Hyde and Seek: An Elayna Miller Novella by Jill M Beene

Author:Jill M Beene [Beene, Jill M]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Beene Publishing
Published: 2021-09-19T23:00:00+00:00

Eight

There were questions in the morning. Lots of them. After I'd put the bloody toothpicks down the drain, I'd gone back to bed and slept like the dead. There was nothing like the adrenaline high that happened during a mission, nothing like the wave of exhaustion that crashed over me after. I was woken to the yells of the guards. Line up, they said. So we did.

Apparently, someone had already found Mark's body, because they were bringing it out in a bag. I did my best to look shocked, but a subdued shock. Eyes wide, lips pressed together, my eyes on the body like everyone else.

"Who was it?" I whispered to the guy next to me, even though we weren't supposed to talk.

"Mark," the guy next to me murmured back. "Turns out he was some kind of pervert. Someone found out."

"Shit," I said.

"You ain't a pervert, are you?" His eyes slid over to me, narrowed. "Cause we can't quite figure out why you're in here."

"I like my women aged to perfection, man," I said, my eyes still on the body bag. "I ain't no pervert."

"Hmmph," he said. "Time will tell."

Breakfast was like eating in a beehive, with all the murmurs and whispers. I sat on one of the immobile concrete benches at a concrete table and shoveled in my reconstituted eggs and rubbery sausage. Correctional officers were in and out, taking photos, pulling some people aside for private chats. But it was surprisingly low-key. It was as if the prison staff knew the futility of questioning a bunch of inmates, most of whom were already in for life. I didn't even see a crime technician until well after a bunch of other staff had tromped in and out of the scene. They wouldn't find anything.

About noon, a correctional officer called out, "Briggs, Madison, Hewitt. Pack up your stuff."

I shrugged, rolled up my mat, and asked if I'd still get lunch when I lined up with the others. I didn't want it to seem like I thought I was going anywhere but a different pod. The correctional officer sighed and nodded. I shuffled along with the others as we were brought out into the hall. I could feel the stares, the suspicion of the inmates we left behind.

"What's the deal, man?" One of the inmates said. "I was in talks to get a bunk. This is bullshit, man. Where we going?"

“Overcrowding in D,” the C.O. snapped. “Moving you guys to holding and we’ll split you into the other pods from there. You should be grateful. The other units are better than D, anyway.”

They separated us in holding. I was divested of my bundle and prodded forward into a cell with three already occupied benches. The smell of bad decisions hung in the air, a thick fog layer of body odor, alcohol-soaked pores, and stale cigarette smoke. It was the sad smell of a cheap casino on Sunday morning, where those who didn’t know how to say ‘when’ lingered, feeding their lives into machines that gave nothing back but heartache.

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