CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Ash Pierce learned the news while she was sitting at the defense table.
It was during a moment when the judge was conferring with the court reporter.
Even though all phones had to be turned off in the courtroom, one of her attorneys somehow got word: Mark Haddonfield had been found guilty on all counts.
That might have just been juicy gossip to the lawyers, but to Ash it was something more. With the end of his trial, Haddonfield wouldn’t be returning to the courthouse until his sentencing, which might take weeks or even months. That meant that all the media attention related to his trial would now transfer over to the next big case at the county courthouse, one which just happened to be starting next week: hers.
More attention meant more security. And that would complicate Ash’s plans. While no one thought she would be acquitted, her attorneys had some optimism that, with her amnesia, a mistrial might be possible. Ash harbored no such hopes. She would be convicted and sentenced to a maximum security prison, which even she doubted she could ever escape from.
But even before that, with all the extra security about to be transferred from Haddonfield’s trial to hers, escaping from the Twin Towers jail where she was currently housed, or from the courthouse, would become infinitely harder.
In fact, today was probably the last day she could count on a less involved security protocol. The courthouse security staff, the cops, and the jail guards would all be focused on getting Haddonfield from court back to jail without incident and with minimal press hassle. But once he was back in his Twin Towers cell, all those resources would be directed toward her.
That meant that this was it. Today was her last real opportunity to take advantage of the weaknesses she’d observed in those courthouse security protocols. It was now or never.
“We’re going to wrap thing things up for the day,” the judge announced. “Other matters require the assistance of some of our court personnel, so we’ll conclude this hearing in the morning. I’ll see you all here at 9:30. Court dismissed.”
He slammed his gavel and left without looking back.
The four guards assigned to her had her stand up. As they guided her out of the courtroom, Ash glanced behind her. There, in the far back right corner, as always, was Kat Gentry. The woman was eyeing her suspiciously.
Ash didn’t know how, but she sensed that Gentry knew she was up to something. Not that it would matter. By the time the woman was able to warn the appropriate people, this would all be done.
The guards led her from the courtroom, down the hallway, and into the holding room, where prisoners waited until it was time for the bus to transport them back to Twin Towers. There were only four other prisoners in there today, about half the usual number. Three of them were unfamiliar to her, but the fourth wasn’t.
Mark Haddonfield sat in one of the hard-backed chairs near her looking glum. She knew why, and she almost felt bad for him. After all, if she let the system do its thing, she’d be in the same boat as him soon enough.
But that was all the time she had to consider the feelings of others. With the buzz surrounding Haddonfield’s verdict and the temporary uncertainty over which specific guards would be added to his contingent for transport, she was, at least for now, an afterthought.
She studied the guards. All of them had keys to her manacles, but getting the right one in position to remove them was essential. She knew who she wanted.
Ash began to cough quietly at first, before it eventually morphed into a full-on hacking fit. That led a young guard named Poulter—a gangly type with close-cropped black hair who had just returned from two weeks of paternity leave after the recent birth of his son— to grab a tissue and offer it to her.
“Thank you,” she said sweetly.
He nodded and rejoined his colleagues, but he was now the closest one to her. She waited until most of the guards had their backs turned and were all distracted by the Haddonfield transport plans before she made her next move.
“Did you hear that?” she demanded loudly, suddenly standing up and pressing her back against the wall as if she feared she might be attacked at any moment.
“What?” Poulter asked, turning around, confused.
“Mark Haddonfield just whispered that if he was going down, so would I,” she said, her voice panicky. “He ran his finger across his throat like he was going to slice mine!”
“That’s not true!” Haddonfield protested, standing up angrily just as she’d hoped.
“Please don’t let him near me!” she pleaded to Poulter.
As expected, the guard took a spot in between the two of them, facing Haddonfield and with his back to her.
“Sit back down, Haddonfield!” one of the other guards barked.
“But she’s lying,” Haddonfield insisted. “I haven’t said a word.”
“You mouthed it, you cruel bastard!” she cried out. “You know you did!”
“She’s up to something!” Haddonfield shouted, pointing at her.
His aggression made Officer Poulter take a small step back. It was all she needed. Now he was close enough.
In a flash, she swung her manacles over Poulter’s head and yanked back, tightening them around his neck. The remaining six guards in the room all pulled out their guns and pointed them at her.
“Put all your weapons on the ground now,” she instructed calmly, “or I snap Officer Poulter’s neck, and his little baby boy never gets to know his father. You know I’m capable of it. I’ve been trained to do far worse.”
They all stood there dumbfounded. But that wasn’t what she’d instructed them to do. It seemed that she’d have to up the ante. Ash squeezed the manacle chain tighter. Poulter coughed and began to gasp desperately.
“Do it now,” she ordered serenely, ignoring his failed gulps for air. “I know I’m not winning my case, so that leaves me with two options: escape or die. I’m cool with either. Do you think Mrs. Poulter will be equally cool if you make that choice for her husband?”
The guards all put their guns down.
“Good, now do the same with your radios.”
They complied.
“Now all of you pile into that broom closet and close the door. Be quick about it.”
The guards crowded into the closet. Once the door was closed, she turned her attention to Haddonfield.
“Jam a chair against the door so they can’t get out.”
“I won’t do it,” he protested.
Without hesitation, Ash swung her manacles hard to the right, slamming Poulter’s head against the wall. In the extended moment when he was dazed, she reached down and grabbed his gun before quickly re-tightening her grip around his neck.
“I know you don’t care about this guy, Mark,” she said. “But you should care about yourself. Because if you don’t do as I say, I will simply shoot you and ask one of the other inmates here to do the job. Now , are you more amenable?”
Haddonfield reluctantly went over and did as she’d told him, forcing the top of the chair against the door handle.
“Good, stay there,” she ordered before turning her attention to the still discombobulated Officer Poulter. “Officer, I need you to remove your key and undo my manacles. Can you do that?”
He nodded weakly. After several seconds, her hands were free. The manacles dropped away. But she held the officer close to her, the gun pressed against his temple.
“Good boy,” she said. “Now Mark, I need you to open the door to the transport area and tell anyone out there to back off because I have a gun to their colleague’s head.”
Haddonfield looked like he wanted to protest, but she cut him short.
“Remember,” she said. “You’re expendable. I bet any of your buddies will happily do the job if you have a bullet hole in your head. Now get moving. Time is running short.”