“Noah, how are you?” Thomas asked warmly. “Where are you?”
“In a kitchen in Graterford. Did you read about the Jeremy Black murder?”
“Sure, yes.”
“You gotta get me out of here,” Noah said, then told Thomas everything that had happened, including naming Jimmy Williams as the murderer of Jeremy Black. When Noah finished, he asked, “So what do you think? Can you get me transferred?”
“I’ll try. That information is gold.”
“You can use it as leverage, can’t you? I’ll give them a statement. It makes me a snitch now, but it’s my only chance.”
“Will do,” Thomas said, sounding concerned. “I’m hoping I canget you transferred, but the question is when. Prison bureaucracy is the worst.”
“It has to be ASAP. I’m not safe here, not even in the ACU.”
“I’ll make some calls and start shaking the trees.”
“Thanks, Thomas,” Noah said, grateful.
“Hang tight. Good night.”
“Good night.” Noah hung up. He couldn’t remember the last time anybody had wished him good night. He flashed on Maggie saying good night, then him spooning her in bed, wrapping his arms around her under their big blue comforter. On a winter night like this, she loved to be cuddled and she was always cold. She wore sweat socks to bed, and he thought it was adorable.
Noah suppressed the memory, crossed the room, and opened the door, but there were three COs standing there, Stanislavsky, Evesham, and a bearded one named Pinnella.
“Cuff up, Dr. Alderman,” CO Stanislavsky said.
Noah stood his ground. “Why do I need three COs to escort me back to the ACU?”
“Because you threatened me,” CO Evesham answered, recoiling as if he’d been startled.
“No, I didn’t.” Noah realized too late they were play-acting for the security camera.
Suddenly the three COs jumped him, bringing him to the ground, punching, kicking, and handcuffing him. Noah struggled to kick back. He torqued his body this way and that to escape the blows. He curled into a fetal position to protect his core. He absorbed punch after punch.
The last thing he remembered was a vicious blow to the head.
Chapter Eighty
Maggie, After
Maggie sat next to Kathy on the couch, terrified. Connie stood aiming a gun at them. He was a mountain of a man, fully six-foot-five with a broad chest and wearing a motorcycle jacket and jeans.
Maggie prayed Caleb was hiding. He hadn’t come out of the kitchen. She couldn’t imagine where he’d gone. The house was so small. Her heart hammered with fear. She told herself to keep it together. She had to get them out of this somehow.
“Connie, why’d you kick down the friggin’ door?” Roy was holding the door up, trying to match the broken hinges. He was shorter than Connie, with a long, narrow face and grimy orange watchcap. His frame was slight enough to look lost in a Carhartt jacket.
“Shut up, Roy.” Connie glowered. He had dark eyes set wide apart in a broad face with a strong jawline. His hair was a greasy black.
Elma sat in her recliner, agitated. “Connie, put that thing away. Roy, what’s going on? What are you boys doing?”
“Shit.” Roy struggled with the door. “Connie, you shoulda let us walk up like normal instead of a friggin’ SWAT team.”
“This is your fault, Roy.” Connie’s expression hardened to a mask of resentment. “That these bitches are here, askin’ questions, makin’ trouble. All your fault.”
Elma shook her head, jittery. “Roy, make him stop. There’s no call for this.”
“Finally!” Roy turned from the door to Connie. “All you did was make work for me, dude. I’m gonna have to fix it later. My grandma’s gonna freeze her ass off.”
