison pass from the center of the Mustang’s windshield. He checked Jess’s ID one more time. He directed her through the airlock to a parking area near a door that looked absurdly small for the huge building.
Jess parked and scanned Carter’s file on her laptop while she waited for permission to leave the car. Pictures of Warner at his arrest, and on the steps of some courthouse. Photos of his wife. One of his back as he was bundled into a police van after sentencing.
She ran quickly through her limited memories of the trial. She watched bits of the video footage from local TV stations. Warner’s voice was deep and confident. His testimony on the witness stand was succinct. Reliable witnesses had testified in his defense.
He had proclaimed his innocence at trial. Forcefully.
The jury disagreed. The trial had lasted a month, but the jury found him guilty on all counts of kidnapping and murder after less than an hour’s deliberations.
Jess had been working on another case at the time. Rich, arrogant men who killed their wives and got away with it were of no interest to her. She’d believed Warner guilty then, and she still did.
But now, his sister-in-law was missing, after that big wreck last week, and then the explosion at her house today. Three dead at the stolen van crash, and two more at the house. Dr. Donald Warner was at the center of everything.
Her gut told her there was a lot more to Warner’s story and she wanted to know what he was hiding. She planned to let him run his mouth while she listened. Men like Warner loved to hear themselves talk.
Whatever was going on here, Jess intended to find it.
She collected her pad and pencil and locked everything else inside the Mustang. She stashed the key in the tire well. A key, when held inside a hard fist, made a powerful weapon. She hustled along toward the entrance.
She looked up at the looming, sun-bleached concrete prison. A dour existence inside those walls. Harsh. Soul destroying. She wondered how Warner was coping. He was used to much finer living.
If he’d caused that explosion today, killed those two men, destroyed that house, she would make sure he never stepped outside in the sunshine beyond these walls again.
Ever.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Monday, May 22
Santa Irene, Arizona
Hades finished his call. Lawson had a complex house phone system with buttons, lights, and a colored display. It clicked as he replaced the receiver.
In front of him were several sheets of paper covered in his own handwriting. Addresses. Names. Dates. Numbers. Simon Lawson’s secret financial history laid bare. As much as Hades knew of it, anyway.
He tutted. “A foreign brokerage account. Very clever.”
“Is there much money in it?” Cora said.
Hades nodded. “It was hidden on his computer and obscured by three investment companies. Like shells within shells. I think we can safely assume he didn’t do all that for a few measly thousand.”
“Can we get at it?” Cora’s eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. Her appetite for money seemed as insatiable as his. But her needs were fueled by pure avarice and his by revenge. Not that her motives mattered. The only thing that mattered was making sure Simon Lawson was as bankrupt as Benny.
Hades nodded again. “All we need is a little help.” He pointed to the basement. “From our friends.”
Shorty swung his boots off the coffee table and stood up. Cora followed. Hades followed Cora and closed the door behind them.
A lone night-light glimmered in the underground darkness, but it was more than enough.
Shorty lifted a garden implement from a rack on the wall. It looked like a distorted pair of scissors. The blades were just a few inches long, but the arms that provided leverage extended two feet from the joining screw. It was a lopper for trimming tree branches. When used appropriately, the lopper produced a tidy cut, leaving a tree wound less prone to infection.
Shorty stood directly in front of Natalie Lawson.
Cora switched on the lights. Three large fluorescent tubes pasted a blinding green cast across the room. She pulled off Natalie’s blindfold.
Natalie blinked hard. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the glare, and her blinking slowed. Her gaze settled on the shining steel and monstrous curve of the lopper’s thick blades in Shorty’s hand.
Hades jerked the duct tape from Simon’s mouth but left his blindfold in place. Simon whimpered. Hades nudged Simon’s sore torso with the same boot he’d used to create the bruise. “I need the password to your brokerage account.”
Simon opened and closed his mouth.
As much as he’d like to push Simon as far as Simon had pushed Benny, Hades only pressed a bit harder on Simon’s bruise. The skill Hades had perfected was to make his victims fear him without pushing them to a point beyond coherent thought. For now. “Your foreign brokerage account.”
“I—”
“The one that isn’t included on your tax returns. The one you kept secret. Perhaps even from Natalie, here, hmm?” Hades nodded at Shorty, who waved the lopper in front of Natalie’s wide eyes. Even with the duct tape still over her mouth, Simon could easily hear the horrified squeals caught in her throat.
Simon’s jaw trembled.
“You lied to me,�
� Hades said, calmly.
“I—”
“You said you would cooperate.”
Simon swallowed. “I don’t know about a foreign—”
“I shouldn’t have believed you. I should have known you would do anything to avoid paying your debts. Isn’t that right, Simon?” Hades gave Simon’s bruise a little kick. Not too hard. Just a reminder.
“No. No.” Simon shook his head wildly, back and forth. “I don’t—”
“I’ve just talked to them. Their security isn’t that strong. Next time, you’ll want to use a different firm.”
Simon shook his head. He seemed speechless, for the moment.
“I won’t order the transfer over the phone. Too many things could go wrong. And we wouldn’t want that, would we, Simon?” Hades kicked him again. A little harder. Simon cried out and writhed on the hard concrete. “I’ll make the transfer online. Which means I need your authentications.”
Hades placed his hand on Simon’s forehead. He pulled off the blindfold. Simon recoiled as he took in the sight of the lopper, glinting in the fluorescent light.
Hades unbuckled Simon’s hands from the tie-downs in the floor.
Simon sat up. He didn’t stretch this time. He didn’t work out the pain in his cramped muscles. He just stared up at Hades.
Hades held out the pad and pen. “Write it down. Clearly. Underline uppercase letters.”
“I… I can’t.”
Hades looked at Shorty, who flexed the lopper again and knelt closer to Lawson.
Simon began to whimper. “It’s my life’s savings.”
“Perfect. Your money will save your life.”
Simon’s mouth hung open. “We’ll have nothing. We’re not young, anymore.”
“You’ll find a way to recover.” Hades gave a flat smile. “Men like you always do.”
Simon took the pen. He heaved and panted. He wiped his brow on his arm. His breathing slowed. “If we give you our money, you’ll leave us?”
“Once we are sure the money has transferred. When you write what we need, you will be closer to freedom. You need to focus on that.”
Simon took a deep breath. “I… It’s everything we’ve saved.”
“You lied to me.”
“I can’t—”
Hades laid a chair on its side by Simon’s legs. He tore a two-foot length of duct tape from a roll on the table. “You can, and you will,” he said.
Simon winced, his forehead wrinkled in misery and terror.
Hades grabbed Simon’s handcuffed hands and pulled them to the chair. He wrapped the duct tape around Simon’s left wrist. Simon squirmed. Hades leaned his forearm on Simon’s, pressuring it down onto the chair’s leg. Simon fought back.
Natalie made moaning sounds behind the duct tape that covered her mouth.
Shorty leaned down and planted a solid blow across Simon’s face. Simon’s head jerked back. He grunted and groaned.
For a few moments, the shock and pain stole his mind. His arm went limp. Hades snapped the tape tight, securing Simon’s wrists to the chair leg.
Simon fought against the bond. “No, no, no,” he whined.
Hades placed his weight on the chair, holding it in place.
Natalie’s eyes were wild. She shook her head and tried to scream.
Hades held Simon’s hand out.
Shorty handed him the lopper.
“No, no, no, no,” repeated Simon. He fought against the tape and the chair. He fought against losing his money most of all. The money he’d taken from Benny, and countless other hard-working men like Benny over the years. Hades felt no sympathy for Simon Lawson and his bitchy wife. Not a bit.
Hades held the lopper’s jaws close to Simon’s face. He opened and closed the jaws to be sure they were working smoothly. He watched as the long easy travel of the arms was converted into unstoppable power.
Simon watched, too. He panted, his breathing running faster and faster as adrenaline forced his heart rate into the upper limits for a healthy, fifty-five-year-old male.
“No, no, please, no,” said Natalie behind the duct tape, her voice choked in her throat.
Simon sucked air. Fear controlled his body. He took air in but barely exhaled. His mind was closing down, preparing itself for the pain to come.
Hades opened the lopper’s jaws and slid them around Simon’s left pinkie finger. Simon levered his hand sideways, against the tape.
Shorty wrenched the finger straight and eased his weight down on the back of Simon’s hand.
Simon made grunting sounds as he swallowed oxygen.
“No, no, no. Tell him.” Natalie fought her bonds. Cora ripped the tape off her mouth to let her words escape. “Tell him, Simon! For God’s sake! Tell him the goddammed password!”
Shorty pushed two of Simon’s fingers into the lopper. Hades didn’t want to chop off Simon’s fingers down here. The stench of blood and flesh would become intolerable. But he almost admired Simon’s fierce commitment to his fortune. Simon had more guts than Hades would have guessed.
Hades nodded to Shorty, who pushed two more of Simon’s fingers into the lopper. Hades could cut off all four with one solid push of the lopper’s arms. Sometimes, you had to demonstrate that you meant business in this world.
Simon curled his head forward. Finally, he capitulated. “No, no. I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you.”
Hades inched the lopper’s arms together until the blades pressed into Simon’s skin. A smaller demonstration. A little bit of blood.
“No, no, please. No,” Natalie begged, her voice climbing in octaves.
Simon cried, “I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!”
“That’s the right choice, Simon.” Hades dragged the lopper away from Simon’s fingers. He let the blades scrape across the skin. Blood dribbled down Simon’s fingers and dripped from the chair leg.
Natalie cried, sobs wracking her body.
Hades dropped the lopper on the table. The clatter of metal on wood joined the tears and panting.
He picked up the pad and pen from the floor, wedged the pad under Simon’s wrists, and slid the pen between the fingers of his cuffed right hand.
“Write,” he said.
Simon wrote. His hand shook. He scratched out his scribbles three times before he managed to arrange the correct combination of letters and numbers. He looked up at Hades and held out the pen to indicate he was finished.
Hades took the pad and read out the passwords, character by character.
Simon nodded.
“Thank you,” Hades said.
Natalie sobbed.
Simon said nothing, a combination of exhaustion, shock, and defeat.
Hades tapped the pad with the pen. “If this isn’t correct, when I return, I will take all five fingers. One at a time. Do you understand?”
Simon’s lips trembled. He fought back his terror and offered a shaky nod.
“Good,” Hades said. “Because if I have to come back down here, I’ll take her fingers, too.”
Simon’s gaze snapped onto Hades. He frowned while Shorty duct-taped Natalie’s wrists to the chair leg.
Hades nodded, to show he meant every word of his threat. What an asshole. How could Benny have ever believed Simon Lawson was a man of his word? Benny should have known better. An asshole like Lawson only valued one thing. Himself.
Hades climbed the stairs out of the basement.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Monday, May 22
Santa Irene, Arizona
Jess waited for the guards to admit her to the prearranged meeting with Warner. She’d arrived on time, but now it was past five o’clock. Visiting hours were long over. But she was inside, and she hoped that meant they’d let her see Warner today. Whether they would probably depended on the power of Carter’s connections, which she hoped were as excellent as usual. She didn’t want to come back here again tomorrow.
She’d used the toilet in the grimy restroom. She’d dampened a paper towel and wiped the so
ot from her face and neck. She’d washed her hands with the harsh pink liquid soap. Now, she waited on a hard metal chair.
The waiting room was stark. Sparsely furnished. Green painted walls were glossy with the oil from countless hands, and bright fluorescent lights glared overhead. She was the only person still here. A round schoolhouse clock on the wall marked the seconds with a red hand that jerked every time it moved.
Eventually, she was frisked and walked through a metal detector and finally led to a small visitor’s room. Warner, wearing leg and wrist shackles, was already seated at one of two tables. The other table was unoccupied. An armed guard stood near the door.
The inmate across the table was a pale shadow of the handsome and confident physician featured in the photographs and videos she’d seen. This gaunt man was Donald Warner. No mistake. His name was stamped in black letters on the left breast of his white jumpsuit.
She reached out, and they shook hands.
She sat across the table.
“I’m innocent.” His voice was weak and reedy. Words he’d repeated endlessly since his wife disappeared, even though no one believed him. “I didn’t kidnap my wife. I did not kill anyone. And I certainly did not arrange to have anyone killed.”
“So you said at your trial.” Jess nodded, watching him carefully.
“Your office told me you were interested in conducting a better investigation.”
She cocked her head. “We are looking into some issues.”
“So you believe that I’m innocent.”
Did she? Not really. “I’ve heard that before.”
“Well in my case, it’s true. Someone set me up.”
She cleared her throat. “The jury found the evidence against you overwhelming.”
Warner shrugged. “They were wrong.”
She tapped her fingers on the table. He’d been through a frightening ordeal. Maybe, after the trial and the time he’d spent locked up, he’d reveal something now that she could use to find the truth. “You testified that two years ago, your BMW was sideswiped by a stolen city bus, and your car was attacked by masked men.”
