“Did you live inside the prison?” Dulcie said. “How could …?”
Misto shook his head. “I lived in the open fields among a band of ferals—or at least people called them feral. Many were dumped cats who’d once had homes. Others were truly feral, born wild and their ancestors wild before them. I was the only speaking cat, though I never spoke to them.” The old cat licked his paw. “One of the guards put out food for us, at a side entrance. He’d pet us and talk to us. I wanted badly to talk to him, but of course I didn’t. He was a kind man, he was my friend.
“Some of the prisoners were kind, too. Some saved food for us, leftovers from their meals, they’d slip food to us in the prison yard. We could get into the fenced exercise yard, and even into the prison itself if we were quick, but you had to be wary, we weren’t allowed in there.”
“Weren’t you afraid?” Kit said. “Won’t those men hurt cats?”
“Most of them liked us, they liked having an animal around, to pet and talk to. We stayed away from the threatening ones, the reaching, hard-eyed, cold or spacey guys. Or the guys who were too gentle and smarmy and tried too hard to lure us close.”
Below them, Benny and Lori emerged from the cottage carrying a big trash can between them. Misto said, “Lori’s pa was nice, we were friends. As much as you can be friends, when you can’t talk together. He talked about Lori, he described her so well that I knew her at once. Long shiny brown hair, big brown eyes and little tilted nose. He said she worked for a contractor, and he was proud of that.” Misto twitched a whisker. “There’s a lot of regret in that man, the kind of regret and hindsight that traps a human, that can eat on a person and make him miserable.”
Lori and Benny emptied the trash can, tipping it high into the Dumpster, the carpet scraps and dust cascading out. After they put the can on the back porch, Benny continued to follow Lori, as clingy as a puppy. As if, Joe thought, the kid hadn’t had many young friends in his short life. He thought about the hit-and-run, about the danger to Benny, and about the stabbing of Jack Reed and the possible threat to Lori, and he was glad Rock was there watching the two of them with that keen, proprietary gaze. He just hoped Rock’s attention, and the vigilance of the people around the children, would be enough to protect these two from harm.
32
FIVE DAYS BEFORE Christmas, Jack Reed was transferred from Salinas Valley Hospital back to the state prison at Soledad, riding in a prison car accompanied by two guards. He was settled, not in the open infirmary, but by himself in a secure room until Victor Colletto and the other two inmates who’d attacked him had been transferred out. The room was plain, with bland beige walls and a locked, barred door. He welcomed the isolation; it beat the open infirmary, crowded among complaining, bad-tempered men with their own ills and medicines and body functions, and no nicety of canvas curtains between them as in a civilian hospital. He was processed and checked in, and the prison doc looked him over. Dr. Ralph Flaggan was a tall, meaty man with a round, baby-smooth face and a closed, superior attitude that could have put Jack off, until he thought about the men this guy had to deal with on a day-to-day basis.
“Your wounds are healing well, Jack. You’re out of danger, provided there are no setbacks. Another two weeks, you should be ready to return to the general population. I don’t want you out there until you can hold your own. We’ll transfer you to the ward once Colletto is gone.”
“Tomorrow’s a visiting day,” Jack said. “If my little girl wants to come, can I see her?”
“You’ll go to the secure visiting room in a wheelchair,” Flaggan said. “The warden has notified her guardian that you’re back in the prison.” This would not be the family visiting room, but a secure cubicle, again with a glass between them, where they could speak only by phone, every word subject to prison monitoring. Now, within the confining metal bars of his narrow bed he had nothing to do but think. He didn’t feel like reading any of the dog-eared magazines the prison supplied; instead he lay worrying about Lori, increasingly afraid someone would try to hurt her as Vic Colletto had hurt him. Colletto was mean, his angry attack just a small indication of his vindictiveness. Jack thought Vic hadn’t been put with more violent men because he was young, wasn’t a gang member, and this was his first time in prison. Colletto’s hatred of Jack stemmed from two years ago, when Jack had fired him.
When, that morning crossing the prison yard on his way to breakfast, Jack overheard Colletto and his two pals talking about Molena Point and Max Harper, he’d caught the name Dorriss and paused. When Colletto glanced around and saw Jack listening, he’d come at Jack. Colletto had been thick with Marlin Dorriss in prison, before Dorriss was released. Dorriss, too, was a vindictive man, and he had no love for Harper, who’d ruined his smooth thieving operation.
Jack didn’t know what Dorriss and Colletto might be planning, but the conversation ate at him. Dorriss, on the outside and with moneyed friends, could set up any number of ugly operations to get back at Harper.
And if Colletto was in some way part of it, Lori might become a victim just to entertain him. Colletto, already hating Jack and blaming Jack because he was now in trouble with prison authorities, would sure as hell encourage Dorriss to rough her up, or worse.
He knew Molena Point PD would watch out for Lori, he had to count on that. But with Harper, Dorriss’s agenda could be anything. The man was a cool, manipulative liar, liked to think of himself as a high roller, a charming fellow who knew how to pull strings, how to get things done and be well paid for it. He’d hire someone to do any dirty work involved, though he might enjoy roughing up a few people, too. Seemed strange he was close with the Collettos; they had no high-toned connections, no power. He was probably paying them to do the grunt work; Victor’s younger brother, Kent, would be good for that. If Dorriss did plan some retribution against Max Harper, that bothered him. Max had been a good friend, he was a good man, Jack didn’t want to see some scum try to take him down.
And they’d better leave Lori alone. She’d had enough ugliness in her life. She was fearful and worried about him in prison, and before that, before he was sent up, even then he’d caused her pain, he hadn’t really been there for her. Then, he’d been the one who was afraid, afraid for Lori, terrified for her. What kind of example was that? Her mother dead, and only a weak, fearful father. No one strong enough to understand and support her. That was hard on a young girl, he understood that now. And here, in prison, he was less than useless.
The night Jack found his brother, Hal, standing over those children’s graves, holding a dead child carelessly under his arm like a bag of flour, and a shovel in his other hand, the rage that hit him hadn’t abated until he’d killed Hal. Until long after he’d buried him beside those pitiful little graves and shoved weeds and overgrown geraniums back over the raw earth. Nothing in the world could shake him as he’d been shaken the night he killed his brother.
That was when the battles at home began, when he and Natalie began to argue over Lori’s safety. Natalie thought he was being overprotective. He never had told her the truth of it, hadn’t wanted to make her a party to Hal’s murder.
Then when he realized his brother’s partner, Irving Fenner, was still out there killing other children, he was wild with fear again. That was when he began to lock Lori in the house, wouldn’t let her go out even in the daytime, not even to school. He wouldn’t tell Natalie why, he didn’t want to terrify her, too, and that was his biggest mistake; their fighting grew worse until Natalie took Lori and left him, managed to get away to the East Coast where he could never find them. Since he didn’t have the money for a private detective nor was he sure he could trust one, he decided it was best for Lori if he didn’t know where she was, if he made no contact that could be traced. Lori was six when Natalie ran off with her, and Jack didn’t see her again for five years. After Natalie died, Lori was flown back from North Carolina in the care of a social worker. And the nightmare started all over again; Jack, filled with fear for her because the killer was still out there, hid her away, boarded up the windows, locked her in the house. He’d known no other way, he couldn’t go to the law. As much as he respected Max Harper, Harper would have to bring Children’s Services into it, and that was all Fenner would need. He’d find Lori before the cops had enough on him to arrest him and take him off the streets, and Fenner would kill her.