“You’re awake,” she said.
He licked his dry lips and chewed his tongue, trying to work up the spit to swallow.
“Where am I?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“You’re in the brig’s medical ward.”
Scotty looked around the tiny room and tried to remember what happened. Faces danced in his memory. Angry faces. A group of inmates, punching him, slamming his head into the cement floor...
“How long have I been out?” he asked.
“Almost a month.”
A month? But I was two weeks away from—
He grabbed the woman’s hand. “My parole—”
She patted his arm and smiled. She had kind eyes. Dumb eyes.
“I was just now getting you ready to go home,” she said.
“I got it? I’m out?”
“I don’t—” Her brow knit. “I heard your father made a case for taking you home. I don’t know about parole.”
Scotty nodded. During his run for senator, his father had distanced himself from his black sheep son. Looked like the old man had finally come through for him.
The nurse held up a finger. “Hold tight. I have to get the doctor.”
“Wait,” Scotty clamped on her wrist to keep her from moving. “Don’t. You can’t. They might not let me go.”
“But—”
Scotty’s mind raced. He had to do something, quick. He lowered his voice. “Listen. I’m rich. My family has tons of money. I’ll make it worth your effort.”
The woman bit her lip and looked at the door.
She’s thinking about it.
She pulled against him a little. He held tight.
“You can’t fake a vegetative state,” she said.
“I won’t have to fake it for long.”
“But you can’t—”
He snarled. “Then put me back.”
Her eyes flashed white and she pulled from his hold.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. This is all so confusing.” He took a deep breath, thinking about flies and honey. “Please help me.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek.
He bulldozed on.
“I’ll pay off your house. Put your kids through college—you have any kids?”
She didn’t answer, but he could see by her expression she did.
“Son?” He paused, seeing no reaction. “Daughter?”
Her cheek twitched.
There it is.
She remained silent.
“I’ll hire you as my private nurse on a yearly salary and you won’t have to do a thing. We’re talking life-changing money.”
Her jaw creaked open. She looked terrified. She didn’t like his proposal but she couldn’t seem to say no.
Just another little push. I need to give her a reason to do it beyond money.
“Please. If they throw me out there again, they’ll kill me.”
“Who? Why?”
Scotty grimaced, stalling for time to think. “Do you know why I’m here in the first place?”
She shook her head.
Excellent.
“I’m innocent. I know everyone says that, but I’ve been in jail for decades on a trumped-up charge because of what I know.” He glanced at the open door and lowered his voice. “The man who put me here is trying to kill me.”
The nurse stared at him in rapt attention. “Why?”
Remember, she has a daughter.
“Because he killed a girl and I know it. If I get out I’m going to prove it.”
She gasped and raised her hand to cover her mouth.
Scotty clasped his own hands together as if he were about to pray. “If you help me get out of here, you’ll be helping to put away a very bad man. Who knows who you’ll be saving from him...”
“I could induce a coma...” The nurse’s eyes drifted as she retreated into her thoughts. “I’d have to see if they have what I need—”
Scotty tilted his brows like an opening bridge, and forced his lower lip to tremble. Working up real tears seemed beyond his abilities, but he added a quaver to his voice. “You’re an angel. A godsend.” He reached out and she gave him her hand. He clasped it gently between his own two hands. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
She smiled, her expression softening further. “Martisha.”
&&&
Chapter Forty-Nine
Shee ran into the lobby and headed for the front door. The elevator opened when she passed it as if it was motion-activated. Croix stepped out.
“What’s going on?”
“I need a gun. Now.” Shee threw out a palm as if the girl could manifest a weapon and drop it into her hand.
Croix brushed past her to get to the reception desk. Shee fell into line behind her until the girl dropped to a squat behind the counter and Shee had to stop short to keep from falling over her.
“Where were you?” Shee asked.
“Angelina has me watching Mick, but I think he—”
“Don’t let William anywhere up there.”
“Why?” Croix slid two books from the shelf in front of her. Shee heard something click.
“Remember that story about my first capture? Scotty Carson?”
“Yeah?”
“I think we just figured out William is Scotty.”
“What? That’s crazy.”
Croix looked as animated as Shee had ever seen the girl. It was almost as if she’d finally said something worthy of Croix’s consideration. She felt honored.
The girl jerked on the bookshelf and it slid away, revealing a lighted panel. Handguns hung from the blue felt-covered wall inside, several large knives interspersed, to break up the monotony of the firearms. A row of grenades lined a low shelf like portly armored soldiers awaiting their orders.
“What, no rocket launcher?” asked Shee.
“I think that’s out in the shed.” Croix waved her hand like a game show hostess. “Take your pick.” She pulled open a drawer. Inside, clips and boxes of bullets sat neatly organized.
Shee leaned to snatch a Glock 19 9mm from the wall. By the time she straightened, Angelina had appeared on the opposite side of
