Chapter 32 #2
My eyes track everyone we pass. Memorizing their faces and watching their reactions to our presence. The inmates understandably aren’t thrilled to see us, but none of them have outwardly violent reactions to us, either.
It’s the staff who hold my attention. With the strict protocols surrounding Harrison’s detainment, it is incredibly unlikely that another prisoner is responsible for his death. None of them had access to his cell, and if they did, a guard or other staff member would have had to help them.
At the gate to the cell block where Harrison was being kept, a scowling Beta guard buzzes us through. His dark eyes track our every step, hands twitching where they sit on his desk. Like the rest of the center’s employees, he’s nervous but trying to hide it. Being under scrutiny has that effect.
Inside the cell, we find nothing. No signs the space was even occupied, let alone evidence of Harrison’s demise.
From the report Porter gave us, guards discovered the doctor unresponsive during their rounds at three o’clock this morning.
No life-saving measures were taken as he had been dead for several hours.
Likely dying shortly after lights out at nine pm.
“We would like to see the security footage,” Creed tells the warden, who quickly agrees and leads us from the room. Wary eyes follow us as we leave. The other inmates here won’t speak. Not when they could become the next target, and not without incentive.
The security room is dull. Just a square space with dozens of small monitors showing feeds from around the building. Three chairs are lined before them, but only one is currently occupied. Leaving the other two guards to walk the halls for their rounds.
“Jenkins. Show these gentlemen the footage from block C, starting just before lights out last night.” The guard complies, using a blank screen to bring up the surprisingly clear picture of both Harrison’s cell and the hallway outside.
The video footage reveals nothing to corroborate our theory that Harrison’s death was unnatural. After filling Porter in on our find, we leave the detention center. Now we wait for the coroner’s report. If it were natural causes… Fate sure has shitty timing.
“I’m fucking starving,” Creed complains as soon as we climb into his car. The behemoth of a man loves to eat. Even in the service, he was always waiting for mealtime. If I didn’t know his body needed calories to function, I’d question how he stores it all.
“The Cellar?”
He grins, shifts into gear, and peels out of the lot. “Hell fuckin’ yeah!”
The Cellar is a restaurant we discovered in New Jersey a few years ago when we were meeting up for dinner. It’s a local farm-to-table steakhouse that serves one hell of a meat cut. Everything we’ve ever gotten from there was incredibly well-seasoned, and worth the high prices.
The gray brick building holds an artsy black metal barrel with the restaurant’s logo molded inside. Inside, you’ll find the same vibe. Wood grain tables, leather seats, and black metal fixtures. A long bar runs along one side of the room, with a display of local and imported alcohols.
I slide onto a seat across from Creed and order a soda.
He gets a beer, limiting himself to one while we are technically on the clock.
We both scan the menu to see what new or seasonal options there are, but we end up ordering the same medium-rare steak with a bourbon-garlic cream sauce drizzled over top.
“We should bring Bea here,” he comments, sipping his beer. “She’d love this place.”
Our Omega loves food almost as much as her best friend does, so he’s absolutely right she would enjoy the hell out of this place. “Tell me when.”
Creed eyes me for a moment and nods. Much like my mate, I’m sure he and her other matches also assume I am going to back out or change my mind about pursuing the connection between me and Bea.
I won’t give up now. Not after I have had a taste of what the future could be like with Bea at my side.
My phone rings halfway through our meal. Dromir’s name flashes on my screen, and I scowl at it.
“Ferguson.”
“Hello, Lex. Listen, the lawyers called, and they need you on the stand tomorrow. I’ve let Porter know so he won’t have to pull you from an assignment last minute. I’ll text you the details.”
Fucking great. You’d think the Montgomery trial would be an easy win when we have video footage proving the Pastor assaulted his Omega daughter, planned to harvest her scent glands illegally, and was working with the doctor to put anti-bark effects into Harrison Pharmaceutical’s birth control and suppressants.
Of course, it can’t be that simple. The assholes representing the Pastor have to drag this out as far as possible to salvage what remains of his reputation.
“Bad news?”
Glaring at Creed, I stuff my mouth with roasted potatoes and steak, chewing aggressively. He just shakes his head and finishes the rest of his meal.
“You and our Omega are going to be fun to be around when the two of you butt heads.”