Her dad smiled. It was a bit wobbly, but the expression made her heart lighten. She assured him, “The Judge always thinks the worst.”
He chuckled. “She worries.”
They talked awhile longer and finished their coffee before her dad announced he had an appointment and should be going. Finley was thankful not to have to usher him away with her tight schedule.
“Don’t forget your mother’s birthday,” he called out as he loaded himself into his electric-powered Prius.
How could she forget when he kept reminding her?
Finley promised she wouldn’t and waved as he drove away. Before heading to Riverbend, she walked through the house once more and tried to recall moving her towel and clothes. And where the hell was her brush?
She would find it later. Had to be here somewhere.
Less than an hour later she was turning onto Cockrill Bend Boulevard. The maximum-security prison was located on well over a hundred acres and divided up into about twenty buildings. Riverbend housed nearly a thousand inmates, including all the state’s death row convicts. Finley was to meet her contact at the loading docks behind the commissary. Mickey Kruger, a kitchen manager with ten years at the prison under his belt, knew his way around the place. Knew the personnel, including guards, who would look the other way for the right price.
Jack had an endless list of contacts, any one of which he could name without thinking twice. He refused to have the names and contact info written down anywhere. He always tapped his temple and said the safest place was right there.
At the security gate Finley showed her ID and was allowed to enter the property. Her name was on the list for visiting Arlo Gates, one of Jack’s favorite jailhouse snitches. Jack took care of Arlo’s elderly mother, and Arlo took care of Jack’s needs inside the prison walls. A mutually beneficial arrangement.
Today Finley needed two things: a look at the visitors roster for Holmes and a conversation with the inmate he appeared to consider his buddy—Rudy Davis, the one who’d helped him find Jesus. Having a chat with Holmes would be the ultimate coup, but she wasn’t sure even Jack would agree with that level of risk. There was bending the rules, and there was flat-out breaking them—like witness tampering.
She parked in an empty spot, powered her window down, and waited.
Two minutes later her contact, wearing scrubs and an apron, exited onto the dock and hustled down the steps. He surveyed the parking area and walked straight to her car. He opened the passenger door and dropped into the seat.
“Hey,” he said with a nod.
He looked nervous, but that was understandable. She would be concerned if he wasn’t nervous. Overconfidence was rarely a good thing.
“Hey.” She waited for him to make the next move. This was his show; she was just here for the party favors.
“We’ll go through the kitchen.” He reached into his apron pocket, removed a visitor’s badge, and passed it to her. “There’s an office just off the dining room that the guards use sometimes. I can show you what you need to see on the computer in there.”
She clipped the badge onto her tee. Mickey had suggested she dress casually. Jeans and a plain white tee. Worked for her. She preferred casual any day of the week. “What about Rudy Davis? Will I be able to speak with him?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Mickey suggested. “One thing at a time. The Preacher has his days where he isn’t approachable.”
“Got it.” She’d been told Davis—a.k.a. the Preacher—was somewhat eccentric.
She followed Kruger into the kitchen and through the hubbub of activity. Feeding hundreds of inmates kept the staff hustling. Once she and Mickey were beyond the dining room, they entered a long corridor with doors on either side. Their destination turned out to be door number three on the left. The space was small with a narrow table outfitted with a computer and two chairs. No windows. No decor on the bland white walls. Nothing to stir or inspire emotions.
“Click the mouse,” Mickey said. “What you’re looking for is already loaded on the screen. I took care of that first to make sure it was up and running when you came in.”
“Thanks.” She settled into one of the chairs. The sooner she was finished and on her way, the better for both of them.
Navigating the application was easy enough. She located the name of the inmate she was looking for, and up popped the calendar for the current month. This was going to take some time. More than four years multiplied by twelve months.
She tapped the mouse and got to it. When she reached a date with a visitor listed, she used her phone to snap a photo of the screen.