Читать книгу Dead Secret - Ava McCarthy - Страница 14

‘Anyone ever break out of here, Dixie?’

Jodie stared at the horizon through the chain-linked fence, and figured she already knew the answer. Beside her, Dixie was stamping her feet to keep warm.

‘Are you crazy? Have you taken a look around here lately?’

Jodie shrugged and blew on her hands, her breath clouding up around her like a facial steam bath. The view through the fence resolved into a mesh of diamond shapes, a bleak jigsaw of stretching, snowy scrub land.

She glanced at the snarls of razor wire above her, the jagged barbs spiking out through crusts of snow.

‘Hasn’t anyone ever tried?’

‘Sure, they’ve tried. Some of ’em died trying.’

‘And the rest?’

‘They just got caught. Got thrown in Seg, with a few more years added to their sentence.’

Jodie nodded, her gaze drifting back out to the horizon. It was mostly obscured by maple trees and phone cables, all burdened with a heavy load of snow. Behind her, she knew the guards in the tower were watching.

Dixie stomped her feet some more, and squinted up into Jodie’s face. Her round amber eyes looked watery from the cold.

‘Why the sudden interest?’

Jodie shrugged again. ‘No reason.’

‘Bullshit.’ Dixie hugged her chest for warmth, her plump shape bundled into so many layers she had trouble bending her arms. ‘With you, there’s always a reason.’

‘The ones that got out, how did they do it?’

‘How in hell do I know?’

‘Come on, you must have heard something. Did they dig tunnels, overpower the guards, or what?’

‘Who the fuck knows? Ask Momma Ruth, if you’re so interested. Thirty-two years, she’s seen everything in here.’

An officer hollered at them to keep on moving. Slowly, Jodie turned away from the fence and resumed her circuit of the yard. Her feet scrunched through the cakey snow, and Dixie’s footsteps padded after her.

‘Hey, Picasso, what’s this about?’

Jodie didn’t answer. Her glance flickered over the guard tower as they passed, the air traffic control of the prison yard. Except these guys had sniper rifles. A light shiver rippled down her spine, and she quickened her pace.

Dixie caught up. ‘This have anything to do with that reporter guy?’

Jodie shook her head. She’d tackled Dixie the previous day about her forgery stunt with the form. Dixie’s response had been unapologetic: just a shrewd look, with a pointed remark that at least now she seemed alive instead of ready to lie down and quit.

Jodie hadn’t explained what Novak had wanted.

Dixie slogged through the snow and flicked her a curious look. ‘What was he like, anyway?’

Jodie pictured Novak’s slept-in clothes; his intensity, the air of desperation. ‘He looked like a guy who could do with a lucky break.’

He’d be back tomorrow, digging for information about Ethan. The truth was, Jodie didn’t have much to tell. Ethan’s secrecy was elaborate, tending to unfold in recursive layers so that the more you knew him, the more you found you didn’t know him at all. She rewound through his trail of revelations so far, through his mutation over time from loving partner to controlling husband, to murderous father, to fraudulent crook. And now to a man who’d come back from the dead. Jodie shuddered. What other secrets of his would she unravel?

She shook the thought of him away, and turned back to Dixie.

‘The women that broke out of here, how long did they have on the outside? Before they got picked up again, I mean.’

‘Not long. A day, maybe two.’

‘Two days? Is that all?’

‘People always get caught, usually ’cause they do something dumb. They get drunk or get high, or visit their family.’ Dixie snorted. ‘Like the cops ain’t going to have a fugitive’s family under surveillance.’

She was starting to sound out of breath and Jodie slowed up a little. They were on their second circuit of the yard, getting closer to the cellblock where Nate stood shivering in the doorway. They trudged on, their feet munching in unison through the fresh snow. Dixie got her breath back.

‘Mostly they get caught ’cause they got no money. Takes cash to get far enough away and hide. So they end up stealing, get arrested all over again.’

Jodie expelled a foggy breath. Money was a problem, Ethan had seen to that. Everything they’d owned had turned out to be in his name, and since the law ensured she couldn’t profit from her crime, the upshot was, she was broke.

Dixie shot her a sharp look. ‘What’s going on here? You’re not thinking of doing something stupid, are you?’

‘Stupider than swallowing a fistful of pills, you mean?’

Dixie missed a step. ‘Shit. I don’t like the sound of this.’

‘I’ve got to get out of here.’

‘Are you out of your mind? Look at this place. You know what you’re up against?’ Dixie held up a thumb and started itemizing things off. ‘Electrified fences, guard towers, motion sensors, dog patrols, CCTV,’ she switched to her other hand, ‘remote-controlled doors, alarms, armed officers at the gate, you name it. Anyone thinking about going up against all that’d have to be a fool.’

‘I know.’

‘Jesus.’

Jodie hesitated, and felt her heart rate climb as she formed her next question. ‘If I needed a passport, could you get me one?’

Dixie halted in her tracks. ‘Are you for real?’

Her eyes raked Jodie’s face, and whatever she read there made her groan softly.

‘This is fuckin’ crazy. You know what Momma Ruth would say, right? Don’t fight it, just do the time and get out. She has a point. Play your cards right, you could be out of here in a few more years.’

Jodie looked away. A few more years while Ethan lived and breathed; while his trail grew cold; while her Abby was still dead. Her jaw clenched.

Dixie swore some more. ‘I know that bull-headed look of yours. You’re not listening to me, are you?’

‘I need a passport. Plus, I’ll need some clothes.’

Dixie huffed out a breath, and stared up at the sky for a long, cold moment. Above them, the clouds had turned lavender-grey, bloated with the threat of forecast blizzards.

‘Shit.’ Dixie shook her head and looked at Jodie. ‘I guess I know a guy.’

‘I heard you’re getting out of here.’

Jodie sat bolt upright. ‘What—’

‘Relax.’ Nate plonked herself down on the next bunk. ‘I overheard Dixie and Momma Ruth talking.’

Jodie swung her legs to the floor, flicked a glance around. They were alone in the cell, waiting for the 6 p.m. count. Outside, the yelling and clatter of trays told her chow was still finishing up.

Jodie shook her head. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Don’t worry, Dixie thinks I can’t keep my mouth shut either, but I won’t say nothing.’

Nate leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped together. Her thin face looked pale, the dark brows and eyes made vivid by the harsh buzz cut.

She’d told Jodie she’d first buzzed her hair when she was eight. Did it herself, she’d said. To discourage her father’s attentions and stop him coming into her room at night. She’d deliberately wet the bed most nights for the same reason.

Nate lowered her voice. ‘It’s wicked awesome, man. A second chance, right?’

‘Look, it’s not—’

‘All that stuff Momma Ruth said? About our mistakes being hard-wired, how we don’t have choices? That’s bullshit, right? We have choices, we can change our lives.’ She gestured at Jodie. ‘Look at you, you’re doing it.’

Nate jerked to her feet without waiting for an answer, and started pacing the cramped cell. Jodie watched her boyish frame as she dodged bunks, slammed her fist into lockers, kicked at stray shoes on the floor. The place was roomier now that Magda was in Seg, but it still wasn’t designed for this caged prowling.

‘Come on, Nate, sit down, you’re getting fired up over nothing here.’

Nate fetched up in front of her, her eyes feverish. Behind her, Momma Ruth had stepped quietly into the cell.

Nate dropped back down on the bunk. ‘I can make my own choices too. You could take me with you.’

‘Listen to me. I’m not going anywhere. And even if I was, I couldn’t take anyone with me.’

‘But I’m clean now, I detoxed in the med unit. I can stay clean when I get out, how fucking hard can it be?’ She clutched at Jodie’s arm. ‘We can make different choices any time we like, right?’

Jodie took in the over-bright eyes, the brittle fervour. She looked at Nate’s forearm, at the cuts the girl had made to help her forget, trying to obliterate one pain with another when crack was unavailable.

She patted Nate’s hand. ‘Sure we can. We can change our lives any time we want.’

She glanced at Momma Ruth, who sent her a bleak look, and knew it wasn’t true. Not for Nate, not for herself. Their choices were locked in tight. For Nate, it was crack. For Jodie, it was Ethan. She’d chosen to kill him once before. It wasn’t in her blood to choose differently second time around.

‘I know what you’re going to say,’ Jodie said.

She glared at Momma Ruth, who’d taken a seat on Nate’s bunk after the younger girl had edged over to the door.

Momma Ruth waited, her broad face passive. Jodie had never known anyone with such a capacity for stillness, and right now it bugged the hell out of her. She lifted her chin.

‘Acceptance, am I right? Soldier on, wait for parole, what’s another eight years. Not to mention, I suppose, that escape is just about impossible.’

Momma Ruth shrugged. ‘That last part’s true, at any rate.’

‘But some women get out of here. At least for a couple of days.’

‘Breaking out is tough, especially this time of year. Last woman who tried it died of exposure in the blizzards. Days later, they were still trying to thaw her out.’

Jodie swallowed, and tried to block the image out. ‘But people still try?’

‘Oh sure.’

Momma Ruth folded her arms, her posture tranquil, and seemed content to leave it at that. Jodie leaned forward.

‘How does anyone even make it past the main gates?’

‘I guess mostly it happens while they’re being transported somewhere else. To another prison, usually. They see a chance somewhere along the way and they take it.’

Jodie frowned. Her gaze drifted back to Nate, who was still fidgeting over by the door. Momma Ruth went on.

‘You can’t get far on foot, especially not in the snow. Boston’s only twenty miles away, but it may as well be two hundred.’

Jodie chewed her bottom lip. Outside, the clamouring backdrop surged: yelling, banging, metallic crashes of lockers and doors. Her eyes stared unseeing over at Nate while her mind riffled through an array of scenarios, discarding most. Hovering over one.

Was it possible?

Momma Ruth was eyeing her closely. ‘You think you’ve got a way out of here, don’t you?’

Jodie shook her head. ‘It’s not foolproof.’

‘Nothing is.’

Jodie’s fingers gripped the side of the bunk as she played through the details in her head. If anything went wrong, chances were she’d end up dead. And with Ethan still alive, she was no longer ready for that.

Momma Ruth was still watching her. ‘Dixie reckons you’ve got no money.’

‘I’ll find some.’

She had to. Dixie was right. Without money, she’d never get anywhere. Momma Ruth shifted her weight on the bunk.

‘I got money. You can have it.’

Jodie looked up, startled. ‘I can’t take your money.’

‘Why the hell not? No use to me in here. Been sitting untouched for thirty-two years.’ She lowered her voice. ‘It’s not in any bank, you’ll have to go find it. Should be over sixteen thousand dollars. If it’s still there.’

‘But why would you help me? I don’t get it, what happened to acceptance, and making peace with my lot?’

Momma Ruth leaned forward, her gaze penetrating Jodie’s.

‘Something’s changed in you. Clear as day. For the last two years, you’ve had a look in your eyes I’ve only ever seen in two kinds of people: the ones on drugs, and the ones on suicide watch.’ She shook her head. ‘But you don’t have it any more.’

Jodie looked at the floor. Momma Ruth was right, though she’d never guess why. Ironic how hate could destroy you, but at the same time could keep you alive.

Momma Ruth squeezed her hand. ‘Looks to me like you’ve decided to live. And if getting out of this place is the only way you can do it, then I’ll help you any way I can. Hell, anything’s better than watching you lay down and die.’

Jodie closed her eyes briefly, and felt like a fraud. If Momma Ruth knew the reason she wanted to live, she might not be quite so supportive.

After a moment, Momma Ruth said, ‘When will you do it?’

Jodie’s adrenaline spiked. She swallowed, and whispered,

‘Tomorrow. I’ll do it tomorrow.’