“Twelve,” Daniels said.

“How many years with the department?” I asked.

“Less than two.”

“Watch him very closely, Inspector. If he’s guilty, I want his ass.”

“Were any of the grievances filed by Ike Johnson?” I asked.

Daniels nodded.

Edward Stone’s eyebrows peeked several inches above his glasses. “Seems significant.”

“I’ll look into it and him more,” Daniels said. “About the sleeping pills . . . Doc says they were not given by syringe or in food. So it seems Johnson just took them. Some of the capsules weren’t even fully dissolved yet.”

“Suicide?” Stone asked, his voice sounding hopeful.

“It’s at least a possibility.”

“But it rules out staff and officers,” Stone said.

I shook my head.

Daniels said, “It probably does remove the suspicion from the employees, yes, sir.”

“What about Skipper?” I said.

“I’ve initiated an investigation into him,” Daniels said.

“Shouldn’t he be suspended pending the investigation?” I said.

“Because of the accusation of an inmate’s wife?” he said.

“A very serious accusation,” I said. “And she’s not the only one saying he’s dirty and brutal. Several staff members have said it too.”

“He may be dirty. If he is, I’m gonna take him down,” Daniels said. “But for now I’m leaving him in place while I investigate and or build a case against him.”

“Which is your call—”

“You damn right it is.”

“—but how many more people will he brutalize or kill while you do?”

21

The air in Confinement was ten degrees hotter than the air outside and lacked the breeze.

Body odor and the smell of sleep hung in the air like a fog, so thick as to be visible.

It was quiet, as if the heat had zapped all everyone’s energy.

When I reached Anthony Thomas’s cell, he was kneeling at the food tray slot as if he had been expecting me.

“How are you, Anthony? I asked.

He shook his head slightly and stared up at me, trying to focus on me. His movements were slow and unsteady. When his eyes finally came within the vicinity of mine, he grinned with way too much familiarity.

“Hello, John,” he said.

It was the first time an inmate had ever called me by my first name.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“Top of the world. Top of the fuckin’ world. You?”

“Looks like maybe you might have left this world,” I said.

He didn’t respond.

“How’s Molly?” I asked.

“Molly. Molly. Molly,” he said. “Molly is my wife, but you, you are my true love.”

“Me?”

“Sure you are. I really love you, man.”

He was so high I had nothing to lose. I probably wouldn’t get good answers but it didn’t mean I couldn’t ask good questions.

“I know Molly is your wife but I hear you have a girlfriend here at the prison?”

“I have lots of friends.”

“Like who?”