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Everyone in prison had to work, and most of the men needed the money. Nate hadn’t told a single soul that he did not. Ward deposited money in his prison bank account every month, though he couldn’t spend more than three hundred and ten dollars a month.
Nate, in all the months he’d been in River Bay, had not spent that much. He saw no need to call attention to himself. In fact, everything Nate had done over the last fifty-two months was to keep the spotlight off of him.
Head down. Mouth closed. That was how he’d avoided the fights, the disagreements, and the overload of tickets that seemed to fly from the Unit Officer’s fingertips.
No one spoke to him, which suited Nate just fine. He knew all the men and women in the unit office, and he felt very lucky to have been assigned to this unit.
“How’s Charles?” he finally asked when he and the unit secretary seemed to be the only ones still working.
She looked up from her computer, her eyes slightly glazed over. Nate wondered what that would be like, to feel so comfortable that he wasn’t constantly scanning the windows just beyond the office for any sign of a threat.
“Oh, uh, he’s okay,” she said, her mind clearly somewhere else. Ellen had thin, wispy hair the shade of rich soil. She tucked it away, but it just spilled out again, because it was so fine.
“Think I’ll get a full night’s sleep tonight?” Nate asked, looking back to his own computer. His was at least five years older than the one Ellen pecked on, and it didn’t connect to the Internet. Nate got thirty minutes each day to download and upload his emails, and just by communicating with his mother and then Ward, it wasn’t enough time to stay caught up on everything.
“Probably,” Ellen said. “We’ve got two more on call. You took your turn last night.”
Nate thought of the three a.m. count, and though he didn’t have to stand at attention for that one, he woke up every night when the Unit Officers came through the rooms, their flashlights as bright as spotlights.
He nodded anyway, thinking he’d made it through another day. Another day toward his release. Toward freedom.
* * *
Nate did get awakenedin the middle of the night, but it wasn’t because of heavy boots on the floor and those sweeping lights crisscrossing the dormitory.
No, someone was talking.
The men in his wing didn’t cause trouble, for the most part. Sometimes Ted could get a bee in his bonnet, but he had a louder bark than a bite. Though, Nate supposed he probably could have a mighty loud bite too. He’d been incarcerated for aggravated assault. He’d gotten into a scuffle at his law office, used his fists to get the other guy away from him, and found out the hard way that undercover cops could literally be anywhere.
To make matters worse, Ted had been holding a knife in one hand because he’d been cutting a cake for an office party.
Thus, he’d gotten aggravated assault on a police officer. The law office had been under investigation for some questionable activity with the drug cartel along the Southern border, and Ted had become the fall guy.
He hadn’t used the knife, but he was in possession of it. He hadn’t handled the wrong accounts, but he suddenly had a target on his back. He’d fought for the rights of his clients, and in the end, he’d lost his.ho
Nate thought sometimes the law could be downright comical.
“Nate,” a man whispered, bending down to shine his light right into Nate’s eyes.
He knew the voice, even if he was blinded to Percy’s face. “What?” he asked, trying not to sound irritated. Some Unit Officers handed out tickets for much more innocent questions than the one Nate had just asked. He held up one hand to shield his retinas from all that blasted light.
“Come with me.” Percy straightened and walked away, leaving Nate confused as he tried to sit up and reason through why he’d need to go with Percy.
Rule number one in prison: Don’t go off with a guard alone.
Nate flicked a glance at Ted, who slept on the bottom bunk only five feet from Nate. They shared the desk sitting between the two sets of bunk beds, but Nate got his own locker for his personal belongings.
“Come on,” Percy said from the doorway, and Nate stood up.
“I need shoes,” he said.
“Not for this.”
“For what?” Nate asked, his pulse starting to beat a little too fast through his body. The weight of every eye in his wing was on him, but Nate had literally never caused a scene before.
Percy turned back to him, and anguish rolled across the man’s face. “You better get dressed and put on your boots.”
Nate nodded and got changed, not caring that everyone watched him. He had to get strip searched to go into the suicide unit, so switching out his sweat pants and T-shirt for the official prison uniform was no big deal.
