Roxanne St. Claire - Bullet Catcher #6 - Now You Die
Now You Die (Bullet Catcher #6)
Roxanne St. Claire
romance/mystery/thriller
PROLOGUE
Camille Griffin Graham State Penitentiary
Columbia, South Carolina
1984
EILEEN STAFFORD’S CELL door clanged open at six-thirty in the morning. Blinking sleep away, Eileen turned on her cot to meet the black-eyed gaze of the guard known as “Evil Eyes.”
For one wildly insane moment, Eileen thought she was about to be set free.
Miss Stafford, the courts of South Carolina have carefully reviewed your case and realized that…
The fantasy ended with the clamp of handcuffs around Eileen’s narrow wrists just before Evil Eyes elbowed her out of the cell. Hope was suffocated so instantly in this place, along with the frequent daydreams that kept her sane.
They walked in silence down a dim hallway and stopped at a desk, where Evil Eyes mumbled something to the guard, who responded with a look of surprise. Then the main doors opened and a blast of chilly autumn air snapped over Eileen, sneaking into her shackled wrists and up the ankles of her gray jumpsuit.
Hope gushed through her again. Why would they drag her out at this hour unless someone had finally discovered who really killed Wanda Sloane? Maybe a clue had been found, a witness had come forward…
Her slippers shuffled to keep up with Evil’s long strides as they followed the concrete path from one gray structure to another in the dreary dawn light.
They finally stopped along the fenced-in edge of the property at a single-story building, with shrubs, fresh paint, and grime-free windows. This had to be the warden’s office.
Against everything she had in her, another wave of hope swelled. Maybe…one of the girls…
No. Her daughters were forever gone to her, three seeds thrown to the wind, and all she could do was pray that wherever they were, they were cherished little seven year-olds who would never know what their birth mother did, or why.
The guard knocked hard, matching the sound of Eileen’s heart.
She stole a glance at him. “What’s—what’s going on?”
She got a contemptuous look in response. “You have a visitor.”
She never had visitors. Almost never.
Could it be a defense lawyer? A real one, instead of the pushover who’d been bought and then banished from Charleston?
The door was opened by a man she’d never seen before, short and stocky with glasses on his pockmarked nose.
“You can leave now,” he told Evil Eyes, as he indicated for Eileen to come in. “You go in there.”
Eileen glanced around. There was nothing but an entryway—no desk or guard, no other inmates. Just a linoleum floor and four doors.
She took a few steps to the one he’d indicated, catching a glimpse into another room as she passed. All it contained was a double cot with rumpled sheets.
Oh, Lord above, this was for conjugal visits.
Fear burned in her stomach and she felt lightheaded.
“That door,” the man said impatiently. “He’s ready for you.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Go in the fucking room and shut up. He’s ready for you.”
Could he actually come here, buy this man’s silence, and force her to have sex with him? After letting her take the blame for a murder he committed?
Of course he could. He could do anything.
Wordlessly, she stepped to the door, lifting her shackled, shaking hands to turn the knob. It opened with a creak, revealing another double cot—empty. She stepped inside and kept her eyes on the linoleum floor.
“Hello, Leenie.”
It wasn’t him, but it was someone she hated almost as much. She looked up into the hazel eyes and bushy brows she’d come to know so well during her trial. On the witness stand, he’d told lie after lie about the night he’d arrested her, about his “investigation” full of bogus evidence and ridiculous speculation, about the “confession” she gave him.
What could he possibly want now that she lived here without any chance of parole?
He leaned against the wall, his eyes cold.
“You can’t say hello?”
“What do you want?” The words came out rough and low.
“You probably don’t hear much from the world in here, so I dropped by to tell you that the state of South Carolina has officially launched a court of appeals.”
Appeals? She couldn’t help the tiny gasp that hissed through her teeth. A second chance?
He chuckled and shook his head. “You’ll never guess who’s one of the six justices handpicked to run that court.”
No chance. “Big surprise.” It fell right in line with his ambitions.
He laughed again and reached into the pocket of his pricey sports jacket. “Actually, I do have a big surprise for you, Eileen.”