Song of the Blackbird (Albatross Prison #1) (26 page)

“Sam, are you seriously on strike?” she asked a few hours later when she finally got some alone time with her brother. Luckily the busy schedule had prevented her from dwelling on Phineas’s death. Madison and Ms. Carter had departed on their lunch break and Sam was alone with her in the Urgent Care, stacking some oxygen masks in the closet. Sergeant Peterson was stationed across the hall from the clinic at his usual desk, so Emma kept her voice low.

“Yes.” One of the masks fell down and he stooped to pick it up. “I can’t stand the SHU. They should get rid of it.”

“What do you know about the SHU?” Emma sat on the gurney and bit down on her apple. She’d decided to delay telling Sam about the blackbird.
No need to worry him more when he already had the strike to deal with.

Sam threw a wary glance toward the entranceway. “I was there, Em. They sent me there after it happened.”

“What?”
Her poor brother had been stuck in that horrible place?
Emma almost choked on her apple. “You were in the SHU? But why?”

“They thought I was part of the PALI gang.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s the biggest African-American gang here.”

“But you were assaulted,” Emma said. “You weren’t part of the gang.”

“I’m black and they thought I was part of that drug deal with Peter.” Sam began stacking some paper masks next to the oxygen masks. “Finally they cleared me. But I was there for a couple of months. I almost lost it. That’s when I stopped writing to you.”

“You should’ve told me.” Emma got up from the gurney and reached out to squeeze his hand.

Sam immediately stepped back and gave a warning shake of his head. Peterson was looking at them from the doorway. The sergeant waved and she smiled back, hoping she didn’t look as nervous as she felt.
Did he see her take Sam’s hand?

“Watch it, Emma,” Sam whispered. “You’re going to get in trouble. Don’t talk to me when he’s around.”

“Alright.” She settled back in her seat, glad the entranceway was empty again. “You’re too thin, Sam. You need to eat. I don’t think the strike is a good idea.”

“It’s not just the SHU, Emma. If I don’t do it, they’re gonna get me.”

“Who?”

“Who else? The PALIs. They rule here.” Sam gave a defeatist shrug. “You have to do what they say or else.”

“But that’s so wrong. You have to tell Custody. I’m sure they can help.”

“Nothing’s going to stop the PALIs. That’s just the way it is.” His solemn eyes lightened up by a fraction. “But it’s getting better. The K-9 units have been everywhere so the drug deals have stopped. At least for now.”

“Good.” Emma finished her apple and threw the core into the nearest trashcan. “So about the strike. How long are you going to be on it?”

“Until they tell me I don’t have to anymore.”

“So how many meals have you skipped?”

“Six.”

“That’s two whole days. Why didn’t you tell me?” Emma jumped up from the gurney and rapidly scanned him for signs of dehydration. “I thought the strike started yesterday.”

“They told me to stop eating Saturday.”

“Are you feeling okay? Sit down.” She ushered him into a chair. “Let’s get your vitals. You’re probably dehydrated. Are you drinking anything? No? Not even water?”

Luckily Sam’s vitals and exam were good except for the mild tachycardia. He definitely needed more fluids. “You have to drink some water, Sam. You’re already dehydrated.”

“No, I can’t. They said no water.” His face was set, his eyes staring defiantly back at her.

“Come on, Sam. Drink. You’re carrying this too far.”

“I can’t. They’re going to kill me if I do.”

“Sam, please.” She touched his arm. “Let me talk to Custody. Who are these PALI inmates? I know the warden. He’s really nice. I think he can help.”

“Chambers? Nice? Yeah, right!” Sam scoffed. “No way is he going to help. And you better not tell him or I’ll be toast. Nobody likes a snitch.”

With a final warning glance, Sam wheeled away the supply cart and left the clinic. Emma pulled at her locket, cursing silently.
How the heck was she going to make him eat?

“Everything okay here, Doc?” Sergeant Peterson sauntered into the room, holding his ever-present coffee mug.

“Yes. Why?”

“You don’t look too happy.” Peterson’s kind eyes peered at her.

“I’m fine.” Emma forced out a smile. “Morris is on the hunger strike so I was making sure he’s okay.”

“You care about Morris a lot, don’t you?” His brown eyes never left her face.

“I care about all my patients.” Emma tugged at her pendant again.
What the heck was the officer getting at? Surely he didn’t know about Sam being her brother, did he?
“Sorry. I have to go to the OHU right now. Talk to you later, Sergeant.”

Whew. That was a close one.
Emma breathed out a sigh of relief. She’d have to be more careful with Sam. Only speak to him during the CPT sessions, which should be coming up soon. She went to see Mr. Nash and found him thinner and weaker than before. She’d heard from Julien that the compassionate release papers were currently in the warden’s office, awaiting Maxim’s input.

Emma squeezed the older man’s hand.
She had to convince Maxim to sign the papers.
She’d failed before, but Maxim had been so kind and obliging the past week. Surely he could extend an ounce of compassion to a dying old man.

Later that night, Maxim hugged her as soon as she entered the door, reassuring her that Phineas had been well taken care of. He was so good to her, implicitly sharing her grief over the blackbird without reservations.
How many men would do that?
She’d lucked out for sure.

Dinner was a fantastic French meal of grilled seafood salad, oyster soup, and roasted lemon rosemary chicken, all homemade by Maxim. He served it on the expansive patio with a gorgeous view of the ocean as a backdrop. He wore jeans and a polo shirt, looking as striking as ever. His eyes rarely left her face, the love shining out of them quite evident to see.

She was so fortunate to have him in her life.
If only he could be a tad more understanding with the inmates
. How was she going to bring up Mr. Nash? Plus there was the hunger strike situation with Sam. Emma sighed and pushed the shrimp back and forth on her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Maxim put down his napkin. “You don’t like the salad?”

“No,” Emma hastily reassured him. “I mean, the salad’s great. I like it.”

“You haven’t eaten anything, and I know how much you love to eat.”

“The food is wonderful.” Emma smiled and reached over to hold his hand. “Thank you for doing all of this. You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to. To celebrate us being a couple.” He caressed her cheek. “To let you know how much you mean to me.”

“How much do I mean to you?” She leaned over, wanting to soak in his warmth.

“The world.” He made an expansive motion with his arm. “And everything in it.”

“Oh, Maxim.” She threw herself into his arms. “You say the sweetest things.”

He kissed the top of her head and the familiar warm tingly sensation pervaded her body. How nice to be surrounded with his love. She snuggled close, wishing she could stay in his arms forever. How wonderful it would be to spend the rest of her life with him. If only she didn’t have to worry about the prison. It wasn’t going to be pleasant what she had to say to him. Reluctantly, she pulled away and shifted back to her seat.

“Now I know something’s definitely wrong,” Maxim said. “Come on, Emma. Talk to me. What is it?”

“Okay, here goes.”
It was now or never.
She sipped some wine and cleared her throat. “One of the inmates told me today that he was forced to do the hunger strike. That a gang threatened him. If he didn’t do it, they’d kill him.”

“This is what you want to talk about?” he asked, his eyebrows flying up. “I thought it was about us. Something serious.”

“It is serious,” she said. “Do you think it’s true? That a gang can do that?”

“Probably.” Maxim continued slicing his chicken into neat little pieces. “Can you pass me the salt? And the pepper, too? It’s not that flavorful, is it?”

She pushed him the condiments. “That’s all you can say? Just probably?”

“What? Oh, yes. The gang thing.” Maxim twirled his wine glass around a couple of times. “There’re several gangs in the prison. As long as they don’t bother us, we don’t bother them.”

“You mean you let them intimidate the other inmates?” Emma almost dropped the glass she was holding. “My patient is scared for his life. He hasn’t eaten because he’s afraid they’re going to hurt him.”

“That’s too bad.” Maxim continued to chew his chicken. “Tell him to make a report. Name the people threatening him and we’ll take care of it.”

“He said the PALIs are making him do the strike.”
Sorry Sam.
She saw no other way around it. Maxim needed to know about the gang.

“That’s a good start but it’s too vague. Any specific individuals he named?”

“No, he’s too scared to do a report. He doesn’t want to be a snitch.”

“Then there’s nothing we can do.”

“So it’s either die by starvation or die by being beaten up? How can you sit there and let it happen?”

“I’m not just sitting here.” Maxim’s eyes darkened. “If they report it, we can protect them. It’s their choice.”

“But if they snitch, they can die, too.”

“Yes. That’s the way it is, Emma.” Maxim sighed. “Why are you getting so worked up over an inmate? They’re not worth it. Come on, finish your soup before it gets cold.”

“I don’t want to eat the damned soup.” Emma tossed down her spoon. “I lost my appetite.”

Maxim’s eyes widened. He was silent for a moment before he picked up his fork and resumed eating. “I spent a lot of time on that soup.”

“Sorry.” So he was upset.
Who cared?
She was mad, too. She might as well speak about the other matter. Things couldn’t wind up worse than they were already. “I also want to talk about Mr. Nash, the cancer patient.”

“Again?”

“He’s doing a lot worse, Maxim. Can you please reconsider? He has this cute granddaughter. She’s only eight. And—”

“My mind’s made up.”

“He killed his son-in-law to protect his granddaughter. She was being abused,” Emma said. “I don’t think his crime was that bad.”

“So he claims.” Maxim shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows if it’s even true?”

“I’m sure he told me the truth. Why can’t you believe him?”

“Because he’s an inmate. They’re always lying.”

Emma gripped the edge of the table and forced herself to count to ten. He wasn’t ever going to change. He thought all inmates were bad. He wasn’t going to help Mr. Nash. He wasn’t going to help Sam.
What the heck was she going to do?

“Come on, Emma.” Maxim reached for her hand, his voice gentle again. “Let’s not fight. We were supposed to celebrate, remember?”

“Yes.” She blinked back her tears. As long as they didn’t talk about inmates, their relationship was perfect. But how could they survive when Sam made up such a significant part of her life? Was she abandoning Sam by choosing Maxim? She needed time alone to think things over.

“I’m sorry. I don’t feel very well.”
Not by a long shot
. “Do you mind if I head home?”

“Now? But you haven’t even eaten.”

“I’m not that hungry.” She kept her eyes down. “Please. I want to go home.”

Maxim tried to persuade her to stay but Emma insisted.
No way was she going to be able to
concentrate with him close
. She drove off, her mind swirling. True, they loved each other but maybe sometimes love wasn’t enough. Her brother should be her number-one priority. She was at the prison only because of him. How could she abandon Sam for his jailer? How could she sit there enjoying dinner in a mansion by the ocean when Sam was hunkering down in his paltry bunk?

Yet how could she break it off with Maxim? She loved him and couldn’t bear the thought of life without him. Toward midnight, Emma finally drifted into a fitful sleep, dreaming of Sam paroling, his gentle brown eyes shining with hope. She waited on the other side of the gate and initially Maxim was with her but then he disappeared. She ran through the thick fog in vain to find him, her heart pounding with fear.

When she turned back, Sam had vanished and she stood alone, trapped in the mystifying fog. Suddenly her attacker, nasty Ransom with the ugly tattoo, materialized out of nowhere and grabbed her throat. She screamed and screamed but no one heard or responded. She woke up drenched in sweat, her heart beating a mile a minute. What did it all mean?
Was she destined to lose both of the men she loved?

Chapter 29

“Where’s Morris?” Emma asked Madison a couple of hours into her shift the next morning. The nurse had told her some of the inmates had eaten canteen food in the dorms so those inmates were now officially off the strike. Hopefully, Sam was among them but he hadn’t reported to work yet.

“Not sure.” Madison continued to enter their last patient’s information into the computer.

The two were sitting in the back office next to the Urgent Care, taking a mini break before the next set of patients rolled in. Madison punched in a last number and logged off.

“I heard some of the inmates aren’t showing up to work as part of the strike. Maybe he’s one of them,” Madison said.

“What?” Emma pushed her chair back. “We need to call him in. If he didn’t eat yesterday, it’d be three days in a row.”

“Don’t worry. He’s probably sneaking in some food. All of them are, you know.” Madison gave her an odd look. “How come you’re so concerned about him?”

“What do you mean?” Emma clutched her clipboard, her heart rate picking up a notch.

“Don’t get me wrong. I like Morris. He’s a great porter.” Madison bit down on a granola bar as she relaxed back in her chair. “And he has to put up a lot with those panic attacks. So I’m kind of glad you look out for him. I wish more doctors did the same.”

“Me too. Let me go check if he’s okay.”
Thank goodness the nurse didn’t seem to suspect anything, but where the heck was Sam?
Emma walked out to the treatment area and flagged down Peterson. “Sergeant, can you bring me Morris, our porter? I want to know if he’s still on the strike.”

The sergeant gave her a strange look before scanning a large spreadsheet. He combed his finger down the page and then shook his head. “Looks like he hasn’t eaten yet. You want Dr. Pan to see him? He’s the regular PMD.”

“No. I can see him.” Emma forced out a smile. “I saw him yesterday, remember? It’s better for continuity of care.”

“Okay. I’ll call him in right now.” Peterson picked up the phone and started dialing.

About fifteen minutes later, Sam shuffled into the clinic, his hands clenched tight. There was a wild look in his eyes that Emma didn’t like one bit.

“Morris, have a seat. Have you eaten yet?” she asked.

Sam shook his head and plopped down on the gurney. He stayed silent while Madison applied the blood pressure cuff and put the thermometer probe in his mouth. Emma’s eyes swung to the monitor. The cuff expanded for what seemed like hours before the air finally hissed out. Ninety over fifty, heart rate one twenty.

“You’re dehydrated.” The familiar gnawing clutched at Emma’s stomach. “How many meals has it been now?”

Her ever-present guard Gonzalez stepped closer. “Talk, Morris, before I make you talk.”

Poor Sam dropped his head and hunched his shoulders, his knuckles white as he gripped the gurney’s railing.

“It’s okay, Morris.”
Her poor brother.
He was a complete wreck.
“You can tell me. I want to help you.”

Sam kept silent, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Can you give us some time alone?” Emma asked the guard. “Maybe he’ll talk if you aren’t here.”

“Mr. Chambers won’t like it, Doc,” Gonzalez said, refusing to budge. “I’m supposed to be here when you see all your patients. You shouldn’t have seen him yesterday without me.”

“He’s our porter, for goodness’ sake. I don’t need you in the room. He’s not going to hurt me.”

“No, I’m not moving,” the stubborn man insisted. “If something were to happen, the warden would have my head.”

“You’re not staying.” Emma raised her voice and headed to the door. “I’m the doctor here and I want you out of my patient’s room. Now.”

“Calm down, Doc. Fine, I’ll leave. But if something happens…”

“Nothing’s going to happen. And I’ll take full responsibility if it does.”

Madison shot her a sympathetic look and exited. Peterson and the other officers in the hallway shook their heads at her, looking none too happy.
Tough.
She didn’t give a damn. Sam seemed like he was hanging on by only a thread. Emma slammed the door after Gonzalez and rushed back to her brother.

“Okay, Sam. Listen to me.” She put both hands on his shoulders. “You have to eat or you’re going to get very sick. It’s been three days.”

“I can’t. They’re going to kill me, Em. They’re watching me all the time.” Her brother’s frantic eyes scanned the room. “Help me, Emma! You have to help me.”

“Of course I’ll help you. Come on.” She ushered him into the back office, secured the lock, and sat him down on the chair behind the desk.

“They’re going to get me.” Sam licked his cracked lips, his eyes still darting around the room.

“Nobody’s going to see you in here.” She pulled down the window blinds. “See? We’re all blocked off. Here, have some of my lunch.” She grabbed her sack lunch from her bag and handed him the tuna sandwich and a can of apple juice.

“I can’t.”

“Come on, Sam. Eat. You need to get your strength back.”

Sam stared at her for a moment before extending a trembling hand to grasp the juice. Slowly he brought the can to his mouth. He tilted it and finally swallowed. Emma exhaled.
At least it was a start.

“Easy.” Sam was guzzling down the juice. “Take it slow. Your stomach has to get used to eating again.”

After that, Sam wolfed down the sandwich and drank half a bottle of water. His eyes appeared less dull by the time he finished, but he still looked scared and restless.

“What is it?” Emma touched his shoulder. “Nobody will know that you ate. Don’t worry.”

“Peterson was out there, right?” he asked out of the blue.

“Peterson? The sergeant? Yes.” Emma handed him a napkin. “Why do you ask?”

Sam stood up abruptly, went around the desk, opened the door, looked out to the treatment room, closed the door again and locked it, his eyes wide. “You need to be careful around Peterson. He’s in it with the PALIs. I didn’t want to tell you but…”

“Sergeant Peterson? The older officer?” A shiver chased down Emma’s spine.

“Yes. Peterson is a drug dealer,” Sam hissed out. “He was the tall man Peter and I saw selling that day. They sold to a guy named Nate. You wanted names. Now you have them. Peterson’s very dangerous, Em. Yesterday the PALIs cornered me in the bathroom and ordered me to stay away from you.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Emma tugged at her pendant, almost snapping at the chain.

“They threatened to hurt me if I tell you. But that’s not the worst part, Em.” Sam paused and took another gulp of water. “They warned me if I snitch, they’re going to hurt you, too. And there’s a third guy I saw that day too, remember? I don’t know his name. He has a nasty snake tattoo on his arm. He’s Nate’s buddy—he said he’ll be watching your every move. They got connections everywhere, Em, maybe even on the outside. You have to leave this place. Get away from here while you still can.”

“I’m not leaving you.”
No wonder the sergeant had been giving her those odd looks. How dare he wear that uniform and call himself an officer?
She was going straight to Maxim right now and get that man arrested.

“You have to go, Em. If you get hurt, I’ll never forgive myself.” Sam grasped her hand, his face bleak. “You’re always trying to rescue me. And sometimes you just can’t. Let me do the rescuing this time. Go. I’m begging you.”

“I can’t. Not while you’re still here.” Emma hugged him with all her might. “I’m going to tell Maxim and he’s going to help us. We’ll be okay.”

“Maxim?”

“Yes. Mr. Chambers.” Emma bit her lip.
Should she tell him?
Maybe it’d ease his mind knowing the warden was in their corner. “We’re friends. Actually, we’re dating, Sam. I really like him.”

“You’re dating the warden?” Sam gasped. “Jesus Christ, Em. He’s so nasty. What the hell are you doing with him?”

“He’s not nasty.”
Not by a long shot
. She had to make Sam understand somehow. “He comes across that way, but inside he’s pretty decent. I’m going to tell him about Peterson and get that crook arrested.”

“Chambers doesn’t know I’m your brother, does he?” Sam gripped her hand.

“No. I haven’t told him.”

“Don’t tell him. Everybody knows how he feels about inmates. He’s going to go bonkers if he finds out.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to tell him.” Emma handed him another bottle of water. “Here, drink this while you still can. I’ll go up to his office right now.”

“Are you sure? They’re dangerous, Em. You should quit.” Sam tightened his grip on her hand. “Get out of here before you get hurt.”

“And leave Peterson to do more damage?” She squeezed his hand in return. “No way. I don’t want you to be afraid anymore. You can’t live like this, every day fearing for your life.”

“It’s the way it is.” His voice was defeated, broken. “That’s how our lives are in prison. The gangs control everything.”

“Well, they shouldn’t. Stay away from Peterson until you hear from me. I’ll ask Maxim to transfer you to SNY.”

“And be with those child molesters?” Sam visibly shuddered. “Are you sure, Em? I’ll hate it up there.”

“You know it’s not just for the child molesters.” Emma touched his cheek, desperate to reassure him somehow. “It’s for anyone who needs extra protection. And you definitely need it.”

“Alright.” Sam let out a long sigh. “I hope we’re not going to regret this.”

“We won’t.” Emma hugged him again. “Now go. Don’t worry. Maxim’s going to take care of everything.”

Emma opened the door, glad the main treatment area remained empty. She led Sam out into the main corridor.
Thank goodness, Peterson wasn’t around.
Gonzalez, however, was there and scowled at her before turning away. The other officers at the table threw her nasty looks, too.
Great.
All she needed was for Custody to hate her.
Still, what else was she supposed to do? Abandon her brother when he needed her most?
She told the officers she had to attend an emergency meeting. They grunted and went on with their business.

At least Maxim was still on her side.
He was in charge of all of them. He’d understand and help her out. Emma strode outside to the main yard and rushed up the hill.

Please let Maxim be in his office.
God forbid if he was stuck in some long meeting. She raced up the steps to the administration building and ran down the hall to his office. It’d only been yesterday that she’d been here. He said he loved her. He had to help her out. He was her only hope.

At last she came to his door. The next few seconds felt like torture. Nobody answered her knock.
Darn it.
Was he out? She turned the knob and pushed the door open.

“Maxim, thank God.” His dear familiar face met hers from behind the desk. “I need to talk to you.”

“I’m in a meeting,” he said, his tone frosty.
And why did he look so grim?

Emma entered. “This can’t wait.”

“Hello, Doc.”

That voice.
Emma shuddered and took a step back. “Sergeant,” she forced out.
What the heck was Peterson doing here?
The officer sat in a far corner of the room, his evil eyes gleaming at her.

“I’ll head off.” Peterson stood and shook Maxim’s hand. “I didn’t want to come, but I felt you needed to know.”

“Thanks for coming.” Maxim’s voice was like ice.

Emma nodded at the sergeant as he waved good-bye. Her hands were trembling so hard she had to clasp them together.

“So you wanted to see me?” Maxim said when they were finally alone. He didn’t get up from his chair but waved her over to Peterson’s old seat.

Where was all the love he’d showered on her yesterday?
True, they hadn’t parted on the best of terms last night but she’d been certain of his affection. Now he looked as remote as a statue. Emma swallowed the lump in her throat and sat down.

“I need your help,” she blurted out. “Please, I need a big favor.”

“What is it?” His voice was curt, his eyes like chips of ice.

The gnawing began in her stomach. She pulled hard at the pendant.
What did Peterson tell him?
She swallowed and licked her lips.

“Last night you told me if my patient tells you who’s threatening him, you’d take care of it.” She dug her nails into the palms of her hands to still their trembling. “Well, he just told me, Maxim. And it’s so awful. You wouldn’t believe it. I need you to protect him. Send him to SNY or something.”

Maxim continued to look at her, his face an emotionless mask. “Let me guess. Your patient is Morris, right? The porter?”

“Yes.” She braced her hands on her seat. “He told me there’s a guy named Nate who’s dealing drugs, who’s threatening to kill him if he snitches. Nate belongs to the PALIs, the same gang that’s forcing him to do the hunger strike.”

“I see. And why do you care so much about Morris?”