Easy Innocence Read Online Free PDF

and chewed in frustration. An equally worried expression lined her face.
    “Cam’s fifteen years younger than me,” Ruth said as they sat on a bench. Her voice was quiet and sad, and Georgia had to lean forward to catch everything. “My parents waited a long time between kids. It must have been like having a grandson, so many years had passed.” She looked at Georgia. “You have kids?”
    “No.” It came out fast. Georgia avoided looking at the woman.
    “Me neither. I guess with Cam—well...” She ran her fingers across her forehead, wiping away nonexistent sweat.
    A burly guard called Ruth’s name, and they both stood up. After searching their bags, he gave them a sticker for their jackets and motioned them to follow him. As he led them outside and around to another building, Ruth added, “I’m not sure you’ll get much. He won’t talk. I can hardly get him to talk to me.”
    The guard took them inside a gloomy building, up a flight of stairs, and down a long hallway. Beneath Georgia’s shoes the floor felt sticky. The smell was part dumpster and part gym locker, overlaid with the stench of urine and stale smoke. She breathed through her mouth.
    She heard a few catcalls and whistles as she passed. Most of Cook County jail was divided into wards consisting of large, well-lit day rooms ringed by cells. Tables and benches were bolted to the floor, and a TV was mounted high on the wall. Prisoners spent most of their time lounging at the tables. A wire cage the size of a parking lot booth occupied the front of the room—it was there that guards kept watch on their prisoners. Georgia caught a glimpse of the bathrooms as she passed. Just a row of toilets. No stalls, no seats, no privacy.
    The guard stopped at a closed door off the central passageway. Georgia peered through a small window in the door. They’d moved Cam Jordan from his cell, and he sat hunched over a table, his legs shackled. She was surprised they’d brought him to an interview room; she’d been prepared for the dingy glass partitions of the visitors’ area. The ceiling of the room was full of exposed pipes covered with chipped beige paint. Everything in Cook County was beige, she thought. The walls, the floor, the uniforms, sometimes even the people.
    The guard opened the door. Cam started to rock back and forth. His brown hair was lank and greasy, and his beige jumpsuit hung on his frame. He might have been handsome, given the proper grooming and clothes, if not for his eyes. They were dark and glittering, fixed on some inner vision.
    Ruth walked over and gently squeezed his shoulder. Cam stared straight ahead. Ruth sat across from him. Georgia sat next to her. Ruth pressed her hands and feet together. She was holding herself together with effort.
    “How are you, Cammy?” She said.
    He stopped rocking and issued a series of raspy, phlegmy coughs.
    “He’s sick!” Ruth said sharply. She turned to the guard. “Please, can you do something for him?”
    “We got nursing personnel 24 hours a day. They’re aware of his—his condition,” the guard replied.
    Ruth shot Georgia a helpless look. The guard was referring to the medical staff in Division VIII, the ward where the mentals were housed. But the docs there were looking for things like schizophrenia, homicidal tendencies, and other psychotic compulsions. They’d probably just laugh at a cough.
    “Are you eating all your food, Cammy?” Ruth tried again.
    No answer.
    She bit her lip. “Isn’t there any way we can get him out of here?”
    “What was his bail?” Georgia asked.
    Ruth looked down at her hands as if she’d just noticed she’d folded them. “The judge set it at three million dollars.”
    Three million meant business. Big business. “Your lawyer could ask him to lower it.”
    “He said he’ll try, but not to expect much.”
    Georgia nodded. No one wanted the man who might have murdered a North Shore teenager walking around.
    Ruth turned to her brother. “Cammy,