Page 127 of Death is Familiar

He took a long measure of me. Five breaths passed, before he said, “You’re serious.” Taking a half-step back, he shook his head. “You know I can’t do that.”

“What I know is that you care about Three, and we both know there is no happily ever after for her here.”

A pensive, eye flickering, expression crossed his face. It was going to take a few more attempts, but he was corruptible, I could feel it.

Just as I could feel the impending ‘no’ which would shut down the rest of the conversation, and I still had questions I wanted answered.

“Fine.” I got ahead of it. “If you refuse to help me and Three, you can at least tell me what you know about Mads.”

“Warden Masterson?” Still processing, White took a moment before he said, “What do you want to know?”

“I’ve figured out a lot of things.” I sat down on my mattress. “But something I couldn’t sort out was how he thought he’d get me out of prison.” “He’d said he wanted to wait until the time was right. That I’d been right where he wanted me, until the FBI ruined his plans.”

No reaction from White.

A moment passed. Then two.

“You really don’t know?” Not justifying that with a response, White released his white-knuckle grip from the bars of my cage, and picked up the squeegee. “Before Mads went ‘off-book’ he had the Seal’s blessing to ensure your brother sacrificed himself. That’s what I know.”

I was about to run my mouth and tell him that what he shared was ‘oh so very helpful’, when I noticed the shift in White’s body language, the way he turned—how he moved to hide his lips from the camera.

“But Mads is a self-righteous bastard,” White spoke low and quick, as he swapped out the squeegee for a mop. “He always thought he knew best. That he deserved better than the rest of the Seal. You being in prison wasn’t part of the Seal’s plan. It was Mads’ and Mads’ alone. He was tempering with the odds, because you being the key is going to make him a very very rich man.”

Eight million dollars. And it was all because Mads made sure the odds of me being the key appeared unfavorable.

White went on circling the frayed mop over the floor. “He forgot about the cause. He did everything in his power for personal gain, rather than the greater good. He created his own team to ensure he could manipulate fate.”

By how freely Warden White spoke, I knew Mads was a sore spot. The story I’d told of roofies and manipulation—even if it had been laced with lies—had only continued to paint Mads in a light he’d already begun to paint himself.

“Two members of his so-called team reported back to us with what he was doing, that you were out of prison, and that Mads was keeping you sequestered away from us. They were tasked to take you in, to get you away from Mads… but you saw how that ended up.”

Stars and Stripes. The masked assailants who were killed by Mads in Monongahela. “Seems like you’re saying the Seal can’t get its act together.”

“I’m saying Mads always had his own agenda, love. You said he left you mirror messages, which means he knew where you lived and he never reported back that he’d been able to ascertain your residence. Not once. And it took a lot of effort and resources for us to get you away from him.”

There was a lot more tug-of-war going on behind the scenes than I’d realized. Mads was a villain on two fronts then. “So, you know nothing about Mads’ plans to get me out. Just that the FBI intervened?”

A beeping came from the other side of the heavy metal door. Madame and, hopefully, Three were returning. My time running out, White shook his head. “No, I don’t know, love. But knowing Warden Masterson, I’d reckon he had a plan to bring new evidence to light. Prove that you were innocent when the time was right.”

Realization hit like a slap to the face, just as the door swung open to reveal Madame, with Three close in tow. The relief Three had returned was short-lived because I’d come to the conclusion of something altogether more earth-shattering.

Mads and his team weren’t going to break me out of prison. They were holding onto something that could prove my innocence and force my release when they saw fit.

They filmed it.

29

Two more months passed.

Two. Whole. Months.

Not that I could tell one day from the other, but from Warden White’s near constant measurement of my belly. And I had a belly. I could see it. Feel it. Round and firm, and most definitely pregnant. The loose shape of the hospital gown hid my changing form well enough, but the week before Three told me I’d “popped” then screamed with excitement—whatever that meant.

Yes, I knew how to read autopsy reports, I could identify edible and poisonous plants, but I didn’t know any of the words used in pregnancy. Funny. Or depressing. Take your pick.

Despite the changes in my body, the stretching pull of my skin and my scars, the hormones that flooded my system, I didn’t dare shut down again and venture into my pit. If I had any chance of making it out of the cell, of getting back to the agents and the vamp case, I needed my wits about me.

Imaginary Todd agreed.