Chapter 9 - The Bus That Never Left
I hid the token under my tongue during the search. It tasted of copper and disinfectant. The guard made me open my mouth twice; I let it slide behind my lower teeth and prayed my trembling jaw wouldn't betray me.
At 4:15 a.m., four women waited in shackles beside a transport bus. I was one of them. Pike stood at the gate holding a clipboard while dawn rubbed silver across the razor wire.
"Ready to start fresh?" he asked.
"Are you sending Jo too?"
"Jo fell. Tragic accidents happen."
"You should practice saying that to a jury."
He took a step forward. "You're not in front of a jury anymore."
Then Dee appeared at the end of the walkway, escorted by two officers. She looked straight at me, winked, and dropped to the ground with a shout.
"My chest! Somebody help!"
Dee had a documented cardiac condition; the response rule required medical staff and a supervisor. They couldn't load a bus through a medical emergency without logging it. For once, procedure worked in our favor.
Pike's face reddened. "Get her up."
"Sir, medical emergency," one officer said.
"She's pretending."
"Then a nurse can clear her."
I watched Dee breathe steadily through her theatrics, risking discipline to give me an opening.
As the officers huddled around her, an unmarked state sedan pulled up to the security gate. A woman stepped out with a satchel, a badge, and the exhausted expression of someone who had driven all night.
"I'm Investigator Naomi Price," she told the gate officer. "State Public Integrity. I need to see your video retention supervisor."
Pike recovered his smile with professional speed. "I'm afraid visiting hours haven't begun."
Naomi held up a signed preservation demand. "Good thing I'm not visiting."
He read the top line and looked toward me.
May you like
"Who contacted her?" he demanded.
I kept my hands still. "You should probably ask whoever you put on administrative leave."
