Chapter Four
The following morning, Bryn dragged himself into the kitchen after a poor night’s sleep. I need sugar in the worst way. It was only when he opened the cupboard that he remembered the cereal situation. “I am not eating that shredded cardboard.”
“And you don’t have to.” Gunnar came into the kitchen fresh from the shower and smelling of freshly cut grass, his long hair still damp.
He put a box of frosted flakes on the counter.
“I got these when I went out for a run earlier. But, if you want to avoid a diabetic coma, I made something last night.”
“You’ve been out running. What is wrong with you?”
“Wolves like to run.”
“Don’t think I’m going with you. Early mornings are to be spent under a warm comforter, not pounding the sidewalks. What did you make?”
Gunnar went to the fridge and pulled out two dishes. “Fruit compote on the bottom, then a layer of thick Greek yogurt, then granola on the top. Try it.”
Bryn eyed the dish with suspicion. “It sounds healthy.”
“That’s the general idea. If you don’t like it, you can eat the sugar-death, okay?”
“Fine. Need coffee, though.”
“I unpacked my French press last night when you were catching up on your beauty sleep. Sit. Eat. I’ll make coffee.”
“You know I’m all grown up, don’t you?” Bryn sat at the table and pulled one of the bowls toward him. “I can look after myself.”
“Debatable, at least before coffee.”
Bryn scowled but dug in to his breakfast. “Oh wow, this is good!”
“I know, genius. I’m making eggs too.” Gunnar bustled away chopping, beating and stirring and after a while served up scrambled eggs, wholewheat toast and coffee.
“I could get used to this.” Bryn ate every scrap and drank two cups of excellent coffee.
“We can take it in turns,” Gunnar said, finishing his own meal. “If you don’t know how, I’ll teach you.”
“Cooking lessons. Yay.” Actually that sounds kind of fun. “What delights has Warden got in store for us today?”
Gunnar checked his cell. “A visit to MCI Cedar Junction. An interesting one, this. There’s a guy in there who has consistently protested his innocence, name of Dwayne Scott. Not unusual, but his case is one that was investigated by a corrupt cop.”
“So I get to find out if he’s innocent or guilty?”
“Yeah. The full file is in the conference room waiting for us.”
“If this guy is innocent, it’ll make a change from all the sewer-level memories I’ve seen over the last three years. It would really be doing something good.”
“I guess your training wasn’t a picnic?” Gunnar crunched a piece of charred toast.
Bryn stared at him. “Wolves need charcoal?”
“Hey, no judging. I like it crispy.”
“Hmm and no, it wasn’t.”
“When you’re ready, you can tell me about it. Might be therapeutic.”
“Therapists run screaming from the room where I’m concerned, believe me. Tell me about the federal pen. Doesn’t it take a while to get clearance to go in there?”
“Yeah. I’ve done a few visits. We have to comply with BOP policies.”
“Bop?”
“Bureau of Prisons. So I guess Warden has already been on the case because approval for the visit has to be requested. That usually means contacting the prison where the inmate is housed and explaining the purpose of the visit, so that must have been fun.”
“No kidding.”
“So then a visit is scheduled and the prison will arrange for necessary security measures based on the nature of the visit and the inmate’s status.”
“Like what?”
“Additional guards, that kind of thing. Then when we get there, we check in at the visitor entrance and go through security screening. I’ll probably have to leave my gun. Then we’ll have an escort to the designated meeting area, most likely a secure interview room. Then you do your thing.”
“You make it sound so easy.” Bryn scowled. “Will there be people watching?”
“I guess the inmate’s legal representative may be there, and someone from the prison. I’ve not been in this exact situation before, remember?”
“Are we taking the bike?”
“Not today. I want to stop by the store on the way back and pick up some provisions.”
“Yeah?” Bryn’s mood lightened. “Can I pick out stuff I like?”
“Sure. We have a decent budget from Warden.”
“Good. I need Twinkies.”
“Of course you do.”
“Chocolate cream or mixed berry.”
“Not vanilla?” Gunnar gave him a sly grin.
“Really? You’re going there?”
“A totally innocent inquiry, Bryn. What were you thinking about?”
“Fuck off.”
“Aw, are you blushing?”
“Two days. We’ve been partners for two days and I already want to kill you.”
“Heh. You lasted two days longer than my first partner. He wanted my head on a plate minutes after he walked through the door. He mistook my sniffing him as something sexual. Never could convince him it wasn’t.”
“Especially when it was?”
“Well, yeah. There is that. You love me really. Get your ass in gear, we need to go. I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Bryn watched him go. “That man has far too much energy for this time of day. Running. Ugh.” He walked through to his bathroom.
I wonder what products he uses on that mop of his and…
what the actual fuck am I thinking about that for?
He cleaned his teeth before risking a glance in the mirror.
His eyes weren’t too eerie yet—they were always dimmest after a night’s sleep and brightest after he’d been using his abilities.
All attempts at learning ways of dialing down the glow had so far failed.
He grabbed his gloves and a jacket from his bedroom and put on his sunglasses.
Better go earn the right to keep on breathing, I guess.
Gunnar was waiting outside the conference room door. He thrust a folder at Bryn. “Here. You can read it in the car. Do you own any clothing that isn’t black?”
“No.” Bryn scowled. “How much plaid flannel is there in your closet?” He followed Gunnar outside, noting how his broad shoulders barely fit through the doorway. Stop riling the man who could bench press your skinny self, Bryn, you dumbass.
“No dissing the flannel. It’s soft and warm. I like it for the same reason I prefer beaten up Levi’s. Comfort and practicality.”
“How old are you? Fifty?”
“Twenty-seven, you cheeky brat.” Gunnar opened the gate. A black Taurus was parked in the alley.
“Oh my God, could they have picked a more stereotypical vehicle?” Bryn scrambled into the passenger seat.
“You want to drive?” Gunnar dangled the key from a finger.
“You mean it?”
“Sure. Gimme the file back. I’ll read you the good bits.”
Bryn grabbed the key before Gunnar could change his mind. He ran around to the driver’s seat. “It’s been a while.”
“Not my car, is it? You need to get familiar. If there’s ever a situation when I’m down and you need to get away, you have to be able to drive confidently. Besides, it’s an automatic. Not much to it. Personally, I prefer a stick.”
Bryn didn’t want to imagine a time when he’d have to abandon his partner, however annoying he was.
He got behind the wheel then buckled up.
The in-built sat-nav was programmed for the penitentiary, so all he had to do was follow directions.
He set off and the exhilaration of being in charge of his own destination was heady.
I could keep driving. Go for miles. What could they do?
“Keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel. I might only be a wolf but it doesn’t take a genius to guess what’s going through your head right now.”
“Don’t know what you mean.”
“Yeah, right. You have a tracker chip in you and I don’t want to be involved in a pursuit with the cops on our second case.”
“Spoilsport.”
“Behave or I won’t let you drive again.”
“This isn’t a one-off?”
“If you get us there in one piece.”
Bryn tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He kept quiet for the rest of the journey and listened to Gunnar as he read out some background from the file.
“So this guy went down for armed robbery?”
“Yeah. He had some financial issues then seemed to be cash rich, which is why he attracted attention. He was in the neighborhood and his car was caught on camera on the same road as the convenience store that was robbed.”
“But no positive ID?”
“Perp wore a clown mask. The store owner, assistant and two customers were gunned down.”
“So no witnesses?”
“It happened at night. One witness saw a masked man run past him on the sidewalk. He testified to height, build and a tattoo on the perp’s neck. An anchor.”
“He saw a tat, in the dark, on a running man?”
“Yeah. Kinda sketchy. Witness has since died so can’t be questioned. The arresting cop has been fired and is being prosecuted for, amongst other things, taking bribes from organized crime gangs, excessive force, racist language…the list goes on.”
“Sounds like a charmer.”
“A charmer who could have mentioned that tat to the witness.”
“How long has the guy we’re seeing been locked up?”
“Five years.”
“Fuck.”
“Don’t make any assumptions.”
“What I think makes zero difference to the outcome.”
“You can’t lie about what you see?”
“No. If I try it, something in my brain short circuits. The pain is so bad I black out.”
“Do I want to know how that was discovered?”
“No. You really don’t.” Bryn sighed. “You know what a shock collar is?”
“I do.”
“When you’re told to lie or be shocked, you lie, especially when the interrogator already knows the answer to the questions.
The subject is asked something obvious like, is your dog’s name Fido?
The subject says yes because that is the dog’s name but I’m instructed to say he’s lying.
Carry out the experiment a hundred times for avoidance of doubt. Case proven.”
“Fuck.”
“That’s one way of putting it. Eventually the shocks were the better option. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”
“That’s all kinds of wrong.”
“Yeah, well…” Bryn pulled into the prison visitors’ lot.
“Nice driving. Didn’t have to grab the ‘oh shit’ handle once.” Gunnar got out of the Taurus, grinning.
“So I can drive back?”
“Let’s see how you feel after you’ve done your thing.”