Xavier’s eyes change. He's here again, the energy that was frantic around the room now contained back within him.
"Find them."
I leave Xavier and go to the administrative offices. Warden Light is standing at the receptionist's desk and looks up curiously when he sees me.
"Agent Griffin. Is everything alright? Did something happen with Renton?" he asks.
There's an edge to the way he asks it, as if he's waiting for something terrible to happen with Xavier. I shake my head.
"No. You're right, he's agitated, but he's trying to get people to listen to him," I tell him.
"It's impossible to make sense of anything he's saying. That's the problem," the warden says. "I would think you would have listened to what the sheriff told you."
My spine straightens, and I do my best not to let him see that he's getting to me.
"I think you're mistaken about what listening means. On both accounts. I can tell you that Xavier Renton might think differently than you do, but it's not impossible to make sense of what he's saying if you try. Stop just hearing the words he's saying and try listening to them separate from anything else. You might just find that he makes a lot of sense. And the reason I'm here is because he told me Lakyn Monroe called him, but she stopped. That she said she would call, and she didn't," I say.
"He's talking about the message system,” Warden Light says. He starts walking toward the back of the offices, and I fall into step behind him. “Having people on the outside being able to call into a jail is not practical. That's why the vast majority of facilities only allow outgoing calls. That's the case for us, as well. But we have implemented a message retrieval system that allows people from the outside to communicate with an inmate without that inmate having to call them.”
“So, people can call in, but they can't speak directly to the inmate,” I say.
“Exactly,” he nods. He leads me into another office and walks up to a tall desk. The woman behind it looks up as he drops his hand to the top of the counter. “This is Ruth. She can tell you all about it. Ruth, this is Agent Griffin. She wants to know more about the messaging system. I'll be in my office if you need me.”
He walks away, and Ruth turns in her chair to stand up and walk around to me, suggests for me to follow her, and we walk through a glass door into another room filled with small computer consoles.
“This is the messaging center,” she explains. “Essentially, each of the inmates has an individual line. They can give their codes to friends and family. Anybody they want to. Those people can then use that code to call in and leave a message for the inmate. The messages are kept here and reviewed by staff a few times a day. Messages are then played for the inmates if they are deemed appropriate.”
“What happens to the messages then?” I ask.
“They're kept for six months. That way, they can be reviewed or referenced if there are any complaints, questions, anything that might be answered by them,” she says. “When staff listens to the messages, they give a voice tag they indicate they are starting to listen, then another at the end to record the date and time when that message was listened to by the inmates. That creates accountability and ensures all inmates get the messages they are supposed to get when they're supposed to get them.”
“Could I listen to the messages to Xavier Renton?” I ask.
She hesitates, and I hold up a hand. “Don't worry about it. I'll go ask the warden.”
I don't want to put the responsibility on her shoulders, to ask her to make a decision she might not know how to make. She knows her job is sensitive in nature and might decide just to keep the recordings from me to protect herself from getting in trouble. But I need the best shot I can to get my hands on those tapes.
The receptionist directs me to Warden Light’s office, and I knock on the door. He immediately calls to invite me in. I try to open the door, but it won't move. A split second later, there's a click, and I'm able to open the door. He smiles at me when I walk inside.
"I'm sorry about that. The door has an automatic locking system for security. I have to remember to deactivate it when someone comes to the door. Did you find out about the messaging system?" he asks.
He's holding something in his hands, rolling it back and forth through his palms and fingers. Occasionally I catch a flash of glossy black before it disappears behind his skin again.
"Yes. It's really an interesting system. It's a great way to make sure people can stay in touch with their loved ones and give them information they need, even if they aren't able to talk to them immediately."
"That was the intention," he says with a wider grin. It's the type of grin my grandmother would have called a “good-old-boy smile.”
"I came to ask permission to listen to Xavier Renton's old messages. Ruth says they are kept for six months after they're left. They might contain information about Lakyn Monroe that could prove helpful."
"If there was information about her whereabouts on those messages, we would know," he tells me. “We listen to every one of them, and if anything is suspicious or questionable, someone brings a report to me.”
“I understand that,” I say. “And I am sure if she called during the time when she was supposed to be missing, or she left a message indicating where she was going, that you would know immediately. But she might have said something that isn't as readily recognizable. Something that can have to do with other pieces of the case. I would really appreciate it if
