Page 23 of Two Kinds of Stranger (Eddie Flynn #9)

Elly

There are no clocks in jail. No one has a watch, other than the correction officers.

Time is marked in routine.

Six in the morning, the lights buzzed into life inside Elly’s crowded cell.

From total darkness to shocking, blinding illumination.

An inferno of light that burned through her eyelids into her brain.

A reminder that in this place there were no choices.

There was light, or there was darkness. Not even that was within her control.

She hadn’t slept. But she had managed to make it through the night without disturbing her other cellmates, smothering her sobs in her pillow.

Even though Rosie’s wasn’t exactly quiet in the dark hours, Elly had still worried about making any noise.

She needn’t have. The sounds of crying, screaming, steel banging on steel, songs, howls, harsh voices wielding hard words – it all floated in the dark, all night long.

And somehow every sound spoke of the pain behind the one who made it.

Elly stayed very still. She waited while the woman in the bunk above her shifted and a foot appeared in the air above her, angling down until her toes found the edge of Elly’s bed.

The woman who descended from the bunk was dressed just the same as the other detainees.

Same uniform. Same look in her eyes – anger and frustration, just simmering under the surface, held in check by the knowledge that nothing she can do will change her situation.

The woman stepped down onto the floor, staring at Elly.

She had pale skin and short dark hair that was wet, but not from washing.

Sweat covered her face and neck and had stained the chest and armpits of her jail clothes.

‘What are you looking at?’ said the woman.

Elly turned away to face the wall.

‘I said . . . ’

‘Stop it, Nance,’ said another voice. ‘Leave her be.’

Elly shifted, tilted her head back. The woman who had defended her leapt off the top bunk opposite.

She was tall, with long light-brown hair.

She tugged and curled that hair into a bun then tied it up.

While she did this, her hard gaze was fixed on the short dark-haired prisoner Elly now knew as Nance.

Nance held the gaze of the tall woman, then rubbed the back of her wrist across her mouth and turned to face the door. The woman on the lower bunk opposite was small and blond and wiry, with faded blue tattoos on her neck and a rash covering her mouth. She fell into line behind Nance.

A buzzer sounded and Elly heard the clanks and groans of the cell door opening.

It was much louder than the night before, and soon she heard voices outside the cell.

All the cell doors were being opened. Nance glanced over her shoulder at Elly, smiled, but it was not a friendly look.

There was malice in that expression. Then she slid out of the cell, the small blonde following.

‘Watch yourself in here,’ said the tall woman.

Elly sat up, swung her legs off the bunk and said, ‘Thank you. I didn’t mean to annoy your friend.’

‘She’s not my friend. She got here day before yesterday. She a fish, just like you. But she been here before. You don’t look like you done no time.’

‘No, I haven’t been in any place like this before. It’s all some kind of terrible mistake—’

‘Hush, don’t tell nobody why you’re here. It ain’t none of their business. And don’t ask nobody else, neither. Nance is sick. You see the sweat on her?’

Elly nodded, asked, ‘What’s wrong? Is it the flu? Covid?’

The tall woman angled her gaze, giving Elly the side-eye, said, ‘You really don’t know shit, do you?

She’s a junkie. There’s plenty of shit in here, but not the kind of shit she needs.

Weed takes the edge off. Crack too. But she’s gonna be hard to deal with for a couple weeks or so until her body adjusts.

Junkies be like that coming off their regular fix.

Don’t look her in the eyes. In fact, don’t you look nobody in the eyes. Not in this place.’

‘Thank you. I’m Elly,’ she said, holding out a hand.

‘Suze,’ said the woman, ignoring Elly’s outstretched hand. ‘Stay by me for a couple of days, so you can get used to the way things work around here. You’re in my cell. You follow my rules. Okay?’

‘Of course, thank you so much. That’s so kind. I’m really scared in here.’

‘It’s not kindness. Not for its own sake. You should be scared. Rich white girl like you? You’ll get your ass killed in here in a heartbeat. And they do it in your cell. My cell. I don’t need to be washing your blood off my walls, you hear?’

Elly swallowed, feeling suddenly very cold.

‘Good enough,’ said Suze. ‘Let’s get breakfast. I want your bread roll.’

‘Sure, no problem.’

Elly followed Suze out of the cell and down the metal stairway.

The women who occupied the rest of the house were milling around the recreation area, or seated around the tables.

Everything was nailed down. Chairs, tables, TV behind a thick piece of plastic high up on the wall opposite the cells. The news was on.

Elly’s picture flashed up on the screen, along with images and video from her Instagram and TikTok.

The chyron running along the bottom of the screen read – The TikTok Killer .

Elly felt something pulling her eyes away from the TV.

Half of the women in the room were staring at her.

‘ Oh shit, lookee here, the TikTok killer, in da house . . . ’ said a voice, but Elly couldn’t discern who had said it. She kept her head down, followed Suze to a table and sat beside her.

‘Keep your head down,’ said Suze. ‘Shit, I didn’t know you a famous bitch. They’ll all want a piece of you. Stay out here, where the COs can see you with the cameras. Don’t go back to the cell until lights out. Be ready. One of these bitches is gonna come for you.’