Dead Secret. Ava McCarthy

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      Jodie shrugged again. ‘No reason.’

      ‘Bullshit.’ Dixie hugged her chest for warmth, her plump shape bundled into so many layers she had trouble bending her arms. ‘With you, there’s always a reason.’

      ‘The ones that got out, how did they do it?’

      ‘How in hell do I know?’

      ‘Come on, you must have heard something. Did they dig tunnels, overpower the guards, or what?’

      ‘Who the fuck knows? Ask Momma Ruth, if you’re so interested. Thirty-two years, she’s seen everything in here.’

      An officer hollered at them to keep on moving. Slowly, Jodie turned away from the fence and resumed her circuit of the yard. Her feet scrunched through the cakey snow, and Dixie’s footsteps padded after her.

      ‘Hey, Picasso, what’s this about?’

      Jodie didn’t answer. Her glance flickered over the guard tower as they passed, the air traffic control of the prison yard. Except these guys had sniper rifles. A light shiver rippled down her spine, and she quickened her pace.

      Dixie caught up. ‘This have anything to do with that reporter guy?’

      Jodie shook her head. She’d tackled Dixie the previous day about her forgery stunt with the form. Dixie’s response had been unapologetic: just a shrewd look, with a pointed remark that at least now she seemed alive instead of ready to lie down and quit.

      Jodie hadn’t explained what Novak had wanted.

      Dixie slogged through the snow and flicked her a curious look. ‘What was he like, anyway?’

      Jodie pictured Novak’s slept-in clothes; his intensity, the air of desperation. ‘He looked like a guy who could do with a lucky break.’

      He’d be back tomorrow, digging for information about Ethan. The truth was, Jodie didn’t have much to tell. Ethan’s secrecy was elaborate, tending to unfold in recursive layers so that the more you knew him, the more you found you didn’t know him at all. She rewound through his trail of revelations so far, through his mutation over time from loving partner to controlling husband, to murderous father, to fraudulent crook. And now to a man who’d come back from the dead. Jodie shuddered. What other secrets of his would she unravel?

      She shook the thought of him away, and turned back to Dixie.

      ‘The women that broke out of here, how long did they have on the outside? Before they got picked up again, I mean.’

      ‘Not long. A day, maybe two.’

      ‘Two days? Is that all?’

      ‘People always get caught, usually ’cause they do something dumb. They get drunk or get high, or visit their family.’ Dixie snorted. ‘Like the cops ain’t going to have a fugitive’s family under surveillance.’

      She was starting to sound out of breath and Jodie slowed up a little. They were on their second circuit of the yard, getting closer to the cellblock where Nate stood shivering in the doorway. They trudged on, their feet munching in unison through the fresh snow. Dixie got her breath back.

      ‘Mostly they get caught ’cause they got no money. Takes cash to get far enough away and hide. So they end up stealing, get arrested all over again.’

      Jodie expelled a foggy breath. Money was a problem, Ethan had seen to that. Everything they’d owned had turned out to be in his name, and since the law ensured she couldn’t profit from her crime, the upshot was, she was broke.

      Dixie shot her a sharp look. ‘What’s going on here? You’re not thinking of doing something stupid, are you?’

      ‘Stupider than swallowing a fistful of pills, you mean?’

      Dixie missed a step. ‘Shit. I don’t like the sound of this.’

      ‘I’ve got to get out of here.’

      ‘Are you out of your mind? Look at this place. You know what you’re up against?’ Dixie held up a thumb and started itemizing things off. ‘Electrified fences, guard towers, motion sensors, dog patrols, CCTV,’ she switched to her other hand, ‘remote-controlled doors, alarms, armed officers at the gate, you name it. Anyone thinking about going up against all that’d have to be a fool.’

      ‘I know.’

      ‘Jesus.’

      Jodie hesitated, and felt her heart rate climb as she formed her next question. ‘If I needed a passport, could you get me one?’

      Dixie halted in her tracks. ‘Are you for real?’

      Her eyes raked Jodie’s face, and whatever she read there made her groan softly.

      ‘This is fuckin’ crazy. You know what Momma Ruth would say, right? Don’t fight it, just do the time and get out. She has a point. Play your cards right, you could be out of here in a few more years.’

      Jodie looked away. A few more years while Ethan lived and breathed; while his trail grew cold; while her Abby was still dead. Her jaw clenched.

      Dixie swore some more. ‘I know that bull-headed look of yours. You’re not listening to me, are you?’

      ‘I need a passport. Plus, I’ll need some clothes.’

      Dixie huffed out a breath, and stared up at the sky for a long, cold moment. Above them, the clouds had turned lavender-grey, bloated with the threat of forecast blizzards.

      ‘Shit.’ Dixie shook her head and looked at Jodie. ‘I guess I know a guy.’

      ‘I heard you’re getting out of here.’

      Jodie sat bolt upright. ‘What—’

      ‘Relax.’ Nate plonked herself down on the next bunk. ‘I overheard Dixie and Momma Ruth talking.’

      Jodie swung her legs to the floor, flicked a glance around. They were alone in the cell, waiting for the 6 p.m. count. Outside, the yelling and clatter of trays told her chow was still finishing up.

      Jodie shook her head. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

      ‘Don’t worry, Dixie thinks I can’t keep my mouth shut either, but I won’t say nothing.’

      Nate leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands clasped together. Her thin face looked pale, the dark brows and eyes made vivid by the harsh buzz cut.

      She’d told Jodie she’d first buzzed her hair when she was eight. Did it herself, she’d said. To discourage her father’s attentions and stop him coming into her room at night. She’d deliberately wet the bed most nights for the same reason.

      Nate lowered her voice. ‘It’s wicked awesome, man. A second chance, right?’

      ‘Look, it’s not—’

      ‘All that stuff Momma Ruth said? About our mistakes being hard-wired, how we СКАЧАТЬ