Storm's Cage Mary Stone (classic reads .TXT) 📖

“I’m sorry, Agent, but—”

Joseph jabbed his finger at the door beside the dark windows. “No, you don’t have to wait outside the door. This is a Federal investigation with sensitive information that, if it was overheard, could compromise the integrity of this case.” His tone was so harsh, Amelia wondered why he didn’t just tell the guard that the FBI didn’t trust corrections officers to keep their mouths closed.

As the CO opened his mouth, Joseph shot him a withering stare. The guard’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Okay. We’ll be watching through the glass across the hall. If you have any issues, just signal.”

Amelia jumped in before Joseph uttered an irritable reply. “Thank you. We appreciate your help.”

With a curt nod, the guard stepped out and pushed the door closed.

Biting her tongue to avoid saying something to make the situation that much more tense, Amelia turned to face the man whose wrists were shackled to a stainless-steel table. Solid concrete comprised two walls, and iron bars and chain link covered a four-foot-tall opening in the two others.

A pair of wary gray eyes followed each of Joseph’s movements as he pulled out a metal chair, seating himself directly opposite Waylon Erbach. The bushy, rust-colored beard from the inmate’s mugshot had been shaved down to stubble, and shadows darkened his gaunt cheeks.

Rather than take a spot at Joseph’s side, Amelia crossed her arms and leaned against the cool cement. “Nice to see you again, Waylon. How’s your week been so far?”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “What do you people want? I already told you I don’t know nothin’ about that guy who got killed here last week. Never even met the fella.”

Rubbing the side of his clean-shaven face, Joseph leaned back in his chair. “You sure about that? I mean, I don’t doubt that you’d never met him before, but are you sure about the rest of it? You don’t know anything about it?”

Amelia painted a contemplative expression on her face and tilted her head. “Come on, Waylon. We already know who let you through that supply room so you could kill Carlo Enrico.”

For a split-second, his eyes widened. He sat stiffly in his seat, as if frozen. To his credit, he rebounded from the shock quickly, but the moment of panic validated their days of tedious work. She’d been confident in their theory, and his body language proved they were on the right track.

Metal clattered as Erbach scooted forward in his seat and fisted his hands on top of the table. “I got no idea what you’re on about, lady. I wasn’t nowhere near that hallway when that guy got killed. I was—”

Joseph cut him off with an upraised hand. “In your cell. Yeah, I know. And I also know that’s bullshit. See, after our last little chat, my partner and I went back and looked through the security cameras from that day. We didn’t see you anywhere near your cell block. Not until a guard escorted you there, from the showers, after the lockdown started.”

Erbach’s knuckles turned white from the pressure of his clenched fists. “So? I took a shower. I don’t like to stink.”

“Or…” Joseph mimed proper handwashing technique, “you had to do a little extra scrubbing. I saw that hallway. Carlo Enrico was a bleeder. In fact, that’s how he died. Poor bastard’s blood pressure bottomed out. He went into shock. Then again, he was stabbed quite a few times. Pretty sloppy, if you ask me. A good assassin wouldn’t need to do so much work. Or need to freshen up after.”

The inmate’s eyes shifted between the two of them. “What? A guy can’t take a shower without being suspicious these days? I’m telling you, whatever you’re seeing that makes you think I did this thing, that I murdered that fella, someone’s setting me up.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “Okay, Waylon. Here’s the thing. I’m going to just cut right down to it, because I’m about sick and tired of you wasting my damn time. We know who hired you to kill Carlo Enrico. We’ve got evidence that ties him to the murder, and what we’re doing right now is more or less a courtesy to you. See, we could have just gone to the CO first.”

Another flash of panic crossed Erbach’s face, but this time he wasn’t as quick to conceal the obvious worry.

She lifted an index finger as she pinned him with a hard stare. “But we’re here talking to you instead…as a courtesy. Because when we go knock on that CO’s door after this and slap the cuffs on his wrist, what do you think is the first thing he’s going to do?” She leveled the finger at Erbach. “He’s going to point to you. He’s going to sell you out.”

“No. That’s not…” Erbach shook his head, looking like a shaggy dog ridding itself of water. “No, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joseph lifted an eyebrow at the twitchy man. “Are you sure about that? Because the way you’re reacting tells me you know exactly what my partner’s telling you.”

Stepping away from the wall, Amelia held her arms out to her sides. “What’s going to make him stay loyal to you, huh? You weren’t the one paying him. It was the other way around. He’s going to sell you out like…” she snapped her fingers, “that. And you know what the hell of it is? It’ll work. He’ll plead down to something like manslaughter, and the U.S. Attorney will pin you with first-degree murder. While you sit in solitary confinement for all but fifteen minutes a day, you’ll be staring down lethal injection while he gets a slap on the wrist.”

As Erbach’s wild eyes shifted back and forth between them, Joseph crossed his arms. “Is that the way you want this to play out? Do you want to take a bullet for a CO who’d rat you out in half a second if it meant he’d get to see the light of