“Zachary, what happened?” Christine asked, stricken.

“Oh man, it was unreal.” Zachary sat down stiffly, wincing. “We were in lockdown yesterday because of it. They said they were going to call Griff. Did they?”

“I don’t know. What was it? Were you attacked?”

“Kind of, we were out in the yard when it happened.” Zachary shook his head, running a tongue over dry lips. “You don’t know what it’s like, I stand with my back against the wall. I try to stay out of everybody’s way. The white guys hang with the white guys, the black guys hang together, the Muslims and the Mexicans, same thing. I avoid everybody. So I was standing there, and the CO—that’s what they call the guard, for corrections officer—the CO was walking in front of me, keeping an eye on things. It was hot as hell out, and all of a sudden the CO grabs his chest right in front of me and falls to his knees. I knew exactly what was happening.”

“What?” Christine asked in confusion.

“He had too much upper body weight, a big beer gut. He was sweating, and I knew he was having a heart attack.”

“Right in front of you?” Christine grimaced.

“Yes, so I went to him right away and I started compressions on his chest. I knew I could save his life. I yelled out, ‘call 911, it’s a cardiac,’ but the COs thought I jumped him, so they came running, pulled me off him, and put me on the ground. They slammed my head into asphalt and beat the crap out of me.”

“Oh no!”

“I kept yelling ‘he’s having a heart attack, he’s having a heart attack, call an ambulance, call an ambulance,’ and the next thing I know, all hell broke loose. Gangbangers started throwing punches and, like, a SWAT team of COs dragged me away and threw me in ad seg.”

“What’s that?”

“Administrative segregation. Isolation. Solitary. They were even going to write me up until they got the CO to the hospital and they got it straightened out.”

“What’s ‘write you up’ mean?”

“Discipline me!” Zachary’s eyes flared, though the right one stayed half-closed. “The only reason they didn’t is because the EKG and heart enzymes showed he had a heart attack. It took them all day to realize I didn’t jump him, and they backed off on the discipline, but I’m still in ad seg.”

“Did he live?” Christine asked, astonished.

“Yes.” Zachary smiled, exhaling.

“So you saved the man’s life?”

“I guess.” Zachary’s bruised forehead eased momentarily.

“Wow.” Christine felt a warm rush of validation. She’d seen compassion in him, and she’d been right. But at the same time, she’d also seen the bloody scene at Gail’s. She wanted to know why he had lied to her.

“Right?” Zachary snorted. “Unreal. The COs are probably trained in CPR but none of them was as close as I was.”

“So was there a riot, in the yard?”

“No, it didn’t get that far, but they locked us down.”

“Did they take you to the hospital?”

“No, they treated me here. It’s only superficial.”

“This wasn’t in the newspaper or anything, was it?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see any reporters. I hear the prison brass can keep things out of the papers.”

“Still, you did the right thing. You saved a man’s life.”

“Are you kidding?” Zachary leaned close to the Plexiglas, looking at her like she was crazy. “It’s not the right thing to save a CO, not in here. Gangs run this place, stone cold gangbangers. They would’ve let the CO die. They’re keeping me in ad seg for my own protection. I’m the pretty boy who saves COs. I have a target on my back.” Zachary raked his fingers through his hair, his knuckles red. “I hope they never move me back to gen pop, but ad seg is the worst. The guy in the cell next to me, he screams, rants, and raves all night. The guy on the other side hits his head against the wall. It’s cinder-block.” Zachary’s good eye rounded, a bloodshot blue. “They had to put him in a restraint chair, with shackles and a spit mask, and they moved him to a psychiatric observation cell. He should be in a mental hospital, they all should. They’re psychotic. Insane.”

“My God.” Christine grimaced.

“I sit in the cell twenty-three hours a day. I eat in the cell, all three meals. I talk to nobody, I see nobody. They only let me out for an hour, in a cage by myself. You have to get me out of here.” Zachary shifted forward on his elbows. “Tell Griff about this, what happened in the yard. You’re working with him now? They put you on my visitor’s list.”

“Yes, and I will talk to him about it, for sure.” Christine resolved to buy Griff a cell phone, too.

“Please, do, maybe he can use it to get me out of here or sent down to Chester County Prison. It’s minimum-security, a camp compared to here.”

“Of course.” Christine had to get back on track. She had so many questions, including the one about the lie. “Zachary, I just came from Gail’s apartment, and there’s a few things I need to understand about the murder. Can you tell me exactly what happened that night, in detail?”

“I told you, I came in and found her.” Zachary blinked.

“I need to know in greater detail. What did you do exactly?” Christine wanted to hear his story and see if it explained the blood she’d seen on him in the photos.

“I went in—”

“How did you get in?”

“The door was open. Only the screen was closed. I went in. We had a date, so I figured that was okay, but I didn’t see her in the kitchen. So I went to the bedroom.”

“Were there bloody footprints from the kitchen to the bedroom?”

“Not that I saw at first. I wasn’t looking down. I saw them later, after the cops came, and I’m sure a lot of the footprints are mine, pacing, walking around, going back and forth to let the cops in.”

“So what did you do when you first got there?”

“I saw that there was something wrong in the bedroom, that she was lying there, so I went in, like, I went in to her.”

“Was a light on in the bedroom?”

Zachary frowned in thought, shifting his butterfly bandages. “No, I think I turned it on.”