Secret of the White Rose by Stefanie Pintoff Read Free Book Online

purple, and yellow—were visible on the lower portion of his arms.
    Drayson didn’t react to our entry. His head lolled to the right and his good eye remained closed.
    “This is unacceptable.” Alistair’s voice was sharp as he turned to Jenkins. Alistair deplored the use of such devices in any prison, for any criminal—even for a child-killer like Drayson. “We don’t better ourselves by mistreating the most depraved among us,” he said.
    Looking at Drayson, I had to admit I agreed. I’d never been of an “eye for an eye” mentality. Drayson was already locked up in this fetid place and certainly on his way to the electric chair. It seemed a severe enough punishment.
    Jenkins only grinned. “Don’t blame us; we’re not the ones who beat him up every day. That’s the work of the crowds. They assemble outside, just lyin’ in wait for him, soon as he’s brought back here from the courtroom.”
    “And your men can’t manage to keep them at a safe distance?” Alistair asked.
    “There’s too many of ’em. And they hate him.”
    “What about the restraint chair?” I asked.
    Jenkins shrugged. “Complained about his cell last night, ’e did. Said he was tired of living in his own excrement and threatened to throw shit at us jailers.”
    Alistair drew himself up, giving Jenkins a severe look. “Well, we cannot talk with him like this. You’ll have to unbind him.”
    Jenkins looked to me.
    “This man may have important information,” I said. “We would like to speak with him freely—without his fetters.” And I bit my lip, hoping I’d made the right judgment.
    Jenkins frowned, then reached to the wall for a key—which he handed to me. “You gotta do it yourself, then. I don’t touch scum like him.”
    With keys in hand, I took a step closer to Drayson. I breathed through my mouth, trying to avoid the worst foul odor of his body. They had not moved him in hours, and he had urinated on himself—probably more than once. He did not attempt to open his eyes.
    Before I touched him, I spoke as though he would understand me. “My name is Detective Ziele and I’m here to ask you some questions today. But first I’m going to undo these restraints, starting with the one across your chest.”
    I unbuckled the leather belt that cut too tightly across his upper torso. He wheezed the moment its pressure was released—then drew the first of a series of jagged breaths, trying to make up for the amount of air he’d not been able to breathe before.
    “Now your feet,” I said, and leaned down to undo the iron chains at the base of the chair.
    For a split second, I was afraid he would kick me—but he merely stretched his legs to their fullest extension.
    “And hands.” I circled behind his chair, leaned down, and undid the chain and lock binding his arms.
    Just as I was about to stand up and circle round him again, I felt his wiry hand clench my right arm—gripping so hard that I winced in pain. I was surprised he had such power in him after having been chained for so long—but then again, my right arm was an easy target. It hung limp, almost useless, and in chronic pain—especially in the damp or the cold. That had been the case ever since the day of the General Slocum steamship disaster when I had worked to rescue as many victims as possible and been rewarded with an injury that was a permanent reminder of the day. As if I needed any reminder at all.
    I wrenched my head toward the door. Jenkins appeared to have deserted us entirely, leaving us to the results of our folly.
    “Let go of me.” My voice boomed loud and menacing as I delivered a sharp punch with my left fist to his head.
    Drayson winced in pain, but his grip on my right arm grew even tighter. I jabbed him again, this time with my left elbow.
    “Who’re you to tell me what to do?” Drayson hissed.
    “I’m someone who has the authority to release you from this awful contraption. But you’ll find yourself right back in it if you don’t