Redemption Point~Crimson Lake by Candice Fox

Author:Candice Fox [Fox, Candice]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B073XR3V9Q
Publisher: Random House Australia
Published: 2018-01-29T00:00:00+00:00

When I was in prison, I was segregated to a block housing inmates who would be endangered if they were accommodated with the thieves, drug dealers, and murderers who made up the general prison population. I knew from my time as a cop that there were a number of offenses that could get you segregated. General population boys were expected to “bash on sight” anyone who’d committed a violent crime against a woman or child, so around me were pedophiles, wife killers and baby killers, rapists and child-porn distributors. There were real and suspected snitches, transgender inmates, and former corrections officers. There were also high-profile people, rich folk who might be extorted in the general population, and ex-cops or lawyers who might run into old quarries out there in the yard. Celebrities would appear briefly. Their hearings usually went through the system faster, and they more often than not made bail.

The “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy applied there, so for the most part no one knew why anyone else was in remand. The policy was supposed to keep violence down within segregation, but the effect was the opposite. Like all humans with more time than things to do, the inmates would spread rumors. Rumors, once born, grow quickly on the inside. One day someone might be whispering to me that a man on the other side of the unit had thrown his wife off a bridge to her death. The next day, it was his six-year-old daughter, and he’d raped her and tortured her first.

Whispers. Meaningful looks. Signals passed across a room and quiet conversations conducted in huddles in corners. Sometimes I’d longed for the crashing, clattering, catcalling noise of the general population. Segregation was the quietest, tensest place on Earth. The air hummed with malignant potential. It was hard to breathe. When fights broke out there was no warning, no shouting or scrabbling in the lead up. The sound of playing cards sliding and slapping on the concrete table would be exchanged for a scream. Then sirens. The shouts of guards.

As I sat across my kitchen table from Dale Bingley, I felt that old segregation tension pulsing in the air for the first time since my release. I’d dragged a chair in from one of the other rooms and set up an old laptop, having given him the new one I’d purchased when I started working with Amanda. He was consumed by his work, sifting through online databases of images of cars, now and then glancing at the screenshots of the blue ute on the table beside him. I felt his eyes on me every now and then as I worked through Andrew Bell’s Facebook chat history, every movement of his body making my muscles tense. The sudden sound of his whiskey glass hitting the tabletop as he put it down sent a jolt of pain through my chest.

What was he going to do if we didn’t find Claire’s attacker? I wondered. He’d said he didn’t believe in my innocence.

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