“Because they aren't looking for the person who accessed the records.”
Carter stared at him.
“Who are they looking for?”
“You.”
A heavy silence filled the room.
Blake continued.
“Whitaker has already told the senior staff that you have been acting strangely. He says you've been meeting former employees and interfering with security procedures.”
“That's interesting.”
“Carter, listen to me. You need to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Whatever investigation you're conducting.”
Carter stepped closer.
“Eleven inmates disappeared through unauthorized transfers. A former officer was forced into hiding. Financial records connect the warden to a private company owned by Tank's family. And now someone is pretending to be a prisoner who was transferred out eighteen months ago.”
Blake looked genuinely frightened.
“You don't understand how deep this goes.”
“Then explain it.”
Blake swallowed.
“Because the man in Cell 214 isn't just some witness.”
He lowered his voice.
“He was the lead investigator in the case that sent Tank to prison.”
Carter froze.
“Name?”
“Elias Grant.”
The name struck him immediately.
Elias Grant had been a respected federal investigator before disappearing from public records. He had led an investigation into a private transportation company suspected of moving prisoners illegally between detention facilities.
The investigation had ended with Tank's conviction.
But Grant had vanished before the trial concluded.
The official explanation was that he had resigned for personal reasons.
Carter looked at Blake.
“Why would Whitaker keep him here?”
“Because Grant knows where the original evidence is.”
“And Tank?”
Blake nodded.
“Tank has spent years trying to find it.”
Chapter 15: The Warden's Order
At 8:40 p.m., Carter received an order to report to the warden's office.
He knew it was coming.
The administration building was nearly empty when he arrived. Two armed officers stood outside Whitaker's office.
Neither greeted him.
Carter knocked once.
“Enter.”
Warden Thomas Whitaker sat behind his desk. His silver hair was perfectly combed, and his uniform looked untouched by the long shift.
Deputy Commissioner Robert Hayes stood beside the window.
Carter immediately understood.
This wasn't a disciplinary meeting.
It was an attempt to intimidate him.
“Officer Carter,” Whitaker began, “you've created a serious problem.”
“I'm listening.”
“Your recent conduct has raised concerns.”
“What conduct?”
“Unauthorized access to restricted information. Contact with former employees. Interference in administrative matters.”
Carter remained standing.
“Are you accusing me of something?”
Whitaker folded his hands.
“I'm giving you an opportunity to explain yourself.”
“Then ask a question.”
Hayes turned from the window.
“You seem to believe you're conducting some kind of investigation.”
Carter looked directly at him.
“I'm trying to understand why eleven prisoners were transferred through unofficial channels.”
Whitaker's expression tightened.
“Those transfers were authorized.”
“By whom?”
“By the proper authorities.”
“Then the records should be easy to produce.”
Hayes stepped forward.
“Careful, Officer.”
Carter didn't move.
“I'm asking a simple question.”
Whitaker opened a folder.
Inside was a printed transfer order.
“Effective immediately, you're being reassigned to overnight transport supervision at the northern facility.”
Carter examined the document.
The reassignment was unusual. The northern facility was nearly three hours away, and the position had been vacant for months.
“You're removing me from Blackwood.”
“I'm transferring you.”
“Why?”
“Because I no longer trust your judgment.”
Carter placed the document back on the desk.
“Does this transfer have anything to do with Cell 214?”
For the first time, Whitaker lost control of his expression.
Only for a second.
But Carter saw it.
Hayes looked sharply at the warden.
Whitaker slowly stood.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Then you won't mind if I inspect the custody records.”
“You are not authorized to inspect that unit.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
Carter nodded.
“That's what I thought.”
Whitaker leaned across the desk.
“You have until midnight to accept the transfer. After that, your refusal will be treated as insubordination.”