Page 13 of Jar of Hearts
Less than a half hour later, the woman is back. “I rinsed them, but get some bleach on it,” she says. “And they were never out of your sight, you understand?”
Geo understands. An hour after that, while she’s in the chow hall eating lunch, the prison goes on lockdown.
Bernadette Novotny, also known as the Mammoth, is dead.
News spreads like wildfire in prison. Bernie was found in the prison laundry behind the steam press. There’s no question how it happened. Multiple stab wounds punctured her carotid artery; she would have bled out in seconds.
Geo lies on the floor with her hands beside her head, alongside the other inmates in the chow hall. The guards are searching for the murder weapon and pulling Bernie’s known enemies—of which there are many—into the office for questioning. But they won’t solve this. The shears that Geo gave to Ella’s associate were bleached clean and locked back in the drawer before she left for lunch, by the same CO who signed them out to her earlier that morning.
Over the course of the day, with no other leads, the guards question women in the big room, one by one. They start with Geo, since it was her bunkmate who died. She says the same thing everyone else will say—she saw nothing, heard nothing, and has no idea who might have done it. She ignores the looks and whispers from the other inmates, and for a brief moment considers pointing the finger at the woman in the next bunk over, who knew Geo was being raped and did nothing. She decides against it. Had their positions been reversed, Geo might have done the same thing.
Later in the day, the body is finally moved. The lockdown is lifted, and life in prison returns to normal. But now it’s a new normal. With the bunk above her empty, Geo sleeps. For the first time since she’s been at Hellwood, she sleeps a full eight hours.
The next morning at breakfast, Ella Frank sits down at her table in the chow hall. She smiles at Geo. Geo smiles back. They sit across from each other like two old friends, eating their overcooked sausage and rubbery eggs.
“How’s it going, Georgina?” Ella asks pleasantly. “You look rested.”
“I slept well,” she answers. “And my friends call me Geo.”
Ella chuckles. “So we’re friends now? And here I thought we had a simple business deal. I perform a service, you perform a service. Quid pro quo. That’s how it works in here.”
“What if this was more than just a business transaction?” Geo asks. She has no intention of sticking drugs up her ass or being part of the woman’s security squad. “What if we become… business associates? You have a business to run, and I’m a businesswoman. If you recall, I was pretty good at my last job. One of my responsibilities—and perhaps the most important one—was maximizing profits. I think you and I could work well together. I think you already know that, actually. Otherwise you wouldn’t have bothered helping me in the first place.”
The other woman’s smile makes her look younger. Softer. But her voice, as mellifluous as it is, is still laced with steel. “You learn fast, G. And it’s an attractive offer. But you forgot one thing. I don’t need you.”
It’s Geo’s turn to smile. “You have kids, right?”
“Excuse me?” Ella’s voice hardened.
“Have you ever thought about starting a college fund for them?” Geo speaks fast, before Ella goes ballistic. She’s on dangerous ground; even mentioning another woman’s children could get you killed in here. “I know they’re little now, but I bet they’re smart. What if they want to go to college one day? Student loans can be crippling. I can help with that.” She pauses to let what she’s said sink in. “There’s noreason your family can’t thrive financially, in a legitimate way. I can help you create a nest egg for them. Something they can build on when they’re grown.”
Ella’s dark eyes appraise her, searching for any indication that Geo is trying to bullshit her. Finding none, she finally says, “Okay. I’m listening.”
They talk for the remainder of breakfast.
When Geo gets back to her bunk after her work shift later that day, her hygiene bin, which she forgot to stow away after her shower that morning, is still on her bed where she left it. For once, nobody touched it. Shampoo, toothpaste, even a new bar of soap; it’s all there. A guard finds her a few minutes later.
“Shaw, you’re being transferred,” she barks.
Geo frowns. “Where to?”
“Private cell. One just opened up.”
“How? I thought the other units were full due to the construction.”
The CO raises an eyebrow. “You want it or not? Get your shit and meet me in the hallway.”
Once again, Geo collects her things. As she makes her way out of the big room for the last time, her fellow inmates move out of her way. A few of the women even avert their eyes after making eye contact. It’s a sign of deference. A sign of respect.
In the real world, you earned it through hard work, admiration, loyalty, and sometimes love. In prison, there was only one way: You earned respect through fear.
In her new private cell, Geo finds a cell phone tucked under her mattress, just where Ella Frank said it would be.
5
The letter looks innocent enough from the outside.
Plain blue envelope with her name, DOC number, and the address of Hazelwood Correctional Institute written in neat, even letters. The name and return address is one Geo doesn’t recognize. She opens the envelope, which contains a single sheet of matching blue paper, folded carefully, and more of that neat handwriting. She begins to read.
