Read Online Fear Me by Tim Curran - Free Book Online

Palmquist down in solitary for his own protection. The cons had made the connection between what had happened at Brickhaven and what was happening here and now at Shaddock Valley. And that morning, after the slayings of Heslip and Burgon, about twenty cons half out of their mind with terror jumped the kid in the mess hall and beat him senseless before the guards put the whole thing down. As it was, Palmquist needed thirty stitches and his left arm had to be put in a sling.
    “Listen,” Linnard told him. “I don’t like this shit that’s coming down here. These men want to kill you and they will, given the chance, so I’m placing you under protective custody. Not in the PC cells, but down in the hole. It’s the most secure environment we have and, pending a state investigation, that’s where you’re going to stay.”
    The warden told Palmquist that he didn’t know if he was responsible for any of that shit or not and he honestly couldn’t see how he could have been, but into the hole he was going. For safekeeping. The warden had trouble like he’d never seen before. The cons were out of their heads and jailhouse lawyers were writing up writs and lawsuits against the Department of Correction. And the DOC was all over Linnard’s ass and the state had ruled that the Shaddock Valley complex was to be off-limits to the press until further notice.
    And in the prison, tensions seethed and boiled and slowly came to a head, feeding off long-standing gripes and unanswered complaints about treatment and living conditions.
    Romero knew what was coming.
    They all knew what was coming. Except maybe Linnard. If he had sensed what was about to happen, he would have placed the entire prison in lock-down.
    The warden chose Romero to bring Palmquist his meals, thought maybe the sight of his cellmate would make the kid feel less like he was being punished and more like he was being given special treatment. Romero didn’t want to pull that bit, but he knew if he refused, the warden would get on the hacks and the hacks would get on him.
    So he brought Palmquist his supper—greasy green bean casserole and a few wedges of rye bread that were more rye than bread—and the hack let him in, let him sit in there with the kid for a few moments, even shut the door behind him.
    Palmquist didn’t look so good, what with the contusions and the stitches and the cast on his arm. But it was more than just the beating he took. His face was moon-white and his eyes were ponds of black, simmering liquid sunken into red-rimmed sockets. To Romero he looked like a guy coming off heroin, like his soul had been milked dry.
    He didn’t say anything at first, so Romero said, “Tell me about it, Cherry. Tell me all about it.”
    But the kid did not lift his head. “I…can you get me some speed, Romero? Some Dexedrine or uppers? Caffeine pills even? Anything like that? Something that’ll keep me awake, I don’t care what it is.”
    “Probably,” Romero told him. “If I can get it past the hog out there.”
    “If you can’t do that, get me a fucking razor.”
    Romero just watched him. Suicidal now. He had sunken that low. Romero knew, of course, what had happened to Heslip and Burgon. He’d heard all about it that morning. But unlike the affair with Weems, Romero had slept through it…with a little help from some sedatives. “You think that’s the answer, Cherry? Pills and razors?”
    “I can’t go to sleep,” Palmquist said in a cool, lifeless voice. “Maybe not ever again, but sure as hell not tonight.”
    “Why is that?”
    “You know why.”
    Romero figured he did. “I heard it,” he said, sighing. “I heard it the night it got Weems. I heard something up there with you and you know what, Cherry? It scared the piss right out of me. I heard that business up in your bunk, but I didn’t have the balls to go and look.”
    “I’m glad you didn’t, he…”
    “Yes?”
    Palmquist just shook his head. “I hated Weems and Gordo, those