Dark Lady

A faded blue, older model Honda rolled to a stop in the visitors parking area of the prison. A wisp of a cloud reeking of oil and coolant dissipated in the breeze as the old Honda squatted on the pavement like it meant to stay forever. The Honda faced away from the prison as if it didn’t want to mix its pain with the institutionalized misery behind it.

The prison itself was still a few hundred yards away. Rows of fencing and razor wire separated the Honda from the prison proper. Low, brown, red-roofed guard towers barely rose over the fence that dotted the perimeter wire. Everything faced inward toward the grey, four-story blockhouses of the prison itself. Only the nearby visitors center appeared to be looking out at the parking lot, but even it was distinctly unfriendly and fences separated the visitors from the prison.

All the architecture screamed control.

Fear washed out from the dank buildings on the wind from the gathering storm. The penitentiary was not a place people were supposed to come, and its purpose was to prevent them from leaving once they were here.

The person in the Honda knew that this prison mostly housed men, but it had the worst of the worst women. Those women enjoyed twenty-four hours a day of isolation in a separate wing. It was accessible only through the administration area. Nothing connected to the visitors center.

The smell of old french fries followed a young woman out of the Honda. She pulled her windblown brown hair back into a ponytail and then dragged her big brown leather bag out of the back seat. She sagged as she slung it over her shoulder. The strap pulled the brown jacket of her pantsuit slightly off center.

The Honda door creaked as it closed.

Dark rain clouds lurked overhead, casting a grey light on everything. There was still sunshine in the parking lot, but the grey hovered close. The air in the parking lot was dry and calm as the woman walked across the lot to the visitors center and searched for how to enter. She revealed her nervousness by not noticing the four-foot high sign that pointed her to a window at the side of the door.

She finally saw it and followed the arrow to a window near a locked door. A well worn button stood out under the window. Not seeing anything else to do, she pushed the button. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The atmosphere felt ominous. The storm crept closer.

A very severe looking black woman with short hair and a blue uniform appeared behind the bulletproof glass. Her eyes didn’t ask any questions as she stared at the woman standing outside in the breeze. The pause became pregnant while the young woman searched for a way to communicate.

“Yes?” The bored guard’s voice sounded stern over the intercom.

“Kelly Prescott to see… um,” the visitor hesitated while she searched her bag for the letter she had received. “I don’t remember if the sign said what I was supposed to give you.”

“You’re here to see Eve,” the stern woman said as she shook her head. The message was clear. The person coming to this prison voluntarily was a dumb person. “I’ll buzz you in. Security on the inside will take care of the particulars.”

“Um… How do you know why I’m here?” Kelly asked.

“Everybody knows.” A loud buzzing started. “Go through that door.”

“Um. Ok.” Kelly hastily grabbed the door handle and pulled the heavy metal door open.

She darted past the solidly metal door before it could close on her. The room she entered was antiseptic. The walls were white, and the place was clean, but it had as much cheer as a morgue. Brown waiting room furniture arranged in uninspired rows. Old magazines wilted in a rack by the door. The windows were thick and barred. Very little light entered. The buzzing of the overhead fluorescent lights was the only sound.

The woman behind the glass ignored the voice box and waved Kelly to the metal door on the other side of the room. Kelly passed the brown furniture, the unused toys, and the outdated magazines. There was nothing on the wall opposite the entrance, but another door.

t was blue, metal, and firmly closed. The handle didn’t jiggle or move when Kelly yanked on it. With both doors closed and operated remotely, this was as far as she could go. For a moment she was trapped. It was a big space, so no panic ensued.

Kelly’s shoulders drooped. This was a good metaphor for her life - trapped, ineffective, lost.

The buzzer went off again, and the blue door opened. Before Kelly could dart through it, an older gentleman with greying hair and a bushy grey beard stepped into the room. A tall, solidly built, female guard with black hair, blue uniform, and the no-nonsense expression that Kelly expected all prison guards had followed the older man.

At least people working in prisons on TV all had that look, but this wasn’t a Hollywood show. Kelly was walking into a maximum security prison to talk to a real murderer at the request of that murderer.

“Ms. Prescott, I presume.” The man in the brown sweater smiled and offered her his hand. “I’m Winston. The local brain quack for this nuthouse.”

“Yes?” Kelly held her bag in front of her and ignored his hand. He was a smoker, and his beard was stained. She got a very creepy feeling from this older man. The eyes seemed kind, but there was something about him that said he wanted things Kelly didn’t want to give.

“Please have a seat.” He waved to one of the grey chairs and ignored her impoliteness. “I’d like to talk to you for a minute before we get you through all the Cerberus’ that guard this place.” He smiled again and sat in the chair next to the one he indicated.

Kelly glanced at the guard who never left the door. It wasn’t clear if this woman would help her if something went wrong. The guard just crossed her muscular arms, revealing a hint of a flower tattoo on her upper right bicep. Kelly found that woman intimidating.

“Okay. Talk about what?” Kelly asked as she sat a couple of chairs away from him.

“Exactly,” Winston chuckled folding his hands in his lap. “What are you here to talk to Eve about? What do you hope to gain, and most importantly, why would you do it?”

“I’m a reporter,” Kelly said genuinely confused. It was a bit of a stretch to call herself a reporter. “I received a letter from Janelle Evers. She said she wanted to tell me her story. I’ve interviewed two other death row inmates. I don’t think this is unusual.”

Kelly was proud that she remembered that. Her stomach was in knots. This prison flustered and intimidated her. She also had the feeling that something dire was going on and that she would never know. The very air felt closed - unavailable.

Winston nodded. “I know you’ve corresponded with others, but I believe this is your first visit. You are a contract writer. I’ve read your work, and I read the letter Eve sent you. I’m curious why you would do it.”

“Why I would do it?” Kelly was still confused. “Janelle Evers was convicted of killing ten men while traveling in high society. Police recovered only fingers. The bodies and names of the victims are unknown - with one exception. There’s a story here, and I’m a reporter.”

Winston’s blue eyes bored into her brown ones. “I know, and with the Gedger’s case you did a fine job, but he was a stone cold killer. You humanized him without excusing him. He really was a simple man. Eve isn’t like that. She is madness. Lunacy on a scale hard to conceive. It would be in your best interest to not come in contact with it.”

“Lunacy?”In spite of his creepy I-want-to-touch-you-vibe, Kelly was sure this man wanted her to go away. “There is nothing written about that, and she didn’t try or even allow testing on her mental competency to stand trial. I see little difference between her and Mr. Gedger. They both like and wanted to kill. I and others are interested in why.”

Winston chuckled, but still seemed reluctant. “You’ve done your homework,” he sighed. “It wouldn’t help to ask you to take my word for it?”

“No.” Kelly pulled out her notebook to record what Winston said. “Are you saying Janelle Evers doesn’t deserve her story told? Should I quote you as saying there is nothing to learn from Ms. Evers? I believe, in spite of her crimes, she has the right to communicate.”

Winston’s smile faded. “You give up your rights when you commit felonies, and the prison controls her communications - for public safety. Four of the people she’s communicated with since being in prison have committed suicide. Is madness a story? Should we show everyone what pure evil looks like?”

“What? She’s a person,”Kelly said. “A convicted killer, yes, but still a person. She has a story, everyone does.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Oh yes. When I say lunacy, I don’t mean the foaming at the mouth - straightjacket type. I mean the cold, calculating type that finds a mouse and then convinces the mouse to present itself as dinner. Eve will try to do it to you.”

“That’s awful,” Kelly coughed. “Why are you telling me this? I’m just going to meet her at her request. I’ll probably have to write her to clarify the details. I think there’s a story here. Maybe abuse. Something that led to the horror of the ten dead men.”

“Ten!”Winston chuckled as his humor returned. “Ten is how many trophies they found when they caught her. We still don’t know if that was a monthly thing or annual. I guarantee the number is in the hundreds.”

Kelly shook her head. How could a psychiatrist working in prison believe Internet conspiracies over evidence?

“Those are rumors. I read all the background. No one has proved anything, not even the suicides.” It felt odd taking the killer’s side. “But ten is enough. I just want to know why and how a woman could kill so many. She seemed to have it all. At least that’s what the tabloids reported. I want to know how it started. I understand they’ve never found the bodies or even a crime scene.”

The blue eyes never wavered as he paused for a moment. He seemed to be calculating something. After a moment he shook his head and looked away.

“Why would be good to know. I guess I can’t deter you. I wish I could.” Winston checked his watch and stood up. “I think they’ll be ready for you now.”

“Okay.”Kelly stood and gripped her bag.

Winston walked back to the blue door and introduced the guard. “Officer Oswald here will be with you all the time. She’ll lead you in and bring you back here to me afterward.”

Oswald’s dark hair was tied back in a severe bun. She hit the door with her fist, and it made a hollow gong.

“Follow me, Ms. Prescott,” Oswald said in a menacing voice. “Stick to the rules and no one can hurt you here.”

The blue door opened into a grey room with no furniture and blue tile. The opposite wall had a glass window. Guards were watching them on monitors behind the glass. They never looked out the window, yet Kelly felt watched. Everything in the visitors building was viewable on those monitors.

There were two doors, one on the left and the other on Kelly’s right. The door on the right was red. Winston moved to the door on the left which was blue.

“Be careful, Ms. Prescott. Don’t give her too much; she’ll use it against you.” The door buzzed and he passed through it and was gone.

“What did he mean by that?”Kelly asked.

“This way,” Oswald instructed, leading Kelly to the door on the right. “Eve is dangerous, that’s all.”

A security room was next. There was one of those airport screening devices and along the back wall was a row of lockers. The keys were in the doors of each cubby. All the doors were open, and all the beige lockers were empty.

Four male guards stood in the room waiting for her. Oswald waved her forward to a table to submit her bags for inspection.

“We have to search everything,” one of the guards said as he reached for Kelly’s bag.

Kelly expected it and handed it over. She didn’t have any weapons or drugs. She had checked the Internet about how this worked. They wouldn’t find anything they would consider contraband. It was easy to step confidently up to the scanning machine.

“No jewelry, watches, keys. Go ahead and step into the scanner, please.” Another guard directed her into the security scanner.

It hummed while it checked her, but Kelly watched the two guards remove everything from her satchel and then put it back in. She wanted them to be careful with her computer and phone, but they seemed to know what they were doing.

“You won’t need your coat,” Oswald explained. “I’d leave it here. If you get cold in the room signal me and I’ll have the heat turned up.”

A guard took her coat and bag. He walked over and put them in a locker. He returned and gave her the plastic chit. “You can claim your stuff when you get back here.”

“But my notes?” Kelly gasped. “I have all my questions and references written on that pad. How will I take notes?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Prescott. It’s for your own safety,” Oswald frowned. “Rules prevent bringing in communication devices - anything that might let her reach out without being monitored. People die around her. There is paper and pencils available in the room. We record everything, and you can transcribe from that later.”

“But,” Kelly stuttered. “How will I keep track of what’s going on. It could be a long day.”

Kelly wanted to say that she had one day to get enough information to write a book. A blog on the internet or even a newspaper back page article weren’t going to solve her financial troubles. It had to be a book. That was the whole point.

The guards were undeterred.

“I’m sorry, but it has to be this way. Besides, I don’t think it’ll be a long day. Eve doesn’t talk much.” Oswald shook her head. “We’ll do our best to accommodate you, but safety has to be the priority.”

Near tears, with her hopes and confidence amputated with the loss of her laptop, she tried to remember the questions she had pre-written. Kelly needed this interview and followed Oswald to the next door. This one led outside to a covered walk. They buzzed through another multi-gate fence and then into another building.

Oswald seemed to notice her despair. “Don’t worry Ms. Prescott. We won’t be near general population. We’re going to cross the admin building and go to the external isolation area. It’s the only safe place to keep Eve. There will be at least three guards at all times. She won’t get you.”

Hopelessness and fear. The prison seemed to breed those feelings. Fortunately, Kelly got more nervous each time they passed through another gate or doorway, and fear of failure diminished as she got more anxious about her safety. She could barely breathe when they finally entered a room Oswald had declared as their destination.

“Everything seems empty,” Kelly whispered in the quiet empty building they entered.

“Yes, this was closed up until Eve came to us,” Oswald said. “She caused a lot of problems at the woman’s prison. We can’t put her in with the men. It took some quick work to get this little building back up to speed. She’s the only resident. She was going to come here in the end anyway.” Oswald coughed. “This is the only location for the death penalty. It’s been decades since we’ve had a woman on death row.”

The room was windowless. Light grey over battleship grey walls. Bare concrete grey floors. Four fluorescent lights lit the room and reflected off a mirrored glass wall. Two tables and two chairs sat across from each other about five feet apart. There was a red door on the far wall.

It was an interrogation room like you see on TV. Kelly was certain someone was behind the mirror watching her. It frustrated her, and that feeling spurred her on. She had questions to ask, and invisible watchers would make getting intimate details from the subject that much harder. If the book was to be true crime, she really needed the details.

Oswald slid out the chair.

“You sit here at this table. They’ll bring Eve in and sit her at that table.” Oswald pointed to the far table and a slight discoloration across the floor. “You can get up and walk around, but don’t cross the middle of the room line. Crossing that terminates the interview. Clear?”

“Clear,” Kelly agreed.

“I’ll be right here. If you need water or a bathroom break, just say so.” Oswald indicated the mirror. “They’ll get you what you need. If you get scared or need it to end - again, just say so.”

Kelly nodded she was getting wound up to the point she was holding her breath. She wrote about killers, but never actually met one. It felt like meeting a wild animal or some horror movie villain. Her conviction to stay was fading as she waited for whatever awful thing the red door was hiding.

Oswald waved at the mirror as Kelly sat down. “Here we go.”

Goosebumps rose on on Kelly’s arms. The hair on her neck was standing straight out. She tried not to pant or show any outward sign of fear.

The far door buzzed and Oswald took her place behind Kelly.

The door opened. Kelly held her breath.

Another female guard entered the room. A red-haired woman in an orange jumpsuit, chains, and a head restraint followed the guard. A second female guard closed the door behind them.

The red-haired woman turned and eyed Kelly. She had beautiful green eyes under that well-cared-for dark red hair. She looked like a movie star or maybe a very high-end call girl. Expensive - was the first word that came to Kelly’s mind. The orange jumpsuit did little to hide the overt sexuality in Eve’s movements.

Kelly didn’t know what she was expecting. Anger or foaming psychosis seemed likely, but this woman could be a wealthy socialite or even a mother. Kelly’s goosebumps got goosebumps. There was nothing that said evil about Eve, but this was the woman convicted of horror.

Unlike Winston, Eve’s energy seemed friendly - even warm. There was plainly more to the story. Kelly wasn’t sure the creepiness she felt wasn’t put there by all the build-up and stories fed to her by others.

The woman’s stare though was intense, and Kelly tried to hold her ground but was relieved when the other guards moved so she could watch them instead of those green eyes. That stare made Kelly feel like a mushroom in a cheap brown pantsuit. Eve had an air of superiority, and it made Kelly uncomfortable.

The guards took off the mask covering the woman’s mouth. She held up her chained hands to the guard, but the guard just pointed at the chair. The woman smiled at the guard and then turned, and smiled at Kelly.