“Then he’s lying. I don’t even have a key for those.”

Giles backed me up. “She’s telling the truth. She never has the keys to that cabinet. I help her load every tray, making sure that I can take care of any changes in medicine while standing over her. There’s no way he got it from her.”

Douglas’ face shifted to Giles, and then back to mine. “I’m sorry, Lyla, but I have to report this. I don’t know what’s going to happen when I do.” He shrugged apologetically.

He turned away and walked out, leaving Dr. Giles and I staring at each other.

“I didn’t,” I repeated.

Reaching out, he ran his hand over my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll get through this.

It was the strangest thing. Not an hour ago, Douglas was smiling and chatting with me, but now he was all business. Now he was accusing me of stealing narcotics and dealing them in the prison. He was accusing me of being a criminal. I didn’t like it.

It was upsetting since I liked Douglas so much. He was a nice guy, but then again, being in a penitentiary meant not being able to trust anyone. Just like I was walking around not trusting anyone with my life, he didn’t trust me, at least not a hundred percent.

The more I thought about it, the less I could blame him. Fulton was full of criminals. Liars. Cheats. Murderers. Drug dealers. It wasn’t a place to make friends. And while I hated to think about it, I was sure everyone in the prison was turning against me. I was green-lighted, which meant I was worth a lot of money. I couldn’t trust anyone, not even Douglas. Not anymore.

CHAPTER 21

LYLA

I WAS SUSPENDED the next day as they began an investigation. Reports were filed, but since it was the inmate’s word against mine, they let me come back. I later found out it was Evan Moore, aka Scoop, who told Douglas I gave him the narcotics.

It was confusing since Scoop had been nothing but nice to me. Then again, money changed people. I wanted to talk to X about it since he and Scoop were friends, but I couldn’t unless he came to me, which he’d suddenly quit doing. I rarely saw him, and I was starting to worry that maybe I was in deeper than he was. Still, if his friend was going to the dark side, he needed to know so he could watch his back.

Dr. Giles was more than excited to see me when I walked in the following evening. He hurried over and threw his around my shoulders. “Glad you are back, kid. It’s been one thing after another here. I’ve had so many inmates through here in the past few hours I almost ran out of beds.” He turned me with his hands on my shoulders. “Most have been asking about you, but no one knows,” he assured me.

“What about my charges?” I asked, studying his face.

“No charges pressed. Douglas and I went to bat for you. There was no way you could’ve given him those meds without access to them. I don’t know what’s going on around here, but something’s up.” He looked at me suspiciously, and then his face cleared. “I have no idea how the inmate got those drugs, but I smell a rat.”

I swallowed hard. I knew how Scoop got the drugs. Dr. Giles was right; there was rat. Someone was setting me up. Still, I wasn’t sure who I could trust anymore, and I didn’t want to say anything that could reflect poorly on me.

“I’m glad to be back,” I said, changing the subject quickly.

Peeling my sweater from my arms, I rested it on the back of my chair. Dr. Giles’ office was cooler than the unit when I went inside to put my bag lunch in the mini-fridge. When I turned around, Ginger was standing in the doorway. Her exhausted eyes were devoid of light and her shoulders were slumped. She’d obviously had a bad day.

Her smile was forced as she reached for a Coke. Her jacket hung from her arm and her keys jingled as she waited at the door for command to let her out for the night. I felt bad for her. A cold had ruined her last week at work, but she’d drudged through even though she was miserable. Her nose was red, and she’d spent most of her time at work rubbing it with a deteriorating tissue.

“Hope you feel better,” I called after her.

She waved at me, flashing me a half smile. When the door buzzed, she practically leapt out into the shadows of the block. I didn’t blame her. Fulton was a dark place, and it had a way of making you feel bad. I imagined that was even worse if you were actually sick.

The night was uneventful again. Nights were usually quiet since all the inmates were in their own cells and asleep. Isolation was key at night, but in the dark, God only knew what could happen.

Other than a few inmates coming in with shortness of breath and one with possible flu, the night crept by in a slow haze of paperwork. COs were in and out to check on us, occasionally stealing a soda from our fridge. We were known for keeping it well stocked, and the officers knew they could come in and grab water or a soda if they forgot pocket change at home.