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  A KILLER’S GAME

  A DETECTIVE LENNY SHANE NOVEL

  AMY ANDREWS

  Published by AMY BOHAYCHYK

  Copyright 2014 AMY ANDREWS

  edition License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or

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  CHAPTER ONE- THE ESCAPE PLAN

  Anxiously waiting for the sound of the buzzer, Robert Verde paced back and forth, like a caged animal, with his hands fidgeting in front of him. His soft soled shoes barely made a sound on the concrete floor, in his tiny six by eight cell, . Holding his eyes closed, his lips moved in an inaudible silence, as he obsessively reviewed his escape plan. This was it. It was now or never. The moment he had been waiting and planning for, was nearly here. Tonight was the night. When the buzzer sounded, and the barred door slid open, it was going to be lights, camera, action!

  Having nothing but time on his hands to plan every detail he could think of, he had every confidence that his planned escape from the Miami Dade Correctional Facility would go flawlessly, and be executed with nothing less than perfection. He had even made several dry runs within the prison walls over the past couple of weeks.

  One always had to be prepared for unforeseen circumstances, though. Knowing and realizing this, even through his confidence, Verde stopped pacing, and took three strides, over to his three inch thick twin sized mattress. Lifting it up, he fished his fingers into the barely visible one inch incision he had made into it sometime earlier, and pulled out a small, sharp object. Rolling the plastic handle between his fingers, he admired his craftsmanship, as the light gleamed off of the blade. It was a crude tool, made with the blade of a shaving razor, the handle of a toothbrush, and a bic lighter, but it would be effective. Verde chuckled to himself at how resourceful and creative one could become, when given no other choice. He took the object and tucked it carefully into his white calf high sock, right next to the photograph of his little Bobby, that had once adorned his cell wall, right above his bed.

  Wanting to make his escape as quietly and as unnoticed as possible, he hoped that he did not have to make a mess of things by having to use the blade, but he would use it if it came down to it. Nothing made him feel more alive than the feel of the blade penetrating soft flesh. Watching the eyes turn into a milky stillness. He had killed many times before, and quite enjoyed it. That is what landed him in this hellish compound.

  Prisoners like him had nothing to lose. He was already on death row with no possibility for parole, thanks to that relentless Detective Lenny Shane. What is the worst that could happen? Death, while trying to escape? Ha! At least he would die with his dignity, and he would die trying.

  The buzzer sounded, and his caged cell door clicked open. Verde shot out of the cell, like a racehorse at the Kentucky Derby. Any other night, he would have taken his sweet time, because it gave him more time out of his confined quarters. Tonight, his black crocks could barely keep up with his fast moving feet, as they strode quickly over the painted concrete, past the rows of cell doors. Like an expertly launched pinball, he maneuvered swiftly to the left and to the right, in between and around the other inmates, without ever breaking his stride.

  It was six o’clock in the evening, which meant chow time. Verde’s stomach knotted and growled audibly, because it knew what time it was as well. Too bad. His stomach would have to wait, because it wasn’t going to get fed dinner at it’s usual time. Not tonight. As with all other evenings, before going to the dining hall, he had to report to the medical wing, for his nightly cocktail of psychiatric meds. He could skip dinner without being noticed, but he couldn’t miss showing up for his meds. The sirens would whale, and the guards would lock the prison down for a head count, until he was found. This needed to be avoided in order to give him a three hour window until lights out, which is when the next scheduled head count was.

  He didn’t need the meds, and he didn’t like them. When he did take them, they put him in a zombie like state of submission. He had perfected the art of sleight of hand, enabling him to fool the nursing staff into thinking he had taken them. He made the entire scheme plausible by enacting the trance like stupor the meds would have put him in, had he actually taken them. He often thought he should be awarded an Oscar for his superior acting skills. If there was a Golden Globe or some other prestigious award for prisoners, he would definitely take home the trophy.

  Verde stood behind two other inmates in the single file line, with his arms down at his sides, tapping and rolling his fingers on his thighs. Bumping shoulders with the inmate that was coming out of the med room, the plump Nurse Betty said in her sweet southern drawl, “My, my, my, Robert. We’re in a hurry tonight, aren’t we?”

  A faint smile crossed his lips. When he saw Nurse Betty, it was the only time he was referred to by his first name. Usually it was by his inmate number, 184129, or his last name. She reminded him of his sweet Grandmother, with her loosely curled silver hair, withered red lips, and her Southern disposition. Rest her soul. She was the woman who raised him from the age of twelve. A good woman, unlike his crack-head slut egg donor…and the woman with whom he had a child. He guessed it was true what they said about marrying someone like your Mother, because he had. Took off like his Mother too. But, the system awarded his Grandmother custody a little too late. The emotional damage had already been done.

  “Just real hungry tonight, Nurse Betty. Anxious to get to the dining room, I guess.”

  “Well, if you’re a good boy, like always, Nurse Betty might have a treat for you,” she said in a whisper.

  Verde accepted his pill filled paper Dixie cup, and another filled with water. Throwing his head back, he opened wide, and took the pills into his mouth. Tasting the bitterness of the chalky pills starting to dissolve, he stuck his tongue out to show Nurse Betty. Immediately bringing the second cup to his mouth, with a flick of his tongue, Verde spit the pills into the water, and drank it, filtering the pills out with his teeth. He dramatically swallowed hard. When the last bit of water was swallowed, Verde crumpled both cups, and tossed them into the garbage. Bending over to Nurse Betty’s eye level, he opened his mouth wide, and moved his tongue around, up and down, side to side. It was no where near a Criss Angel caliber illusion, but it worked. Especially with the senile nursing staff. Because he liked her, he felt a small pang of guilt for deceiving her, but he could live with it. It was definitely better than the alternative.

  Pleased with him, Nurse Betty said, “now, that’s a good boy.” Reaching into her dark blue scrubs pocket, she fetched out a snickers bar. Handing it to him, she gave him a wink.

  Verde took the candy bar, and nestled it in between his chest and the white tank top he was wearing beneath his uniform. Walking out the door, he stopped in the middle of the door frame, turned around, and said, “thanks, Nurse Betty.”

  Nurse Betty’s red colored, puckered lips just smiled and said, “well, you’re quite welcome, sweetie… Thank you.” She liked him because she had been employed their since his first day as an inmate. He never gave her any trouble, unlike some of the others.

  Verde studied her face for a moment in silence, then simply turned and continued walking out the door, back into the hallway. His pace slowed to normal, as he didn’t want to stand out to the guard. Slipping back into the end of the line, Verde went unnoticed in the sea of standard issued orange jumpsuits.

  Keeping himself tucked close to the wall, Verde peered over the shoulder of the guy in front of him. The guard stood
near the entrance to the med wing at the front of the line. Verde’s eyes were trained on the him, watching his every move, or lack of it.

  The silent stillness of the inmates standing in line, was disturbed when a loud commotion came from within the medical room.

  “I ain’t takin’ that fuckin’ shit,” a booming redneck voice said, followed by the sound of Nurse Betty’s metal tray clattering onto the concrete floor.

  The line of inmates broke out into cheers, hoots, and hollers, spurring on the insubordination of their fellow inmate.

  If he hadn’t had alternate plans this evening, Verde would have waited to see whom it was that was giving Nurse Betty guff. He would have nipped that problem right in the bud. Or, shanked it right in the gut. Whatever. Tonight, it was a perfectly timed distraction that he intended to take full advantage of, and he would just have to let the staff handle it, like they always did.

  Verde watched until the guard’s back disappeared into the medical room, to get the situation under control, either with their billy clubs, pepper spray, or stun guns. Spinning around, he kept himself tucked against the wall, as he crept as silently and as quickly as a ninja, away from the line of inmates. Looking over his shoulder, Verde picked up the pace. He had to get around the corner before the guard stepped back out into the hallway.

  Verde slithered around the corner, and stood with his back against the wall. Slowly, he poked his head around, to take a peek back around the corner. The guard was still not back to his post.

  Removing his shoes, he held them in one hand. With only his socks on his feet, he tilted his neck back and watched the video camera that was mounted on the wall directly above his head. It was scanning the length of the hallway, and was nearly back to his end. If he timed it perfectly, he could outrun the camera, and not be seen. The camera body panned to perfect vertical position from Verde’s view. His socks didn’t offer much traction, as he took off in a dead sprint. Keeping his eyes trained on the set of double doors, at the end of the long corridor, Verde watched for movement, through the two thick glass panels on each of the steel doors, while his feet moved as fast as his eyes did.

  Sliding on his socks for the last eight feet or so, Verde whipped his head back around, and his eyes darted to the camera at the opposite end of the hall. Having just seconds before the camera’s lens reached his exact spot, he gingerly pushed the long metal bar that ran the width of the door. He opened the door only wide enough for him to slide through to the other side.

  Now on the other side of the door, Verde immediately squatted below the sight line of the glass, to avoid being detected by the camera. Holding his breath, his heart pumped hard with adrenaline, as the doors clicked shut. He hoped that the continuing commotion in the hallway was enough to mask the sound. After silently counting to five in his head, he slipped his crocks back on, and moved double time, down the last corridor. He was heading towards the laundry facility, and had fifteen more minutes until the nightly pick up. He knew this place like the back of his hand, and was careful to time and avoid all of the cameras, as well as any guards roaming the halls.

  Entering the laundry facility, through two more sets of steel double doors, Verde recognized the two young male workers. Each of them were filling large wheeled bins with soiled linens, then rolling them to the front of the warehouse, near the large bay pick up door. This included everything from bedding, to towels and washcloths, to aprons used by the kitchen staff.

  Glancing around, Verde saw the specific bins of laundry he was looking for. The ones filled with the prisoner’s custom orange jumpsuits. There were about six large bins filled with the uniforms. They were sitting off to the side, at the rear of the warehouse.

  The two workers were currently occupied with moving the bins full of the dingy white, soiled prisoner bedding.

  Sneaking behind bin to bin, Verde concealed his presence until he reached the bright orange cotton filled bins. Ducking low, and peering from around them, he watched intently.

  This was going to be even easier than he thought. The two workers each had blaring headphones on, and were not really paying much attention to their surroundings.

  While neither one was looking, Verde grasped the rails of one of the carts, bent his knees, and heaved himself up and over. He somersaulted into the cart, causing it’s wheels to roll slightly from the force. Verde quickly started tunneling through the linens, covering and burying himself deeper into the cart.

  Hearing the music from the blaring headphones approaching, Verde stilled. He was nearly to the bottom of the pile, but not completely. It was stuffy underneath all of the clothing, and Verde crinkled his nose at the grotesque smell of a thousand sweaty men.

  The sound of the squeaky laundry cart wheels echoed in the concrete room as it started to roll, and Verde’s tension started to ease. He could nearly taste his freedom now, so he relaxed and enjoyed the short ride to the front of the bay. He heard the bay door open, and a beep, beep, beep signal, that indicated a large truck backing up.

  The truck came to rest, the engine was cut. Verde heard the driver exit the vehicle, and open the trailer door.

  “Load ‘em up, boys,” the driver said.

  Verde heard one of the men say, “you do those ones, and I’ll check these ones.”

  Shit, Verde thought, because he knew what this meant. Anytime laundry, or garbage exited the prison, the workers were supposed to take long metal pipes that had a sharp pointed end, and ram it into the pile, to find, but more likely to deter escape attempts. He had snuck down here to observe these two several times, especially over the past couple of weeks, and they didn’t always perform all of the tasks their job required. Of all nights, of course tonight they would decide to follow protocol. If he were to get stuck with it in the wrong place, it could prove to be fatal.

  Verde scrambled to get into one corner of the bin. It was not an easy task, when he had to tunnel himself through the heap of clothes without too much noticeable disturbance. Reaching an outer corner, he sat motionless. Pressing his head against the side of the bin, with his knees tightly pulled in, he made himself as small as possible. He was not a religious man, but started praying that they would avoid prodding the corners all together.

  He heard the men stabbing about the other bins, followed by an, “All clear.” Then he would hear the sound of the wheels turning, as the bins were one by one, wheeled up the ramp, into the back of the truck.

  He felt his cart shift. Sounds of the stabbing rod probing around him, made his heart beat so fast, he wondered if they might hear it. Clamping his hand over his own mouth, his eyes grew wide in his sea of orange, and he froze.

  His abdominal muscles twisted, and his hand muffled the small grunt that escaped his lips. His right calf seared with a hot flash of pain. He only hoped that the worker didn’t notice any blood dripping off of the end of the metal post. For several more seconds, that seemed like hours, the prodder was probed around, coming dangerously close to him.

  At the moment he heard an, “all clear,” he grew limp, as all of the stress and tension dissipated from within him. His body shifted into a reclining position, as the cart he was in was wheeled up the forty five degree incline, and came to rest in the back of the truck. After hearing several more “all clears,” followed by more carts being wheeled into the truck, he heard the rolling metal door on the back of the truck closing. It was like sweet music to his ears.

  He would not move a muscle, until he heard the truck exit beyond the prison’s gates.

  The truck moved briefly, and then came to a halt. Idling motionless for a good two minutes, he knew that the guard at the gate was checking the undercarriage of the vehicle. Finally, he heard the faint sound of the gates opening over the sound of the truck’s loud diesel motor. The truck started rolling and picking up speed.

  Like a jack-in-the-box, Verde sprung out of the cart, and drew deep breaths of clean air, tinged with diesel fumes. He knew he would have to burrow back in for the second part of his escape
. Pulling up his right leg, he saw that the damage was not too bad. It was still bleeding, but it wasn’t deep enough to require stitches. He rooted around the other bins until he found a kitchen towel. He wrapped the towel around his wound, and tied it. He didn’t make it tight like a tourniquet, just tight enough to stay put, and soak up the blood.

  Verde stretched out in a reclining position, on top of his bin, and made himself comfortable for the forty five minute ride. His stomach ceased growling after his taste buds were delighted with the chocolate, peanut, caramel, and nougat goodness of the Snickers bar, compliments of Nurse Betty. Coming to a stop, and hearing the back up signal of the truck, Verde blended back into the bottom of the pile, like a chameleon. He was rolled out of the truck, and into another large warehouse. Hearing the driver occupied with unloading the rest of the bins, Verde carefully poked his head out to take a look around. The warehouse structure was very noisy with it’s industrial sized washing machines, presses, and driers. That was good. He needn’t worry about being quiet.

  Verde’s eyes lit up, as he spied something good. Something very good, indeed. Several large bins that had the words “Goodwill” printed in large blue lettering. Perfect. Still in the cart, he made quick work of stripping out of the jumpsuit. Down to his underclothes, he kept an intense watch on the driver, until he was making his way back to the truck to unload more bins. Just when the time was right, Verde catapulted out of his bin, like a cat, and ran across the warehouse, in his boxers, tank top, white socks, and black crocks. He positioned himself behind the Goodwill bins. Rooting around the bin when the driver wasn’t looking, he was able to find a pair of faded jeans, a plain blue t-shirt, and a red baseball cap. He made quick work of getting dressed in his free new outfit.

  “Fuckin’-a,” he whispered, as he came out from behind the bin. With his head held high, he walked right up to the driver as if he belonged there, and asked, “hey man, you gotta smoke I can bum?”