Page 44 of Guess Again
Boscobel, Wisconsin Monday, July 28, 2025
FOR THE FOURTH TIME IN TWO WEEKS, ETHAN SAT IN THE VISITATION booth at the Wisconsin Secure Program Facility.
Less than twenty-four hours had passed since he was last face-to-face with his father’s killer.
He sat at a middle window in a long line of booths separated by wooden planks bolted into the cinderblock wall.
It was taking longer than normal for Francis to arrive.
Ethan worried that when he needed most to speak with the man, Francis would refuse his visitation request for the first time.
Finally, the light on the wall began to flash.
A moment later the door buzzed and then opened.
His father’s killer shuffled to the booth and sat across from him.
But Francis Bernard had morphed in the last few days into something other than the man who had killed his father.
He had become, puzzlingly, a source of information that Ethan was dependent on. And the man seemed to know it.
Both men lifted their phones.
“You’re going to tell me where Portia Vail is being held,”
Ethan said.
“And after we make sure she’s safe, you’re going to tell me everything you know about Callie Jones.”
“Of course I will,”
Francis said, as if insulted.
“What do you think I am, an animal?”
“Talk.”
“Talk?”
Francis smiled.
“The information I have is not free.”
Ethan leaned closer to the glass.
“You either tell me where this girl is being held, or your shitty life in this place will get much, much worse.”
“Oh, Ethan.
Let’s agree to a couple of ground rules as we start negotiations.
First, you stop making empty threats.
You have no idea what my life is like in here, which is why you naively believe you can make it worse.
You cannot, which is why I am in such a position of power. They’ve already stripped me of everything that they can legally get away with, and a few extras when they can. The petty things I’m allowed come only because the ACLU has forced the prison’s hand, and the warden has no choice but to agree to those accommodations or lose funding. So I’ve hit what you call rock bottom, and there is no earthly way you can make things worse for me.”
“Francis,”
Ethan said, matching the man’s even tone.
“Tell me where Portia Vail is being held.”
“Second ground rule,”
Francis said.
“I’m calling this a negotiation only in the sense that I’m going to give you something in exchange for you giving me something.
But this is not a negotiation in the sense that we will haggle back and forth.
I will tell you where Portia Vail is being kept.
I will tell you where Callie Jones’s body is located.
In exchange, you will give me what I want.”
Ethan stayed silent for a moment and thought through his options.
He could hang up the phone, leave the prison, and work like mad to figure out the connection between Francis Bernard and Portia Vail.
If he was lucky and caught the right breaks, he might find the girl alive.
But the truth was that Francis had painted him into a corner, and they both knew it.
Francis’s smile grew larger.
“You’ve figured it out, haven’t you, Ethan.
You’ve figured out that, from the confines of my isolated cell, I’ve trapped you.
It’s just occurred to you that you have no choice but to agree to my terms.
Callie Jones has been dead a long time.
Worms are slithering through that girl’s bones. I knew there would be no sense of urgency to meet my demands just for what I can tell you about her case. But Portia Vail is another story. She’s still alive. How long that remains the case is up to you, Ethan.”
“What do you want?”
Francis’s response came without hesitation.
“To be transferred out of this inhumane facility to Columbia Correctional Institution in Portage, Wisconsin.
If Columbia was good enough for Jeffrey Dahmer, it’s certainly good enough for Francis Bernard.”
“A transfer?”
“Yes.”
“How do you think I’m going to be able to get you transferred?”
“I want to be part of the general population, Ethan.
I want to have a cell with bars, not the windowless room that’s been my home for the last many years.
I want to eat in a mess hall with other human beings, not in the confines of my cell.
I want to walk outside in a prison yard and see the sun again.
I want access to books and magazines. None of these demands are negotiable, and you have exactly one week to meet them.”
“I’ll ask you again, Francis.
How do you think I’m going to be able to do what you’re asking? And in that timeframe?”
“Because you have the ear of the governor, and he will be interested to know where his daughter’s remains are located.
With her remains is evidence that will reveal her killer.
And I’m certain the governor doesn’t want Portia Vail’s blood on his hands.
He has the power to get me transferred immediately.
Today is Monday. I want to be transferred out of this hellhole in one week from today. If I’m not on my way to Columbia Correctional next Monday, the girl dies. Don’t test me on this. The time you thought you had to figure out what happened to Callie Jones is gone. Poor little Portia Vail’s life is now in your hands.”
Francis lowered his voice.
“No time to think, Ethan.
Only time to act.”
Francis hung up the phone and stood.
A guard was by his side a moment later leading him away from the visitation booth and back to his isolated cell with the windowless door from which Ethan knew he was about to be liberated.