“Lie down,” he hisses. He stays at the
corner of my cell, just out of sight of the camera. He doesn’t have
to say that no one’s supposed to know he’s here, Ellington’s
not supposed to know—it’s written all over his troubled face. “Just
lie down and listen to me.”
Slowly, I lie back down. I prop my hands
behind my head, cross my ankles, stare at a spot just above the
sink. “I’m listening,” I tell him.
From the corner of my eye I watch as Conlan
leans back against the bars and sinks to the floor, hugs his knees
to chest. “Marie’s not doing too good,” he murmurs.
I start to sit up before I remember I’m
supposed to pretend he’s not here. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what
else to say. “What’s wrong? She doesn’t have—”
“No.” Conlan shakes his head for
emphasis. “She’s not showing any of the symptoms. Personally? I
don’t think it’s the bleed. It’s just a cold and Shauna’s in a bad
way right now so it just hit her pretty hard. The other girl,