Free Tainted Pictures by Sarah Robinson

the officers waiting for Tracy Glen?”  A short and balding man suddenly popped his head in through the door almost 90 minutes after they had entered the room.  McCraig nodded sullenly from his chair and Snow stood up to face the door.
               “Detectives. And yes, we have been waiting for over an hour and a half.  Is he ready yet?”  She asked, trying and failing to keep the agitation out of her tone.  The bald man walked awkwardly into the room shuffling his feet, and pushing his hands into his suit pant’s pockets.  He blew out with a large exhale and then licked his lips.
               “See here’s the thing.  We’ve been on lock-down for the last two hours. I’m Phillip Williams, but you can call me Phil.  I’m the warden here and, uh, well we’ve had an unfortunate incident of sorts.”  He told them, shifting his gaze to avoid direct eye contact with them.  Neither detective responded, they were waiting for further explanation.  The warden sighed again then continued, rubbing his pudgy hand over his bald head.  For a warden, he was the last type of person you expected at first glance.  He was awkward and non-threatening and his stature made him small and forgettable.   
               “Tracy Glen died this morning.”  He stated simply, tossing his hands up in frustration and then clasping them together in front of his stomach where his hands continued to fidget nervously.  
               “He is dead?  What are you talking about, I just spoke to an officer this morning who said Tracy would be ready when we got here!”  Detective Snow was standing inches from the warden now, her voice raised and threatening to turn into shouting very soon.  McCraig stood up slowly and walked the long way around the table, carefully deciphering what he was hearing.   
               “How did he die?” McCraig didn’t skip a beat as he glared at Phil.  
               “You know, the investigation isn’t complete yet, but I can have them send you a report in a few weeks once its finalized.”  The warden told them as he opened the door again behind them, hoping to attempt a speedy exit.  
               That wasn’t going to fly with McCraig.
               With a quick jerk of his foot, McCraig kicked the door shut leaving the warden stuck in the room with them.  He slowly took a step closer to him while Detective Snow stepped to the side, knowing not to get in McCraig’s way when he was pissed.  And this was one pissed off McCraig.  
               “I’m going to ask you this one more time.” He said in a deep and throaty growl, less than six inches from Phil’s face.  Phil looked surprised but not alarmed.  He held himself surprisingly well for someone who had just pissed off McCraig.
               “How did he die?” The warden’s eyes were shifting around the room, as if he was trying to come up with some lie to tell them.  He had not been expecting to be questioned further.  It was clear that he was the boss in these halls and not often challenged by others.   His unassuming demeanor was a front for a calculated mind inside and McCraig quickly saw that this warden was not one to be trusted.  Phil cleared his throat and took a few steps back, smoothing down his suit jacket in an attempt to take back control of the situation.   
               “Okay, okay.  No need for the dramatics. It really is still unfolding, we aren’t entirely sure of the whole story.  Tracy had another visitor before you, a relative of some sort or so he says.  Turns out the identification he gave the front was false, which we only know now after looking back into it.  He was given room one with Tracy and when the guard went in fifteen minutes later to get Tracy, he was dead and the visitor was nowhere to be seen.”  Phil explained.  McCraig immediately opened the door and walked out,