Jackson was on his knees with a small vacuum, hoping to find errant fibers. “Knock yourself out. I’ve already lifted a few dozen.”
“No doubt mine and the prior week’s guests.” She took it over to the desk, removed the notepad from her suitcase, and quickly twirled black powder across it with the brush. Seconds later, she sighed and curled her lips. Nothing. Not even a partial. But not surprising, either. This offender had been far too careful to leave a meaningful forensic at numerous crime scenes; it wasn’t likely that he would slip up on a simple note that he knew would rattle her.
She brushed off the powder, then rewrapped the note and slipped it into her pocket.
“Anything?” Dixon asked.
Vail spun, guilt sprouting from her pores. “Me?”
“No, Jackson. Anything?”
The forensic scientist swiveled on his knees. “Just about done. I’ve collected lots of stuff, but I won’t know if I’ve got anything till we process it all. With all the budget cuts and the vics and crime scenes this guy’s left us, we’re already so backed up I’ve got no idea when I’m gonna come up for air.”
Burden appeared in the doorway. “No one saw anything. They’ve got security cameras and Robert’s getting the digital tapes for us, they’re burning a DVD. But a guy like this-”
“He’s too careful,” Vail said. “He knew about the camera at that palace place and he made it impossible for us to see his face. He’s gonna know about the ones they have here, too. I’m not optimistic.”
“Me either,” Burden said. “But it’s what we do.” He stepped into the room and said, quietly, to Vail, “You feel more comfortable if we moved you? Another hotel?”
“Honestly? He found me here. He’ll find me wherever you move me. But as I was telling Roxx, I’m not at risk. He wants me alive.”
“How so?”
“If he wanted to, he could’ve killed me just like he killed the others. But he’s playing with me. I’m more important to him alive than I am dead. And whatever the reason he’s killing those men and women, I don’t fit his fantasy.”
“Excuse me for not being so confident, but I think it’s safer to move you.”
“We’ll be fine. Roxx’s here with me. He won’t be able to disable both of us at once. And Roxx is no pushover in case you haven’t noticed.”
“I noticed,” Burden said.
Vail tilted her head. “You have?”
“I’m a guy. We notice those things.”
Friedberg poked his head in the room. “Anything?”
“Don’t know yet,” Jackson said.
“You wanna stay here,” Burden said, “fine. But my recommendation is that you move.”
“Roxx,” Vail called to Dixon, who was standing in the bathroom. Dixon poked her head out, the phone still against her ear. “You wanna switch hotels?”
“Shit no. I’m not running from this bastard. What about you?”
Vail turned to Burden. “We’re staying.”
Burden gave a disapproving shake of his head, then tapped Jackson on the shoulder. “Get me something as soon as you can.”
Jackson closed a couple of latches, buttoning up his kit. “Add it to the freaking list. Wish you guys would find this guy. You’re giving me a shitload of work. If I was making overtime, that’d be one thing…”
Burden took a final glance around the room. “See you both in the morning. Don’t forget. Clay’s gonna walk us through those other cases.”
Vail sat down on the edge of the bed. “Let’s hope there’s something there.”
40
Three hours passed. Since the inmates who showered together lived in the same cellhouse, they were all taken back to their cells and the block was locked down. After officers examined each of the prisoners for injuries and traces of blood, they were taken individually to the lieutenant’s office, where they were interviewed by counselors.
Based on the staff’s initial investigation and what the officers had witnessed upon their arrival, MacNally was identified as the instigator and given a nonstop ticket to the Hole, which was located in the west yard of the penitentiary in Building 63, a separate two-story structure. MacNally had escaped relatively unscathed, and except for assorted abrasions and bruises-mostly from when he was being wrestled down and handcuffed-his injuries were nothing compared to those sustained by Gormack and Wharton.
MacNally was escorted to a three-man unit with cement walls, a narrow stall shower in the corner, and formed-concrete bunk beds-one along the left wall and two in a line along the right-suspended by triangular iron brackets.
There was already a man asleep on one of the cots when the officer shoved MacNally inside.
The inmate stirred, lifted his head, but did not get up. “Who the fuck’re you?”
“Walt MacNally. You?”
“John,” the blue-eyed, dirty-blond convict said. “John Anglin. Guys call me J.W.” Anglin narrowed his eyes, then swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat up. “Wait a minute. MacNally-you’re the guy from the showers? Gormack?”
MacNally could not stop a grin from spreading his lips. “That’s me.”
Anglin nodded slowly, holding his chin back and appraising him. “You’re a fish. Got a lot to learn.”
MacNally set his kit down on the bed, then said, “So? What’s your point?”
“Things work a certain way here. You gotta follow the law.”
MacNally shook his head. “Gormack and Wharton had to pay.”
“Something like you did-it’s gotta be approved by the guy who’s running the place.”
MacNally sat down on his bunk and faced Anglin. “You mean the warden?”
“No, asshole. Every prison’s got gangs, that kinda shit. But nothing happens in a joint without first being ran past the main guy, the head inmate. You know, a guy who’s been around the place a long fucking time, who knows the players and how shit goes down-but still young enough to be callin’ the shots because no one ain’t never gonna cross him.”
MacNally did not think that an apology would be a response that would be respected. Instead, he said, “Didn’t have a choice. They had to be put in their place. But I’ll tell you this, J.W. Those fuckers aren’t gonna move against me again.”
Anglin locked eyes with MacNally, then lay back down on the bunk and drew the covers up to his chin.
Thus far, the Hole or not, his new living arrangements were working out far better than his first cell assignment had.
TWO DAYS LATER, MACNALLY AND ANGLIN were playing cards when they both sensed a presence by the bars. They turned and saw Voorhees standing there.
“Know what happened to your former cellies, MacNally?” No doubt noticing the inmate’s blank expression, Voorhees said, “Gormack’s had two surgeries, but looks like he’s gonna be blind. You did a number on his eyes.”