Chapter 8 - The Transfer Ramp
They marched Owen toward a loading bay that smelled of diesel fuel and wet concrete. Above the bay was a clock that had stopped at 4:17. His father's favorite time to complain about the prison's broken maintenance schedule.
Voss walked beside him. "Don't run. Whatever happens, don't run."
"Is my dad here?"
"I don't know anymore."
A white medical transport van waited beyond the gate. Its door stood open. The men by the ramp wore ordinary work jackets instead of prison uniforms.
Owen recognized the logo on a paper clipped to the driver's board: MERIDIAN PATIENT TRANSIT. He'd seen invoices from that company stacked on his father's kitchen table. Andrew had circled the same invoice number on three separate bills, each claiming a different patient had taken the same ride at the same hour.
"You're using the company my dad was checking," Owen said.
Voss's face hardened. "Keep your voice down."
A driver stepped forward. "We're late. Greer says load him."
"Not without a medical order," Voss answered.
"It's an administrative hold."
"He's a child. Give me a lawful order or get back in your van."
The driver reached for Owen. Voss moved between them. For a second nobody spoke. Owen understood that the captain was risking something real now, even if it did not erase what she'd already done.
Then the intercom over the ramp crackled.
"Attention transport personnel," a woman's voice said. "This is Deputy Nora Kim, Ridge County Sheriff's Office. Open the outer gate."
The driver cursed. He pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a message.
Voss seized Owen's sleeve and pulled him behind a concrete pillar.
On the phone screen, Owen glimpsed three words before the driver locked it: SWITCH TO ANNEX.
May you like
"What annex?" Owen asked.
The driver reached inside his jacket.
