“No visitors for the prisoner. Warden’s orders.”
Hold on. He’d had visitors before. Was this just another attempt at keeping the truth from being pulled out into the open?
“I find that fascinating since our visit was preapproved. Was there an incident?” Maverick’s jaw was clenched.
“No incident. You just won’t get time with him today. Sorry for any inconvenience.”
Sorry, my ass. “We drove for over four hours to get here. We will see Mr. Wells or I will make certain that by this afternoon, an injunction is filed with the courts regarding obstruction of justice.” I was in his face, refusing to back down.
He was the one who had to take a step away.
“Do whatever you want, Miss Rivera, but you’re not getting into see him.”
Both Maverick and I heard the mistake he’d made with my name. They’d seen us coming.
Or was it actually a mistake and not a threat? A cold shiver slammed my system.
The guard obviously knew he’d rattled me by the shit-eating grin on his face. He backed into the building, trying to slam the door, but Maverick was too quick for him, planting his foot on the threshold.
When the guard immediately reached for his weapon, Maverick remained calm and collected. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Gerald. Not only will it not be good for your career, but it will also cost you time with your grandkids. Given you’re aware of Ms. Martino’s protected identity, then you’re aware of mine. And the connections I continue to nurture. I suggest you allow us to pass through, or if you don’t have that authority then have the warden drop what he’s doing and get his fat ass down here.”
Poor Gerald. He simply wasn’t certain what to do with a man like Maverick.
“Now!”
Even I jumped hearing the tone of his voice. But I had to admit, I adored his vehemence as I did just about everything else about him.
Gerald didn’t need to respond, which meant the entire time after our arrival, we’d been watched. A man in a suit moved walked down the hallway toward us, clearly annoyed. What surprised me was his manner of dress.
This was a prison where violent criminals could go off at any time, yet his suit was clearly high end, easily costing as much as six thousand dollars. I found that highly curious.
“Maverick Callahan. Causing trouble again, I see.”
“Abbott Baker. Being a pain in the ass again.” They shook hands, but I sensed both good and bad blood between them.
“Let’s pop into one of the interview rooms.” Abbott didn’t bother greeting me before leading us toward an empty room, closing the door.
Maverick glanced at the corners where the ceiling intersected the walls.
“This room is bug free,” Abbott told him.
“Why would that matter?” Maverick asked. “This is nothing but a friendly visit.”
“Nothing with you is straightforward, Maverick. You forget I know you too well.” He immediately moved to sit on the edge of the table. “Ms. Martino, I am very sorry you needed to go through that. Gerald means well but his IQ is sometimes lower than that of a slug. I know you’re expecting to see Mr. Wells, but what I can’t understand is why. After all this time.”
“Because there are a few loose ends, Abbott. That’s all you need to know. I assure you that we have no intention of interfering with your execution.”
“It’s not my execution, son, and you know how many people have been looking forward to the day. That might sound crass but tough. He’s a killer and I don’t want him in my system.”
“Are you so certain about that?” I asked the question before thinking, which of course caused Maverick to suck in and hold his breath and Abbott’s full attention to pull in my direction.
“Do you know something about a hundred other people who worked on his case don’t know, including me? I was a detective in those days. I’d been around the block one too many times. The case did me in. I have a daughter your age, Alexia, and I can’t for the life of me understand why you’d want to do this to yourself. Haven’t you experienced enough heartache?”
Why was it that I didn’t believe his concern? He didn’t want us talking with Samuel Wells, but it had nothing to do with whether or not I had nightmares.
“It’s called closure, Mr. Baker, and Maria ceased to exist somewhere in the swamps. Maybe when I was fighting alligators or a man with a machete. Closure was something I didn’t have thirteen years ago because I was far too young. No one believed it was owed to me. I simply want to look the man in the eye and nothing more. I wasn’t allowed that opportunity because I was underage.”
He hesitated, rubbing his jaw, but he’d winced when I’d talked about a machete.
