Page 62 of In Death, Love Survives
Ordinarily, that would make sense, given Wolfe’s only been in here for weeks, but something is off—I know Crawley is out to get him.
After looking through the file and finding nothing of interest, I put it back.
When I glance over to the opposite end of the drawers, I see a set that isn’t labeled. I pull one open to find a petty cash box and shut it.
One by one, I go through these drawers until I still.
There’s a file labeled with the week that Wolfe came to Roper State.
Flicking through it, I find emails from local and state politicians demanding that Crawley do everything in his power to keep Wolfe here until they can relocate him to a special facility away from the public eye.
A plan is in place to move Wolfe in the coming weeks and make it look like he committed suicide while here.
I can’t let them do this to him.
Pulling out my phone, I take pictures of the papers as quickly as possible before replacing the file back inside the cabinet.
Then I look around the room, making sure everything is in its place.
I open the office door and don’t see anyone waiting in the hallway, then slip out as quickly as I can.
I need to talk to Wolfe soon. If anything, to show him I’m on his side, whether I should be or not.
My office phone rings loudly,making me jump.
I’m so uptight after learning what I found that I’ve been literally on the edge of my seat all day. I’ve been waiting to be called into a meeting with Crawley, or for June or someone to ask what I was doing in his office, but nothing came of my special visit.
Picking up the phone, I see it’s my assistant, Jessica.
“Hi,” I answer.
“Hi there. Just checking in before I go. I just saw a private appointment at seven tonight on your calendar. Do you need me to stay for it?”
“No, it’s okay. You can go ahead and leave.”
“Is everything alright?” she asks hesitantly.
“Yes. It’s an emergency therapy appointment.”
“Oh. In your office?”
She knows I rarely take appointments in my office and prefer using one of the therapy rooms that I have access to.
I don’t usually like my patients to see inside my office. It shows who I am, and that’s not something I want to share. It’ll alter their perception of me, for better or worse.
“Yes.”
“Wow. Okay, well, I hope the patient gets the care that they need.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to head out then. Officer Walls is on shift for our wing if you need anything.”
“Take care.”
Walls. My favorite corrections officer here. He knows that I have taken appointments in my office before too. At least it’s not going to be one of the newer officers who have been questioning everything lately.
It’s a little after six in the evening. The sky has started to darken, and most of the prison staff have left except for the night shift.
