The Reckless Oath We Made - Bryn Greenwood Page 0,40
couple of Polaroids. Your standard sad prison visitation photos. Grainy, under fluorescent lights, everybody looking a little green and smiling awkwardly, posing against cinder block walls, or, somehow more depressing: a fake outdoor backdrop as cheap and cheesy as a Sears portrait studio. The kind of family photos that made up a lot of my childhood.
The pictures had been taken on the same night, probably only a few seconds apart. LaReigne was wearing a blush pink sweater. Modest, because you have to follow dress code for prison visitation, but nice. She looked pretty, standing next to Tague Barnwell in his prison scrubs.
You couldn’t tell from his mug shot in the news, but Tague was good-looking. Tall. Broad in the shoulders. Light brown hair and a mustache. Super white teeth flashing at the camera. Maybe even better looking than Loudon, if you go for guys with prison-gang tattoos on their forearms. I couldn’t make out the details, but from the shape of it, I knew what it was. A green-and-white number fourteen pool ball with the legs of a swastika peeking out around the edges. If you didn’t know what you were looking at, it might take you a while to notice it, but it was exactly like the one my father got while he was in prison. Dad had always worn long sleeves on visitation day, but when I claimed his body, I’d seen the tattoo.
“This one came out of your sister’s box of letters.” Mansur tapped one of the pictures. “The other one came out of Barnwell’s cell. He had it pinned up over his bunk, like the last thing he looked at before he fell asleep every night.”
“Everybody needs something to get them through.”
“Suddenly, it seems like you know a lot more than you thought you did.”
“I don’t,” I said. “Here’s what I know. LaReigne can fall in love at the drop of a hat. Every guy is her one true love, and she has terrible taste in men. Also, some women really like lifers, because you always know where they are. When your man is in prison, he’s not out cheating on you or spending your money or coming home drunk and smacking you around. He’s locked up nice and safe somewhere, and he has time to write you love letters.”
Mansur actually chuckled. Like I was funny. Like he was having fun.
“That sounds like the voice of experience,” he said.
“Not mine. I don’t do romance, and I definitely don’t do romance with guys in prison. My mother, she was a hundred percent faithful to my father, even though he was never coming home. He used to send her three letters a week and he called every Thursday. Maybe to LaReigne that looked better than how her marriage turned out.”
“Did you know LaReigne was in love with Barnwell?”
“No,” I said. “But even if she is, that doesn’t mean she helped him escape. Because maybe he tricked her. It doesn’t mean she’s not in danger. It doesn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt her.”
I couldn’t bring myself to say, It doesn’t mean he didn’t kill her.
“It certainly makes her look a little less innocent, though, doesn’t it?” Mansur said. “If she was letting an inmate romance her. But then, that runs in your family.”
“You know, not everybody thinks people in prison are scum.”
“So white supremacist murderers? Not scum in your book?”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I hated how he’d backed me around and gotten me to say something he could use like that. My hands were in fists under the table, and I forced myself to relax them. I couldn’t have another temper tantrum. I laid my hands on the table and laced my fingers together.
“So, tell me about this Asatru business,” Mansur said. “How did your sister get involved with them?”
“She’s not Asatru! She’s Wiccan.”
“But Barnwell is Asatru, if I understand my pagan denominations.”
“I don’t care what he is. There’s only one pagan ministry at the prison, so all the guys are in it, no matter what they believe. LaReigne is not a white supremacist.”
“What about your father?” Mansur said. “When he was at El Dorado Correctional Facility, he was a member of the White Circle, wasn’t he? That’s a known white supremacist gang. Run by his friend Craig Van Eck. And your mother stood by your father after he killed that bank guard. To me, it looks like your family doesn’t have a problem with white supremacists or murderers.”