Page 76 of The Chain House

“And now?”

“We tracked Jeffrey Justice down. He didn’t want to talk at first, just wanted to be left alone, trying to pick up the pieces and live a normal life, a second life, he said, after so thoroughly fucking up the first. But we asked him about his time at Eddyville, twenty-some-odd years ago. He recalled, of course, when the FBI had visited him back then, that he thought it odd they were questioning him. But seeing as he, in his second life, is now trying to do good for the world, he eventually talked, a couple hours ago. He spoke of a roommate he had at Eddyville, for roughly four months, whose name was Luther Wright. I asked him what Luther Wright looked like, and he laughed. Not in a joking way but more like he was afraid, even so many years later. He spoke of the scar across the man’s face. Said it was hideous, and he did his best every day to never look at it, because if Luther ever caught anyone staring, he was quick to make a scene. That’s how he put it: quick to make a scene. Now remember, back then, with Beth Hawthorne’s testimony, she never saw his face, never saw his eyes, just the mask he was wearing, so we had nothing to go on. Back then, if the fourth murderer that evening was there, everyone always assumed he wore the mask, like Sal’s Angels did with their balaclavas, to make sure their faces went unnoticed. Now we know our guy wears his mask because he’s self-conscious about his butchered face. So Jeff Justice, even though he never had any true issues with this Luther Wright, whispers often enough to the guards he respects that his roommate creeps him out, and soon thereafter Luther Wright, without being told why, is moved to another room with another roommate. Justice did his best to act surprised and pissed about it, and he believes to this day Luther Wright believed his act.”

“And the second roommate’s name?”

“Mac Pritchard,” said Givens. “Mac Michael Pritchard. Would have been convenient if his last name was Minks, right? But get this, Pritchard was a sexual deviant doing life in prison. He was questioned briefly back then but was useless as far as information. He’s dead now. Died of natural causes inside Eddyville ten years ago. But we’ve got agents in there now asking around, seeing who remembers what from back then, and more than one remembered Pritchard and Luther Wright and said Pritchard was scared as hell of his new roommate. That’s why he was silent when the FBI questioned him back then. His roommate was years gone by then, but still … the fear of getting got was real. Turns out Pritchard, as I said, sexual deviant, convicted rapist, had a fetish for, get this … mink coats. Naked women in mink coats, at first, all he needed to get off was a mink coat. And he had an extensive collection of them. Weird, right? But evidently Luther Wright catches wind of this and gives Pritchard a nickname.”

“Minks?”

“Bingo,” said Givens. “It wasn’t like a prison-wide nickname, just one Luther Wright gave him, like a secret handshake almost, between them.”

“So Luther Wright gets out of jail and steals the name Justice from roommate one and Minks from roommate number two?”

“Yes,” said Givens. “And plenty of people have remembered seeing him often on the yard with Batise. And now that your friend’s sketch of our man has gone viral, the prison easily looked back at their files from the nineties and found our Luther Wright.”

“Are we even sure that’s his name?”

“No, not certain, but we think so,” he said. “Hoping so, the buck has to stop somewhere, right? But that’s not all. Luther, we’re finding out, while never once violent at Eddyville, was known for his … weirdness. For his face, yes, but more so because he just creeped people out. He never said much and was rarely seen without a book. Jeff Justice said he read all the time inside their cell. And he mostly didn’t go by Luther. Got mad when people used his name.”

“What did he go by?”

Givens smiled. “Edmond Dantes.”

Sam looked confused.

Givens said, “From The Count of Monte Cristo?”

“Ah,” Sam said, playing it off like he’d read it in high school like he was supposed to.

“You know the story, right?” Givens didn’t give him time to respond. “Edmond Dantes, young sailor, wrongly accused of treason, falsely imprisoned. While in prison, he learns of a hidden treasure on the island of Monte Cristo. He escapes, acquires a fortune, and then seeks revenge on all those who wronged him.”

“And now he’s calling himself Oliver Crown …”

“Yet another fictional character, yes,” Givens said.

“And how did Luther Wright leave Eddyville? If he escaped, that story would have had that face plastered all over the news.”

“Early parole,” Givens said. “Good behavior, if you can believe it. And after he walks free, he becomes our Justice Minks.”

“Jesus,” Sam said, his mind made up now, whether he was going to leave Batise to die alone or not, because he couldn’t now walk away from this. He had a documentary to finish, but even more importantly, Beth Hawthorne was still out there, being held captive somewhere, and no matter how anxiously his mind was screaming for Sam to step away and go home and become boring Sam Harper again, to flee from this situation before he got truly burned, he couldn’t.

Givens said, “Get this. When Luther got his walking papers, guess what name he signed.”

“Edmond Dantes?”

“Yeah.”

“And they allowed it?”

“No, they ripped it up, made him sign the papers again. Said if he tried that stunt again, they’d rip up the early parole papers too. But, from what we’re hearing now from Eddyville, from those who were there back then, they were eager to see him go. But as soon as Jennifer’s sketch of him went on TV and social media, they all remembered him as Luther Wright.”

“Shouldn’t you be telling this to Batise right now?”

“Already did. It’s like talking to a wall. He still refuses to speak to anyone but you.”

“He still wants me in there?”

“Yes.” Givens nodded toward one of the doors. “So, if you’re ready, let’s get you back in there.” He looked over his shoulder before opening the door. “You hungry?”