Bishop: A Chess Club Mystery - Book Three by Eldridge TK

Author:Eldridge, TK [Eldridge, TK]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Graffridge Publishing
Published: 2023-09-23T05:00:00+00:00

Logan wasn’t exactly sure why Red wanted him to evaluate Prouter, but there was a reason, and he didn’t have to know why to do his job. Prouter was kept in solitary for his own protection, and when Logan entered the secure room where they were to meet, the man was in a poly-glass cube–for Logan’s protection. He had evaluated patients in similar situations twice before, but it always struck him as strange. A large, clear block of material with a single chair inside for the subject to sit, and not a lot of room for the subject to stand. There were holes on all four sides and the top that allowed air and sound to pass through, with no noticeable fasteners or locks. The cubes were sealed around the bottom and only unsealed when the subject was rendered unconscious with a medical aerosol in the prep room.

He’d seen the prep room once in training. The subject was brought in, locked to a gurney, then injected and once out, they were placed in the chair and the cube was lowered and sealed. When they were done, they would drop the cube in the prep room, spray the aerosol into the cube and wait for the subject to go out, then another ten minutes to make sure they weren’t faking. Vitals were tracked and read the whole time and when the subject was fully unconscious, the cube was unsealed and they were locked back onto a gurney and returned to their cell. It was considered less traumatic than shackles and a face mask, but Logan wasn’t so sure of that.

In this instance, Prouter was in the dark gray scrubs of a lifetime prison inmate–gray shirt and drawstring pants worn over a long-sleeved white shirt, with white socks and gray slip-on canvas shoes on his feet. He was clean-shaven with pale skin and dark hair cut short. His eyes were dark enough to appear black, and he had what Logan would call a smug smile on his face.

“Oh, lookie, a new head doc to try and pry open my skull,” Prouter said as Logan took a seat at the table opposite the cube. “Good luck, Doc.” The man made a gesture like twisting a key against his temple. “All locked up and no leaks.”

“Joseph Steven Prouter, age forty-two, born in Jackson, Mississippi to Steven Prouter and Mary Johnson, both deceased, no siblings on record.” Logan read the information from his tablet for the system that would record audio and video of the whole evaluation. “Charged and convicted of fifteen murders in the first degree, suspected of killing another eight persons based on conversations with other medical and law enforcement professionals. Appeal for compassionate adjustments to imprisonment due to mental distress in process as of last week.” He looked up at Prouter and gave him a faint smile. “Why don’t you tell me why you think you should be given any compassion?”

“Because I’m a human being,” Prouter said, his voice conversational and calm. “I’m being held in conditions that would be considered abuse if I were a dog.

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