Life Sentences (8 page)

Pilar took the folder and asked, “Aren’t most of the prisoners in here for life?”

“Yes, but he’s special. Murdered seven, maybe eight women, but still thinks he’s a lady’s man.”

Pilar checked the file. Chad Wilbanks’ name stared back at her. A hundred icicles might be massaging her spine. “First day jitters,” she muttered to herself, and headed for the consultation.

“We all have them,” Carson said as Pilar passed her.

Upset at being heard, Pilar acted like she didn’t understand. “What do we have?” she asked.

“First day jitters.” She frowned at Pilar as though she shared a deep secret.

C
HAD
W
ILBANKS SAT IN
a chair, his right wrist handcuffed to the arm. Pilar noted that he didn’t raise his head when she entered, but she was sure he appraised her from thecorner of his eyes.

“Good morning Mr. Wilbanks. What …?”

“Call me Chad.” Now he looked directly at her. Here was that newspaper photo, come to life. His smile was as engaging as she’d suspected.

She quickly looked away and thumbed through his medical record. The typewritten words made no sense. Pilar faced Chad. “What brings you to the infirmary, Mr. Wilbanks?” She willed herself not to think of women’s mutilated bodies.

“You look pale, Doctor Brookstone. Maybe someone should see you and not me.” His tone was pleasant, not condescending. He had a slight lisp, something she hadn’t expected.

Two sentences, and Pilar was disarmed.

This was not the monster she had read about in the newspaper. Pilar could see why Lorrie and the others were drawn to him. In fact, he seemed almost shy, vulnerable. He reminded Pilar of the many boys with whom she’d gone to Grosse Pointe Country Day School; dark, nicely cut short hair, a creamy complexion, and healthy, flushed cheeks. She pictured him in white tennis shorts and shirt. Chad was the very image of the man Pilar’s father had hoped she’d marry.

Lorrie’s warnings echoed in Pilar’s ears, and put steel in her spine. “Mr. Wilbanks,” she commanded as she tossed his file onto a table, “if you don’t have a medical problem, then I need to send you back to your cell and tend to theother prisoners. My schedule is full.”

“Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to speak out of place.” He waited for a few moments before he looked away from Pilar’s face to her trembling hands.

Pilar stuffed them into her lab coat pockets. Chad raised his head and studied her face again. “I have a sore throat,” he finally reported. “Strep has been going around the joint, so the block sergeant thought I should get in here before I got too bad.”

“I see,” Pilar answered. She pointed to the exam table. “Sit there.”

Chad chuckled as he jangled his cuffed wrist. “I can’t move from this chair.”

“Oh, sorry.” Pilar’s faced heated, again. “Is that the policy for everyone?” She recalled the walk-away at Detroit Receiving Hospital chained to his bed.

“Only if a guy tried to escape.” Chad shifted in the chair. His mouth formed a half-deriding smile. “But, a doctor can order them taken off if she wants.” Pilar was fully aware he noticed the tension in her shoulders.

Here were those victims’ bodies again, cluttering her thoughts. She also remembered something she’d heard at the academy about a prisoner caught trying to tunnel his way to freedom. Hard for her to imagine someone as calm, engaging, and handsome as Chad could be a brutal murderer and an escapee. “I have a lot to learn,” Pilar mumbled. Once again, she regretted revealing her thoughts out loud.

“Ma’am?”

“Nothing. I’ll examine you where you are.” Pilar leaned over Chad. He made no attempt to hide his interest in her breasts. And, instead of being insulted, Pilar felt her increased heartbeat stimulate an adrenaline rush. The sensation was probably from her nervousness over treating a notorious killer. She was sure she’d soon get over it.

Pilar manipulated a tongue depressor inside Chad’s mouth and softly said, “I’ll take a culture and send it to the lab.”

She reached for a Q-tip and swabbed his throat, then wiped the specimen onto a glass slide. When she straightened, their eyes locked. “Meanwhile, I’ll give you a prescription,” she said. “Your throat does look red and swollen.” Suddenly dizzy, she stepped away to lean against a table, hoping he hadn’t noticed her unprofessional demeanor.

“Aren’t you going to check out my heart and lungs?” Chad asked. How did he manage to make such a simple sentence sound so seductive?

“No need.” Pilar turned away from his probing gaze and fussed with papers. “I’ll get the officer to take you back. Your prescription will be ready for the afternoon med call.”

“Thank you,” he responded in stilted sincerity. “You’re more efficient than the last doctor we had here. He was just waiting on his retirement.”

“That’s a high appraisal for a routine exam,” Pilaranswered as she turned to him. “But, I appreciate the compliment.” At the moment, everything she’d learned in training was fuzzy. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to acknowledge his praise. No, first day jitters, that was all.

When Chad left, Pilar wanted to lock the door and sit alone for a while to go over what had just happened. She had treated a handsome, articulate man about her age who happened to be a serial murderer. Was she attracted to him? Or, did he frighten her? For a moment, she brushed the ideas away and attributed her ease with Chad Wilbanks to knowing so much about him. He had become too familiar.

Images of Lorrie’s agonized face and Susan Mitchell’s smile complicated her thoughts.

M
ID AFTERNOON
, P
ILAR WAS
coming down the hall when she saw a prisoner hand Nurse Carson a stack of forms. Pilar noticed Jane’s body stiffen when the man ran his forefinger along her wrist. Hearing Pilar’s footsteps, they moved apart and Jane called out, “Doctor Brookstone. Wilbanks’ tests are back from the lab.” Her face glowed. She never looked away from the sullen man whose institutional pallor made his skin look like ash. Pilar couldn’t help compare his color to Chad’s healthy flesh tone.

“Since when do we allow prisoners to work in the lab?” Pilar asked the nurse, and motioned to the man as he left the area.

“Since we can’t get enough help,” Jane answered. “Besides, he’s smart, a low security risk; it’s good training. And, in Johnson’s case, I keep a close watch on him.” She handed Pilar the lab results. She noticed Jane didn’t wear any rings, despite having told Pilar about her husband and two children. “Tommy’s real job is the main porter for the infirmary,” Jane explained further. “When we’re short handed, he’s our runner.”

Jane sounded too enthusiastic. But, Pilar was exhausted from the day’s call-outs. She didn’t want to discuss the issue further. She probably over-reacted anyway. “Call Wilbanks up for his meds then, Mrs. Carson.”

“Done. And, please call me Jane or Carson. We’re going to be together too long to be so formal.”

The nurse appeared to wait for Pilar to offer the same privilege, but Pilar didn’t. Not yet. Not until she knew what was going on. Anyway, Pilar didn’t know how long she’d be at Hawk Haven and she didn’t want to risk a whole career on a moment of poor judgment.

Pilar glanced at prisoner Johnson’s stringy, shoulder-length, dishwater blond hair as he walked through the gate toward the cell blocks. Jane, face flushed, also watched Tommy’s exit, though unconcerned that Pilar may have detected her dreamy state.

“Why is Johnson in prison?” Pilar asked.

Jane jerked around so fast she dropped a bottle of aspirin. She ignored the scattered pills and asked “Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious how prisoners get to work in an area I consider high security.”

“They earn it, just like Tommy did. He kept his nose clean and stayed out of trouble.” Clearly, there was more to their relationship than nurse and prisoner.

“Will you elaborate, please?” Pilar asked.

“Tommy has been a good prisoner. He’s had no bad behavior reports, so he has reduced his security level from close to medium custody. If he continues on that path, his level will go to minimum.”

“At which time I assume he will be paroled.”

“Yes.” Jane picked up the clipboard and went to the nurses’ station across from Pilar’s office. Another patient waited. Her curt answer let Pilar know that the conversation was finished for her. But not for Pilar. She decided that she might have a few more questions about him. She planned to keep her eye on both of them, and would definitely check into Johnson’s file. Meanwhile, Pilar picked up the spilled aspirins Jane left on the floor.

C
HAD RETURNED LATE THAT
afternoon for his meds. Jane had finished distributing prescriptions to a line of prisoners from a small opening in the shield surrounding the nurses’ station. Pilar was writing up a chart behind the counter. One other prisoner was in the waiting room near the entry gate. He was the afternoon porter who, like Tommy, was assigned to keep the infirmary hospital sterile.

Pilar looked up from the chart briefly. Chad’s eyes were focused on her while Jane, her hands in surgical gloves, explored his mouth to make sure he’d swallowed the dose. Holding his tongue, Jane fingered Chad’s gums.

Trying unsuccessfully to concentrate on the notes in front of her, Pilar was positive that Chad had been admiring the way her body curved over the chart rack. She sneaked a look.

The nurse tugged hard on Chad’s tongue. He winced and shifted his attention to the ceiling above Jane. “Get a good look,” the nurse said. “That’s as close as you’re going to get to that doctor.” She yanked off the gloves, tossed them into the trash, and reached for another pair.

“A man can dream, can’t he?”

An arresting smile lighted Chad’s face. Pilar slowed her writing and tilted her head to eavesdrop. Suddenly, she felt as though a cold wind blew through her body. Pilar inspected the air-conditioning vent above. It was motionless.

Jane wasn’t charmed. Instead, she placed her hands on her hips like a mother about to scold her son. “That’s about all you can do in here, Wilbanks, is dream. Now, get on your way.”

“See you tomorrow then,” Chad told the nurse, but still he gazed at Pilar.

A shaft of afternoon sun sliced through the narrow window, warming the top of Pilar’s head. No doubt it also highlighted the red in her hair. Pilar shivered.

Chad nodded in a way that indicated he fully enjoyed Pilar’s awareness of his flirtations.

P
ILAR HAD TO MAKE
rounds in the segregation units. There was no way to get out of it. Rounds were required. So, she finally faced the inevitable. Wearing a lab coat and carrying a clipboard with note paper, she left the administration building, “The Building” as the prisoners called it, for the cellblock. It was the first time she had been inside since the warden’s orientation the day she arrived nearly a month earlier. The idea of meeting prisoners on their turf was unsettling.

The security gate shuddered until it finally slammed closed with an earsplitting bang. Pilar was locked outside of her protected environment and deposited alone into the bowels of the institution. Pilar patted her pocket to make sure she hadn’t forgotten her personal body alarm. If she needed help, she could push the alarm and alert central control who would send officers to her aid. It was often the only thing that saved a victim from her assailant in a prison.

As Pilar walked past the recreation yard, she marveledat how the prisoners’ uniforms created a wall of blue. The men huddled near the yard fence in small groups. She searched for Chad in each gathering, though he wouldn’t hang out with just any crowd. She guessed his congregation would be of a higher quality than the usual yard gangs.

Most prisoners moved like robots near the yard’s perimeter, while others jogged or jumped in place to keep warm. They all kept their distance from the fence so as not to set off the alarm or attract the gun tower officers. While they talked and smoked, their eyes followed three other officers circulating among them; their heavy breathing became mist that spiraled into the cold air which hinted at an early autumn. The ever-vigilant tower sentry peered through high-power binoculars at the yard below. Every now and then, Pilar caught him lifting the weapon to site an inmate in the rifle’s scope. She thought she saw the officer mouth, “Bang, bang.”

None of the prisoners seemed to notice the refreshing wind that kept the sky an uncommonly cloudless and deep blue for the time of year. No doubt they only saw the razor ribbon lining the tops of the twelve-foot high double row of fences. Pilar glimpsed the perimeter security vehicle circling on the road outside that barricade, but the inmates paid little attention. Both the fence and the vehicle patrol segregated them from the woods and the outside world. The unpredictable cold waters of Lake Superior were on the other side of the northern stand of trees. That environmentwas a formidable deterrent to any escape plan. Sadness filled Pilar when she thought about the many inmates, particularly Chad, stuck in these unforgiving surroundings.

A few special prisoners meandered through the mass of blue uniforms. When they walked near a group, the other inmates acknowledged them with hesitant nods and quickly moved out of their way. Even a “fish” like Pilar knew they were the leaders, the ones in control. The ones to fear.

Pilar recognized two prisoners from past infirmary call outs. One was Tiger. He headed toward the weight pit. Breeze, the other familiar inmate, puffed at a cigarette that dangled from the left side of his mouth. Pilar had already learned that both were well-known, young Detroit drug dealers. Pilar stopped on the walk beside the yard fence to watch the two for a moment.

Breeze stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets as he ambled over to Tiger. The others he passed stayed their distance. Breeze stood to Tiger’s left, away from the gun tower officer’s prying vigil. Breeze took the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it at the fence. He leaned into Tiger. His mouth moved as though he was talking to Tiger, but he stared straight ahead at the officers traveling through the yard.

The scene seemed more like a movie set than an actual prison. Everything appeared as Hollywood might have portrayed, every motion contrived, though at that moment less sinister.