Chapter 7 - The Name on the Envelope
Leah couldn't tell me whether Dad had mailed the package himself. The postmark was from a town forty miles away. There was no return address, only a brown envelope, a flash drive, and my name written in block letters.
“He used to label all his tools like that,” I whispered.
“I know. I compared it with your old letters. But a copy isn't the same as a living witness.”
“Can you bring the drive here?”
“I can show it to an investigator and request a private legal visit. Meanwhile, stop talking about it where the prison can hear.”
I hung up and felt every eye in the phone room settle on me. Brandi stood outside the glass, hands clasped behind her back. She wasn't smiling now.
When I returned to my tier, a folded paper waited on the pillow. YOU CAN'T SAVE A GHOST, it said. Underneath was a crude sketch of an eye.
I carried the threat directly to Officer Ward. He read it, tore it in half, and dropped it into the trash.
“Problem solved.”
“Someone entered my locked cell.”
“Maybe you wrote it to get attention.”
The people who controlled the locks decided which fears counted.
That night, Brandi blocked my way to the sinks. “You ask too many questions, new girl.”
“Tell whoever's paying you I'm not quitting.”
She slapped the wall next to my head. “Nobody's paying me. Colson promised to let my sister visit if I kept you busy. She has cancer, and I've got six months left. So do me a favor. Be quiet.”
Her anger broke just enough to show the panic underneath. She wasn't a friend. But she wasn't the person writing the rules either.
“Your sister deserves that visit,” I said. “You shouldn't have to hurt me to get it.”
Brandi stepped back as if my answer offended her more than an insult.
May you like
Half an hour after lights-out, Hazel found a fresh yellow smear beneath our cell door. It led toward the stairwell, where a transport form lay under a dripping pipe.
On the form, in the space marked PATIENT, was one name: NINA CALDER.
