Page 17 of Jar of Hearts
“I’m not your fucking social secretary.” If looks could kill, Geo would have been pushed through a meat grinder. “You want to see him or not?”
It’s probably her father, but he usually visits on Sundays. Geo’s in no mood to socialize, but she follows the guard down the hallway toward the visitor’s lounge, an open area with a dozen tables and chairsand a row of vending machines across the side wall. There’s even a play area for the kids and a nice view of the gardens behind the prison.
“Not in there,” the CO says. “There.” She points toward one of the private visitor’s rooms. Much less comfortable, but inside there’s complete privacy. No guards watching, no cameras, just a small table with four chairs and a door that closes. Usually these rooms are saved for lawyer visits, but fancy Daniel Attenbaum isn’t needed anymore, now that Calvin’s trial is over.
Confused, she pushes open the door. Kaiser Brody is leaning against the edge of the table, checking his phone.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, silently wondering if she somehow conjured him by losing herself in the past earlier.
Kaiser looks her over, at her hair, her clothes. She finds herself feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny. Prison scrubs are far from flattering, and she’s not wearing makeup. She looked much better the last time they saw each other. But then again, so did he. The detective’s eyes are bloodshot, and they’re cradled in deep, dark circles. A patchy three-day beard covers the lower half of his face.
“You okay?” Kaiser asks.
“Yeah,” Geo says. “Areyou?”
“Shut the door.” She does as he asks. He puts his phone away and straightens up. “I’m going to ask you straight out. Have you been in touch with Calvin James since you’ve been in here?”
“Of course I haven’t,” she says, her breath quickening. “He’s in prison, too. Inmates aren’t allowed to contact other inmates. Besides, he’d have no reason to. We’re not connected by anything anymore.”
“Are you sure?”
She thinks of the letter she received earlier that day, the blue paper in the blue envelope with an unfamiliar name and return address, then pushes it out of her mind. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Kaiser’s eyes search her face. “What did he give you that day in court? And don’t say ‘nothing,’ because I know he gave you something. It was a piece of paper, yellow, small, torn from his notepad. What was written on it?”
“Nothing—”
“Stop,” he says, raising a hand. “Just fucking stop. Don’t lie to me. I know he gave you something. I saw it. And I need to know what it was, so don’t fucking play me, Georgina. Was it a phone number? Some way to contact him?What did he give you?”
The last five words come out a shout. Kaiser’s spittle lands on her nose and cheeks. Shocked at his fury, she wipes it away, backing up all the way to the closed door.
“It was a note. I don’t remember what it said. He drew a heart on it.” It’s half a lie. She remembers exactly what it said.You’re welcome. But she can’t tell Kaiser this, because then she’ll have to explain what it means. And she can’t do that. She’ll never do that.
“It wasn’t an address of some kind? Or a phone number?” Kaiser’s jaw is tense. Both his hands are curled up into fists, so tightly that the knuckles are white. He’s about to lose it, and suddenly she’s afraid he might hit her. She looks up at the ceiling. No cameras in here.
“Nothing like that,” she says again, hoping she sounds more convincing. “It was a silly note. What I remember is the heart. There was no contact information on it, I promise you. Why is this important?”
“Because he escaped from prison,” Kaiser says, and just like that, Geo’s heart stops. “Three days ago. He had help on the inside. A prison guard and his counselor. Both female. Both are now dead.”
Her mouth opens, but nothing comes out. She snaps it shut, then opens it again, then still can’t think of what to say. She shuts it again.
“Okay, so you didn’t know.” Kaiser seems satisfied with her reaction. He lets out a long breath and leans back against the table again. “I believe you.”
“Of course I didn’t know,” Geo says, finally finding her voice. “But why are you telling me? Look where I am. Obviously I can’t help you find him.”
“I thought you’d want to know,” Kaiser says. “Because at some point you’ll be out of here. And I don’t want you to think I didn’t warn you.”
“Warn me about what?”
Kaiser reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of yellow-pad paper. It’s the same piece of paper that Calvin had beendoodling on the day she’d testified in court. A piece was torn off from the bottom.
The piece he’d handed to her. The piece she’d swallowed.
She takes it from Kaiser and unfolds it. The outer edges are a mess of scribbles, doodles, pictures, and random words. But right in the center, Calvin drew a large heart. And inside the heart he’d written two initials in flowing cursive.
GS.
Her heart stops for a full second, then starts beating again triple time. She works hard to not let her reaction show.
