“The warden? Why the warden?” His eyes darted to Trent and narrowed.
Risa answered. “When we met the warden outside Dryden’s cell this morning, he complained about funding shortages at the prison, remember? About not having enough money to pay guards overtime wages, or to update security measures. Are his complaints legitimate?”
Young bobbed his head in a nod. “We’re always short staffed.”
“What about updating security?” Rees continued.
“I don’t think one thing has been updated since I started working here. And that was ten years ago.”
Rees glanced at Trent, as if she’d run out of questions.
Trent thought back to the warden’s specific complaints. “He mentioned that the prison’s funding was being diverted to out-of-state prisons and to the new Supermax penitentiary.”
Young let out a guffaw. “Yeah, I thought that was a good one.”
A slight smile turned up the corners of Rees’s lips as if she was dying to be let in on the joke. “What’s so funny, Gordy?”
“It’s not the funding that the warden has his shorts in a bundle over.”
“Oh?”
“The Supermax is a real thorn in his side.”
“How so?” Trent prodded.
Young shot him a condescending look, as if the answer was more obvious than dirt. “Look at this place. It’s falling down around our ears. It’s the biggest dump in the state system. It’s no secret Warden Hanson took the job as a stepping stone. He wanted to head the Supermax.”
“But he was passed over?”
“Not only that. Some of his most notorious prisoners are being transferred to the Supermax next week.” A bitter smile tweaked the guard’s mouth. “All the warden will have left is crumbling walls housing a bunch of no-names. Not much to brag about at cocktail parties.”
Young’s words shifted and fell into place in Trent’s mind. The funding issue. The lost promotion. The prisoner transfer. A picture was forming. There was only one piece missing. A piece that would tie the entire package together. “Dryden is on that list of prisoners scheduled for transfer, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
Nikki
Nikki didn’t realize the plan had changed until Eddie made the turn north, heading back in the direction they’d come. “Where are we going?”
Eddie waited for her to repeat the question before he answered. “I have a stop to make.”
“But this is the way back to Lake Loyal. We can’t go back. You said it—”
“I said I have a stop to make.” His voice sounded sharp. Angry.
Nikki clamped her hands between her knees. She shouldn’t be questioning him. She didn’t want to make him angry. “I just worry. They’re going to be looking for you.”
“And you think I need you to explain that?”
“No. Of course not.”
“I have things to take care of.”
“Things?”
He stared at her, his face hard at first, then softening. The stubble on his cheeks sparkled in the sunlight, and for a moment, Nikki could almost imagine they were a regular married couple just out for a drive.
“Believe me, baby. There’s something I need to do, and it’s important. Would I lie to you?”
Nikki felt stupid. What was she thinking? Eddie wouldn’t put them at risk. He knew what it was like in prison. He didn’t want to go back. “No. No. I’m sorry.”
“And you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“I have a place for us to lay low.” He chuckled. “The guy who owns it would bust a gut if he knew.”
“Why?”
“He was weak, and I took advantage of it.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s what winners do. And I am a winner, right?”
“Yes.”
“Winners get all the beautiful things. That’s why I have you.”
Right then, with the sun shining on his boyishly handsome face and his voice soft and a little teasing, Nikki wanted to throw her arms around him and never let him go. “I love you, Eddie.”
“And you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“And you want to make me happy?”
“You know I do.”
“Good.” Eddie turned his attention back to the road, a hard smile breaking over his face. “Because there’s one more place we have to stop first. Someone we have to pick up.”
“Someone? Who?”
“You’ll see. And I’m sure you’ll like her as much as I do.”
Trent
Trent pulled the car into Warden Hanson’s driveway. Throwing the car into Park, he studied the house cowering beyond the spiked security fence. Long shadows of approaching twilight fell over the light beige colonial, but lights glowed from inside. Someone was home. Good.
Hanson had already left work by the time they’d finished questioning Young, but Trent couldn’t afford to wait until the next morning to talk to him. There was no telling exactly when Dryden would strike next, but Trent was willing to bet it would be soon.
Very soon.
He glanced at Rees, sitting by his side in the dim car.
“You’re welcome for the help with Gordy,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“Eager to assist. You know that.”
Trent had finally faced the fact that keeping Risa out of the investigation was impossible. At first he’d decided to enlist her help merely to prevent her from convincing Subera to use her as bait. As it turned out, she’d made the difference with Young. “Let’s hope our luck with Hanson is as good.”
Trent threw the door open and climbed out of the car. A security phone was nestled on one side of the gate. Pretty fancy security for rural Wisconsin. But perhaps running a prison made one paranoid.
Trent picked up the phone and pushed the Call button. A light shone down on his face, illuminating his features for a security camera’s eye.
“Who’s there?” a woman’s voice squeaked from the phone.
“FBI, ma’am,” Trent announced. “I need a word with Mr. Hanson.”
Silence answered him, heavy as the humid night air. Finally the voice erupted again. “How do I know you’re really FBI?”
Trent held his badge up to the camera lens. “I’m Special Agent Trent Burnell, ma’am.”
“Someone else is there, too. Who’s with you?”
Trent glanced over his shoulder. Rees moved up close behind him, into the camera’s view. “Professor Risa Madsen. She’s assisting me.”
Though he didn’t look in her direction, he felt Rees smile.
“I’m sorry.” The thin voice rose again from the phone. “Paul isn’t home.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Trent frowned into the receiver. “Am I speaking to Mrs. Hanson?”
Silence stretched on much too long.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes?” The voice fluttered.
“May we have a word with you?”
“No, I—” She drew a shaky breath. “I’d rather not let anyone in. Not while Paul is gone.”
“This is an urgent matter, Mrs. Hanson. I won’t take much of your time.”
“I’m not comfortable having visitors while Paul is out. He’ll be at the prison tomorrow. You can talk to him there. Please?”
Unease pricked the back of Trent’s neck. He studied the tall security fence, the drawn draperies of the house beyond. If he’d needed another reason to stay away from Rees—to call off their wedding—this was it. He could never have borne the idea of Rees being sentenced to a life of fear and paranoia. The kind of existence that apparently, Mrs. Hanson was living.
Or… maybe it wasn’t all paranoia. “Are you all right, Mrs. Hanson?”
“All right? Oh, yes, I’m fine. I’m just not comfortable inviting you in. There are so many bad people out there. So many people who do horrible things. I’m just not comfortable.”