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It wasn’t until the next day that it occurred to me that that was the first time I’d ever said no to him.
TUESDAY
CHAPTER 8
I woke up early and did not take down drywall because Liz was being frosty and waking her would not warm her up. I always wake this early. Years of habit. No need for an alarm. I dressed and went outside as the first hint of BMNT, Begin Morning Nautical Twilight, touched the sky to the east. It was my favorite time of the day and when Major Rogers said it was most likely for one to be attacked.
I walked to the river and stood next to the old swing hanging by one rope from the oak tree, long story there. I imagined rafts of immigrants going by and Native Americans lurking in the forest, peering out at what they rightly saw as invaders. It had been a fight for survival on both sides, since the people on the rafts were often those with nothing to lose, trying for a new life on the then-frontier. It had been no quarter given on either side. I understood how both sides felt. There are some things you can’t compromise on.
But there are some things that are so important, you have to compromise.
I sighed and looked back at the Big Chef. All the lights were still off. I went to the Gladiator, got in, and headed for my first stop of the day. I left while Liz was still sleeping, which was cowardly of me, but Major Rogers was in favor of strategic retreats, and this was definitely the morning for one.
I was leaving town because Rain had texted to let me know Mickey was awake. She’d gotten me a time slot to get in to see him, and I was heading to the prison to meet her.
Yes, meeting an arsonist in a prison was better than waking up the woman I slept with to discuss the color of the bedroom I was making for her. I pick my battles.
* * *
Rain met me in the parking lot, seated in her spiffy two-seater black Mercedes. She was staring at her iPad as I walked over, and I saw blood displayed, lots of it. That was her specialty as a forensic investigator for the Cincinnati Police Department. She put it down and got out as I reached the car.
“Ready?” she asked.
“No, but let’s do it anyway.”
I hate prisons, about as much as I hate hospitals. The latter is for the sick and dying, so never a happy place. Okay, I guess there are births there too, but it’s outweighed for me by the other stuff. Prison is full of bad people. And not just the prisoners. Prison guards are a mixed bag. Some do it because they like it. Plus, a prison hit too close to home for me.
Rain’s connection was a deputy warden. He was waiting for us in the entry, where we surrendered our guns to a dour-faced guard sitting behind bulletproof glass. I cleared mine first, removing the magazine and taking out the round in the chamber. I put that in my pocket. He signed for them and gave us little paper receipts, as if we were checking our hats.
Rain’s guy didn’t have much to say to us as he led us into the warren of the prison. I could feel the walls around me and picked up on the mixture of despair, anger, and hopelessness as a palpable sensation. With an undercurrent of evil. The deputy warden had a blankness about him, which many of the guards had. There were no babies being born here, just people locked inside the stone and concrete walls and behind iron bars. You had to detach to get through the shift.
He unlocked a gate. “This is the hospital wing. Let the guard inside know when you’re ready to leave. Pitts was conscious last night and a little while ago.” He checked his watch. “You got here before shift change and it would be good if you left before then. Ten minutes, please.”
“Thank you,” Rain said.
We stepped through and the gate clanged shut behind us.
“You all right?” Rain asked.
“Not feeling any better than I was before,” I said. “Let’s get this over with.”
We walked down the corridor, which I noticed was painted white. Score one for Liz Danger. But when we pushed open the swinging door to the recovery ward, the walls were a sort of dull blue. I wasn’t sure if that was in Liz’s favor or mine. Did we really want our bedroom to look like a prison hospital? Then again, I doubt I would have noticed the walls if I hadn’t caught her with a paint roller.
Several beds were occupied. Mickey Pitts held a place of honor at the far end, near the narrow slit of a window. He was lying on his stomach and one hand was cuffed to the bar along the side of the hospital bed and one ankle to the bar at the base.
His eyes were closed and his breathing appeared steady. His head was turned to the right. I knelt close.
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”
A male nurse came by. “He was conscious five minutes ago when I did my rounds.”
I poked my finger toward his eye. As it was just a fraction of an inch from the lid, it flickered.
“Fuck you, Cooper,” Mickey grumbled. His eyes opened and he turned his head. “And with the bitch from Cincy. Where’s Danger? Should have brought her.” His voice was fuzzy, mumbling instead of his usual sharp delivery.
“She’s practicing her shooting,” I said. “Next time, head shots.”
“Not funny.” Mickey had an IV and was probably feeling little pain, but he could barely move given he’d just had spinal surgery.
