Page 124

“But she brought a container for Forrest?” Kenna went over and looked in. The container was on the floor. She reached through the bars and flipped the lid open. “It hasn’t been touched.”
“So?” The state officer strode down the hall, a steaming paper cup in one hand. “You didn’t want her going to jail, ’cause you think she’s so innocent.”
“And that means somehow I connived to let her out?” Kenna straightened. “It’s easier to just let the lawyer do his job. That way she gets to be free, rather than on the run and labeled an escaped prisoner.” She took the coffee and went back to Lance’s cell. Just a couple of steps to the left, and she could see him again.
He hadn’t got up, but still lay on the floor—now with the pillow from the cot under his head.
“Comfortable?” She held the coffee.
He stared at it.
“Who else was in here?” There was a door at the end, a fire exit. Whoever came in or went out—with Forrest in tow—must’ve disabled the alarm. “Other than Paulette and the food?”
“Give me the coffee, I’ll tell you.”
“Tell me, and I’ll give you the coffeeandForrest’s food.”
The skin around his eyes flexed. He wanted it.
“What’s the deal in here?” Kenna glared.
“You’ll ruin the good thing I got going.”
She lifted the coffee cup like she was going to take a drink of it. “What’s that?” Of course, things for him in here wouldn’t be the same, but she wanted information.
He sat up, his shoulders slumped forward. “When I need a break from the old lady, I get drunk and Gingrich brings me in. I don’t have to go home, and I can sleep with no interruptions.”
“Okay…”
“Paulette’s brother can get you whatever you want. But I only like beer.”
The state police officer moved into view. “You’re saying the receptionist in this department has a brother who deals drugs?”
Lance’s expression shut down.
Kenna crouched and set the cup on the floor inside the cell.
Lance pretty much crawled across the floor in her direction, which she figured was less energy than standing, then crouching, and then standing again just to get coffee. He sucked it down even though it was piping hot.
“Why’d you give that to him?”
Kenna picked up the container of food, ignoring that ridiculous question. She’d been about to get information, and his question shut the whole thing down. Lance didn’t want to talk to a cop. Especially not one who seemed to be more concerned about the department following the rules than real people.
She raised the container a little. “Lance.”
He looked up from his coffee.
“Paulette’s brother comes in here?”
He shook his head, his mouth an inch from the edge of the cup. “Nah, but if you need somethin’ but you’re locked up, he’ll get it to her. She’ll give you whatever, so you don’t have to be without.” He huffed. “Won’t bring me beer, though.”
Kenna handed the container to him. “Thanks.”
“Tell Gingrich I’ll be ready to go in an hour.”
“Right.” She followed the state police cop back to the main office area, where she said, “Paulette.”
Jax moved first, jogging that direction. She followed, but the reception desk was empty. She explained what the drunkhad said. He frowned. “The cameras were disabled. Looks like someone just disconnects it whenever they need it shut off.”