BLACK in the Box (19 page)

“Girl, you look like shit,” said one of the women, thirty-something going on sixty. The woman next to her cackled and elbowed the speaker.

“Ain’t that the truth. An’ here I was feelin’ sorry for my ass.”

“Whole lot of misery there, no doubt.”

“Too right. Look like tha princess had too much happy juice.” The woman wrinkled her nose. “Smell like hell, too.”

“Girl, you sit on back over there, far as you can from us, you hear?”

Bethany nodded grimly, no fight left in her. She barely made it to the bench by the bars before she started shaking, shivering even though it was seventy degrees in the cell.

She cursed Larry with what little energy she had left. This was his fault. She’d never have been on the road if he hadn’t left her – hadn’t lied to her. Her besotted brain teeter-tottered between wishing she’d never heard the call, so she could continue living a fantasy, to hoping he died in a horrible accident, preferably catching fire before expiring.

Bethany perked up at the idea. Larry, drenched in gasoline, begging her for help as he watched flames follow the trail of gas from the car to where he lay, legs broken, on the pavement, like one of the images they’d used to warn her of the dangers of drinking and driving in driver’s ed class.

“It could happen,” she murmured, and then thought better of it. People like Larry were insulated from being arrested and put into the tank with crack whores and losers. Money protected them with a halo of privilege. One she’d aspired to, but that was now as out of reach as eternal life.

She swore silently, wary of drawing any more attention from the women. Her eyes closed as she trembled, partly from shock, partly from the alcohol leaving her system – and partly from fright. Why had she blown through her money this month so recklessly? Not her salary, which was laughable, the other money she made on the sly.

Not that it would have done much good, she realized. She had no idea how much bail would be, but it would likely require way more than she’d ever squirreled away from her sideline.

Visions of waking up with the hangover of a lifetime in jail haunted her as she weighed her options, but she was too high still to figure anything out. Maybe in a few hours, she reasoned. Maybe…maybe her last resort contact would come through for her – her ace in the hole. If he felt like it, he could get her out of anything…she hoped.

Yelling drifted from down the corridor. Two guards arrived with an angry Hispanic woman about Bethany’s age held between them, who was hurling invective and protesting her treatment.

“Hey. You all see this? You see it? They out of control,” she shrieked at the other prisoners as the pair of cops, whose faces could have been carved from stone, turned her so she was facing the cell door.

“Angie, don’t dig the hole any deeper,” one of the guards warned. “You’re in enough trouble. Quiet down or it’ll go hard on you.”

“Police brutality. I want a lawyer. I’m gonna sue you into the ground, you hear me?”

“Angie – you’re wasted. Again. You crashed your car. That’s how you got the bruise on your head.”

“No, it isn’t. Don’t listen to them. They’re lying.”

“We have pictures, Angie. Now quiet, or you’ll be in here for a lot longer.”

The officer’s words seemed to finally reach Angie, and she calmed down as one of her escorts reached for her keys. “Everyone stand back,” the woman ordered, and Bethany did her best to comply while still maintaining her distance from the others.

Angie took the bench opposite Bethany and the lock clanked closed. The guards retreated and Angie glared around the cell, obviously looking for trouble. The pair of older women met her gaze with stony silence, and Bethany closed her eyes again, willing herself far away – this was a nightmare that was getting worse by the second.

She was dozing when she started awake. Someone had kicked her foot. Bethany cracked one eye open and her heart sank – Angie was standing in front of her, an ugly expression on her face.

“You’re snoring, bitch.”

“I…sorry. I didn’t know.”

“That’s not gonna do it. You got a smoke?”

Bethany shook her head and grimaced in pain. The hangover was already starting. “No. Sorry. I don’t smoke.”

“You smell like you do.”

Bethany looked confused and then she understood. “Oh. That’s not cigarettes.”

“What, you go to a barbecue or something?”

“No.”

“No what?”

“It’s not that.”

Angie kicked her foot again, this time harder. Bethany drew in a sharp breath but didn’t cry out. Angie stepped closer and then looked away at a sound outside the door. She scooted to the far bench as a guard ambled along, eyeing the captives with an unsympathetic gaze. Angie waited until the guard had passed on by, and whispered to Bethany, “This ain’t over. You mine, bitch. You mine.”

Bethany closed her eyes and began crying again, this time audibly. The woman down the bench from her laughed. “You best shut your piehole. Don’t got to listen to that.”

Bethany choked back the sobs, her stomach in knots, unsure what to do about the hostile woman who seemed bent on doing her harm, the reality of her plight crushing down on her like the weight of the world.

Chapter 37

Black shuffled along the kitchen accessory aisle, his head hurting from the blow as well as an overdose of caffeine. He toyed with the idea of trying Sylvia again but discarded it. He’d be better served talking to her in person, setting things right, promising that he would change.

Just the thought of it sounded false, and he realized that Sylvia had made the right call. For all his protestations to the contrary, he wasn’t prepared to commit – he was too busy defending himself from a threat that existed only in his head. He’d met a beautiful woman who’d been willing to share his life, and he’d blown countless chances with her. His experience with a neurotic narcissist, his ex-wife Nina, had left him so bitter that when presented with the real thing, he’d balked.

He’d been put to the test by time, and failed. He knew it, Sylvia knew it, and that was that. What right did he have to keep her in a relationship where he couldn’t give her the bare minimum she needed to feel appreciated?

He stopped in his tracks, the thought as unpleasant as a piece of sand in his eye.

“Are you okay, Mr. Black?” a voice asked from behind him.

He spun and found himself facing Kristen Cho.
Damn.
He’d forgotten all about her
.

“Kristen, right?”

“That’s right.”

“You have a few minutes? I was just looking for you.”

She nodded. “Sure.”

They walked together back to the break room and sat down. “Someone told me you lost your cat. Sorry to hear that,” she said.

“Thanks. Do me a favor and keep a lookout for him.”

“Sure. I have two at home. I couldn’t imagine losing one,” she said with an accusatory stare that said he was a bad cat parent.

“Well, I’m actually just watching him.”

“Oh.”

“So, Kristen. You’ve been here for almost a year?”

“That’s right.”

“You like the job?”

“It pays okay. I don’t love working nights, but these days, you do what you have to.”

Black nodded. You could say that again.

“Your file said you were going to school?”

“Right. I’m hoping to get a bachelor’s in business administration in June.”

“What then?”

“Start sending my resume out. But it’s tough. A friend of mine said she heard that there are five hundred applicants for every job at her company, and that pays even less than this does. People with tons of experience, degrees, the whole works.”

“It’s definitely harder than ever.”

“Which is why I’m not holding my breath. Suck it up, as my dad would say.”

“How well did you know Alec?”

“Hardly at all. I’m more technology savvy than most of the people here, so I didn’t really need his help much.”

“No casual contact?”

“No reason to.”

“Did you ever notice anything unusual about him?”

“Like…what?”

“I don’t know. People said he seemed like he was stoned sometimes.”

“I don’t do drugs, Mr. Black, so that’s way over my head. He was always professional with me.”

The rest of the interview was about as helpful. According to Kristen, the night shift at Home World was rainbows and unicorns, and everyone was just slathered in awesome sauce. He already knew she had an alibi, but he made her tell him nonetheless. If he was hoping to catch her in a contradiction, he struck out.

“Anything you can add before we’re done?” Black asked.

“Not really. I’m sorry he got killed. He was so young.”

“Yes. It’s a tragedy.”

“Let me know if you need something else,” she said once the session was over.

“Will do. Thanks, Kristen.”

He scribbled a few notes and then ducked his head into the office where Roxie was working.

“Anything?” he asked.

“Negatory. Come back in another ten.”

“This is like water torture.”

“You find Mugsy?”

“See you in ten.”

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he felt for it. When he saw the message from Stan, he immediately called him.

“Colt,” Stan answered, barking his last name.

“Buddy, it’s me. You found stolen goods?”

“Yeah. Who knew junkies were untrustworthy?”

“The hell you say. That change anything?”

“Not really. I kind of figured there would be shenanigans when we found the dope. How about you?”

Black told him about the password.

“That’s weird,” Stan agreed.

“Can you think of any way someone might have gotten it?”

“Not really. The key logger is the likeliest suspect.” Stan was more up on computers than Black.

“If it’s not that, what’s choice B?”

“Dunno. Maybe a camera? Or something like an ATM skimmer?”

“What’s that?”

Stan explained. When he was done, Black shook his head. “It’s probably a good thing I’m too untrustworthy to get a credit card. Sounds like the world’s more dangerous every day.”

“Yeah. I mean, ask Roxie if something like that exists for passwords.”

Black paused. “Back up a second. What did you mean about a camera?”

“You know. Like a surveillance device.”

“I already asked about them. They only have them on the public areas.”

“Right, that’s what they have officially. But what if someone planted a camera so they could see Alec’s info?”

“They could do that?”

“Brave new world, my friend. They can do anything.”

“How would I tell? The room’s sealed.”

“Taped, or sealed?”

“Taped, I think.”

“I didn’t tell you to do this, but I get the sense from McCarthy that if you opened the door and took a peek without going inside, he’d never know the difference.”

“You talked to him?”

“He’s working a double murder right now. Promised to call. Sounded really excited to meet new people and chat.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Just don’t cross the line, Black. If you can open the door and see in, you haven’t contaminated anything. And for God’s sake, wear gloves, and don’t let anyone catch you doing it. That could get complicated.”

“Like me ironing-shirts-for-my-new-prison-husband complicated.”

“Seeing as you’re single now.”

“I’m not single. Sylvia and I had a disagreement. That’s all. It happens.”

“Whatever you say. Just don’t get caught. I don’t want to have to visit you in lockup.”

“I’ll be a ghost.”

Chapter 38

Black returned to the office and Roxie greeted him with her usual enthusiasm.

“No Mugsy, I see.”

“You find a key logger?”

“Nope. System’s clean. Although he could have one locally on his terminal. Only way to know is to get on it.”

“That’s not going to happen tonight.”

“I put that together all by myself.”

Black put his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked forward and back on his feet. “Talked to Stan.”

“And?”

“He told me I can’t do anything illegal like open the door to Alec’s office and look around for a camera.” Black explained about the covert cam theory.

“Stan’s not as dumb as he looks. Although if there’s such a thing as a keyboard skimmer that’s not software, I’ve never heard of it.”

“I figured you’d know.”

“Good guess.” She looked him up and down. “So what are you going to do?”

“I was thinking about looking around. But I’d need someone to keep an eye out to make sure nobody’s watching.”

“The technical term’s ‘aiding and abetting in the commission of a felony.’”

“See, put like that, it sounds bad. I’m just asking you to holler if you see anyone coming.”

“Holler? Are we at a rodeo or a hog-roping contest now?”

“Roxie, humor me.”

“Y’all have got to be kidding, Tex.”

“Just give me a heads-up if someone comes by. I’ll only take a second.”

“Right. What about the gloves?”

“I figured I could use a plastic bag or something.”

“Lot of those lying around, are there?”

“I saw one in the break room.” He reached into his jacket and extracted a black bag. “Looked a lot like this.”

“I will totally testify against you if this blows up.”

“Good to know you got my back.”

“First Mugsy, and now this. Unbelievable.” She stood. “You’re really going to do it?”

“We’re out of gas, unless you’ve got a miracle up your sleeve.”

“I’m wearing a tank top.”

“Figuratively speaking.”

Roxie gave an exasperated exhalation. “I’ll keep watch. But I have no idea what you’re up to.”

“Of course you don’t.”

They exited the office, and Roxie trailed Black to the access door. “Just keep this cracked open and…call out if you see anyone.”

“Didn’t we already cover this?”

“Okay. Here I go.”

“The excitement is driving me wild. Hope I don’t faint.”

Black paused, overcome by an urge he didn’t entirely understand. “Roxie, can you be serious for just one second?”

“I am serious.”