Fear Nothing (Detective D.D. Warren #7) - Lisa Gardner Page 0,96

her from the cell, she was barely recognizable. Nose smashed, eyes already swelling shut. But she turned toward me. As they carted her down the hall, she gazed straight at me and said, ‘I’m sorry, Adeline.’ That’s what she said. ‘I’m sorry, Adeline.’

“Two weeks later, she was out of medical. They moved her to solitary, where ironically enough, I gotta live across the hall from her again. Apparently, when I’d reported that Frankie had raped and sodomized me, the powers that be took that to mean I’d been consorting with a guard, so I needed reprimanding. I got sent to solitary, where Richie had also arranged to work. Mostly to keep his eye on Shana, of course. The things she knew about him . . .

“‘Gotta sleep sometime,’ he’d whisper through the slot in the door. And she’d just laugh and say, ‘Back at you, fucker.’

“I don’t know how she did it. But one night, I woke up to the sound of whispering. A low, urgent mutter, almost like a chant. Shana was murmuring softly to Richie, something like, really important, over and over again. He didn’t talk back, but he also didn’t walk away. He kind of just stood there, right outside her cell, shaking his head, no, no, no. . . . Then she stopped. The place fell silent, and let me tell you, prison ain’t ever silent. It’s like everyone was listening. More we couldn’t hear, the more we wanted to know. But Shana didn’t speak again.

“Instead, Richie . . . sighed. Like . . . like the world’s most exhausted guy, finally setting down his load. Then he unlocked Shana’s door. I watched him do it. He opened her cell door and walked straight into her arms. You would’ve thought they were lovers. When she drove her blade into his heart, he didn’t even appear frightened. He was . . . grateful. He sank to the floor and she sat beside him, stroking his hair until central command realized a guard had disappeared from view, and more alarms sounded and once more the response team arrived.

“She didn’t fight them this time. She looked over their shoulders straight at me. Then lifted the shank and slit her arm, wrist to elbow. Zip. I might have gasped, but she didn’t make a single sound. She’d just switched her knife from her right hand to her left when the guards reached her, took her down before she got the job done. Otherwise . . .”

Christi’s voice trailed off. She shrugged, which appeared to conclude her story. No one else spoke. Adeline, D.D noticed, appeared nearly dumbstruck.

“And the third CO?” Phil asked at last. “What was his name, Howard?”

“Never returned to work. Heard he died months later. Ran his truck off the road. I don’t know much about it, but I bet you Shana does. Bet you, if he killed himself, it was because she told him to.”

“Who else knows this story?” D.D. asked.

The woman shrugged again. “I don’t know. I mean, I answered questions at the time. We all did. Bits and pieces. But did they hear? Did they care? You don’t know what it’s like. Inmates aren’t humans. We’re animals, baaing and bleating for all they care. Course they swept it under the rug. COs got their funerals, the widows got their pensions. We got new guards. Just another day in paradise.”

“And the superintendent?”

“You mean the boss? We never saw the boss. Not until Superintendent Beyoncé at least. She pretends to like us, even visits the units on occasion. But Boss Wallace? No way.”

Superintendent McKinnon, aka Beyoncé, had been at the MCI for only the past ten years, meaning Christi’s story had happened under her predecessor’s reign. Which might explain why McKinnon didn’t seem aware of all the grim details.

“You ever speak to Shana?” Phil asked now.

“Never saw her again. I got out of solitary while she was still recovering in medical.”

“But the guards,” Adeline spoke up, “Richie, Frankie, Howard, never targeted her? You’re sure about that.”

“Yep.”

“So why, then, do you think she chose to get involved?” Adeline asked.

“For Adeline,” Christi said. Her gaze focused on the doctor, expression openly curious. “You’re Adeline, aren’t you?”

Adeline nodded.

“You’re her sister?”

Another nod.

“You’ve never been in prison, though. You look too nice.”

A faint smile.

“I had a brother,” Christi said abruptly. “Five years younger. When I was a kid and our father had been drinking . . . I tried to make sure my father didn’t see Benny. Or if he did, then