Page 12 of Fighting for Tawny

Wendy wasn’t at her desk when he stepped out of his office. She was probably hiding in a bathroom bawling like a baby because he was curt with her. Not only did Stoltz hate his aide for her position, but for being a Gen Z’er—the whiniest, most entitled group of twenty-somethings to walk the planet. With their eyes glued to the screens of their smartphones and other advanced technology, they couldn’t think or reason to save their lives. This included his own ungrateful teenage children, who were robbing him blind. Thus, his extracurricular activities.

He strode the interior of the campus, checking security and caring only that the inmates behaved, performed their various duties, and that the guards maintained order. The women avoided eye contact with him, not out of fear but out of loathing. His awareness of their feelings about him didn’t cause Stoltz the least bit of concern, for he returned their loathing. The previous warden had been too soft, too kind, too much of a do-gooder, and now he was forced to correct his mistakes with a tough, no-nonsense approach. In another year, maybe less, Stoltz would disappear with his fortune. To hell with his exes and his kids. He didn’t care if he ever saw them again.

Stoltz usually ended his rounds at the vegetable and herb garden and the flower beds tended to by the inmates. He knew Tawny Westfall’s rotation in the gardens was today and enjoyed watching her. The bright sunshine turned her red hair to molten flames, and his pulse raced with his increased heartbeat. Dirt and sweat streaked her face and stained her prison jumpsuit, and still, her unparalleled beauty awed him.

When his shadow fell over her, Tawny made eye contact with him and offered a caustic smile as she pointed at a shovel between two rows of plants. “Care to lend a helping hand, Warden?”

Jo and Yolanda ceased weeding the flower beds and stared at him, awaiting his response. Damn her. Stoltz returned her foxlike smile with one of his own. “I’m not dressed for working in the dirt.”

Tawny tossed a shovelful of dirt at his feet. Some of it landed on his shiny black dress shoes. “Neither are we.”

Jo, Yolanda, and a few other women who heard their exchange chortled as they resumed gardening. Heat climbed Stoltz’s neck and into his face. He opened his mouth to rebuke her, threaten her, and say anything that would wipe the disdain from Tawny’s face, but closed it again. He could bide his time to destroy her.

Tawny slipped unseen into the prison library after her tutoring session. She had earned unlimited access due to her tutoring, and the guards knew where she was and trusted her. She ventured down an aisle toward the back of the library, perusing the titles of historical fiction.

Bette approached stealthily and stood on the other side of the black metal bookshelves. “Were you followed?”

“No. You?”

“I don’t think so. I bribed a guard who likes me to let me have some privacy in here.”

“Did you offer him sex?”

“Yeah. And before you judge me, a girl’s gotta do what’s necessary to survive in here. You know what we’re up against every day.”

Tawny did, and she silently vowed to clean house. “Let’s talk about Lucy. What do you know or suspect about her death?”

“Being a trustee, Lucy had a lot of freedom. She had access to places where she overheard stuff that got her killed.”

“Like what?”

“Judge Cohen, Perry Jones, and Warden Stoltz are into something. I wasn’t spoutin’ off conspiracy theories, neither. They’re using us, maybe for sex trafficking or drugs, Lucy wasn’t sure. But when Stoltz caught on to her snooping, someone murdered her with a shitload of drugs shoved into her.”

Tawny’s stomach rolled with grief for her friend, and the desire to get justice for Lucy burned hot inside her. “What do you know about fire camp? Is it connected to the overdoses and disappearances?”

“Fire camp? Maybe. Most of the women wash out of the program and don’t talk about it.”

“All right. Listen, Bette, you’re not safe. I’m getting you out of here.”

“How?”

“Do you have a cell phone?”

“No, but I can get one. Wait here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

While she waited for Bette to rejoin her, Tawny debated how to get Bette out of the prison. They could stage a serious medical emergency that Dr. Sadler wasn’t equipped to handle, or they could use Tawny’s escape plan through the laundry. Indecision tormented her.

“Talk to me, guys. I need you.”

In the past three years, she’d learned to function as a member of a close-knit team, something as a desk sergeant she’d never needed. Used to strategizing with Justice, Hutch, River, Martini, and Dooley, she suffered from feelings of isolation and loneliness, and now, doubt.

“Stay calm, Sergeant. Don’t panic. You’re not alone.”

Justice’s gentle but firm voice echoed in the empty library. She heard it, clear as a bell, and startled, Tawny’s head swiveled. She half-expected to see the chief standing behind her.

Knowing the guys as well as she did, they would advise her to choose the less dangerous option.

“The medical emergency is less risky,” Tawny mused. “But how to pull it off?”

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