Life Sentences (19 page)

“Fine.” Pilar placed a copy of the will and a letter shewrote to her mother on top of those she had received from Chad. She would file the original copy of the will with the county clerk the next day. She slammed the box into its hole and turned to the clerk. “Yes. I’m quite fine. Thank you.” She handed the clerk the duplicate key and left for Scott, about a half hour drive on US14.

Halfway to the prison, Pilar pulled her car onto the shoulder. She clutched the steering wheel to stop her uncontrollable shaking. “Maybe I should go to the police. But what would I say to them? Would I tell them I’m helping a known killer to get out of prison? Some unidentified person wants me dead? What?” She released her hands, one finger at a time.

Pilar started the car and drove on.

“G
OOD MORNING
, D
OCTOR
B
ROOKSTONE
.” Officer Leah Whalen’s cheerfulness belied the unexplainable contempt that most employees, including her, displayed toward Pilar. After all, she’d only been at Scott a little over five weeks. Pilar attributed the general attitude toward her to rumors and envy. At least the shakedowns at the women’s prison were less offensive and done by a female.

Though rushed, Pilar smiled and made small talk with Whalen. She didn’t want to offend the officer. Yet, Pilar also didn’t want to be late for her appointment with Jodie who was about to deliver her third baby, this time while a prisoner at Scott, the very place she feared. Pilar hadalways held the memory of her first meeting with Jodie in Cass Corridor close to her heart. Jodie had a tough time coping with correctional policy which mandated she give up her baby to foster care the day after the birth. She had already lost custody of her other two children. She threatened to kill herself if that policy was implemented and she lost yet another child. Pilar had doubts she’d follow through on that threat. Even so, she wanted to be around to give Jodie support.

Pilar hastened through the corridors and endless gates. She hardly noticed others she passed. She was preoccupied with Jodie and her plight. Pilar was also immersed in her dislike of Warden Cooper. She never had listened to Pilar’s proposal for a nursery so the prisoner mothers could live and bond with their babies for one year. Pilar offered a plan for a nursery shortly after she transferred to Scott. It was one she had originally started planning when she volunteered at the prison while still an intern at Detroit Receiving. The day Pilar offered her idea, Sharon Cooper nearly vaulted over her desk. “So, the rumors are true,” she shouted.

“What rumors?” Pilar was taken back. How could there be rumors so soon? The prison grapevine was daunting.

“That you want to change how we do things at Scott.” Cooper came around the desk and stood over Pilar who held the arms of her chair like someone afloat clinging to a life ring. “And you’re too close to the prisoners,” she said in a quieter, but forceful tone.

“I only want what’s best for these women.” The warden hovered so close Pilar strained her head backwards to see Cooper. “How can that be wrong?” Pilar asked, her grip tightening around the chair’s arms.

Warden Cooper scowled. “Is that what you also had in mind for the prisoners at Hawk Haven?”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking. But, I repeat,” Pilar sounded more in control and loosened her grip. “I just want prisoners to be treated humanely. I want them to have hope.”

“We have enough trouble keeping up with the programs the courts and state policies mandate,” Cooper said, “without some do-gooder like you adding more grief.” As she said that Warden Cooper walked to the door. Pilar noted her shoes. They were sensible loafers, but they teamed well with the conservative suits she always wore.

When she reached for the handle, Pilar blurted, “You sound like my father.” Perhaps her shoes brought out the similarities.

“What?”

“Sorry. Just thinking out loud.”

“Well, Doctor Brookstone, stick to the plan and stop trying to make so many waves.” Warden Cooper opened the door indicating their discussion, if it was one, was over.

What did the warden really know? Had anything leaked out about Chad and her? She hadn’t hinted at an affair, so maybe Pilar was still in the clear. Pilar wasn’t sure howmuch longer she could exist like that – always looking over her shoulder, always questioning.

A
S
P
ILAR NEARED THE
infirmary, she let those distasteful memories go and concentrated on Jodie. The waiting room was empty. Jodie wasn’t in Pilar’s office either. “Where’s Jodie?” she asked Cleo, the duty nurse, in a voice too loud and squeaky.

“She’s at the university hospital,” she answered “She went into labor about an hour ago. I thought you knew.”

“Damn.” Pilar grabbed her attache. “Cancel the rest of my appointments. I’m going to the hospital.”

“You shouldn’t just leave …”

“Cancel my appointments, I said. I don’t need you to tell me how to handle my job.”

Cleo’s face turned red as Pilar sped past. The nurse didn’t deserve to be snapped at. Cleo was Pilar’s only friend at Scott, but she didn’t have the time to apologize for her insensitive outburst.

“Y
OU’RE JUST IN TIME
,” the female officer greeted Pilar. She stood guard outside the hospital room. “Jodie’s about to deliver.”

The first thing that caught Pilar’s eye when she entered the hospital room was Jodie hadn’t been handcuffed to the bed. That change had taken a lawsuit and a lengthy trial. It was an improvement, although the new procedure onlyapplied to pregnant prisoners no matter how ill other inmates were. Fortunately, the medical director before Pilar successfully argued that leg irons and body chains could cause a pregnant woman to fall, or if secured too tightly, could traumatize the fetus.

“Hi, Jodie.” Pilar picked up her hand. “How are you doing?”

“You made it,” she murmured.

“I said I’d be here when you delivered. Or, did you wait for me?”

Jodie’s cracked lips formed a weak smile. It lasted only a second and was erased by her response to a contraction. “Shit, these hurt.” She squeezed the words out through her swollen gums.

Pilar had arrived in the nick of time. Only a few minutes into the visit, she watched a nurse wheel Jodie to the delivery room. The officer followed. Despite Warden Cooper’s attitude, Pilar vowed to continue the fight for a prison nursery. “Things have got to change for these poor women, inside and outside the walls,” she murmured.

The officer turned around. “Did you say something, Doctor Brookstone?”

Sure the officer actually heard her, Pilar waved her off.

T
HE NEXT AFTERNOON
L
UCINDA
, Jodie’s cell mate, handed Pilar a large, colorful bundle. “It’s an afghan. Me and Jodie made it for you.”

“How thoughtful.” Pilar unfolded the blue, purple, and green zigzag knitted pattern. “It’s beautiful. But why?” She laid it across her desk chair.

Lucinda scuffed her toe against the carpet. “We made it in crafts. We want ya to have it ‘cause of all the things ya do for us.” Lucinda shoved her hands into her pants’ pockets and lowered her head the way a shy child would. “No one else cares ‘round here but you.”

Pilar hugged Lucinda. “Plenty care about you. It just doesn’t seem that way sometimes.” Pilar stepped back and retrieved the afghan. She held it in front of her to appraise it. “Thank you. The afghan will come in handy on cold nights. I’ll be sure to thank Jodie personally.”

Lucinda erupted into tears.

“What’s the matter?” Pilar returned the afghan to the chair.

“She’s not coming back. She died.”

Had Pilar been so engrossed in her own world that she hadn’t noticed Jodie didn’t come back as scheduled? And no one bothered to tell her. Pilar reached for her pager. “Damn.” She hadn’t answered the prison’s call last night. That alone would be enough fodder to feed the warden’s negative impressions of Pilar, and even possible disciplinary charges.

If Lucinda heard the curse, she didn’t acknowledge it. “Lucinda, I didn’t know,” Pilar consoled in a feeble attempt to hide her own guilt. “Is there anything I can do for you?” Though Pilar empathized with Lucinda, she really wanted her to go. She needed to find out what happened to Jodie. But, Lucinda required her attention; Pilar’s needs would have to wait.

Lucinda shook her head and wiped away her tears. “I’ve gotta get back for count.” She shuffled out the door.

“I’ll talk with you soon,” Pilar called after her.

“Yeah,” she said.

Pilar rifled through the files piled on the desk. She opened Jodie’s, only to find the death certificate in plain view. Jodie committed suicide as she vowed. Though Pilar had promised to help women, she let both Maria and Jodie down. She was unable to save them. Who would be next?

Pilar thought back to the day before at the hospital. Pilar let Jodie and her baby have those last moments to themselves before they were separated. Who knew how long it would take before someone brought the child to see Jodie at the prison? When Jodie turned her baby over to a social worker, Pilar returned to comfort her. Once Pilar felt Jodie was okay and had fallen asleep, she left the hospital. She needed to get back to the prison to tend to her other patients. The officer later reported she had taken a break to use the restroom thinking Pilar would remain to supervise Jodie. Apparently, as soon as Jodie was alone it only took a few minutes for her to gather sheets from the bed and hang herself. “She fooled us all,” Pilar murmured.

T
HE SUN WAS LOW
in the sky when Pilar realized she hadn’t moved for over an hour. She rubbed her temples to ease the raging headache. She needed the upcoming weekend to clear her head. “Oh, God. It’s Mother’s Day.” She remembered the occasion as she collected a week’s worth of material to read during the next two days. “I promised Mother I’d take her to brunch.”

Pilar looked around to see if anyone heard her talk to herself. Fortunately, nearly all the infirmary employees had left for the night. She lifted the afghan and folded it over her arm.

The gate officer searched Pilar with unusual intent. She went over every inch with the agonizing speed of a snail. “Is this a new procedure?” Pilar asked. Shakedowns were meant to stop contraband from coming into prison, not going out. Though inmates sometimes asked staff to carry letters for them, it wasn’t allowed and generally meant the prisoner wrote something they didn’t want a chance reading to catch.

“We’re told to do random checks, ma’am,” the officer said like a cartoon detective. More obvious was her attempt to lower her voice so she sounded masculine. Perhaps that made her feel competent.

“Umm.” Pilar was suspicious, but repacked her belongings that the officer had strewn all over the table between the gates. The officers seemed to be searching her more often of late. What on earth was going on? Why was shesingled out again?

“Nice afghan, Doctor.”

“Thanks.” Pilar heard Warden Whitefeather’s warning about the prisoners accusing her of playing favorites. That she accepted gifts from the inmates in return for sexual favors. The only gift she ever took before now was from Chad. But other envious inmates, the ones who probably found out about their affair, had obviously spread rumors.

“A
PRISONER DIDN’T GIVE
this to you, did she?” The officer was almost drooling for some disparaging evidence as she lifted the afghan. “You know it’s against the rules to take gifts from the inmates.”

“I know the rules. I’ve been through training just like you.” Pilar deflected the question not only to protect herself, but Lucinda as well. “In the winter I keep it around for warmth.” Pilar yanked the afghan from the officer. “Good night.”

“Have a good weekend, Doctor Brookstone.”

“Thanks.” Facing Celeste, dealing with Jodie’s death, and now the officer’s suspicions would make the weekend difficult, at best.

A
T FIRST
P
ILAR DIDN’T
see the paper stuck into the windshield wiper. The note crossed in front of her when the blade swiped over the glass as she squirted washer fluid. She turned off the wipers and got out of the car to retrieve the paper, thinking it was some kind of advertisement. Instead, the typed note stated those same damnable words; “Be careful.”

Pilar’s heartbeat drummed in her ears. She frantically searched the lot for any sign of a voyeur. Seeing no one, she jammed the damp missive into her pocket and climbed back into the car. Before she pulled out of the carport, she checked the lot again. There was no movement. Ever vigilant as she drove to Grosse Pointe Shores, Pilar didn’t look away from the rear view mirror for long. No one followed. No black Ford truck. But, someone wanted her to be aware that they really did know where she lived. Emmet Carson?

Things were getting out of hand. Pilar couldn’t screwup now. Not when she was so close to getting Chad out.

She dropped the letter she wrote to Chad the night before into a post box. Had she said what she wanted to?

That sounded like a confession. For what? What would Chad read into those words? That she desired companionship, someone to touch her? Chad wouldn’t understand that from where he sat. No need to make him any more anxious than he already was. Though she’d been tempted a time or two, she hadn’t given into her sexual needs. What else didshe say in the letter?