I don’t know.
You’ve been through enough.
What do they care about that?
That’s a tough place to do time.
Every prison is a tough place to do time.
In the end he’d agreed to their terms, for the sake of his sister. Eddie respected that, respected him. “Why do you think he’d tell me?”
“You aren’t the only one who has friends in Florence. We know you two were pals. C.O. or not, you and Virgil hung out as much as possible.”
He hadn’t kept his friendship with Virgil a secret. He’d never dreamed there’d be any reason to. So now all he could do was try to downplay it. “We got along. But I haven’t seen or talked to him since they let him go.”
“That doesn’t solve our problem.”
“I can’t help you. I’m just a C.O. who once knew Virgil Skinner. It’s not like we’re family.”
Devil made a noise with his tongue. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” he said and, just like that, he waved for Wild Eyes to shoot.
Squeezing his eyes shut, Eddie began reciting the Lord’s Prayer.
Clover Tattoo interrupted. “You kill him, we won’t get anything.”
“He’s not talking, anyway,” Devil responded. “What good is he?”
Eddie went on with the Lord’s Prayer. He didn’t want to be the kind of person who’d betray a friend. He wanted to be better than that, better than these men who felt they could tempt him to do anything to save his own neck. If their roles were reversed, Virgil would die before giving him up. He was sure of it.
“Last chance,” Devil warned. “You gonna tell me about Virgil or not?”
Some things were worse than death. Losing his honor was one of them. Virgil had taught him that. And Eddie believed it. “He’s gone. They let him go.”
“You know more than that!” Out of nowhere, Devil kicked him so hard he doubled over but, strangely enough, he couldn’t feel the pain. He was already numb with terror.
“This isn’t working,” Clover Tattoo complained. “Let’s leave this dude alone and get the hell out of here.”
Wild Eyes swung around as if he’d shoot Clover Tattoo instead, but then he halted. “I’ll get this bastard to talk.”
“You’re about to blow his head off,” Devil responded. “What more can you do?”
“This.” Coming right up into Eddie’s face, he lowered his voice. “Tell us where Virgil Skinner is, or I’ll drag you back to your house and make you watch as I rape and kill whoever I find there. Boys, girls, it don’t matter to me. You understand? No one’ll be spared.
A bead of sweat rolled from Eddie’s temple.
“Is Virgil worth your family, sir?” Wild Eyes whispered.
Tears streamed down Eddie’s cheeks. No. As much as he loved Virgil, he loved his wife and children more. And that was why he finally told them.
17
Rick sat in his car on the shoulder of Interstate 5 near the Sacramento airport. Farmland stretched for miles on either side, but he could see the cityscape in the distance with its handful of high rises. It probably wasn’t safe to remain where he was, not with the Monday morning commuters whizzing past, but he wasn’t in the mood to return home or go to work. He’d gone home after he got off the plane, but fled the house when he and Mercedes got into a fight. From there, he’d driven almost to Redding before turning around. And now this. He’d just received a call from a detective in Colorado who said he’d been assigned to a shooting. The victim of that shooting, a corrections officer from ADX by the name of Eddie Glover, wanted to speak with him.
The conversation hadn’t been easy to understand, which was why Rick had pulled over—so he could concentrate without having to worry about navigating. Glover had been shot in the chest an hour ago. The bullet had punctured his lung, but he’d managed to use his cell phone to call for help. Now he was in a hospital, ready to be sedated for surgery, but he’d refused to let the doctors treat him until he spoke to Rick.
How Glover knew him, Rick couldn’t figure out, until the detective put him on the line. Then Glover had mumbled that someone named Thompson and The Crew had found out Virgil was working for the CDCR.
Why Skinner had confided in Glover, Rick didn’t know. Glover couldn’t say much so he didn’t ask him. It didn’t matter, anyway. What did matter was that the whole operation had been compromised.
What the hell was he going to do? Twisting the rearview mirror so he could look into his own eyes, Rick glared at himself. He’d had such big plans for this investigation, such high expectations.
Hard to believe it was over before it had even begun….
Or was it? Did he have to pull Skinner and turn him back over to the feds?
It wasn’t hard to guess what Peyton would say. She’d never liked the idea of putting Skinner in Pelican Bay, had harped on about the danger from the first. She’d think this latest news was the proverbial last straw. But Rick wasn’t so sure. Just because The Crew realized Virgil was working for the department didn’t mean they knew he was going to Pelican Bay. Rick had asked Glover that exact question several times.
Did you mention Pelican Bay?
A rattle, a gasp and then, “No.”
You’re sure? Mr. Glover, you’re sure?
Another gasp. “Yes.”
A man who’d gone to that much trouble to reach him wouldn’t get the answer to such an important question wrong.
The detective who came on the phone after had explained a bit more fully. He’d said that from the moment he reached Glover, Glover had been trying to tell him that The Crew knew Virgil was doing some informant work in California. He claimed he hadn’t mentioned where, that he’d convinced the men who’d shot him that he didn’t know, which was why they’d pulled the trigger. They were frustrated about not getting more.
The detective also told him that Glover insisted The Crew had a very strong network in California, and that it wouldn’t take them long to track Virgil down, but Rick wasn’t confident of that. Virgil wasn’t using his real name. And there were a lot of prisons in California. It could take The Crew a long time to find their buddy. Perhaps they’d never find him. It wasn’t as if they were well-educated or sophisticated. They were a bunch of two-bit losers who’d rape their own mothers for a six-pack of beer.
So why panic? He didn’t want to give up too soon. There’d been an element of risk involved in this investigation from the beginning, and everyone understood that. As far as Rick was concerned, the level of risk hadn’t changed all that much. Skinner could handle himself. He wouldn’t get hurt. Cons like him, they were survivors.