Free JJ08 - Blood Money by Michael Lister

that moment that I realized how close in size and build Danny Jacobs and Lance Phillips were.
    If the officers knew that Phillips was in Medical for supposedly attempting the same thing, they didn’t say anything about it.
    “Anybody see anything?”
    “Say they didn’t,” the first officer said. “But if they did, we’ll know soon enough. God knows inmates can’t keep a secret.”
    “Chaplain, what the hell’re you doin’ down here?” Mark Lawson, the interim institutional inspector asked as he walked up behind us. “This is a friggin’ crime scene.”
    “I was called in by the OIC,” I said.
    “ I’m the one that told them to call you in,” he said. “Not to come pretend like you’re still a cop, but to act like a chaplain. To call this boy’s family and let them know what’s happened.”
    Mark Lawson had been the inspector of Potter Correctional Institution for about two months. Here on special assignment, while Pete Fortner was on medical leave, he was an ex-offender who had received a full pardon from the governor, and the son of the woman who was dating the regional director.
    He had the bulky build of an inmate and pea-green prison tattoos on his forearms, which according to the hype was supposed to make him more accepted and respected by the inmate population. So far I hadn’t seen any evidence that it was anything but hype.
    “Nothing’s to say I can’t do both,” I said.
    “Yes there is,” he said, stepping up a little too close. “ Me . Not to mention the warden.”
    He held his arms like someone who had worked out so much that his muscles were too tight to allow them to straighten.
    “Listen,” he continued, “I know you used to be a cop. Pretty good one from what I hear. I know you used to help the other inspector ’cause . . . well, let’s face it, he needed help, but while I’m inspector, you’ll be a chaplain. Just a chaplain. I don’t need any help. I know what I’m doing. Understand?”
    I didn’t say anything.
    I was angry and embarrassed. My ego had flared up, and I had to get it under control.
    I took a deep breath.
    “Understand?” he said, his eyes wide and challenging.
    “Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry. It’s your crime scene. When they called I just assumed they wanted me to—”
    “If we need any help, we’ll call you.”
    “What should I tell the family?” I asked. “Homicide or suicide?”
    His eyes narrowed and his forehead seemed to cave in toward them in ridges like layers of a cavern. “ What ?” he asked. “You serious? Of course it’s a suicide. It’s obvious.”
    A s I was leaving the dorm, the FDLE crime scene team was entering.
    “You’re headin’ the wrong way,” Sally said.
    She was a tall tech with big blond hair, big glasses, and big teeth, who had played basketball in college. We had worked together on a few of these before.
    “New sheriff,” I said. “I’m being kicked out.”
    “ His loss. Anything I need to know?”
    “Check his pockets, will you? Let me know if you find anything.”
    “Will do.”

Chapter Sixteen
    “M y son didn’t kill himself,” Cheryl Jacobs said.
    This after several minutes of sobbing uncontrollably. Was it normal reactionary denial or something else?
    Was she saying what most do in the face of such news or, shocked mother or no, was she right, her son not both victim and murderer?
    I had started to call her last night shortly after being kicked out of A-dorm, but decided to wait until morning.
    It was early. I was back in my office after only a few hours’ sleep. But I didn’t want to take the risk of her finding out from one of Danny’s friends once the dorm phones had been turned back on.
    “I know my son . . . He’s been . . . doing good.
    Finally getting a handle on everything and how it works in there. He’s been going to church, making a few friends. His letters have been so hopeful.”
    I made a small noise to let her know I was listening. “I guess you just think I’m in