She’d deal with that later, once she’d talked to Buzz. It was only eleven; she’d have time.
Getting to her feet, Peyton walked over to pour herself a fresh cup of coffee. She didn’t need any more caffeine, but holding the cup would keep her hands busy and camouflage her anxiety. The last thing she wanted was to let on—to Buzz or Sergeant Hostetler—that this interview was a test.
The knock, which came sooner than she’d expected, startled her. “Peyton?”
It wasn’t Buzz; it was the warden. Somehow, he’d tracked her down. “Come in,” she called.
Fischer stepped into the room. Careful to close the door behind him, he lowered his voice. “I wanted to confirm that everything’s going as planned for…Wallace’s project.”
Obviously he was being cautious in case anyone was within earshot.
“I’m still working on it,” she said. “But don’t worry. We’ll be ready.” Hopefully Buzz would be the right man. If not, she’d have to find someone else.
Pivoting, she returned to the head of the table. “Why, have you spoken to Wallace?”
“He called this morning to say he’s taken care of that other business he had to attend to. He’ll be here tomorrow.”
She hoped that nothing on her face revealed her personal interest in this situation. “Great. Glad to hear it,” she said, but as far as she was concerned, Wallace hadn’t taken care of that other business at all. A woman had been shot and killed. Trinity Woods was dead because he hadn’t taken Virgil’s warnings seriously enough—although she had to concede that maybe it wasn’t entirely fair to blame Wallace. The Crew had no reason to murder the babysitter. They’d done it to make a statement, which was taking the situation further than she’d expected it to go, too. She was just angry at Rick because she’d called him herself this morning, twice, and he hadn’t bothered to respond. He knew it would leave her worrying about what she’d revealed, yet he’d contacted Fischer instead.
Did that mean he was more upset with her than she thought? It was a pretty safe guess. But there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She considered telling the warden what she’d told Rick, but decided it was too late. Since she couldn’t convince the associate director to call off the investigation, it wouldn’t be wise to make any more of an issue of it. That would only leave Virgil friendless in an environment she could help him navigate.
For better or worse, she was suddenly committed to secrecy. And celibacy.
“There’s just one thing,” Fischer said.
Setting her cup on the table, she waited for the warden to continue.
“You haven’t said anything about this to anyone, have you?”
The gravity of his tone caused a trickle of fear. “You mean what we discussed at the library?”
“Yes.”
“Of course not, why?”
He thought for a minute, then shook his head. “It’s nothing.”
“You think word of it has gotten out?”
“A couple of the C.O.s have mentioned that there’s added tension in gen pop. I’m wondering why.”
It could be anything; it didn’t have to be word that the CDCR was trying to infiltrate the Hells Fury. So why had Fischer’s mind gone in that direction? What wasn’t he saying? “That’s all you heard?”
“That’s it.” He shrugged. But he’d gone to the trouble of finding her to verify that she’d kept her mouth shut. He could’ve called her later, at her office. Was it because he wanted to see her face when she answered?
“Did you check with Frank Rosenburg and Joseph Perry?” she asked. “I did.”
“And?”
“They claim they haven’t breathed a word to anyone.”
Was that true? Shit! This was exactly what she’d been afraid of. “And you believe them?”
“Of course. Just like I believe you.”
She didn’t have the chance to say more. Sergeant Hostetler had arrived with Buzz.
Nodding a quick goodbye, Fischer opened the door for them and slipped out as they came in.
Peyton was tempted to tell Hostetler that she could handle the interview alone. She was interested in more than a few cursory answers on top of what she could read in Buzz’s C-file, and she figured he’d be more likely to open up if Hostetler wasn’t standing guard at the back of the room. But she couldn’t act out of the ordinary. He’d be able to tell something was different and so would the staff.
“I have a problem,” she announced.
Buzz glanced over his shoulder as if he thought she had to be talking to Hostetler.
Peyton walked around the large table. “That was meant for you.”
Because of food allergies and irritable bowel syndrome, Buzz had trouble gaining weight. His hollow eyes indicated that today wasn’t one of his better days. But his illness didn’t make him safe. He had a restless nature that made her fear he might be too unpredictable for her purposes. With tattoos covering his bald head, even part of his face, he looked as hardened as he probably was.
How would he react if she put Virgil in his cell?
He was smaller than Virgil. That, she liked. She wanted Virgil to be able to win if his cell mate ever attacked him. Of course, she thought Virgil could handle most men, as long as he knew what was coming. But there wasn’t much anyone could do to avoid getting shanked while sleeping.
“I’m sorry to hear you have a problem, Chief Deputy,” he said. “I really am, but there’s nothin’ I can do to help you.”
She arched her eyebrows. “You don’t even know what’s wrong. Why don’t you sit down so I can explain it to you?”
He did as she asked but bounced his knee as if he could hardly stand to be in the same room with her. “No offense, but I’d rather not get involved. I can’t do you any favors, you hear what I’m sayin’? I’m gettin’ out soon. I wanna serve my time and go. You understand.”
Despite his gang ties, he hadn’t been much of a behavioral concern in the past several years. His desire to sidestep her and stay out of trouble made her think he might actually work. It wasn’t like she had a lot of men to choose from that she considered safe. Everyone in Pelican Bay was there for a reason.
“Of course I understand.”
He relaxed slightly—until she continued to speak and he realized she wasn’t about to back off.
“But that still leaves me with a problem.”
Adjusting his position, he squinted at her. “What do you want from me?”
Peyton sat on the edge of the table. “There’s some sort of unrest in gen pop. It’s subtle, but…you know why I’d be concerned about that, right?”
“Of course. It’s your job to keep things under control.”
“That’s one way to put it. Another is that I don’t like it when people get hurt. So I’m hoping you can tell me what’s making everyone so…uptight.” This wasn’t the approach she’d planned to use. She’d been thinking of telling him that someone claimed he was making threats of bodily harm. But the warden’s visit, and what he’d said during that visit, had created an opportunity to put Virgil in Buzz’s cell, and make Buzz believe it was his fault.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ’bout,” he complained. “There’s nothin’ happenin’ in gen pop. If there was, I’d know about it.”
“That’s why you’re here.”
Realizing that he hadn’t made it any easier to maintain a low profile with that comment, he flushed. “There’s nothin’ to tell.”