Read Online Life Sentences by Tekla Dennison Miller - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tekla Dennison Miller
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one had gotten out of Hawk Haven in its one hundred-year history. Besides, there was no place an escapee couldgo. The prison was in the middle of the Hiawatha National Forest in the UP, the Upper Peninsula.
Built in the late 1800’s, Hawk Haven looked like a state hospital from a Dickens’ novel. The still-occupied warden’s house, a reminder of past days when most prison administrators lived on grounds, sat to the left of the Gothic administration building. Both buildings were incorporated into the thirty-foot concrete wall, an ominous perimeter protected by razor ribbon, electronic detection system, and eight gun towers. It was almost too hard for employees to get out of there let alone a prisoner, unless, of course, an inmate exited through an infirmary window.
Pilar had more pressing concerns than a possible escape. She laughed at the absurdity of her position: Could a debutante from Grosse Pointe Shores work in one of the toughest prisons in Michigan caring for rapists, murderers and child abusers? She was going to give it one helluva try. And the first thing she’d do was figure out how she came across as susceptible to Whitefeather.
As Pilar removed a department manual from her briefcase, she thought back to her six weeks in training. Remembering Lorrie’s cautions, it seemed an uncanny coincidence that Pilar would have trained with someone who knew Chad Wilbanks, a serial killer.
Pilar retrieved her stethoscope, the last item in her attache. Then, she lifted a white lab coat from a wall hook, caressing it as though the coat were a symbol of honor. Maybe the coat would erase any misconceptions about her. Pilar had one arm in the sleeve when someone knocked. The door opened before she could acknowledge the caller. An African-American woman poked her head through the opening and announced, “I’m Jane Carson, day shift nurse. Your first patient is here.”
Pilar nodded. “I’ll see him in the exam room.” She walked through the door, but stopped as she searched the long, impeccably clean corridor, lined with closed doors and smelling of disinfectant and old gym shoes. Pilar turned to the nurse. “Where’s the exam room?”
Nurse Carson chuckled in a good-natured way. “We have several, but he’s in number three.” She pointed down the narrow hallway. “By the end of today, you’ll be well acquainted with each room.”
“Why’s that?” Pilar asked.
“The word’s out about the new good-looking female doctor, so our clinic call is higher than normal. They knew about you a week ago.” Nurse Carson giggled like a girl. “Boys will be boys, locked up or not. Besides, sick call gets them out of their cells.” Her eyes shone like two small suns and lit up her dark face. “You’ll get used to the attention. We all do.”
Pilar watched Jane Carson return to the nurses’ station. She had to be one of few African-Americans who worked in the UP. She was short, maybe 5’2″, a little on the plump side, in her late twenties, with classic good featuresrather than prettiness. Her black hair was cut close to her almost perfect skull. Her noticeably buoyant personality captivated Pilar.
A FTER A MORNING OF checking pulses, heart beats, and sore throats, Pilar had just enough time to eat an apple from an infirmary tray before Nurse Carson appeared at the door. “No rest for the weary, I’m afraid, doctor. Your first patient for this afternoon is here. And he’s a doozy.” She handed Pilar a file. “In here for natural life.”
Pilar took the folder and asked, “Aren’t most of the prisoners in here for life?”
“Yes, but he’s special. Murdered seven, maybe eight women, but still thinks he’s a lady’s man.”
Pilar checked the file. Chad Wilbanks’ name stared back at her. A hundred icicles might be massaging her spine. “First day jitters,” she muttered to herself, and headed for the consultation.
“We all have them,” Carson said as Pilar passed her.
Upset at being heard,
Built in the late 1800’s, Hawk Haven looked like a state hospital from a Dickens’ novel. The still-occupied warden’s house, a reminder of past days when most prison administrators lived on grounds, sat to the left of the Gothic administration building. Both buildings were incorporated into the thirty-foot concrete wall, an ominous perimeter protected by razor ribbon, electronic detection system, and eight gun towers. It was almost too hard for employees to get out of there let alone a prisoner, unless, of course, an inmate exited through an infirmary window.
Pilar had more pressing concerns than a possible escape. She laughed at the absurdity of her position: Could a debutante from Grosse Pointe Shores work in one of the toughest prisons in Michigan caring for rapists, murderers and child abusers? She was going to give it one helluva try. And the first thing she’d do was figure out how she came across as susceptible to Whitefeather.
As Pilar removed a department manual from her briefcase, she thought back to her six weeks in training. Remembering Lorrie’s cautions, it seemed an uncanny coincidence that Pilar would have trained with someone who knew Chad Wilbanks, a serial killer.
Pilar retrieved her stethoscope, the last item in her attache. Then, she lifted a white lab coat from a wall hook, caressing it as though the coat were a symbol of honor. Maybe the coat would erase any misconceptions about her. Pilar had one arm in the sleeve when someone knocked. The door opened before she could acknowledge the caller. An African-American woman poked her head through the opening and announced, “I’m Jane Carson, day shift nurse. Your first patient is here.”
Pilar nodded. “I’ll see him in the exam room.” She walked through the door, but stopped as she searched the long, impeccably clean corridor, lined with closed doors and smelling of disinfectant and old gym shoes. Pilar turned to the nurse. “Where’s the exam room?”
Nurse Carson chuckled in a good-natured way. “We have several, but he’s in number three.” She pointed down the narrow hallway. “By the end of today, you’ll be well acquainted with each room.”
“Why’s that?” Pilar asked.
“The word’s out about the new good-looking female doctor, so our clinic call is higher than normal. They knew about you a week ago.” Nurse Carson giggled like a girl. “Boys will be boys, locked up or not. Besides, sick call gets them out of their cells.” Her eyes shone like two small suns and lit up her dark face. “You’ll get used to the attention. We all do.”
Pilar watched Jane Carson return to the nurses’ station. She had to be one of few African-Americans who worked in the UP. She was short, maybe 5’2″, a little on the plump side, in her late twenties, with classic good featuresrather than prettiness. Her black hair was cut close to her almost perfect skull. Her noticeably buoyant personality captivated Pilar.
A FTER A MORNING OF checking pulses, heart beats, and sore throats, Pilar had just enough time to eat an apple from an infirmary tray before Nurse Carson appeared at the door. “No rest for the weary, I’m afraid, doctor. Your first patient for this afternoon is here. And he’s a doozy.” She handed Pilar a file. “In here for natural life.”
Pilar took the folder and asked, “Aren’t most of the prisoners in here for life?”
“Yes, but he’s special. Murdered seven, maybe eight women, but still thinks he’s a lady’s man.”
Pilar checked the file. Chad Wilbanks’ name stared back at her. A hundred icicles might be massaging her spine. “First day jitters,” she muttered to herself, and headed for the consultation.
“We all have them,” Carson said as Pilar passed her.
Upset at being heard,
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