“Fine,” she answered evenly.
“Report’s on the desk. Sign the handoff.” Luke took the folder and skimmed it. “Assault in segregation?
Seriously?” “Seriously. Self-defense.”
He nodded and did not ask for details. Luke signed. “You okay?”
“I’m okay.” He glanced at her face. “Something under your eye…”
“Caught the door frame. Happens.” He shrugged. “All right. Go get some rest.”
Olivia stepped into the hall. Morning lineup would start in half an hour. She went to the women’s locker room and changed into clean boots.
She checked to make sure there was not a wrinkle in her uniform. In the mirror, everything looked right. At lineup she stood in the front row of officers.
Major Collins walked down the line and nodded to her. “Carter, my office after lineup.” She answered, “Yes, sir.”
The inmates formed up in silence. Greek stood in the third row, hands behind his back. As the line passed, he lifted his eyes.
The look was calm, almost friendly. Olivia looked straight at him. One second. No more.
Then she looked away. After lineup she went into the major’s office. Collins sat behind the desk, smoking.
“Sit.” She sat. He nodded toward the report in front of him.
“I read it. What really happened?” “What’s written there. Three of them attacked, tried to take my pistol. I fired warning shots.
Pushed them back into the cell.” The major let out smoke. “Warning shots?”
“Warning shots.” “Nobody got hurt.” He was quiet a moment.
“Everything all right?” Olivia looked him in the eye. “Everything’s all right, sir.”
Collins nodded slowly. “If anything else comes up, you come to me. No need to turn this into a circus.”
“Understood.” “Go home. Get some sleep.” She stepped back into the hall.
There she ran into Dan, another younger officer. “Heard there was noise last night,” he said quietly.
“There’s always noise,” she answered. “That’s segregation.” Dan shrugged.
“Fair enough. Not my business.” The day passed evenly. Cell checks, lunch movement, shop reports.
Olivia said little, only what was necessary. Her voice did not shake. Her hands did not shake. But inside, something was burning.
Something small. Stubborn. At 7:40 that evening she was alone in the duty office. She locked the door and sat at the desk.
She took her father’s photograph from her pocket. The one in uniform. Set it in front of her.
He looked stern, but kind, the way he always had. Olivia ran a finger over the picture. “You wouldn’t forgive them, Dad,” she whispered…
