Chapter 7: Hargrove Makes His Move
The call came through the administrative line at 9 a.m.
Lexi was pulled from her kitchen assignment by a guard she hadn't seen before — young, tight-jawed, the kind of careful blankness that meant he'd been told exactly what to say and nothing more.
"Warden wants to see you," he said.
The walk to Hargrove's office took them through two locked corridors and past the administrative wing that regular inmates never entered.
The walls were painted a different color here.
Cream instead of gray.
There were framed certificates on the wall.
A potted plant that was actually alive.
The guard knocked once and opened the door.
Warden Dale Hargrove was sixty-three, silver-haired, and had the kind of face that photographed well at community events.
He was standing behind his desk when she entered, which meant he'd chosen to receive her standing — a small dominance signal that told her he was nervous.
"Sit down, Ms.
Carver."
She sat.
He remained standing for a moment longer than necessary, then sat as well.
He folded his hands on the desk.
"How are you settling in?"
"Fine," she said.
"Good.
Good." He nodded slowly.
"I like to check in personally with new arrivals when I can.
Make sure the transition is smooth." He paused.
"I understand there was an incident in the cafeteria."
"It's been resolved."
"Yes, I heard." He looked at her steadily.
"I also heard that you and Rosa Medina have become friendly."
Lexi said nothing.
"Rosa has been here a long time," Hargrove said.
"She's a troubled woman.
She's had difficulty accepting certain realities about her daughter's time here.
Grief does complicated things to people." He let that sit.
"I'd hate for a new arrival to be drawn into someone else's unresolved pain."
"That's very considerate," Lexi said.
His eyes moved over her face.
"Your father is Thomas Carver."
"Yes."
"I know his case.
Fraud conviction.
Federal." He tilted his head slightly.
"Interesting man.
Very persistent.
The kind of person who doesn't know when something is finished."
"He raised me," Lexi said.
"So I probably have the same problem."
The room was very quiet.
Hargrove opened a desk drawer and removed a single sheet of paper.
He set it on the desk facing her.
It was a transfer order.
Her name was at the top.
The destination was a facility four hundred miles away.
"Administrative reassignment," he said.
"Overcrowding management.
It happens."
Lexi looked at the paper.
Then at him.
"When?"
"End of the week." He smiled.
It didn't reach his eyes.
"I wanted to tell you personally.
As a courtesy."
"I appreciate that," she said.
She stood.
He stood.
"Ms.
Carver." His voice stopped her at the door.
"Whatever you came here looking for — I hope you find some peace.
Truly.
This facility has had enough disruption."
She turned back just enough to look at him over her shoulder.
"I'm sure it has," she said.
She walked out.
The guard escorted her back through the cream-colored corridor, past the certificates, past the living plant.
She kept her breathing even and her hands loose at her sides.
End of the week.
She had four days.
And Hargrove had just confirmed everything Rosa had told her — not with what he said, but with what he'd chosen to threaten and what he'd chosen to leave unspoken.
He knew about her father.
He knew about Rosa.
He didn't know about the cylinder.
Not yet.
May you like
But Strick had looked at her sleeves.
She needed to move tonight.
