19
Enzo
M ail call came and went, and there was no letter from Amara. It had been a few days, but my court date was approaching. Maybe she was preparing, but usually, she set up a lawyer visit beforehand.
My little pen pal always wrote back, and she never missed a single day. I got her most recent letter, and I immediately replied.
Amara,
27 days until you’re divorced, but not until you’re a free woman. I’ll never let you go, my little pen pal.
-Enzo
I read her last letter, searching for any hidden signs of her pulling away or being upset with me. But our letters were short and sweet, and I found nothing unusual.
She wouldn’t just stop writing to me out of nowhere; I was sure of it. The only reason she stopped years ago was because Mark kept my letters from her.
Hot rage trickled in my veins. Someone or something was keeping Amara from me.
The correctional officers left the wing, and I dialed my brother-in-law on my cell phone.
“Ricci?” he startled.
“Yeah, listen, how is my sister?” I wondered.
“Fine, why? What’s going on?” he pressed.
“I need you to get my guys on my lawyer, Amara Branson. She hasn’t answered my letters or made any appointments, which is unlike her. Can you check on her?”
“Not me personally, no, but I can send some guys out her way,” he conceded. “I’ll text you if I have something.”
I hung up the phone as I heard a guard drag another inmate inside, throwing him into solitary confinement. I quickly hid my phone, putting it on silent so the guards wouldn’t listen to it when my brother-in-law texted me.
The man shouted obscenities at the guard before he left, and when the door thudded closed, Vitali burst out laughing.
“What the fuck is so funny?” Luca snapped.
“It’s fucking Durante,” Vitali laughed.
“Fucking hell,” Luca groaned. “How you been, crazy?”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, idiota, ” Durante snapped. “Bet you didn’t give each other shit when you first got locked up.”
“Just never thought I’d see a cop behind bars,” Vitali laughed. “They did you a favor by putting you in here.”
“What the fuck did you do?” I exclaimed. Durante grew up with us, but instead of a life of crime, he decided to become a cop. This was his first time in prison, as far as I knew.
“A couple murder charges,” he shrugged. “No biggie.”
“Fucking hell, what did the fuckers do?” Luca asked.
“They fucking deserved it, I’ll tell you that,” Durante snarled. “Why are you fucks still in here? Keep catching charges?”
“Enzo’s got a couple life sentences at this point,” Luca muttered. “Vitali got life, and I’m getting sentenced soon, but Ludovic’s got a few years.”
“Well, Ludovic will have to learn to fly alone without his three best buddies,” Durante sneered.
I shrugged. “If you can plead down to manslaughter, you might be out soon, too.”
“They ain't gonna get me for no fucking manslaughter,” Durante mumbled. “Not unless my brothers in blue make some fucking evidence disappear.”
I snorted because it wouldn’t surprise me. Durante might act like a good man, but we all knew he was a corrupt cop. The mafia would have his back and get him out in no time.
But I had a feeling that he wouldn’t stop at just one kill like me. Once I got the taste for it, I couldn’t stop.
“You know anything about the Branson harassment case?” I wondered.
Durante perked up. “Yeah, that fucking Mark twat calling his wife non-stop, what about it?”
“From what I read, their divorce will be final soon,” I informed. “What’s going on with that? Is he going to court and shit?”
“Fuck, I hope so,” Durante cringed. “Fucker’s bad news. He got at least two women who came forward as witnesses, but he scared them off. So I was tacking on two counts of intimidating a witness on his ass, but then these fuckers pulled up and dragged me to jail.”
“You went from jail to prison pretty quickly,” Luca observed.
“Yeah, well, the only nearby jail has lots of people I put in there, so they dropped me off here for safety,” he fumed. “Bastards.”
“That’s highly unusual,” Vitali commented. “You sure you’re not a snitch?”
“Yo, fuck you, Vitali,” Durante snarled.
I chuckled, shaking my head as I sat on my cot, pulling out papers and a pen. In case my little pen pal had forgotten about me, or my letter got lost, I wrote another one.
Amara,
Did my last letter get lost, baby? Is your work catching on? Because I plead the fifth. Get back to me.
-Enzo
I folded the letter in an envelope, sealed it shut, and placed it by the door. Maybe the guard would take it once he gave me my food tray.
I stared at the walls, barely paying attention as the men talked among themselves. I tapped my pen against my thigh, checking the phone occasionally to see if my men got back to me.
Nothing.
Hours ticked by, and chow time came and went. It was refried beans, mashed potatoes, and some sorry excuse for meatloaf today. But I ate it anyway, determined to keep up my strength for my little pen pal. I grew uneasy as time passed in a slow crawl.
The guard took my letter with my empty tray, and I hoped Amara would get my letter and reply this time.
I looked at my phone several hours later, and a reply lit up the screen from my brother-in-law.
No sign of her at work, but her car is parked in front of her house. Her boss thinks she’s out sick, he wrote. She hasn’t left her house since she went home a few nights ago.
I huffed out a frustrated breath. I supposed Amara might have been sick, especially if she hadn’t left her house. It also explained why she wasn’t replying to my letters, since I always wrote them to her work address.
I needed to get out of here. Even if she was sick, I wanted to ensure she was alright. I’d gladly nurse her back to health, but breaking out of the hole was nearly impossible.
“Russo or Romano working tonight?” I called to Vitali.
“No, for once,” he snorted, just as surprised as I was.
I sighed, not wanting to do this, but I had to try. I addressed an envelope to Mara Roberts with her home address, hoping the prison wouldn’t make the connection that she was my lawyer.
I couldn’t write anything that gave away who she was, so I had to keep it bland. I wracked my brain, trying to think of what to write. I hadn’t written a letter without an undertone of my obsession with her, so I didn’t know how to tamper it down. I figured I should write the letter like I would to a friend I was concerned about.
Mara,
I haven’t heard from you in a while. Is everything okay?
-Enzo
I gritted my teeth at how bland and casual it was, but I couldn’t let any guard know what she meant to me or who she was.
I sealed the envelope, hoping this was enough and that she would respond. Surely she still came outside to read her mail even if she was sick at home?
I knew I would find out soon enough.
The reminder of how Mark threatened her filled my mind and how dangerous he was. Did he find her and get to her somehow? Did the Sokolov family?
She was alone and vulnerable, divorcing an abusive man, her friends and family estranged. It was public knowledge that she was my lawyer. The Russian mafia could off her just for that.
The thought of her being taken from me…
I stood, walking from one end of my cell to the other, pacing restlessly. Dread pooled in my stomach, and my fists balled, adrenaline pulsing through my veins.
The patrolling guards glanced at me warily as if I was a ticking time bomb.
“You’re about to wear a hole in the floor,” Luca joked, but I couldn’t answer. I was buzzing like a live wire, ready to explode and take the world with me.
I had leverage on Deputy Michaels, but he worked in gen pop. If Vitali or Luca got released back there, they could get him a message. But the guards weren’t in a hurry to let us out unless it became overcrowded.
I kept my eyes on my cell’s window through the door. The guards shifted nervously but went about their patrols. They came in here every hour or so; the count was seven in the morning and seven at night. The shift change happened around three o’clock every twelve hours.
I watched and waited, and no one showed up in the morning when mail call usually happened.
“Officer,” I called as breakfast trays were served. “Why is mail call late?”
He shrugged. “Shit happens.”
I gritted my teeth. The urge to slam the guard’s stupid head against a wall was strong, but I had to play it cool. I needed them to relax around me so I could slip through their fingers easier.
This was a waiting game, but I wasn’t known for my patience.
“Lights out,” a guard called, tapping her baton on each door.
I gnashed my teeth as I lay in my bunk, fists clenched, body rigid. There was no way I could find peace when everything was so uncertain.
If she didn’t write tomorrow, I was done waiting.
I revised my mental map of the place and the possible ways out. I had never attempted to escape from the hole before, but for my little pen pal, I would.
The hallway was shaped like a cross; I could go straight, right, or left once I left the isolation wing. Straight led to the rec area, left went to gen pop, and right was medical. Each eventually led to an exit, but on the right was the closest, just past medical.
A few guards were distracted when they came through, smiling at their phones. It might take them hours to realize I was gone if I played it right.
I had to get to Amara. No matter why she stopped writing me, she was mine. She didn’t get to get rid of me that easily. If she was in danger, I wouldn’t stop until it was eradicated.
Nothing, not even prison, could stop me.