Life Sentences Read online

  “The Internet?” She was so astounded, her voice squeaked.

  “Yes, ma’am. There are web sites that post pictures and information about prisoners interested in pen pals, but often the relationship goes further.” The officer thumbed toward the growing line of visitors.

  “Web sites?” she asked, sounding like an echo. “I didn’t think prisoners had access.”

  “They don’t directly. They send the information via snail mail to the web site host organization.” He chuckled. “It sure pays off.”

  “That is odd.” Pilar glanced at the group. “I guess Wilbanks,” she said, then quickly added, “and several other prisoners, won’t have time for sick call today.” What could be on the Internet that would bring those women up here?

  “No ma’am. Wilbanks is one of the most popular. Those women also deposit money in his account. He’s not likely to give that up for a few meds.” He called out to have Gate Two opened. “Have a good one, Doctor Brookstone.”

  “You, too.” Pilar was delighted that the officer seemed so nice after Leonard’s treatment. As the gate closed, she peeked one more time at the lobby. Such ordinary lookingwomen. She heard Lorrie’s singsong voice; “Virgin Mary, marry a virgin.” Pilar headed for her office.

  Officer Leonard escorted Chad Wilbanks past Pilar to check him in for his day of visits. Chad smiled. Leonard nodded. “Ma’am.” She’d been so engrossed with Lorrie and the female visitors. Had Chad’s elbow deliberately brushed against her arm?

  Then she heard Chad whistle. “There’s more than usual, today.” He sounded amazed. Pilar touched the place where Chad’s elbow nudged her and caught his eyes following the motion. Pilar was intrigued by his obvious lusting, and felt relieved that he was interested in her even with a bevy of cash-carrying women at the prison to visit him.

  Today, Chad wore the street clothes permitted for visits rather than the usual prison blues that resembled hospital scrubs. The red crewneck sweater and white shirt brought out his large, sensual, mink eyes. His alluring smile invited an encounter.

  Pilar squeezed her attache to her chest and lowered her head to hide her burning cheeks as she fled to the solitude of her office. Had Leonard noticed her foolish behavior?

  While Pilar waited for the first patient, she started a list of reasons she might be acting like a teenager with a crush. The only thing she wrote was Father. What was she searching for? How could she harbor even the slightest belief she’d find whatever she sought in a murderer she hardly knew, no matter how charming he was?

  Jane knocked on the door and teased, “No more napping, Doctor Brookstone. Your first client is here.”

  “I’m on my way,” she yelled with too much exuberance. The inmate’s arrival was perfect. Pilar had no desire to waste any more time on her father or Chad Wilbanks.

  LATE IN THE AFTERNOON, Jane knocked again. “Sorry to tell you this, but you have one more patient.” Her face formed an exaggerated grimace, turning the corners of her mouth so hard her bottom teeth were exposed.

  Pilar checked her watch. “So late?” She had hoped to finish the ever-growing pile of paperwork before she left for the day. She closed the folder she was writing in and placed it on top of Tommy Johnson’s institutional file. Jane focused on Johnson’s name.

  “What room?” Pilar asked quickly without hiding her exasperation, and to allay Jane’s obvious curiosity.

  “One.” An unexpected smile filled Jane’s face as the two left the office.

  Pilar grabbed the medical record Jane handed her and pushed the exam room door open. The folder slipped to the floor at Chad Wilbanks’ feet.

  “Hey, Doctor Brookstone! How’s it going?” He leaned from his chair, one hand cuffed as usual, and picked up the file. When he handed it to Pilar, their hands touched. They lingered in that space. Then, Pilar yanked the folder away.

  Chad relaxed into the chair. His confidence suffocated Pilar.

  “I’m surprised you have time for sick call with all those visitors,” Pilar said, then hastily chided herself for the friendliness. And, even she recognized a jealous undertone — had Chad? She was like an open book when she acknowledged her awareness of the other women.

  “No big deal. They come every week. Amazing, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she answered, “amazing.”

  “But,” Chad rapidly added, “those women aren’t real friends. They don’t understand me.”

  “Umm,” Pilar waited for him to tell her why he was there. “Well?” she asked.

  “Well, what? Oh. Why am I here?”

  Pilar tapped her foot.

  “My throat’s gotten sore again.” Chad opened his mouth wide and showed off nearly perfect teeth free of fillings.

  Pilar leaned against the exam table and folded her arms over her chest. “Not good enough, Mr. Wilbanks.” Her hand was still warm where he had touched it. “Are you trying to get out of a work assignment? Because your throat is fine.”

  “You haven’t checked it.” He pointed to the jar which held tongue depressors. “So, how do you know? Besides, it’s not time for me to work yet. I’m the night block porter.” He pointed at the container again. “I used to be the librarian before I tried to escape.”

  Pilar snatched a depressor and a small flashlight. As she approached him, she said, “Open wide.” She jammed the wooden stick on his tongue and to the edge of his throat. His eyes narrowed as he choked. Pilar retracted the wooden stick. “Like I said, you’re fine.” She walked around to the other side of the exam table to keep her distance.

  “Thanks, Doctor Brookstone.”

  She nodded.

  “Do you like to read?” Chad asked, and went on before Pilar answered. “I sure do.”

  “Yes, I do like to read,” she responded, taken off-guard by his question. “When I have time.”

  “What kind of books?” Chad sat tall and appeared hungry for the exchange.

  “If I’m not reading a professional journal, I guess I like true adventures like Into Thin Air and biographies or memoirs. Angela’s Ashes, that kind of book.” Pilar thoughtfully gave into his appeal.

  “Me, too,” Chad said. “But, since I lost my librarian job, I can’t seem to get the stuff I like. Our library is really short on good books.”

  “Get me a list of books you might want and I’ll ask the program director for his help,” Pilar offered, before she realized she was in a conversation with an inmate that should be reserved for a friend or colleague. She had been warned in training not to get involved in such a personal chat. Embarrassed by how easily Chad lured her into thatdialogue, Pilar started for the door.

  “Thanks. Do what you can, but the program director will take forever.” Chad’s tone became sad.

  “Well, maybe I can bring some of my books in, as a loan.” After all, Pilar was willing to help anyone eager to better themselves. How could fudging the rules for a good cause do any harm?

  “Why are you here?” Chad asked in an amiable tone, as if he sensed Pilar’s ease of conversation.

  “What?” She faced him.

  “You’re pretty, and intelligent, and you care about us. Why would someone like you work in corrections, especially in the UP?” His voice could soothe anyone into a dreamy state.

  “No choice about where I’m assigned. As for corrections, it’s like my father says. I’m just a do-gooder hunting for a man.” Immediately, she regretted the words. How could she confide in a prisoner?

  Chad smiled.

  Pilar pressed the button that alerted the officer to take Chad back to his cell. He followed her every move. “I’ll be back real soon.” Chad hesitated. “With that list of books.”

  Pilar, unable to move, watched Chad’s cocky retreat. What on earth are you doing? Pilar slammed the door shut, condemning her immature reaction.

  AFTER SHE PACED HER living room floor for an hour, Pilarfinally gave in to her overwhelming curiosity. She slumped into the chair at her computer and searched for the prisoner pen pal web site. Shock
overcame her when she discovered there were several. She surfed through each until she found Chad’s name on prisonpenpals.com.

  An unsmiling Chad was pictured in full color. His expression offered the viewer a childlike plea which made him appear shy. At first, Pilar was suspicious and angry. The ad seemed so manipulative.

  “Hello, ladies,” it read. “My name is Chad Wilbanks. I’m twenty-eight years old and a college graduate. Though I have been accused of first degree murder, I’m pursuing legal alternatives to the life sentence I’m serving. I have a good sense of humor and I’m sensitive, intelligent, a good listener, a little shy, and I love reading and all kinds of music. Because I have been incarcerated for more than two years, my friends have abandoned me. I’ve learned what it’s like to be lonely.”

  That last phrase pulled Pilar into Chad’s eyes. Did she see hurt in them? She shook her head. How could she, an intelligent doctor, be caught by his self-serving advertisement?

  Once freed from his eyes’ magnetism, she read on: “Though I’ve made a mistake that put me behind bars, I’m not a bad person. So, please don’t judge me by my crime. Give me a chance to tell you my side of the story. I’m not interested in money or what anyone can do for me. I would just love to hear from you. I hope to find a woman whois easy-going, kind, caring, and emotionally and financially stable who also wants to develop a friendship, or perhaps more? So, please write. Let’s meet and build a friendship.”

  PILAR READ THE TEXT through twice, and finally felt the real loneliness behind the man’s words. She could almost hear that endearing lisp.

  Judging by the number of women who visited Chad, his plea for friendship seemed to be working. If those women wanted to go against his claim not to want money, was that his fault? So what if he appeared too eager for a relationship? The guy was lonely and being forthright about it. Why not use the Internet?

  She searched next for Tommy Johnson’s name. He wasn’t listed on any site Pilar found. He wasn’t lonely, though, like Chad. He had Jane in his corner.

  chapter eight

  CALL OUT

  EACH MORNING PILAR SEARCHED the appointment list for Chad’s name. When she didn’t find it, she was both relieved and hurt. “What is going on with me?” Pilar threw the clipboard against the wall. “Why do I care if he comes here or not? He’s probably too busy with all his women visitors anyway.” Pilar leaned against the wall. “No money in my office for him.”

  Jane opened the door. “Who you talking to?” she asked as she inspected the room. “I heard a crash. I thought some inmate slipped by me and you were in trouble.”

  “No. No trouble here. I dropped the clipboard, that’s all.” Jane studied her as Pilar picked up the board. Her interest made Pilar uncomfortable.

  “Let’s get this day started,” Pilar stated with as much cheerfulness as she could come up with at that moment.

  “Right,” Jane agreed. “Follow me.” Her rapid steps were accentuated by rubber soled shoes that squeaked against the linoleum. She was difficult to keep pace with. “We have an emergency in room two,” Jane reported as she pushed the door open. “Stab wound.”

  “A fight so early?” Pilar asked. “Incredible.”

  “These guys only got time, Doc, and fights aren’t usually scheduled.”

  Tiger slouched over his stomach on the end of the exam table, feet dangling like a rag doll. His bloody hand held together the edges of a jagged tear that almost covered his entire abdomen.

  “Who’d you piss off so early in the day, Tiger?” Pilar asked as she peeled his hand away from the wound. He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. Pilar knew the answer. Tiger probably didn’t deliver the goods as guaranteed, or maybe he took some drugs for a private stash rather than turn the cache over to his buyer.

  “At any rate,” Pilar consoled as she cleansed the ragged slice and looked for any unwanted particles left behind, “you’ll live.” Tiger squeezed his eyes into slits and flinched. “The wound isn’t too bad this time. A few stitches and a tetanus shot and you’ll be on your way. By the way, you must have had some previous practice in first aid.”

  “What d’ya mean, Doc?” Tiger mumbled his first words.

  “You did a nice job stopping the bleeding.” Pilar pointed to the finger prints still visible where he had applied pressure to form a makeshift tourniquet.

  Tiger examined his wound and grunted, “Practice. Right.”

  “It’s a good idea to stay inactive for a couple of days,” Pilar instructed. “I’ll let the unit sergeant know you’re excused from any work detail until after I see you in ten days.”

  When Pilar finished bandaging his wound, she asked, “By the way, do you have any Tylenol?”

  “What for?” Tiger mustered his tough-guy voice.

  “Pain.” Pilar again pointed to his wrapped stomach.

  “Won’t need any.” He used his macho street tone.

  “Right, okay. I almost forgot. A nurse will change your dressing when she makes block rounds.”

  “Hmm,” Tiger replied, “I’ll probably be in the hole for this.” He jutted his stomach at Pilar.

  “She’ll still change your dressing and I must see you in ten days wherever you are.” Pilar pressed the buzzer and waited for the officer to take Tiger back to his cell.

  “Don’t forget the Tylenol,” she reminded as Tiger was ushered away.

  TWO WEEKS TO THE day Pilar last examined Chad his name was on the infirmary call out list. When Pilar saw his name in print her spine tickled as if someone stroked it with a feather. She threw off the sensation and admonished herself for her silly behavior. Again, she reminded herself that her interest in Chad had been fueled by his notoriety, and Lorrie’s rendition of her relationship with him. “Normal curiosity,” she assured herself.

  Marcus’ warnings also sounded in her head. He hadoften brought to Pilar’s attention her “unhealthy” need to help the underdog. He lectured Pilar on many occasions about her reactions to people Pilar perceived as mistreated or helpless. “Your emotions will get you in trouble one day,” he had told Pilar more times than either cared to recall. Regardless, Pilar didn’t really believe her own social work mentality was a bad thing.

  Though Pilar rushed through each patient’s problem and dispensed prescriptions as fast as possible, it wouldn’t bring Chad any sooner. He would be delivered when scheduled and only after Pilar completed the examinations on all those who came before him.

  Tommy Johnson entered Pilar’s office halfway through the morning. She’d missed his name, or perhaps ignored it once she zeroed in on Chad’s. His sudden appearance at Pilar’s office door made her uneasy. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone more defensive than professional.

  “I’m on call out.” He pointed to the clipboard in Pilar’s hand.

  After Pilar confirmed his appointment, she walked to the door. “That’s not what I mean. Even if you are on the call out, you’re supposed to wait for the nurse to secure you in an exam room. I rarely see patients here.” Pilar motioned him to the nurses’ station.

  “She told me to come here.” Tommy shrugged as he tilted his head at Jane. He seemed unruffled.

  Jane, on the other hand, appeared flustered in hispresence and apologized for her error. She directed Tommy to a room. “The doctor will see you in there.”

  Tommy ambled away as Jane passed his file to Pilar. She didn’t release her grip right away. For several seconds they searched each other’s expressions. For what? Understanding? Forgiveness?

  “Sorry,” Jane said. “I’m so used to letting him in your office to clean; I forgot.”

  “An easy mistake,” Pilar responded.

  Pilar seized the file and slipped into the room where Tommy waited. She had forgotten that he was the infirmary porter. He had almost free access to her office. Pilar needed to be more careful about what she left out for him to see — if it wasn’t too late.

  Unlike Chad, Tommy emoted danger. His dark, mean eyes were topped by full b
rows as black as a Halloween cat’s. Those dark brows were a remarkable, almost contrived-looking contrast to his dishwater blonde hair. They knitted together in a V over his nose and appeared like a bat flying. Pilar shivered at the thought and rubbed her upper arms.

  “Cold?” Tommy asked. His voice startled Pilar. Had she thought he couldn’t talk? Or perhaps she didn’t think he was capable of considerate words. Pilar didn’t answer. Instead, she studied his file and then scrutinized him. Johnson unsettled her, but she hadn’t a clue why she felt more that way about him than other prisoners. “Why areyou here, Mr. Johnson?”

  “I wanna quit smoking.” He sounded like a wise guy from that organized crime TV series, “The Sopranos”.

  “That’s commendable. How can I help?” Pilar sat in a chair next to him.

  His brows fluttered like wings when he answered. “I wanna get inta counseling so I can wear one of them patches. But, you need to order it.”

  “I see. I can only recommend that you go to group. The therapist determines whether a prescription is warranted for the patch. Once he notifies me, I’ll write it up.”

  “What’s the use of seeing you then if you can’t do nothing for me?” he asked, visibly agitated.

  Pilar remained calm on the outside, but edgy on the inside when she answered, “Without my initial recommendation, nothing will happen for you.” She gained control for the moment. Then, she recalled information in his file. Tommy was quick to anger. He even murdered his rap partner. It was that murder that got him sentenced to prison, if only for a short time. Pilar didn’t have any intention of being Tommy’s next victim.

  He stood up unexpectedly. Pilar leaned away.

  “Did I scare ya, Doc?”

  “No. Only surprised me.”

  He smiled with half his mouth. That did scare her.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t never hurt you. We need ya round here.” He paused and seemed to consider his next step. “You’re a good doctor and ya care ‘bout us.” At that moment he didn’t appear to be the volatile murderer described in his prison file. Tommy seemed almost considerate.