Read Birdy Waterman 01 - The Bone Box for Free Online

do.”
    It was the same guard—the one who’d watched her and her cousin as they visited.
    “Excuse me?” she answered, looking him over. She read his ID badge: Ken Holloway. He was smaller there in the corridor than he was when he commanded a chair upfront overlooking the prisoners in his quadrant of the room. He had soft green eyes and a pockmarked face. Not handsome, not ugly. Despite the fact that he carried a gun, worked with the worst of humanity day in and day out, Sgt. Holloway seemed concerned.
    “Your cousin isn’t well,” he said.
    “What do you mean well ?” she asked.
    The guard stopped walking. Birdy stayed with him as the other visitors shuffled toward the doorway. “It was all he could do to get out of his cell and get down to see you.”
    “What’s wrong with him?” she asked.
    “It’s none of my business,” Sgt. Holloway said. “But I like the guy. He’s probably the most decent guy in the prison—that includes the guards and the superintendent’s so-called staff. Them for sure.”
    He wasn’t answering her question. She asked again, this time directly. “Is he sick?”
    Holloway shook his head. “Worse than sick. He’s dying. Leukemia. He’ll be dead before Christmas. At least that’s what the docs tell him. Anyway, you need to know that.”
    “Why are you telling me this? Why didn’t he?”
    He stared into her eyes, searching. “He’s proud, Dr. Waterman.”
    The use of her name surprised her. “You know who I am?”
    He nodded. “Hell yeah, he’s bragged about you for years. I know all about you, your backstory, the crime that sent him here. I know stuff you don’t even know.”
    “Like what, for instance?”
    “Like Tom Freeland didn’t kill that girl up in Neah Bay.”
    “I’m sure you’ve heard claims of innocence before around here,” she said, looking at an inmate pushing a laundry cart down the hall.
    “Yeah. More times than you probably think. But Tommy’s different. He has honor. He’s never ratted on anyone and no one has ratted on him. He’s taught at least a hundred inmates how to read; sent money—and he don’t have much—to a cellmate’s family. He’s not perfect, but he’s as close to decent as I’ve seen in this hellhole,” he said, his eyes lingering over another guard and an inmate in belly chains down the corridor. A mother who’d moments before had been calmly playing cards with her son was now convulsing in tears as she moved toward the exit.
    “My boy is being raped by his cellie! Why don’t you people stop it?”
    It was hard not to look at the woman, but Birdy faced the sergeant. “He didn’t tell me he was dying,” she said.
    “Of course not. He’s not the type.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Tommy’s not one to make someone do something they don’t want to do. He could tell you he’s got months, weeks to live and you’d get all in a tizzy and try to help him because of that—not because you thought he was innocent.”
    “What kind of medical care is he getting?” she asked. “Maybe I can help.”
    Sgt. Holloway shook off her offer. “No offense, but don’t you deal with dead patients? No disrespect intended.”
    “None taken,” she said. “And yes, I do, but I also know doctors who actually deal with patients who are living. I know several very good oncologists in Seattle.”
    “Look, I’m sure you do,” he said. “If you think that because he’s a con, he’s not getting the benefit of a cancer doc, then you’d be wrong. The state legislature has made it sure these guys get the best care possible when it’s serious. Mantra around here is that medical care for cons is gold-plated. No more lawsuits coming at us because someone croaked before their time.”
    “I see,” she said. It made sense to her. The whole world seemed to spin on making sure no one got sued, or if they did, they couldn’t lose.
    “Do you?” he asked, a little pointedly.
    “Can I talk to him again?”
    “Too late