Casey was on the move.
He didn't know where Krade was, but he knew where he'd been. San Chago Prison- the worst shithole this side of Alcatraz. It was a maximum security fortress filled with the worst murderers, rapists and terrorists the world had ever seen. This is where he'd left Krade twenty years ago. He'd watched the gates close behind him and known he was where he belonged.
He got out of his car and looked at the skeletal building. Its stark grey stone frame sat like a scar on the barren sunbaked valley that surrounded it. Cliffs in the distance prevented escape attempts, assuming the runner got that far before dehydration made his freedom permanent.
He walked up to the front guard station and took out his badge. Maybe be now being a cop was more a hobby than a job, but it had its privileges.
"Captain Casey Ryback," he said to the sentry. "I'm here for information on one the prisoners."
The sentry looked his badge over and pressed a button. There was a sharp click from the door.
"Go ahead in," the sentry said.
Casey strode in. A placid looking man at the front window looked up at him.
"I need to see the man in charge around here," Casey said calmly.
"Warden? It better be important," the clerk said.
Casey showed him his badge. "Police business, son. You know the kind."
"All right. Hold on a minute," the clerk disappeared into another room. Some time later the door to the prison center opened. A cold-faced man with white hair and a weathered face stepped into the room.
"Captain Ryback?" he asked. Casey nodded, and the man offered his hand. "I'm Head Warden Dufresne. What can I do for you?"
"I need some information on a recently released convict. It seems he may be on his way back," Casey said.
"We wouldn't want that," Warden Dufresne said. "Who's the man?"
"Max Krade," Casey said.
"Krade? Shoot," Warden Dufresne shook his head.
Casey smiled wryly in agreement.
"We have the usual records, but he was a quiet prisoner. Not a model one by any means, but quiet. I don't think we'll have much you don't already know. I suppose he had a cellmate. Sometimes a con is freer with another con."
Casey smiled. "I think that would be very helpful."
Jordan POV
Jordan sat on a ratty bed, arms around her knees. After hours stuck in that cramped trunk, the maniac had swooped her up and carried her into a blocky cement house surrounded by overgrown weeds. He tossed her into a windowless room and locked the door. She'd spent the first hour pounding on it and shouting, but then her voice started to hurt and she figured it was useless anyway.
A quick survey revealed nothing useful in the room. There was a sagging bed with a scratchy brown blanket. Overhead there was a naked light bulb on a chain. It barely lit the room. Opposite the bed there was a mirror hanging on the wall, and the floor was littered with assorted trash.
What's going on? Jordan thought despondently. How can something like this happen? Haven't I dealt with enough lunatics? I don't even know this guy. Where are we? What does he want?
She swiped at her eyes and sniffled.
"Casey," she called softly. "Casey, please come help. I need you, Casey,"
Everything would be fine if Casey was there. He was so strong and solid. When he held her she knew nothing in the world could hurt her. Did he even know she was gone? How would he know where to look?
She stared at the door and waited for it to open. It would be Casey. He would be coming to get her. But what if it wasn't? What if it was the man? Tears spilled over as she thought about it. What would he want? What was he going to do?
Jordan's arms tightened around her legs until she was an impenetrable ball. Then she raised her head. She looked defiantly at the door. She didn't know where Casey was, or how he would find her. But she knew Casey. She knew he was brave and strong. Whoever the man was, he'd better watch his back. Because Casey Rybeck was coming for him. And he was on the warpath.