"We're doing everything we can, pal."
Tanisa said, "Willie, John will take you back. I gotta get rid of these lawyers."
"Okay." Willie left without a look back, as Tanisa escorted Angus and a preoccupied Nat to the exit door by the new wall. They waited while Tanisa unlocked the door. The CO. fell unusually silent, the only sound the clinking of the crude keys.
"Thanks, Tanisa." Angus touched her arm.
"Yes, thanks," Nat added. "I owe you that jacket."
"Forget it." Tanisa kept her eyes downcast as she unlocked the second barred door and held it open for them to leave. "I'm the one who should be thanking you."
"It was nothing," Nat said, getting her meaning. She retrieved her coat, and she and Angus walked down the corridor, through the sally ports, and out the door. They stepped out into the brutal cold. Nat looked up beyond the razorwire to the sky above, which had darkened to a charcoal wash. Spiky evergreens, burdened with snow, cut a jagged horizon, and a vast white field surrounded them like a chilly embrace.
"So they walled off the room." Angus shoved his hands in his pockets. "I don't get it."
I think they're hiding something," Nat said. They walked down the driveway and waved to the marshal, who was on a cell in his car. "I learned a lot of juicy stuff from Willie."
"What'd I miss?" Tell you in the car." Nat shot him a wink.
"Having fun?"
And Nat had to admit, to her own surprise, that she was.
They sat in traffic, going nowhere on the road that wound back through the Brandywine countryside. Cars were lined up ahead as far as Nat could see, their taillights burning red and their exhausts exhaling plumes of white smoke. She used the time to call Barb Saunders and succeeded only in leaving a please-call-back message. She fidgeted in her long coat and checked the darkening sky. At this rate, she'd be late getting home, which would necessitate an explanation to Hank. She didn't remember what happened when Nancy Drew explained things to Ned. She hoped it was a happy ending.
"This traffic is crazy," Angus said. "Must be an accident. It gums up the whole works."
"It's the single lane that's the problem."
"I'll get off this road as soon as I can. 1-95 isn't that far. Or, how about we stop and get some dinner, then try after it's cleared." Angus looked over. "That's not an ask-out."
"Still, not a good idea. I have to get home."
"I hear you." Angus shifted into second. No hand bumped into her knee, which was cold even in stockings. He said, "Let's review. Graf told us that he and Saunders had written up Upchurch for weed, but Willie says that didn't happen. I believe Willie. He's smart."
"Okay, so why do you think Graf lied about the write-up? Or do you think he just misspoke?"
"No, he didn't misspeak. He lied because he didn't want us to know he had bad blood with Upchurch."
"Agree, and that makes me suspicious." Nat turned it over in her mind. "Plus, it doesn't make sense that Upchurch would attack Saunders, if he had an issue with Graf."
"No, it doesn't. It looks bad." Angus shook his head, his eyes focused on traffic. "I hate what I'm thinking."
"What?" Nat asked, but she knew.
"That Upchurch's murder didn't happen the way Graf says it did.” Angus's tone was grave. "Machik must know that, and that's why they're hiding what went on in that room. They've destroyed the crime scene, so there's no way even the blood spatter can be preserved. They must have done an autopsy on Upchurch-they do in every homicide-and I wonder what it shows."
"What do you mean?"
"An autopsy can tell a lot about the way a knife fight actually went down. You know, like the angle of the knife wounds, even which wounds came first, almost reconstruct it."
Nat turned it over in her mind. "Graf told us that Upchurch attacked Saunders and then attacked him, and that he, Graf, was able to save himself by turning the knife on Upchurch."
"Right, but that doesn't make sense, according to what Willie told you. If Upchurch was going to stab anybody, it would have been Graf. You know, I've dealt with plenty of prison brutality cases and excessive force cases, in my time."
"And?"
"What if Upchurch pulled the knife on Graf, and then Saunders defended Graf? Maybe Saunders even stepped in front of Graf to save him. Then Graf saw his friend cut down and simply executed Upchurch, in the heat of battle. C.O.s are human beings, like soldiers. Think Haditha or My Lai."
Nat considered it as the Beetle rolled an inch or two and the sky got darker.
"It's entirely possible that Upchurch was no threat to Graf at the time he was killed," Angus continued, sounding intrigued. "For all we know, Upchurch could have been on his knees, begging for his life.
That’s the kind of thing an autopsy would show. The angle of the knife would be different, depending on whether the blow was struck from above or from the same level."
"Why stop there, if you're spinning hypos?" Nat asked, her thoughts clicking ahead. "What if there was no attack by Upchurch at all? What if Graf murdered Upchurch in cold blood? Planned the whole thing. Even planted the knife on him, after the fact?"
"What?" Angus looked over, his blue eyes widening. "Why would Graf have done that?"
"I don't know. For the same reason he bullied Upchurch. There was animosity between them."
"That's a stretch, Natalie. We don't know enough to go there."
"But what if?"
Angus thought a minute. "Then how does Saunders end up dead?"
"He's a casualty, like you said, of war. Graf sacrifices him. He's just there to provide the story that Upchurch attacked him and he acted in self-defense."
"Graf kills Saunders?" Angus's lips parted. "That's crazy! They were best friends. You heard him."
"We've established that he's a liar."
"And a jerk and a bigot. But that's not the same as a cold-blooded killer. That's not how C.O.s work, anyway. They're tight, like cops. Like soldiers, too, come to think of it. Loyal to each other." Angus's car traveled another inch on the clogged road. "You know, we're forgetting something. There's one sure way to find out what really happened in that room."
"How?"
"They have video surveillance all over the prison. Did you see those silver orbs on the ceilings, with the mirrors? There're cameras inside them."
Nat hadn't noticed.
"I know they have videotapes of the riot. The troopers told me they turned them over to the Chester County D.A., as evidence. So they must have videotapes of that room, too."
Nat straightened in her seat, imagining a videotape of a brutal double murder and of her trying to save Saunders's life. Did she want to see it? Could she even watch?
"Which room was it, exactly?"
"I don't know. One of the staff rooms." Then Nat remembered. "Willie said they take inmates into the security office to discuss their write-ups."
"Good," Angus said, nodding. "That's what we need to do. Get those tapes, from the security office." The Beetle finally reached the corner, then Angus took a right off onto another road. Traffic flowed freer, and Nat felt her own gears rev up.
"So how would we do that? They'll never give them up voluntarily."
"If I didn't owe Graf my life, I'd subpoena them."
"What do you mean?"
"I'd file a suit on behalf of the inmate who was killed, Upchurch, for deprivation of civil rights and unreasonable use offeree, along the lines of my theory that Graf killed Upchurch needlessly, in return for Upchurch's killing Saunders."
"Upchurch's estate would be the plaintiff, right? And his family?"
"Yes, I'd have to find them."
"So this would be one of those lawsuits where the burglar sues the homeowner. The kind that endears lawyers to the populace."
"Thank you." Angus's eyes glittered with mischief. The Beetle zoomed ahead, and Nat's spirits lifted when she spotted a sign for 1-95. She had a shot at keeping her hunky boyfriend, which was a good thing. Angus said, "In my younger days, I'd be all over it, but I'm so corporate now. I need a good relationship with that prison, for the clinic."