Naive Charles Royce (great novels .txt) 📖

He can barely make out where it is, but he can see someone in a wheelchair sitting in front of what looks like the East River.

Unmistakable reasonable doubt, Shawn thinks, if this is the same guy Lenny was involved with.

“You didn’t tell me there was a picture.” Shawn tries to contain his excitement.

“Well, look at it, you can barely tell what’s going on. Frank was probably high already.”

“I’m gonna need screen grabs of all these texts, Talbot. And the picture too. Send them to me now, please.”

“Sure,” says Talbot, scrolling and taking screen shots of the entire exchange. “Where do you want me to send them?”

“Text me.”

Shawn grabs Talbot’s phone and presses in his number. He hits enter.

((Swishhh.))

C h a p t e r   3 2

The jail cell door rolls across its glider, striking its familiar crash as it locks into place. The sound startles Micah, who is reading the Bible, one of the only books he finds available in the Tombs’ library.

“You have a visitor,” says the well-built guard of mixed race, dressed in prison blue, with a dark brown crew-cut and wire-framed glasses. He has been eye candy of sorts for Micah, who often wonders what the man’s life is like outside of his workplace.

The guard grabs Micah by the arm and begins to escort him down the subway-themed corridor to the visiting room. Micah doesn’t mind.

Fellow inmates heckle as he passes each cell.

“Oooohh, a visitor,” says one. “Maybe it’s your dead husband.”

Micah gives the man the middle finger and continues walking.

“I’ve seen porn that starts like this,” says another.

Micah lets out a single laugh. He turns his head to see if his escort has had a similar reaction, and is rewarded with nothing. Or was that a grin? He couldn’t tell.

They walk through the white metal door to the visiting room. The walls are cement blocks, so the sound reverberates with every footstep he takes. As he clomps another couple of steps, Micah watches his neighbor from the A & C train cellblock arguing with what looks to be his wife or girlfriend. In the corner, he notices a prison guard cleaning up a child’s puke on the speckled vinyl flooring. Then he sees beautiful Jenna sitting amidst the ugliness that surrounds her.

He smiles.

Jenna smiles back, stands up from her white table and makes a small waving gesture along with an air kiss. She is dressed in a cream-colored Gucci sweater with Snow White embroidered on the front, black slacks and navy blue off-brand pumps. She stands out amongst the slew of other visitors in sweatshirts and jeans.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, sitting in the plastic chair across from her. “You’re my first non-lawyer visitor.”

“Are all the guards that, um …” Jenna’s eyes follow the guard.

“Um, no. Just the one.”

“You didn’t think we’d abandoned you, did you?” she says, trying to figure out what to do with her hands. She puts them under her ass and leans forward.

Micah shrugs in a defeated affirmative. He is comfortable in the silence. Jenna is not.

“The funeral was nice.” Jenna wanted to at least acknowledge that it happened. “I really wish you coulda been there.”

Micah looks down.

Jenna senses his loneliness. “I know this might sound trite, but I really want to know. How are you going?”

“How am I going,” Micah says, rolling with the Jennaspeak. “Fucking miserable. Keeping myself busy. Reading. Staying up to date on my case through Shawn.”

“Shawn. What would we do without him?” Jenna is trying her best to make her pronouns as inclusive as possible, making sure that Micah knows he is not alone.

“Ain’t that the truth?” Micah bows his head.

“Speaking of the case, I spoke with James West.”

Micah’s head jerks up. “You did?”

“Yes, and it was quite the experience. That’s partially why I came, Micah. I’m scared. Like shaking in my skin scared.”

Micah reaches his hands across the table. Jenna pulls her hands from her seat to hold Micah’s, sees the guard moving toward them, then moves them back with a head tilt to Micah.

Micah places his hands back in his lap. “Why? What happened?”

“He threatened me, kinda. And I’m not sure why.”

“Threatened you how? Did you tell Shawn this?”

“Not yet. While we were talking, Mr. West just wanted to make sure that if I knew anything, it would remain confidential. He even mentioned my nondisclosure agreement, and said something like ‘We wouldn’t want you to lose anything else dear to you.’” She stops, looks downward to her left. “Do you think that was about Lennox?”

“Good question. My question would be, did he threaten you because of Lennox, or because of the Union Square killing? Cuz that company was involved in both, if you ask me.” Micah leans forward. “Two people from the same company, on the same night, killed by different nameless people who are still at large? If any of that’s true, he’s simply trying to throw his weight around, to make sure he can contain information as much as possible. You’re good, Jenna, you’re good.”

Jenna sits back in her chair. He sees that she hasn’t really felt his words of encouragement.

“Jenna, it’s all gonna be okay. Trust me.”

She begins to cry, her shoulders shrugging as if she’s laughing. She is smiling. “You always do this to me. I come to you to make sure you’re okay, and you always end up being the one to comfort me.”

“It’s what we do, right?” Micah says, borrowing one of Shawn’s catchphrases. He stalls a bit to let Jenna work through whatever she is feeling, then hits her with, “Wanna do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Find the letter.”

“The letter.”

“The one that Lennox filed away, the one that implicates the drug guy. In the folder with the ghost logo.”

“Micah, I don’t want to get further into this,” Jenna says, deflecting. “This is all out of my horizons.”

Micah realizes she is mixing metaphors again but can’t figure out what they are. He lets it go.

“Jenna, I remember he wrote the letter about the same time you were his