How did it get in my pocket?

“That’s not mine,” I said adamantly. I looked around with wild eyes, and everyone was looking back at me. “I swear. It’s not mine.”

Giles had gone out before me. Douglas was already in bed with his wife, I was sure. I had no champion to come to my defense.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Evans, but I have to report this,” Mitts said.

Reports. There was always something to freaking report. It was like they were grown men turned toddler tattletales. It was annoying, but at the same time, I understood why they had to do it. It was to keep everyone safe.

So instead of going on the defensive, I simply nodded my head and attempted to smile.

That day I slept for shit. I lay in bed trying to figure out how the hell I’d gotten a tiny knife in my pocket, but nothing was coming to me. By the time dinnertime rolled around, I was sleepy and starving. I was being switched back to day shift so I had the next day off, but I knew when I got back to Fulton, there would be hell to pay over the tiny knife that was found in my pocket.

ON MY NEXT shift, I was taken straight to the warden’s office. There was no pass go. There was no collect two hundred dollars. It was just a metal detector and then the warden’s office.

I sat in the tiny waiting room, smiling at his secretary and secretly hating her for having an easy job. Then again, while I was sure it was easy to sit around and answer phones all day, I knew I would get bored out of my mind within the first hour.

Twenty minutes later, I was being ushered into his office. My eyes went straight to the warden and Douglas when I walked in, but it wasn’t until the door closed behind me that I noticed Dr. Giles standing across the room.

I was in deep shit. It was like an intervention. They were going to try to talk me out of giving the inmates narcotics and bringing knives into the prison. Both of which I didn’t do. Then it hit me. They were all gathered, standing tall in their suits and uniforms.

I was getting canned.

“I’m fired, aren’t I?” I asked, sure that the tiny knife had done the trick.

The warden sat down at his desk, his face serious and his brows pulled down deep. “Have a seat, Ms. Evans,” he demanded.

I did as I was told, not taking my eyes away from his.

“How am I supposed to believe you didn’t give drugs to an inmate when only the next day you’re found carrying a knife in your pocket?” he asked with a deadly growl. “A knife! In my prison!” His desk shook when he slammed his hand down on top of it.

“I didn’t…” I started.

He held a hand up to stop me. “Don’t. Am I supposed to believe you didn’t bring a weapon into my prison?”

My mouth went dry. I didn’t want to be in his office. I didn’t trust him. Something about him made me want to crawl under a rock and hide. Douglas and Giles were sitting there, however, and somehow it felt as though that shifted things in my favor.

“Yes, sir, you are.” I swallowed my nerves and continued. “I didn’t do those things. I’ve never seen that knife in my life. If you check it for fingerprints, I can guarantee you mine aren’t on it.”

“Are you telling me how to do my job, young lady?” he asked, his eyebrow lifting.

“No, sir, of course not. I’m just trying to make sure I get my named cleared.”

“You seem to be trying to get a lot of names cleared lately.” I didn’t miss the underlying sarcasm in his voice.

He sat straighter and cleared his throat. Douglas looked at him sharply as if trying to figure out what he meant. Dr. Giles shook his head as if he was aggravated with the lies that were being spun against me.

The warden leaned onto his elbows, his fingers crossed under his chin. “If I catch anything else going on… if I even suspect that you might be involved with anything or anyone, you’re gone. Understand?”

I bit my tongue, words that begged to be said pressing against the back of my teeth. “Yes, sir.” I nodded.

Relief rushed through me when I stepped out of his office. I felt lightheaded with happiness knowing that I’d be able to keep my job a little longer. But it was for the wrong reason. It wasn’t about the money anymore. It was about Christopher Jacobs. I wasn’t ready to walk away from him without knowing for sure I’d see him on the outside.

CHAPTER 22

LYLA

SOMEONE OBVIOUSLY WANTED me gone. It made me uneasy and on edge. I went to work and wrapped my head around intake screenings and blood work. It was obvious I needed help with my situation. People were out to get me, and I found myself watching my back at every turn.