Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
During the long, dreary hours in solitary confinement, Tawny exercised as much as she could in the limited space of her cell, despite her broken ribs, and encouraged Yolanda to do the same. When they weren’t napping, inevitable without anything to occupy their minds, they conversed in barely audible voices and discussed how things would be after they were released from solitary.
“No one is gonna mess with you no more,” Yolanda promised. “Not when they realize if they mess with you, they mess with me, too.”
“Yeah. But listen, the warden’s plans for me and you, ‘cause I wouldn’t accept his offer without you, is our ticket out.”
“Tell me how.”
“I will. Tomorrow, when we get out of solitary. We’ll have an exit interview with Warden Stoltz, so don’t get smart with him. Apologize for fighting, even if you don’t mean it. Don’t give him a chance to rip away the deal I made with him.”
“Okay. You can trust me.”
The following morning, after a cold breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast, a guard came to escort Tawny to see Warden Stoltz. As he handcuffed her, she recognized him as one of the guards usually in a watch tower.
Wanting to see how far she could push him, she remarked, “So, they finally made you come down to our level.”
“I wanted to see you up close and personal, Tawny.”
“You like watching me?” She made sure he knew she wasn’t flirting with him by the serious inflection of her tone.
“I like watching you fight. God, you stink.”
Tawny didn’t care about the body odor. Her bandages hadn’t been changed in a week, and she needed to have her stitches removed. She was just grateful she didn’t have an infection. Rather than offer a sarcastic reply, she kept quiet as he led her to the showers. Normally, they were only allowed a few minutes to bathe and wash their hair, but the guard gave Tawny extended time. Still, she cleansed herself as quickly as she could, considering her injuries, and hoped her next stop was the infirmary to have her wounds checked. When she found a clean jumpsuit and undergarments waiting for her, she thanked the guard.
“These weren’t here before. Thanks.”
He turned his back while she dressed and slipped her feet into the canvas shoes they were issued.
“I didn’t catch your name,” Tawny commented as they left the showers. Women stood in line to take their turn. Some shot daggers at her. Others gave her a chin nod and signs of respect for winning the fight last week. Before losing consciousness herself, she’d knocked out Yolanda.
“Officer Whitcomb. Carey Whitcomb.”
“Will you take me to the infirmary?”
“Dr. Sadler has ordered a checkup.”
“How’s Yolanda? Have you seen her?”
“She’s seeing the dentist right now. You did a number on her teeth.”
Tawny winced with shame. It was survival of the fittest in here, and she only did what was necessary to stay alive and create a fearsome reputation. Now, at least, Yolanda was on her side, and the warden had unknowingly offered her a way to gather intel.
Whitcomb must have seen her reaction, for he sent her a sharp look. “Don’t feel bad about it. From my post in the watch tower, I saw her come after you with a shank. Smart to disarm her. Where’d you learn to fight like that? It’s almost military in its precision. Did you serve?”
“No. I watched a lot of kung fu movies growing up.”
“Huh.” When they reached the infirmary, Whitcomb remarked, “See you around… Ginger. Try to stay out of trouble before you end up in an early grave.”
The way he called her Ginger reminded Tawny of how Finnigan referred to her as Red . Her heart ached with missing him. If he didn’t propose to her after this, she might have to take the initiative!
Dr. Sadler welcomed Tawny into the infirmary with a rare smile and sent Whitcomb on his way. She indicated Tawny should hop onto an examination table, and then proceeded to listen to her lungs and heart. “You have a slight wheeze.”
“It’s damp in solitary.”
The doctor checked her ears, nose, and throat and took her temperature. “It’s normal, but I don’t like your color. You’re pale.”
“A week in solitary will do that to a person.”
“I imagine so.” She unwrapped the Ace bandages around Tawny’s midsection and examined the bruising caused by the fight. “Still deep purple and yellow, but you’re healing.”
Next, she peeled the bandages from Tawny’s other wounds. “I don’t like the way these gashes look. Let’s get the stitches out, clean everything with antiseptic, and cover them again.”
At the end of the visit, Tawny thanked Dr. Sadler for her concern. “I appreciate you, Doc.”
Dr. Sadler made her swallow a multivitamin and an oral antibiotic. “You’ve been a week without proper treatment, so I’ll request that you see me once a day for the next three days.”
“What about Yolanda?”
“I saw her earlier. She’s doing fine. The dentist will fix her teeth.”
“I didn’t want to hurt her.”
Dr. Sadler nodded. “I understand how things work in here. Now, go on. Warden Stoltz is waiting for you.”
A different guard, more surly and unfriendly than Pomeroy or Whitcomb, escorted Tawny to the warden’s office. She wasn’t handcuffed, but he seemed to take pleasure in pushing her forward. Tawny remained quiet and cooperative, though she longed to punch him in the face.
Wendy greeted her with her usual effervescence. “Tawny, hi! You’re looking better.”
Tawny suppressed the urge to chuckle and to respond with sarcasm. Instead, she returned Wendy’s smile. “Thank you.”
Wendy opened the door, and Tawny and the guard walked into the tail end of Warden Stoltz’s phone conversation.
“I don’t care how! Just get it done. Yes, yes, ten new promising recruits. At least a month.” A pause. Then, he continued in a hard voice, “All right. Two weeks.”
Warden Stoltz ended the call. When the guard cleared his throat, Stoltz turned at the sound. His face darkened with anger. “You should have waited outside.”
“Your aide let us in,” the guard replied. Without another word, he left the office.
Tawny didn’t blame him. She wanted to get away from the warden, too. The look he leveled at her caused a twinge of fear to creep across her scalp. He regarded her as one might a cockroach scuttling across the floor before stomping on it. In that one unguarded moment, Stoltz gave her a glimpse into his true feelings about the women in CIFW. He would like to see them all suffer and then die.
She didn’t sit down. To do so would give him power over her. Her height provided an advantage since he had to look up at her.
“I trust you used your time in solitary wisely,” Warden Stoltz began in a curt tone.
Tawny mentally rolled her eyes. What an asinine thing to say. “I did. What about our deal?”
“Still on the table. You’ll be informed when fire classes begin.”
“I want to call my lawyer.”
His dark, beady eyes narrowed as he considered her request. “As I recall, you don’t have a lawyer.”
“My public defender bailed as soon as I was convicted. I have a new lawyer now who’s working on appealing my conviction.”
The news didn’t please Stoltz. He rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt and loosened his tie. Tawny wondered if he felt a noose tightening around his neck. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Whomever he spoke to must have upset him more than she’d first assumed. “I’ll have the guard escort you to a phone. Now get out of my sight.”
“Have a nice day, Warden.” Tawny shot him a sarcastic grin.
An explosion of vile expletives followed her out of his office.
Wendy looked up from her desk, her forehead wrinkled. “What did you say to him?” A twinge of nervousness in her tone replaced her usual cheerfulness.
“Nothing.” She refused to elaborate as she addressed the guard. “I have permission to call my lawyer.”
“You can take her into the conference room,” Wendy said. She pointed toward an open door on her left.
Tawny knew the guard wouldn’t leave her alone, so she would have to choose her words carefully to communicate with Special Agent Teagan Thomas, one of the agents handling the op. The agent had been nothing but a glorified paper pusher until Jiena had recruited her for the Laguna Beach satellite office of the FBI. Thomas was intelligent and efficient, and Tawny liked those qualities in her new handler. Jiena had shared horror stories of undercover ops gone awry—hers included when she infiltrated the Finnicelli crime family’s organization. She assured Tawny nothing like that would happen to her as long as she was in charge. Tawny trusted Jiena and her talented team of agents.
Tawny dialed the number she’d memorized on the landline phone. She turned her back to the guard so it would be harder for the guard to hear what she said. After three rings, a voice answered, “Winchester Law Firm. How may I help you?”
“I’d like to speak to TK Winchester. Tell her it’s Tawny Westfall.”
Teagan came on the line and spoke in a low voice. “Solitary again? Are you okay?”
“Busted up a bit. I have some news. Warden Stoltz wants me to start fire classes. Don’t know when. But it will help my case, right?”
“Yes. It’s a great opportunity so, don’t blow it.”
“I won’t. When will you visit?”
“When I have something to report. In the meantime, there’s money in your account for any incidentals you might need.”
“Thanks, Ms. Winchester. Appreciate your interest in me.”
“I know it’s tough in there. Just remember you’re not alone.”
After the call ended, the guard escorted Tawny outside for some fresh air. The late fall sunshine warmed her face. She turned toward the rays and closed her eyes. Images of the rocky coast of Laguna Beach filled her vision. She could smell the salt spray as the waves crashed against the rocks and hear the roar of the Pacific on a stormy day. Cut off from her family and friends, she had no idea what was happening back home. Incarcerated, she had to appear to be a woman without any support, without anyone who would care what happened to her if she disappeared or overdosed.
Tawny sat on a set of metal bleachers. Some of the women were shooting baskets. Her lips curled into a slight smile when she remembered how the guys of the LBPD teamed up against the LBFD in a basketball game and performed the macarena when they won. That had been a great day.
A basketball ricocheted off the backboard and bounced up into the bleachers. Tawny caught it and jumped onto the concrete. She tossed it into the air and approached a slim Black woman who watched her warily. Her name was Jo, and she was known around the cell block as a peacekeeper.
“Can I join the game?”
“You got game?”
“Yeah, I got game.”
“We don’t want no trouble.”
“Don’t want to cause any. I just want to have some fun.”
“Okay. You’re in.”
Eight women divided themselves into two teams. One inmate acted as a referee and tossed the basketball into the air. Jo and another woman leaped at the same time, but Jo was quicker and slapped the ball toward Tawny. She dribbled it, sidestepped the opposition, and passed the ball to Jo who sank a basket. The teams were evenly matched, and as the competition intensified, they drew a crowd of inmates who cheered for both sides.
The women played fair with no dirty tricks. Tawny and Jo scored the most baskets for their team, and after being neck and neck for most of the game, their side won by the last shot taken by Jo. Hot and sweaty, the women grinned, high-fived each other, and ambled off toward other parts of the exercise yard.
Jo and Tawny settled onto the bleachers and watched the other inmates in silence. Tawny glanced up at the tower and waved at Whitcomb. He might have responded with a chin nod, but she couldn’t be sure.
“Why’d you do that?” Jo asked.
“I don’t know. I guess to let him know I’m aware that he’s watching me.”
“You finally noticed? It’s creepy.”
“He escorted me out of solitary. Said he liked to watch me fight.”
“Still creepy. But he’s not one of the bad ones.”
Tawny wanted to ask about the “bad ones,” but needed to gain Jo’s trust first by discovering more about her. “What are you in for, Jo?”
Jo leaned back and stretched out her legs on the bench below them. “Manslaughter. Drunk driving accident. I’m serving a fifteen-year sentence. This is year five, I think. Stay in here long enough and you lose track of time.”
“Did you have a decent lawyer?”
She snickered and shot Tawny an incredulous look. “You kiddin’? PD. I’m lucky Judge Cohen didn’t sentence me to life.”
“He was my judge, too. Gave me five years for drug possession. That bag of coke wasn’t even mine.” Tawny paused as an inmate approached them.
“Got any smokes?”
Jo and Tawny shook their heads as the bleach-blonde, heavyset woman plopped down beside them. She met Tawny’s eyes and grinned. “I saw your fight with Yolanda last week. You got a reputation, girl. My name’s Bette. As in Midler. Wish I had her fortune.”
“Tawny. We’re talkin’ about how we got here. I’m in for drug possession, and Jo committed manslaughter. What’d you do, Bette?”
“Same as you. Drug possession. Shouldn’t even be here, but Judge Cohen sent me upriver anyhow.”
“You have a lawyer?”
“Nope. Just a worthless PD.”
“Us, too.”
Bette gazed around the yard and lowered her voice. “I got a theory. There’s a conspiracy goin’ on.”
Jo rolled her eyes. “C’mon. We don’t want to hear none of that shit.”
“I do.” Tawny smiled. “I’m into that kinda shit. Go ahead, tell me.”
“First of all, was your PD a guy named Jones? Perry Jones?”
Jo’s dark eyes widened a bit. “Yeah, he wasn’t no Perry Mason, let me tell you.”
Tawny’s pulse quickened with interest. “Yeah, he was mine, too. At my hearing, he didn’t bother to put up any kind of a defense and dropped me as soon as Judge Cohen sentenced me.”
“He’s arraigning women specifically on a weekend. I was one of them. I heard he even tried to pull that shit on a district attorney arrested for killing her husband. The point is, unless you got a lawyer on speed dial and plenty of money, no one but a PD is comin’ to help, you see? That D.A. had herself a fancy lawyer to represent her, I forget his name, but he’s a big shot. Those other women? Not even a PD showed up to their arraignment. That’s totally against the law. I know, ‘cause I watch a lot of Law and Order .”
Jo’s posture straightened, and she turned rigid as Bette spoke. “So, what’s your theory?”
Bette’s voice dropped to a whisper. “That Judge Cohen and Perry Jones is workin’ together to send offenders here. They got somethin’ goin’ on that ain’t right. My cellmate died from a supposed drug overdose, mysterious-like. She never did that shit.”
“Who was your cellmate?” Tawny asked.
“Lucy Conner.”
Tawny’s heart dropped into her stomach. Her friend was Bette’s cellmate.