Lisa Gardner - Touch & Go

I should ask Radar about the medication, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Right now, this moment, I was doing better. Given our current situation, I had a feeling that was as good as it was going to get.

I used the toilet while my family slept, then refilled the water jug from the sink, which, given the barely-there trickle, was an accomplishment. This must be what inmates did with their time in prison. Stood around waiting to get enough water out of the faucet to wet a finger, rinse their mouths, wash their faces.

I took tiny sips out of the jug, working on hydration while I peered out the window in the cell door, eyeing the cavernous, overlit expanse of the dayroom, wondering where our attackers might be lurking next.

To the far left end of the dayroom was a bank of showers. Broad, white-tiled stalls, six down, six up. On the left end of the stacked rows loomed one particularly large stall with metal support bars bolted to each wall. Handicap accessible. Things you don’t think about. That not all members of the prison population are big, tough guys. Some are injured or aging or otherwise impaired.

I wouldn’t want to be them in here. I couldn’t even stand it being me.

Of course, none of the stalls offered frosted glass doors or even cheap vinyl shower curtains. Just wide-open exposure. Apparently, showering in prison was a full-monty affair.

I still eyed the stalls with longing. My hair hung down in lank clumps. I’d sweated through my orange jumpsuit, could feel the salt riming my skin. I tried to figure out if I could partially disrobe, try to use the slow dribble of sink water to at least rinse off my torso.

But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I remained too afraid of alien beetles, who might burst through the cell door at any time. Not to mention the look that would come into Mick’s crazy blue eyes if he could catch me partially unclothed.

Prison had eyes, Justin had said.

Even now, they were watching us. Watching me.

I sipped more water, turned away from the cell door and discovered Justin, now awake on the lower bunk, staring at me.

“Ashlyn,” he croaked.

“Asleep.” I brought over the jug of water. Helped hold up his head while he took the first few sips. He winced the moment I touched him, but didn’t comment.

“They didn’t…come back?”

I didn’t know what he meant, eyeing him in confusion.

“After they got me. They didn’t…come for you?”

“No,” I assured him.

“I hoped…not. As long as they were beating me… I knew they couldn’t be…hurting you. But then, Z. He disappeared. I didn’t know…what that meant.”

“We didn’t see him.”

“Okay.”

“Justin…why? If this is about money…” I gestured to his horribly swollen and distorted features. “Why?”

“I don’t…know. They kept telling me…to stop. Stop what?” Justin grimaced, sipped more water. “Then they’d say they were the ones asking the questions, and hit me again.”

I frowned, considering the matter. “Have you…have you been doing something you shouldn’t?”

My husband smiled, but it was a sad expression on his battered face. “You mean other than cheating on my wife?”

I flushed, looked away.

“I ended the relationship, Libby…as you requested…six months ago. I never should’ve started it in the first place.”

“Maybe, something else? Maybe related to work?”

But Justin wouldn’t be put off. “I’m sorry. You know that, right?”

I didn’t answer, just looked away.

“But you’re still not happy,” he said, and again, the expression on his face…

“I’m trying,” I said at last.

“I looked forward to our date night.”

“Me, too.” But I still wouldn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t meet his gaze. I wasn’t prepared for this conversation. It was easier for me to view my husband as the bad guy. He had lied, he had cheated. If I kept that perspective, then the total collapse of my life didn’t have to be my fault.

I didn’t have to consider my own secrets, my own betrayals, my own dishonesty. If I didn’t forgive, then I didn’t have to repent.

“Is there something else I can do?” Justin asked now.

I smiled faintly. “Break us out of prison?”

He seemed to take my request seriously. “Libby, honey, I built this place. Take it from me, there’s no breaking out. That was part of my job, my crew’s job. The walls are tunnel proof, the floors are dig proof, the windows shatterproof. Not to mention the seven electronically controlled locks between us and freedom. Even the medical ward, the kitchen, the common areas, they’re constructed to the same standards, just stocked with different equipment. As long as one of our kidnappers stays in the control room, which seems to be their standard operating procedure, that team member has eyes on us at all times, and could shut down our escape efforts at a moment’s notice.”

“What if we could overpower them?”

“Who? How? You already took on Mick, but to what end? I got Tased, Ashlyn got Tased and you ended up with a concussion. Even if we took out both of our escorts, got really lucky and somehow subdued Mick and Z, Radar could still simply tap the control system’s touch screen, and instantaneously lock down the entire facility. We’d be trapped in whichever room, corridor or prison cell we’d started in, waiting for Z or Mick to regain consciousness.”

“And exact revenge,” I added softly.

“Exactly.”

“What if we could lure Radar out of the control room?” I suggested. “Or, better yet, if this control room is so powerful, instead of trying to get out of the prison, let’s try to get into the control room. Then we could use the control panel to trap Z and his crew in a dayroom, or a sally port, whatever. Give them a taste of their own medicine.

“Then, we could trip the alarm system,” I added with growing excitement. “Local law enforcement would have to investigate sirens, right? Mothballed prison or not. They’ll arrive, save us, arrest our kidnappers. Done!”

Justin didn’t immediately dismiss my idea. “Don’t break out, break in,” he mused. He nodded shortly, then winced at the pain. “Possible. The control room is operated via a touch screen. If you can figure out an iPad, you should be able to run the system. Also, the control room was built to serve as a mini ‘safe room’ within the prison. A place the correction officers could use to make a last stand. The ballistic-rated glass installed there is four times stronger than the glass used in the cells, meaning it would take a full hour for Z or his crew to break their way through. That should buy us enough time to sound the alarm, and wait for the cavalry.”

“So now we just have to figure out how to get their designated person out of the control room,” I said. I had moved closer to my husband on the bunk bed. Both of our voices had picked up. This was probably the longest we’d spoken to each other in months. It brought back memories of other times, when our marriage was still young, and we’d spent hours discussing everything from the best preschool for Ashlyn to a particular issue Justin was having with a bid, or who to invite to our upcoming dinner party. We’d been a good team back then. At least, I’d thought of us that way.

“We should threaten Z or Mick,” I decided. “Not just overpower them, but look like we’re ready to deliver a mortal strike. Radar will have to leave the control room in order to assist.”

Justin didn’t look convinced. “Threaten them with what?”

“A shiv?” Only thing I could think of, as we were in prison.

“Made from…? We don’t have a plastic comb, toothbrush or ballpoint pen. Furthermore, Z and Mick are following prison protocol—not carrying any lethal weapons that could be captured and used against them.”