“I’m not at the prison,” he said. “I have no idea what’s going on there. I’m not as involved in this as you might’ve thought.”
“Then who is? Will you give me the warden’s number? There can’t be any danger in that. How hard could it be for him to tell me that my brother’s fine?”
“You don’t understand. I can’t—”
She tightened her grip on the phone. “Don’t say that, please. You don’t know how frightening it is wondering if I’m really as alone as I feel! If I have to, I’ll call you day and night until—”
“Stop. I get it.” He grunted in frustration, but when he spoke again, she was glad she’d pushed. “Call Peyton Adams. She’s at Pelican Bay State Prison.”
That was where they’d taken Virgil? Wallace had just told her? She hadn’t expected him to give her that much. “And the number?”
“Wait, scratch that. Whatever you do, don’t call the prison or speak to the warden. Let me get you Peyton’s cell phone. Hang on.” She didn’t get a chance to ask who Peyton was. She didn’t care as long as this person was close enough to Virgil to keep her informed.
“I should never have gotten involved in this…. I’ll be damn glad when it’s over,” she heard Rick mutter. Then he recited ten digits and hung up.
Peyton had never dreamed she’d hear from Virgil’s sister. When the call came in, she’d just gotten out of a budget meeting and only answered because she hoped it was Virgil. She had to warn him that the HF was doing what it could to check him out—at least, she thought that was what the call from Buzz signified. And because Buzz’s phone probably wasn’t the only one in the prison, Virgil could be calling from any number, even numbers with area codes from faraway places. There were pay phones on the tiers, but the men had to sign up in order to use them, had limited access and every conversation was monitored.
“Who are you?” Laurel asked once she’d identified herself and was sure she had someone named Peyton on the phone.
“I’m the chief deputy warden.”
“Oh, now I get it.” Peyton wished she did.
“Is Virgil okay? I’ve been going crazy worrying about him. I just…I need someone to tell me that everything’s fine.”
Peyton ducked into the women’s restroom. She’d been walking through the bull-pen area, wasn’t quite at her office, and didn’t want to pass Shelley. She was afraid something in her conversation would pique her assistant’s interest. Shelley had already been watching her a little more closely than usual today. As hard as she strove for normality, her agitation would give her away.
At least the bathroom, which was empty, afforded her a small amount of privacy. This late in the day, most of the support staff were packing up to head home. Shelley would be going, too. Hopefully soon.
“He’s fine,” she told Laurel. “Well, as fine as can be expected.” She considered mentioning his injury but decided to put it off for the moment, in favor of satisfying her own curiosity. “I have to admit I’m surprised to hear from you. How did you get my number?” Last she’d heard, they weren’t revealing Virgil’s whereabouts to anyone, even Laurel.
“Rick Wallace gave it to me,” Laurel said. “I hope that doesn’t upset you. He didn’t want to. But I wouldn’t take no for an answer. He doesn’t know what it’s like waiting and wondering. I’m not even in a familiar place, you know?”
“I know.” Peyton tried to imbue her voice with understanding. She certainly sympathized with Laurel and was well aware she’d been through hell. But her mind wasn’t on what she was saying. Virgil had made it clear that he didn’t want Laurel to know where he was, that he didn’t want any link between them. He was afraid The Crew would exploit it in some way. So why had Wallace suddenly coughed up this information as if he was no longer worried about that? And why hadn’t he returned her calls today? She’d wanted to talk about getting some information on The Crew. The police must have a few details about the leaders, at least. Maybe they even had pictures. After what had happened to Laurel, Peyton thought it might be wise to learn a little more about Virgil’s adversaries. That could help protect him. At a minimum, they should send descriptions to the local police, tell them to be on the lookout. It was such a simple thing to do and as far as she was concerned, should’ve been done already. She’d said as much in her last two messages to Rick, but she’d received no response. It felt almost as if he was…avoiding her.
Was he embarrassed about the way he’d behaved? He should be. But he wasn’t that hard on himself. More likely, he was wrapped up in his divorce.
Why did he have to split up with his wife now?
“Virgil’s my only family,” Laurel was saying.
“He’s worried about you, too,” Peyton told her.
“I know. Can you tell him I’m okay? I mean…I’m not really okay. Some days it feels like I’m losing it.” She chuckled awkwardly. “But I’ll hang on. I’ve managed this long.”
“How’s the marshal treating you?” Peyton asked.
“Fine. He doesn’t say much. He does routine checks every hour or so but spends the rest of the time in the bedroom, watching movie after movie.”
“Why does he go to the bedroom?”
“Because I don’t want my children to see the violent movies he watches, especially after what they’ve already seen.”
Peyton stared at herself in the mirror above the sink. “How are Jake and Mia? Are they okay after witnessing the shootings?”
“You know their names?”
“Yes. I’ve seen their picture, too. They’re beautiful children.”
“They’re coping. I’ve told them what they saw wasn’t real, just some actors pretending. They’re young enough to buy it. I think. They also believe we’re on vacation for a few weeks. That’s the only thing I could come up with.”
“This will all be over soon, okay?” She wished there was more she could say to comfort Laurel, but there wasn’t.
“Do you know that?” Laurel asked hopefully. “Or are you just saying it?”
“Like you, I’m praying for it. We have to have faith, right?”
“Right. I get it. Okay. Will you do me a favor?”
“I’ll do anything I can.”
“Tell Virgil I love him. I—I didn’t tell him on the phone when we talked. I…couldn’t.”
“I can do that. Sure.”
“And…can I call you again? Just to check in and make sure everything’s fine?”
“Of course. Call whenever you feel you need to.”
“Thank you,” she said, and they hung up, but Peyton didn’t immediately go to her office. She leaned against the sink and tried to imagine what would make Rick Wallace tell Laurel where Virgil was.
“Wow, you’re working late again?”
Shelley stood in the doorway. Peyton smiled as pleasantly as possible but she resented the interruption. “I won’t be here much longer.” She’d just found some fabulous information online about The Crew. A cop in Los Angeles had posted a website dedicated to L.A. gangs, their signs, colors, philosophy, known leaders, even a bit of their history, and he’d included a whole page on The Crew.
“Okay, well, I’m heading out,” Shelley said. “But before I do, I thought I’d see if you wanted to deal with this.”
“With what?” Peyton asked.
Shelley walked in and plopped a stack of messages on her desk.
Peyton shoved away from her computer. “What’re those?”
“They’re all from the same guy. Rosalee delivered them to me before she left for the night. She said he’s been trying to reach the warden all day long.”