Life Sentences Read online

  Paralyzed, Pilar faced the bars of the gate that shut her away from the outside world as Officer Leonard caressed her breasts and slid his hands along her thighs into her crotch. Pilar’s eyes burned as she strained to keep the tears away. She was too new to know if that was a normal search or one given to all “fish” to put them in their place.

  When he finished his exploration of her body, Leonardyelled, “Gate Two.”

  An officer, beads of sweat formed on his upper lip, pushed a button. He was seated inside the bubble, a small room to the right of the gates, and screened behind bullet proof glass. He had watched the shakedown and winked at Leonard to show his approval. Gate Two slid open with the same uneasy effort as gate one. Leonard motioned Pilar to follow another officer who waited nearby. Pilar felt Leonard’s scorching stare as he watched her walk the corridor that took her behind the walls.

  AS PILAR ENTERED THE auditorium, Warden Whitefeather was being introduced. He stood in front of two rows of newly hired “fish” officers. He was shorter and stockier than Pilar remembered from their interview. His crooked smile greeted Pilar. “Doctor Brookstone,” he nodded. “Take a seat here.” He pointed to the one right in front of him.

  The new male and female officers of varying ages and racial and ethnic backgrounds studied Pilar as she moved to the first row, the one they avoided. She took deliberate steps to control her nervousness while twelve pairs of eyes followed her. Pilar’s heels, the only noise in the auditorium, sounded like hail hitting a metal roof. Painfully aware of her unsteadiness, it seemed like hours before she finally sat alone in the center of an empty line of chairs.

  Whitefeather tossed his charcoal-tweed sports coat into the chair next to Pilar. Its sleeve brushed against her arm. Pilar blanched when the warden clapped his hands and shouted, “Let’s get this orientation over.” He loosened his tie, unfastened the top button of his white, synthetic shirt and rolled up his sleeves.

  The officers fidgeted with their own ties, shirt cuffs, and buttons. Pilar tugged her skirt over her knees. Warden Whitefeather eyed the motion when she tucked her legs under the seat. As he regarded her, the warden barked like a drill sergeant, “Some of you won’t make it.” His eyes moved to Pilar’s face. His voice echoed in the nearly empty assembly hall.

  Though certain that the remark was directed at her, Pilar couldn’t let on that she was humiliated. Instead, she elevated her chin and stared the warden down.

  He grinned, then looked at the others. “I don’t know which of you, maybe a third, won’t be here this time next year.”

  While Whitefeather waited for a few to clear their throats and change positions, he examined Pilar. He pushed his thick salt and pepper hair away from his forehead. One stubborn tuft returned to its place above his right eye.

  “Prisoners have all day to watch you, to find your vulnerabilities.” Pilar felt she was the only person in the room. Whitefeather finally looked away and checked each face in the audience. He appeared to note who would be a prisoner’s target. “Be aware of the set-up.” His eyes settled back on Pilar.

  Heat filled Pilar’s face. Why did he single her out? Sheneeded to determine what indicators she had displayed in that short time to make people think she was vulnerable. In training she had heard the warden’s wife had died. Killed by a drunk female driver. Was he upset with all women at that moment?

  “Some of you,” the warden waved his right hand in an arch across the front of his slight middle-aged paunch, his intense eyes moving from one face to another, “will leave of your own free will. Others will be fired for a variety of reasons from drug abuse to,” he hesitated and glanced at Pilar again, “improper relationships with prisoners.”

  It took every bit of Pilar’s energy to stay still and not react with a nervous twitch or movement. Though desperate to challenge his obvious accusation, Pilar also knew that the orientation wasn’t the time or place. Pilar looked from the warden’s round stomach to his face. Despite the obvious physical differences, she saw only her father. The rest of the orientation was a blur.

  ONCE IN THE INFIRMARY, Pilar collapsed into a chair, glad that her office was part of the prison’s administration building rather than inside, beyond the security gates. Yet, she was curious about the security risk. So many inpatient rooms faced the parking lot with nothing more than locked windows to prevent an escape. Pilar shrugged. How silly! No one had gotten out of Hawk Haven in its one hundred-year history. Besides, there was no place an escapee couldgo. The prison was in the middle of the Hiawatha National Forest in the UP, the Upper Peninsula.

  Built in the late 1800’s, Hawk Haven looked like a state hospital from a Dickens’ novel. The still-occupied warden’s house, a reminder of past days when most prison administrators lived on grounds, sat to the left of the Gothic administration building. Both buildings were incorporated into the thirty-foot concrete wall, an ominous perimeter protected by razor ribbon, electronic detection system, and eight gun towers. It was almost too hard for employees to get out of there let alone a prisoner, unless, of course, an inmate exited through an infirmary window.

  Pilar had more pressing concerns than a possible escape. She laughed at the absurdity of her position: Could a debutante from Grosse Pointe Shores work in one of the toughest prisons in Michigan caring for rapists, murderers and child abusers? She was going to give it one helluva try. And the first thing she’d do was figure out how she came across as susceptible to Whitefeather.

  As Pilar removed a department manual from her briefcase, she thought back to her six weeks in training. Remembering Lorrie’s cautions, it seemed an uncanny coincidence that Pilar would have trained with someone who knew Chad Wilbanks, a serial killer.

  Pilar retrieved her stethoscope, the last item in her attache. Then, she lifted a white lab coat from a wall hook, caressing it as though the coat were a symbol of honor. Maybe the coat would erase any misconceptions about her. Pilar had one arm in the sleeve when someone knocked. The door opened before she could acknowledge the caller. An African-American woman poked her head through the opening and announced, “I’m Jane Carson, day shift nurse. Your first patient is here.”

  Pilar nodded. “I’ll see him in the exam room.” She walked through the door, but stopped as she searched the long, impeccably clean corridor, lined with closed doors and smelling of disinfectant and old gym shoes. Pilar turned to the nurse. “Where’s the exam room?”

  Nurse Carson chuckled in a good-natured way. “We have several, but he’s in number three.” She pointed down the narrow hallway. “By the end of today, you’ll be well acquainted with each room.”

  “Why’s that?” Pilar asked.

  “The word’s out about the new good-looking female doctor, so our clinic call is higher than normal. They knew about you a week ago.” Nurse Carson giggled like a girl. “Boys will be boys, locked up or not. Besides, sick call gets them out of their cells.” Her eyes shone like two small suns and lit up her dark face. “You’ll get used to the attention. We all do.”

  Pilar watched Jane Carson return to the nurses’ station. She had to be one of few African-Americans who worked in the UP. She was short, maybe 5’2″, a little on the plump side, in her late twenties, with classic good featuresrather than prettiness. Her black hair was cut close to her almost perfect skull. Her noticeably buoyant personality captivated Pilar.

  AFTER A MORNING OF checking pulses, heart beats, and sore throats, Pilar had just enough time to eat an apple from an infirmary tray before Nurse Carson appeared at the door. “No rest for the weary, I’m afraid, doctor. Your first patient for this afternoon is here. And he’s a doozy.” She handed Pilar a file. “In here for natural life.”

  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.

  CHAD WILBANKS 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.

  MID AFTERNOON, PILAR 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.

  CHAD 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.