But she was pretty sure she’d guessed right when Shelley returned. She didn’t recognize any of the visitors on the list Shelley slapped down in front of her. None of them matched the known gang members mentioned on the website, either. She’d been scrolling through it and doing internet searches, looking for other names affiliated with The Crew. But the fact that none of the names matched didn’t bring her any relief. Visitors for men in the SHU had to get clearance, which meant The Crew wouldn’t send someone who was likely to be rejected. They’d send someone who didn’t have a record. What was significant was that, after going God knew how long without any visitors at all, Detric Whitehead had a man by the name of Donald Mechem visit him about five hours ago.
30
Virgil thought he was running a fever. He kept breaking into a cold sweat and he felt nauseous. But he wasn’t about to let the Hells Fury know he wasn’t in good shape. Not when they were huddled over in the corner like they’d been the night they attacked him.
Something had changed. He wasn’t sure what, but even Buzz, who’d been promising gang sponsorship, wouldn’t come close to him. Several members of the Nuestra Family had sauntered over to invite him to join them, but he could tell that the HF was looking for any excuse to jump him again and he didn’t want that to be the trigger. He didn’t feel well enough to be up on his feet, let alone swinging his fists.
After telling anyone who approached to leave him the hell alone, he moved his food around his plate to make it look like he was eating and hoped to survive dinner without an altercation. He had no chance out in the open. He didn’t even think he could handle Buzz if it came to a fight in the cell. His arms and legs seemed to weigh a ton, and his head kept spinning and pounding. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he needed to see a doctor.
He’d just decided that he’d ask to visit the infirmary when that guard who’d approached him in his cell— Hutchinson—came up. “Hey, big guy, how ya doin’?” he asked, popping his gum as he talked.
Virgil drew a deep breath. Steady. Hang on. “Not so good,” he said. “I think my wound’s infected.”
“That’ll knock your legs out from under ya.”
The C.O. seemed to be speaking too loudly, but Virgil thought that might be a misperception caused by his fever. When he didn’t respond, Hutchinson leaned down and whispered, “You want me to notify Peyton? She can get you out of here, you know. Get you to a decent hospital. The doctors at the infirmary suck. And it’s no wonder. If you were a talented physician, would you want to work here?”
Virgil pushed his tray aside. “Are you going to take me there or not?”
“You’re an arrogant bastard, aren’t you?” He straightened. “Sure, I’ll take you there. When everyone goes back, you just stay put and I’ll escort you myself.”
Virgil didn’t argue. He didn’t realize he should’ve objected until the dining hall began to clear and he wasn’t the only one who lingered behind. One of the other C.O.s waved to get the Hells Fury up and moving, but Hutchinson said, “I got the trailers, no worries, Greg.”
“Greg” turned away and headed out with the rest of the prisoners.
Then, as beleaguered and dimwitted as Virgil felt, he knew he was in trouble even before Hutchinson snapped, “If you’re gonna do it, do it now and make it good. Because this time he can’t come out of it alive.”
Peyton felt a measure of relief when she called the guard station at Facility A and was assured that the dinner hour was over, all had gone smoothly and the men were on the way back to their cells. She figured Buzz might try something once he and Virgil were alone. But she doubted that while Virgil was awake Buzz would take him on. If he did, Virgil stood a good chance against only one man.
That didn’t mean she was willing to risk his life by leaving him vulnerable to a surprise attack, however. She was going to get him out of Pelican Bay as soon as possible. Now that The Crew had most likely found him, there was no point in trying to continue the operation, not if his cover had been blown. She just hoped to extract him without causing too much of a scene. She knew Fischer wouldn’t like it if the staff discovered what they’d been up to. Because the C.O.s hadn’t been told about Virgil’s true identity and purpose, they’d feel distrusted; they might wonder if they were being targeted by the investigation, too. And keeping up morale was key to running a prison successfully. So was avoiding any unexpected developments or the chaos they could create. She needed to handle this as quickly and quietly as possible.
“Please bring me Simeon Bennett,” she told Sergeant Hostetler, who was still on the phone with her. “I need to talk to him.”
“Is there a problem?” he asked.
The worry clawing at her gut must have seeped into her voice. Closing her eyes, she tried to calm down. “No, nothing serious. Just…some rumors I need to address.”
“You bet,” he said. “Or…wait just a sec.” A moment later, he came on the line again. “Looks like he’s not back in his cell yet. I’ll bring him over as soon as I see him.”
Peyton glanced at the clock. Most of the men were back from dinner by six. They were given only so much time to walk from the dining hall to the cell block. Why wasn’t Virgil there? She didn’t want him lingering behind…ever. “Don’t wait. Go look for him.”
“Look for him? He’ll show up any second. There isn’t anywhere for him to go.”
The emergency in her voice had confused Hostetler; she’d just told him what she wanted wasn’t serious. But this time she didn’t try to cloak the fear that was rapidly turning into panic. “I said go look for him!” she yelled, and slammed down the phone. Unable to trust the C.O.s to move fast enough—they didn’t understand what was on the line—she hurried around her desk to race across the yard and into the prison herself.
I’m going to die, Virgil thought. Thanks to an infected wound, a dirty C.O. and three gang members, one of whom included his cellie, he wouldn’t make it back from the dining hall, let alone walk out of Pelican Bay with a new chance at life.
He’d known that accepting the government’s offer would put his future at risk. He wasn’t surprised by this attack. He’d felt it coming long before he’d noticed the unrest during dinner. This was how he’d expected to die back when he first went to prison at eighteen. All the other stuff—the exoneration, meeting Peyton, loving Peyton—that was what really surprised him. And now that brief flash of hope was about to be extinguished.