CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tyler was about ready to kill Cox himself.
The bastard had gotten his candle, a cheap three-inch tallow stick from the local craft store.
Then he’d somehow managed to spill tallow into the ventilation system.
Now the entire block—Cox included—got to be shut down and evacuated while the HVAC company came out to inspect and repair it.
Tyler glared at Cox as he shackled the man’s wrists to his ankles and shackled both to chains wrapped around the dolly they were going to use to transport him. He looked like a damned werewolf being secured against the full moon. Which was a disturbingly apt comparison.
Cox said nothing as this occurred, just smiled his usual self-satisfied smirk.
Tyler kept his glare and tried not to let on how terrified he was.
They were going to discover the candle. They were going to wonder how he got it.
Tyler had no illusion that Cox would show honor and keep Tyler’s name out of his mouth.
That wasn’t just his job. That was a prison sentence.
Smuggling contraband to a guy like Cox was a fast track to a cell next to his.
Well, not next to his. Not even in the same prison.
Still a cell, though, and once the block figured out he was a corrections officer, protective custody might not even save his life.
They wheeled Cox out of the unit and nearly collided with the HVAC worker. The HVAC guy, a tall, well-muscled man with a bushy mustache and dark olive-complexioned skin, jumped out of the way, then jumped again when he saw who he’d almost run into.
“Whoa,” he said, “Wow. Sorry. I thought everyone was out of here.”
“Did I say everyone was out?” the other CO, the very irritated Edgar Ritchson, barked. “Go back to the waiting room and wait.”
“Um…” the HVAC guy began. A dark blue patch on his light blue coveralls read Smith. “I’m kind of on a deadline, so do you mind if I just get—”
“Waiting room. Now.”
“All right,” Smith said, lifting his hands sheepishly.
He looked at Cox again, then scurried away. A canvas sack of tools jiggled on his back.
“God help the idiot responsible for this,” Edgar muttered. He glared at Cox. “Especially if it’s you.”
Cox’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes crinkled, revealing the smile within.
Tyler kept his stern expression, afraid that if he relaxed his face at all, his fear would show. Damn it, Tyler.
Knowing that he’d done this for a girl made it even worse. All of his maudlin internal whining about no one wanting him and feeling like shit all the time sounded like high school now.
No more, he promised himself. He wouldn't give Cox anything else.
Cox could rat on him, but as long as he wasn't caught for this, Cox couldn't prove anything.
Bertha was in trouble, too, if it got out that he had a relationship with Marcy, so he could end that, too, and not fear exposure.
If Marcy claimed anything, Bertha would deny it.
They met in a security camera blind spot, so there was no evidence. He would be fine.
Damn it, he should have just kept his mouth shut. He should have never let Cox talk him into bringing him stuff. How could he have been so stupid? The man’s whole schtick was manipulating people. Did Tyler actually think that because he wasn’t religious, he wasn’t at risk?
“Watch him,” Edgar said. “I’m going to go let the HVAC guy know it’s okay to do his job now.”
He left Tyler in the small processing room at the front of the ward. Some months ago, Cox had been searched for contraband here and handed an orange jumpsuit. He’d been given the rules, not the least of which was punishment promised if he brought any more contraband…
Oh God, the pen. The pen was still in his cell. If they found that, they’d know someone had brought it to him, and Tyler was the only person who ever saw him.
He clenched his fists and turned to Cox. The man’s eyes met his, blue and cold as Arctic ice. The crinkles of his smile remained on either side just above his mask.
“I promise you if you throw me under the bus, I will make things hard for you. I’m friends with everyone on this ward.
I can have laxatives put in all of your meals.
I can have them shut your lights off and leave you in the dark.
And don’t think there won’t be consequences for you for receiving contraband.
You be a good little boy and keep your mouth shut, and I’ll make sure the consequences are light.
Make trouble for me, and my judgment will be worse than anything God ever dreamed up. ”
Cox listened placidly to this rant, his eyes never leaving Tyler, the smug smile he wore just as clear as if it hadn’t been covered by a mask.
God, this is all shit. This is all—
“Tyler.”
The blood drained from Tyler’s face. When he heard his name called again, he released a soft gasp. His knees started trembling.
This is it. This is the end. They found the pen and the candle, and I’m fucked. I’ll never see Elise again. Harriet will win the custody battle, and she’ll tell Elise all about her idiot, felon father who cheated on her with an imprisoned meth addict.
“Tyler, dude, you have to come see this.”
Tyler turned to Edgar. The other CO was grinning. Laughing. Looking at Cox and chuckling. “Crazy bastard.”
Tyler blinked. He followed Edgar for a few steps, then stopped. “What about him?” He hooked his thumb back at Cox.
“The room’s empty except for him, and I’ll seal it when we leave. No one can get in until I get back and unseal it, not even the warden. Come on, it’ll be quick.”
Tyler glanced back at Cox. The Lawgiver kept looking at him with those calm, cold blue eyes. He swallowed and followed Edgar.
Edgar led him to Cox's cell, where Smith, the HVAC guy, stood in front of the exposed ventilation shaft wearing a wry smile. He pointed at the shaft, and Tyler immediately saw the culprit of the blocked ventilation. Not candlewax. Toilet paper. Clumps of wet, moldy toilet paper.
“Looks like he was lying about the candlewax,” Smith said. “Can’t believe the smell didn’t bother him. There was a half-inch gap behind the panel, and he was stuffing toilet paper in it. Hell if I know why.”
He looked at the two CO’s hoping they might have an idea and be willing to share it with him. If Edgar did, he didn’t share. As for Tyler, he was too stunned to think at all, let alone try to deduce the reasons behind the actions of a madman.
After a moment, Smith cleared his throat.
“Anyway, I’ll get this cleaned out and replace the grating that’s supposed to protect this panel from…
stuff like this. Might suggest to your warden that he pipe the ventilation through the ceiling so your guests can’t reach it, but I guess that would be a bigger and more expensive project.
Anyway, I’ll need about ten minutes, and then you’ll want to cycle the air through to get rid of any contaminants.
Or just poison the guy. Might solve a few problems.”
Oh, if only.
Edgar grinned at Tyler. “Guy’s fuckin’ loco.”
“Yeah,” Tyler agreed. “Loco.”
Edgar clapped Tyler on the shoulder. “All right. Let’s get back to our duties.” He laughed. “Damn. How gone do you have to be to stuff freaking toilet paper into an air vent just for attention?”
Tyler laughed along with Edgar, but the fear he still carried overpowered his relief.
Cox didn’t do anything just for attention.
He was planning something. What, Tyler didn’t know, but when he returned to the processing room and saw Cox’s cold eyes and taunting smile still crinkling the skin underneath, he knew that the other shoe would drop soon, and when it did, he wanted to be as far away from ground zero as possible.
No more gifts. If that means no more Marcy, so be it.
God had shown him mercy today. Tyler hoped He was more merciful than Cox believed him to be.