The Woman From Death Row by Peter Hogenkamp

Author:Peter Hogenkamp
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: death row cellblock cell house ward prison, execution lethal injection capital punishment, murder death killing assassination, redemption atonement reparation amends, assignment task job mission duty responsibility, doctor physician medical practioner healer, new beginning fresh start clean slate opportunity
Publisher: Tirgearr Publishing

Chapter 25

Jade

Roseburg was a nice enough little city on the South Umpqua River, with a tree-lined main street dotted with shops trying for quaint but falling short. But to a girl who had spent the last four years in Building 504 of the Central California Women’s Facility, it was the next best thing to Rodeo Drive on someone else’s dime. A café between a tack shop and a marijuana dispensary claimed the best lattes in town, and, while I couldn’t speak to that, they were a lot better than the coffee Mark had served and light years beyond the tepid sludge we used to siphon from large plastic bins in prison. After that, it was a second-hand clothing store to buy us some clothes and accessories. I changed before I left the place and discarded the pajamas and the cold weather suit in the trash in the ladies’ room like a snake slithering away from its shed skin.

It was a pleasant morning in Roseburg, and I took advantage, making my way down to the riverside. A bench beckoned, and, seeing no reason to resist its sunny charm, I sat and watched a pair of boats drift down the river. Gulls careened overhead, squawking loudly. A grove of Pacific dogwoods swayed in the breeze. Juniper and sage scented the air, mixing in with the smell of wood smoke from some unseen fire. It should have been a great chance to enjoy the things normal people—people who weren’t on death row—enjoyed, but I was out of practice and grew bored, and so I got up and walked back to the shopping district.

I purchased the rest of the items on Mark’s list at a local pharmacy, spent some more of his money on luggage at a corner boutique, bought a couple of books at a local bookstore, and stopped at an internet café to get another latte and a chocolate croissant. And to use the internet, which was rife with stories about Blount, the fallen FBI agent who had been murdered by his former friend. But I wasn’t interested in Blount. I was interested in the man who was wanted for his murder, the man who was—like it or not—the only thing I had going for me, besides the large amount of cash he kept within arm’s reach at all times.

According to the San Francisco Chronicle, the murder suspect was Mark Brand, a State Department official who worked primarily in Mexico. The motive for the crime was not apparent and was, according to the FBI, under investigation. I tried to find out what I could about Mark, but there wasn’t much there, so I had a second chocolate croissant instead.

Hunger sated, I walked to the bus station and asked the clerk for two one-way tickets to Bend on the red-eye departing at 11:30 p.m., and another one-way ticket from Bend to Portland the next day.

“Don’t you want two tickets to Portland?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t.”

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