Inside

after his conviction, he was exonerated.”

Exonerated. For a moment, that word held no meaning for Peyton. Simeon Bennett had become a regular ex-con to her—probably because he seemed every bit as hardened as the men in her prison. Before Wallace’s explanation could reverse that image, she had to walk herself through the definition. He didn’t do it. Of course. He wouldn’t be sitting here, working for the CDCR if he’d murdered someone. But six years? For a crime he didn’t commit? She couldn’t believe he’d be willing to put himself back in such a vulnerable position. To make his pretense credible, they wouldn’t be able to show him any favoritism or give him time off. Going undercover in Pelican Bay would be very close to going inside for real.

“If you think that convinces me you’re ideal for this job, you’re wrong,” Peyton told him.

He had to speak over Wallace in order to respond. “And why is that, Chief Deputy?”

“Something so tragic…it has to have made…changes in who you are.”

A muscle flexed in his cheek. “Which would make me damaged goods. Is that what you’re saying?”

She looked at the warden, Frank, even Joe, for support, but got avid curiosity instead. “It could.”

Simeon’s jaw jutted forward. “I assure you I’ve passed all my psych evals…with flying colors.”

Wallace handed them each a manila envelope. “You’ll find Mr. Bennett’s resume inside. Given the unusual nature of his background, I assumed you’d have some questions. We want you to feel completely comfortable with what we’ve got planned—well, as comfortable as any of us can feel under the circumstances. But rest assured that we’ve done our homework. We’re calling this Operation Inside, and we expect it to be a success.”

“We…” Peyton repeated.

“The department.”

His emphasis was intended to make a point: it wouldn’t be too beneficial to piss off her employer. But she couldn’t justify worrying more about her career than a man’s life.

Peyton shifted her gaze to Simeon’s knuckles. Love. Hate. Which emotion dominated the other? Did he even know from one minute to the next? “Where’d you do the time?”

“In the federal system.”

He could’ve elaborated but, once again, didn’t. Was it because he didn’t want her poking around in his past, checking up on him? If so, that defensiveness bothered Peyton. A man who’d spent six years in prison for murder could have a lot of dark secrets, despite being exonerated and despite having worked in the private sector for some time.

“How long have you been out?” the warden asked.

The contempt Simeon wore like an army jacket grew more apparent. He didn’t like talking about this, didn’t like being questioned. “Ten years.”

“And you’ve been with Department 6 ever since?”

“I became a cop, then moved to the private sector, but I’ve been with Department 6 for most of that time.”

“So you went in at…what?” Peyton asked.

His eyebrows slid up. “Eighteen.”

That was young. Peyton could only imagine how such an experience had affected him. “Your family must’ve been heartsick.”

He wasn’t fooled by the sympathy in her voice. He knew she was digging for additional information, maybe even some assurances and explanations. But he refused to accommodate her. “Yeah, they were pretty broken up about it.”

This man already had her guessing at what was going on behind the mask of his G.I. Joe face. She prayed that the giant chip on his shoulder, if not his background, would motivate Warden Fischer to rethink his willingness to go along with the department’s plan. But without bothering to open his manila folder, Fischer stood and extended his hand to Wallace.

“We’ll do all we can to keep him safe. When will he go in?”

Shit. Peyton ground her teeth in frustration. Fischer was going for it.

“We were hoping he could arrive just after the other transfers next Tuesday,” Wallace said as they clasped hands. “During a busy afternoon like that he shouldn’t stand out.”

It was Friday now, which meant this investigation would begin in four days…. And, as far as Peyton was concerned, such a handsome man would always stand out.

“No problem. We frequently get singles,” Fischer said.

Frank stood and rested his hands on his utility belt. “What will his story be?”

Wallace responded. “His central file will indicate that he was convicted of killing his stepfather. The closer we stick to the truth, the more convincing it’ll be.”

“The truth?” Peyton echoed.

Although she and Wallace had gotten along on every other visit, today his lips pursed whenever she spoke. “That’s what he went in for originally.”

A shiver crawled up her spine. Not only had Bennett been convicted of murder, he’d been convicted of killing someone very close to him. That made her uncomfortable, whether the jury had been mistaken or not. There had to have been a reason he was convicted in the first place.

When Simeon’s piercing blue eyes lingered on Peyton yet again, she sensed that he understood the revulsion she was feeling—that he expected it and resented it at the same time.

“Who really killed your stepfather?” she asked.

When he merely smiled, Wallace filled in the blank. “His uncle. He’s being held at Solano State in California, awaiting trial. He also has a mother in L.A., where he was raised, who might’ve put her brother up to it. There’s some circumstantial evidence to suggest it, but no real proof, so she’s never been charged. The only other member of the family is a younger sister who is now a divorced mother of two, if that helps. Any other information you might need, Chief Deputy?”

Yes—a lot. If his mother had persuaded her brother to kill her husband, how was it that Simeon had gone to prison? Wouldn’t his mother have come forward to stop it? Did she just let it happen? Or had she and her brother framed him? Question after question sped through Peyton’s mind. But she saw no point in pursuing the answers. Warden Fischer was going to do this with or without her agreement. Why make their mutual boss any angrier? She’d heard the sarcasm in Wallace’s response. “No,” she said.

“We’ll be ready for him on Tuesday, then.” The warden motioned toward the door as if he expected Wallace to leave before him, but Wallace didn’t budge.

“One more thing.”

At his somber tone, everyone perked up.

“Bennett’s true identity and everything else about Operation Inside is top secret. Everything. Do you understand?”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Fischer assured him. “When we get back to the prison, I’ll make sure every member of my staff understands the sensitivity of the situation and their responsibility regarding it.”

“No.” Wallace shook his head. “You won’t tell your staff. The only people who can know are the ones in this room.”

Fischer scratched his sagging jowls. He seemed to be catching on to what Peyton had understood all along. “You’re saying we can’t even tell the C.O.s working in gen pop?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Then…how will they protect him?”

Parting his jacket, Wallace hooked his thumbs inside his belt as if posing for GQ. He wanted to be director of the CDCR someday. He’d never actually voiced that aspiration, not to Peyton, but it was obvious from the way he tried to impress those above him and how unyielding he could be to those below. “They won’t do more for him than they would for any other inmate,” he said.

“But—” At last the warden started to argue, only to be overruled.

“Treating him differently, pulling him aside to ask how things are going, showing him respect the others aren’t entitled to—that’s what will get him killed. One knowing look could be enough.”

The warden buttoned his coat. “The way you’ve got it set up doesn’t provide much support.”

As Peyton had already mentioned….