Chapter 4 - The Search
They tore C-12 apart while Jo and I stood against the opposite wall. Two officers lifted mattresses, emptied lockers, opened toothpaste tubes. Pike watched like a man waiting for applause.
"What are you looking for?" I asked.
"Contraband."
"Specific contraband?"
He held up a tiny silver memory card in a clear pouch. "This was concealed inside your blanket."
Jo made a sound I felt more than heard.
"That blanket wasn't mine," I said. "It was assigned at intake."
"Yet you carried it into the yard."
"That's not evidence I planted anything."
Pike turned to Ortiz, who had been brought in as a witness. "Did you see her with the blanket?"
"Yes, sir. I also saw you take it without a receipt."
He stepped closer. "Choose your next sentence carefully."
Ortiz's voice stayed level. "I am choosing it carefully."
Pike ordered me to segregation pending an investigation. Ortiz reached for the evidence bag. He pulled it away.
"Sir, the property log requires a second signature," she said. "Especially for digital media."
"I'll handle the paperwork."
That was when I understood the mistake he'd made. He needed the card to disappear. If he destroyed it, he'd have to explain the video of himself finding it. If he called it contraband, he would have to account for it. Either way, he had created a record.
As they marched me down the corridor, Jo called after me, "Remember what Mina said about the blue door!"
Pike wheeled around. "What blue door?"
Jo folded her arms. "I guess you should ask her."
May you like
The segregation cell was bare except for a steel bunk and a narrow window. A guard closed the door. A moment later, the ventilation grille rattled and a folded paper square fluttered onto the floor.
In careful pencil were the words: THE CARD IS A DECOY. FIND B-17.
