Chapter 4 - The Photograph of David Kane
That night Marcus didn't sleep.
Captain Cole.
Marcus remembered him.
Cole had been at Blackridge for years.
He had watched Marcus grow from a violent twenty-three-year-old prisoner into the most feared inmate in the facility.
Sometimes Cole encouraged fights indirectly.
Sometimes he conveniently disappeared before trouble began.
Marcus had always assumed corruption.
Now he wondered whether it was something else.
The next morning Walter found Marcus waiting beside his cleaning cart.
“You need to leave this alone,” Walter said.
“Give me the letter.”
“No.”
“Walter.”
“You aren't ready.”
Marcus laughed.
“You threw me across a cafeteria, told me my entire childhood was a lie, and revealed the man connected to my father's death works twenty yards from my cell.”
He leaned closer.
“I’m past ready.”
Walter studied him.
Then handed over the envelope.
Marcus opened it carefully.
The handwriting was faded.
Marcus,
He stopped.
His throat tightened.
Walter looked away.
Marcus continued reading.
His father wrote about fear.
About anger.
About how easy it was for frightened men to confuse violence with strength.
Then came the final lines.
Marcus read them twice.
His face changed.
“Cole wasn't just an officer.”
“No.”
“He was my father's partner.”
“Yes.”
Marcus folded the letter.
“He sold information.”
Walter nodded.
“He owed money. The suspect paid him.”
“And my father discovered it?”
“David confronted him.”
“Then why wasn't Cole arrested?”
“Because the only witness died.”
“My father.”
“Yes.”
Marcus stared at the letter.
“Except you knew.”
“I suspected. I couldn't prove it.”
“Why come here now?”
Walter's silence answered him.
Marcus stepped closer.
“You didn't come because your house was lonely.”
“Partly.”
“Bull.”
Walter sighed.
“I learned Cole worked here.”
“So you came looking for proof.”
“Yes.”
Marcus's jaw tightened.
“You used me.”
“No.”
“You knew who I was the first day.”
“Yes.”
Marcus grabbed Walter's collar again.
Then stopped himself.
Walter looked at his hands.
Marcus slowly released him.
Walter nodded.
“That was different.”
“What?”
“Yesterday, you would have hit me.”
Marcus looked away.
“Don't congratulate me.”
“I wasn't.”
Marcus held up the letter.
“What proof do you need?”
“Cole kept records.”
“How do you know?”
“Because corrupt men rarely trust anyone, including the people paying them.”
Marcus understood.
“You think he kept insurance.”
Walter nodded.
“And you think it's here?”
“I know it is.”
“Where?”
“His office.”
Marcus smiled.
For the first time, Walter looked worried.
“No.”
“You need something from a locked office inside a maximum-security prison.”
“No.”
Marcus's smile widened.
“Walter, you may be good at throwing people.”
He looked toward Cole's office.
“But breaking rules?”
May you like
Marcus tapped his own chest.
“That's where I become useful.”
