Chapter 6 - The Red Door
“The old clinic has a red service door,” Hazel said that evening. “It hasn't been used in years.”
“Then why did Gloria mention it?”
“Because someone painted over it.”
Hazel knew the building better than the people paid to maintain it. She sketched a rough map on the back of a commissary order: laundry, kitchen, clinic, then a narrow corridor ending beside the disused north loading dock.
“That's where medical contractors used to collect supplies,” she said. “The door's gray now. Under the paint, it's red.”
I wanted to run there immediately. Hazel grabbed my wrist.
“You're not saving anyone by getting buried with them.”
At mail call, I received a letter on state stationery. The return address was the office of Deputy Warden Colson. Inside was a typed message saying my father had left Blackwater property voluntarily on June sixth. Attached was a copy of a release form carrying his signature.
The shape of the T was wrong. Dad crossed his T low. This one was sharp. Whoever copied his signature missed the detail I knew best.
I asked for my allotted telephone call. My public defender, Leah Mercer, answered after three rings.
“Leah, they sent a release form. It's forged.”
“Keep the original envelope,” she said. “Do not give it to another inmate. I can request an independent review.”
“I think he's alive.”
“Hope isn't proof, Nina.”
“No. But someone is still spending effort to prove he walked away.”
Leah went quiet. “You were convicted after the guard claimed you attacked him while stealing facility records. The missing camera footage was the issue on your appeal. Yesterday, a copy of that same video was anonymously delivered to my office.”
My knees weakened. “What does it show?”
“It shows the guard grabbing your phone first.”
May you like
I pressed the receiver tighter. “Who sent it?”
“The package was addressed in your father's handwriting.”
