“And so you decided not to say anything about your family’s connection to my father?”
“What good would it have done? My family’s business had recovered by that time and everything was fine. It seemed unnecessary to bring it up.”
“What about being honest?” Carlotta said. “Wesley and I welcomed you into our home. I always thought you were kind of an outcast and didn’t have much family. And now I feel as if you were role-playing when you were with us.”
Hannah shook her head. “That’s not true. I feel closer to you and Wes than I do to my own siblings. I was afraid if I told you, you would...hate me.”
Carlotta swallowed a lump of emotion in her throat. “I couldn’t hate you, Hannah...but how can I ever trust you?”
Hannah pursed her mouth and nodded. “I don’t blame you. If I were in your shoes, I’d probably feel the same.” She inhaled, then exhaled noisily. “Okay,
I wasn’t going to say anything about this, but...”
Carlotta frowned. “But what?”
“I can get you into the prison to see your dad.”
Chapter Thirty-two
CARLOTTA ADJUSTED THE SHORT WIG until it covered her ears. “So how much trouble will we be in if we’re caught?”
At the sink next to her in the women’s restroom at the Lendahl’s Dairy Supply warehouse, Hannah was adhering a mustache. “I don’t even want to think about it. The plan is to time the food delivery just as breakfast is being served. I figure you’ll have twenty minutes, tops, to find your dad and have a conversation without you or him raising any alarms.” She turned her head. “You know this is a longshot, right?”
“Right. It would be nice to have a layout of the prison.”
“Hello? There are reasons Federal pens don’t have the layout of their buildings on Wikipedia. Besides, we’re going to the mess hall, and hopefully, he’ll be there. If not, we’re out of there. There won’t be any crawling through the HVAC ducts or riding down laundry chutes, got it?”
“Got it. I didn’t realize the prisons get their deliveries from local suppliers. I assumed it was all government, all contained.”
“My friend’s company is making dairy deliveries to the prison because of the government shutdown—until Congress passes a budget, government contracts can’t be honored.”
“Liz mentioned a disruption in the food service—that’s why Randolph is taking his meals with everyone else instead of eating in solitary.”
“Thank goodness for congressional gridlock.”
“Does your friend know you’re doing this?”
“Don’t ask. Your only job is to look as much like—” Hannah picked up a Federal Bureau of Prisons lanyard and read the name under the picture. “—Miguel Alvarez as possible.”
“I wish Miguel had a mustache, too. It would help cover the gap in my teeth.”
“I would’ve let you be—” Hannah read from the second lanyard. “
—
William Henck, but he’s a big guy.” She walked over to stand next to Carlotta in the mirror. “How do we look?”
Carlotta nodded, impressed with the transformation to two delivery guys in white jumpsuits and billed hats. “Not bad.”
Hannah checked her watch. “Time to go. We need to get out of here before any employees arrive. Leave everything in the locker. Remember, no cell phones, no money, nothing but your lanyard. And don’t be surprised if you get patted down at some point.”
“Boobs and butt taped down solid,” Carlotta said, turning to stand in profile.
“Okay, well, let’s hope between the darkness and the guards being a bit sleepy at this time of the morning, no one will give us a second look.”
They walked out into the empty warehouse and climbed into the refrigerated truck that held fifty cases of eggs, fifteen dozen to a case. Carlotta reached over to touch Hannah’s arm. “We can call it off now if you want. I’ll be just as grateful that you offered to do this in the first place.”
Hannah smiled. “I’m all in.”
“Me, too.”
Hannah fired up the engine and pulled forward to trigger a garage door to raise. They drove out into an industrial park that was still dark at this hour and headed across town in the direction of the United States Penitentiary, Atlanta.
“I’m sorry to exclude Wes,” Hannah said, “but I was afraid the little shit would do something to get us caught.”
“No, that was a good call,” Carlotta said, remembering how Wes had fouled up Jack’s goodwill attempt to let them have a glimpse of their father before he was transported.
“Have you decided what you’re going to say to your dad if you see him?”
“All I really want to know is where to find Mother. As far as everything else is concerned, I’ll let the courts handle Randolph.”
Hannah looked over at her. “Are you prepared to hear...something you don’t want to hear?”
“You mean that’s she’s dead?” Carlotta heaved a sigh. “I have to be honest, I go back and forth between hoping she’s alive so I can see her again, and hoping she’s not alive so I don’t have to ask why she never came back. Does that sound horrible?”
“No, I get it. I just want to make sure if you see your dad, you don’t run up and hug him...or slap him. And that you don’t react violently to anything he might say. I know that’s a lot to ask.”
“I’m good,” Carlotta assured her.
Hannah checked her watch. “Okay, we’re about one mile out, and we’re running to plan, which is a few minutes late. Hopefully, some of the prisoners will be in the mess hall eating. I’m counting on the fact that eggs will be stored somewhere nearby. You keep a lookout for your dad, and I’ll keep a lookout for everything else.”
“Okay,” Carlotta said, trying to calm her galloping heart.
“There it is, up ahead. Put on your gloves, and don’t say a word. If anyone talks to you, pretend you don’t speak English.”
She nodded, tamping down thoughts of everything that could go wrong, focusing instead on how it could go right. They would park the vehicle, and take as long as they could to carry in the cases of eggs.
“Here we go,” Hannah said as they rolled up to the guard shack. She rolled down the window. “Egg delivery,” she grunted.
“Let me see your IDs,” said the guard. He was armed to the teeth and held a flashlight, which he shined over their IDs and their faces. Carlotta squinted into the beam and held her breath, but the guard seemed satisfied.
“Is the back open?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Hannah said.
They sat as still as stones while he opened the back door of the truck and inspected their delivery. Then he shined a light under their truck and came around to the passenger side to pass the light over the cab and their feet.
He knocked on her window. “Out of the truck, please.”
Carlotta’s hand shook as she opened the door and jumped down heavily. She gave the guy a nod, then lowered her head.
“Arms up, legs open.”
She did as she was told, reminding herself to stand like a man. She hoped like hell he didn’t feel all the bandaging underneath her clothes to square out her figure. And she was pretty sure he could hear her heart pounding—it sounded like a bass drum in her ears.
“Have a good day,” he said.
Carlotta climbed back inside on wobbly legs.
He walked around to the driver’s side and put Hannah through the same scrutiny, although it seemed to take longer. Carlotta kept her eyes on the road ahead and tried to look bored.
“Pull up and wait for the gate to open,” he said finally.
Hannah climbed back inside and they didn’t speak until they had driven through the gate and it closed behind them.
“Still with me?” Hannah said.
“Uh-huh,” was all Carlotta could manage. Everywhere she looked were walls and barbed wire and cameras. This was a far cry from party crashing. If they got caught—
She swallowed hard. Well, Jack wouldn’t be able to save her this time.
They had to stop at yet another gate and endure the same scrutiny as before. By now Carlotta was sweating underneath the heavy makeup and wig.
“Stay on the right,” the guard said. “Follow the letter C on the road and pull around the rear of building 4.”
“C and 4, got it,” Hannah mumbled.
Carlotta could tell by the faint tremor in Hannah’s voice that she, too, was starting to feel the heat of what they’d gotten themselves into. Masking their voices was one thing, but passing themselves off as men unloading the truck would be something else. Her healing shoulder still pinged with pain from their practice run—she hoped it held out.
Hannah drove carefully and soon they were pulling behind a square one-story building ablaze with light. A guy on a loading dock guided her to back into a parking space next to a ramp.
“Good luck,” Hannah said, then opened the door and jumped down.
Carlotta did the same and met her at the rear of the truck.
“Whatcha got?” the guy on the loading dock shouted.
“Eggs,” Hannah shouted back.
“Yeah, cooks are waitin’ for you. How many?”
“Fifty half cases.”
“Do you need a forklift?”
“Nah, we got it—thanks, man.”
They each grabbed a case of eggs. Carlotta followed Hannah up the ramp into a concrete room lined with institutional-sized stainless refrigerators. The guy from the dock was standing there waving them toward an interior door. “We need twenty-five cases in the kitchen to use now. You can put the last twenty-five in the refrigerators.”
From the open door came the sounds of kitchen activity. Carlotta concentrated on not dropping the eggs. Between the exertion and the adrenaline, she was feeling a little lightheaded. But she told herself she couldn’t blow this now.
They walked into a huge cafeteria with rows and rows of tables the length of the room, and identical hard plastic chairs lined up on either side. The starkness of it was sobering. They had entered near the food line, where inmates stood waiting for large pots of food to be dropped into openings to keep them warm. Behind the food line was the kitchen. She and Hannah were waved in and the cooks’ helpers took the cases from them before they could set them down.
The good thing about the frantic pace was no one paid attention to them. But the bad thing was she didn’t have much time to scan the inmates who were coming through line for Randolph—only a few seconds with each trip—and she was only going to get a dozen trips into the kitchen. On the fourth trip she was still optimistic...but by the ninth trip she was losing hope...and on the twelfth trip she had to concede failure.
“Anything?” Hannah whispered.
“No.”
“One more case to the kitchen,” the guy shouted as they walked up the ramp.
“You take it,” Hannah whispered, then veered off to the refrigerators.
Carlotta threw up a prayer and veered left to take the final case into the kitchen. She slowed her step and scanned for Randolph’s salt and pepper hair, his fit frame.
Nothing.
Someone took the last case from her, and as she walked out, dock guy shouted. “The rest go in the icebox.”
She and Hannah met at the top of the ramp and she shook her head. They walked down together, both of them breathing from exertion. Carlotta fought back tears of frustration, and she knew Hannah was as disappointed as she was.
“Let’s get this done,” Hannah muttered.
The last trips took them longer because they had to climb into the truck to retrieve the cases in the back. With five cases left to carry up the ramp, the muscles in her arms were screaming.
“I’ll get the rest,” Hannah said.
“No,” she said, not about to let her friend carry her load.
But on the next trip, her shoulder gave way and she dropped the case she was carrying on the floor in front of one of the enormous refrigerators. Instantly, yoke and white began to leak from the case.
The dock guy winced, then stepped to the door and shouted, “Cleanup!”
Hannah walked by and made a cut-off motion with her hand, indicating she’d get the rest. Carlotta didn’t argue—she was bungling things.
A man emerged with an industrial size roll of paper towels. Carlotta stared at the oozing mess in dismay and thought it pretty much represented the state of her life—fragile, fractured, and out of control.
She reached for a handful of the towels, and looked straight into Randolph’s blue eyes.
She inhaled sharply, but he didn’t notice or recognize her, was intent on cleaning up the mess she’d made. Her pulse went haywire and her limbs froze until she remembered she only had a few seconds to pull this off. She got down on her hands and knees and put her head close to his as she wiped at the goo.
“Dad, it’s me,” she whispered.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him stiffen.
“Don’t look at me.” She continued to wipe.
“Carlotta, what are you doing?”
“I had to talk to you. Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s Valerie?”
The guy from the dock rolled a trash can over. “Here you go. Hurry it up, Wren.”
Her father stood and hefted the case of broken eggs into the trash can. She stood and dropped her towels inside. It took every ounce of restraint she had not to look at him.
“Where’s Mom?” she said through gritted teeth, knowing they were running out of time.
“Here comes the mop bucket,” the guy said, gesturing for them to get out of the way.
“Go home, Carlotta. Everything you’re looking for is there. Don’t worry about me. I have evidence stashed to exonerate me, but I can’t come forward yet. I love you.” He turned and walked back to the door, wiping his hands on his grey jumpsuit.
Chapter Thirty-three
“FEELING BETTER?”
Wes looked up from the computer screen he’d been staring at for forty-five minutes. “Hm?”
His boss at ASS, Richard McCormick, was a dumpy nerd, but a genuinely nice guy. “Your bout with the flu? You’re feeling better, I hope.”