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63
Connor
After the skinheads tried to kill me, things actually got worse.
I got tossed in solitary confinement, right after my hospital visit with Lily, Sebastian, Johnny, and Bert. Apparently in prison, even if you try to defend yourself against a murder attempt, you get thrown in solitary.
Maybe they would have been more forgiving if I’d let the skinheads kill me.
I didn’t complain, though. The longer I spent in SHU – the ‘security housing unit’ – the fewer chances Miranda had to have me shivved in the back.
Despite my relative safety, the next two days were not fun. No word from Bert, no word from Lily, just 40-plus hours in an 8x10 concrete cell with a toilet that stank of sewage. The ‘food’ they shoved through the feeding slot three times a day tasted only marginally better than the toilet smelled – but I wouldn’t let them get to me. I shut my mind and ate the food, did hundreds of push-ups and crunches, and plotted like the Count of Monte Cristo for whenever I got out of prison.
Miranda and I were going to have a reckoning, and it was going to be far from pleasant for her.
Me, on the other hand? I was going to enjoy it immensely.
The morning of my second day in SHU, the door unlocked and opened.
I stood up and prepared myself for another attempt on my life – but it was just one of the guards. He motioned me out of the cell. “Come on, let’s go.”
I kept quiet until I realized we weren’t headed back to D block. “Where are we going?” I asked suspiciously.
“Processing.”
“What?”
“Today’s your lucky day. You’re gettin’ out.”
I didn’t believe him at first, but when he took me past a series of locked gates, I allowed myself to hope. But I still kept guarded, just in case Miranda had bribed the prison staff, and this guy was leading me to my death.
But he didn’t. He took me to a room with a man behind a bulletproof window. The clerk opened a package and began to slide out the contents towards me, one by one, as he read off a typed list.
“One pair of pants… one white dress shirt… one suit jacket… one cell phone… one necktie…”
By the time I was dressed, Bert walked in. For a guy who had just effectively won a court case without a trial, he sure looked somber.
“You did it!” I roared happily, and embraced him. “HOW did you do it?!”
“The FBI returned their report yesterday afternoon, and I got an emergency hearing with the court. It seems there was a canister of cyanide gas in the rear compartment of the limo. In a closed space like that, with the windows up, your father would have died within minutes. They found gas still in the cylinder, and they found traces on the upholstery.”
It made me sick – and furious – to hear how Miranda had murdered him… but there was something else bothering me. “I thought they found cyanide in his stomach.”
“It must have been force-fed to him as he was dying, or piped into his stomach post mortem,” Bert said. “The FBI said it was conclusive, though, that the gas killed him. I’m just sorry you have to hear it like this.”
I thought a little more about how I was going to destroy Miranda.
“At least the court is convinced you didn’t play a part in your father’s death,” Bert continued. “The DA dropped the charges. You’re free to go.”
Finally a smile came back to my face. “That’s great fucking news, Bert. THANK you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Where’s Lily?” I asked, looking behind him. “Where’s Sebastian and Johnny? Are they waiting outside? Did the prison not allow them to come back here?”
“Connor…”
Bert looked like he was going to be sick.
