And Officer Carter had just refused to back down.
CHAPTER 2 — THE MAN WHO CONTROLLED BLACKWOOD
The confrontation ended when a whistle sounded from the observation platform.
"REYNOLDS! STEP BACK!"
A second correctional officer, Officer Blake, approached the court.
He was younger than Carter, with short brown hair and a nervous expression.
Tank didn't move immediately.
He kept staring at Carter.
Then he slowly stepped backward.
"You're lucky," he muttered.
Carter looked at him.
"Am I?"
Tank smiled.
"For now."
He picked up the basketball and walked toward the other inmates.
Blake approached Carter.
"Man, what are you doing?"
"Enforcing the rules."
Blake looked around.
"With him?"
"Yes."
Blake lowered his voice.
"You don't want to get involved with Reynolds."
Carter turned.
"Why?"
"Because he's connected."
"Connected to whom?"
Blake glanced toward the observation tower.
"People you don't want to know about."
Carter followed his gaze.
A man stood behind the glass.
Warden Thomas Whitaker.
Whitaker was fifty-six years old, with silver hair, a clean uniform, and a reputation for running one of the most disciplined correctional facilities in the state.
At least, that was what the official reports said.
He watched the recreation yard with his hands behind his back.
Carter looked up.
For a brief moment, their eyes met.
Then Whitaker turned away.
Blake touched Carter's shoulder.
"Listen to me. Just leave Reynolds alone."
Carter removed his shoulder from Blake's hand.
"Is that an order?"
"No."
"Then don't tell me how to do my job."
Blake sighed.
"You're going to regret this."
Carter walked toward the administration building.
"Maybe."
But he knew something Blake didn't.
Three days earlier, Carter had received an anonymous envelope.
Inside were photographs.
Photographs of inmates being escorted into restricted areas.
Photographs of correctional officers accepting envelopes.
Photographs of Warden Whitaker meeting privately with people who weren't authorized visitors.
And one photograph had particularly caught his attention.
It showed Tank Reynolds standing beside the warden.
Both men were smiling.
The photograph had been taken inside a restricted maintenance corridor.
Carter had no idea what the two men were discussing.
But he knew the meeting wasn't part of any official prison procedure.
He also knew that someone inside Blackwood wanted him to discover it.
And now Tank had threatened to send him to solitary confinement.
That was not a coincidence.
CHAPTER 3 — THE WARNING
At 6:15 p.m., Carter returned to the staff locker room.
He removed his radio and placed it on the bench.
His colleague, Officer Blake, was sitting nearby.
"You still thinking about Reynolds?"
Carter opened his locker.
"I'm thinking about the reports."
Blake shook his head.
"Forget the reports."
"Why?"
"Because nothing is going to happen."
Carter looked at him.
"How do you know?"
Blake hesitated.
Then he lowered his voice.
"Because I've seen it before."
Carter closed his locker.
"Seen what?"
"Officers complaining about Reynolds. Officers writing reports. Officers asking questions."
"And?"
"And suddenly, they get transferred."
Carter studied his face.
"Transferred where?"
Blake didn't answer immediately.
"Different facilities. Different shifts. Sometimes they just quit."
Carter frowned.
"That's not normal."
"Nothing about this place is normal."
Blake stood.
"Listen, Carter. You're a good officer. You've got a family. You've got a future. Don't destroy everything because you want to prove a point."
Carter looked at him.
"You think I'm doing this to prove something?"
"I think you're getting too close to something dangerous."
Carter was silent.
Then he asked:
"Do you know what happened to Officer James Miller?"
Blake's face changed.
"Why are you asking about him?"
"Because he filed a complaint against Whitaker six months ago."
Blake looked toward the locker room entrance.
"Keep your voice down."
"What happened?"
"He resigned."
"That's what the records say."
"Then that's what happened."
Carter shook his head.