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Watson—maybe speak to Governor Brown and get Watson moved, although that could blow his cover. He hated it here. He hated the food and the guards that looked down on him and treated him like a criminal. He did not want this all to be for nothing. He had to continue with the mission and get the information for SYUI.
    Jason woke early in the morning. He was doing push-ups on the floor of the cell when Andrew finally woke. Andrew watched him.
    â€œAndrew, you’re not going to really kill him, are you?” Jason puffed.
    â€œWhy, have you gone soft? Do you have any idea what Watson had in store for you when they attacked us in the bathroom?”
    â€œNo, I thought maybe a good kicking.”
    â€œJason, you’re so naïve. Some younger boys get burned in here. An older boy will brand a younger boy with his initials just like cattle. That’s what he had in store for you .”
    Jason went quiet; he was shocked by Andrew’s remark. What had he got himself in for? What sort of place had George sent him to? The sooner this was over, the better. He thought it best to say nothing about Andrew’s threat to Watson and let whatever happened just happen.
    After lunch, Jason was mopping the main bathrooms. He hated mopping the floors, but at least he could switch off and think he was somewhere else—think about Catherine, his father, and being home.
    Andrew had garden duty. Some of the boys had to plant vegetables, mostly potatoes. Watson also worked out there with another four boys. Watson sat down on a sack of potatoes behind the potting shed. From a secret compartment behind a loose brick, he pulled out a metal tobacco tin, took out a cigarette and matches, and sat back smoking. His eyes closed as he dreamed of being in a far-off place—a place away from guards, locked doors, and windows with bars.
    At first, he didn’t felt the pain—just the thud against his chest. Then his eyes opened, and pain like he had never felt before burned across his chest. He focused his eyes.
    Andrew was standing over him and smiling, with blood on his hands. He leaned forward and took the cigarette from Watson’s mouth and placed it between his own smirking lips.
    Watson gazed down at his body. A garden fork was sticking out of his chest. His heart was punctured. He coughed a mouthful of blood onto his lap. He collapsed onto the ground, pushing the fork deeper into his body, which had now gone into spasms. He felt cold, light-headed. The pain finally went away.
    Someone entered the bathroom, leaving a trail of dirty footprints. Jason looked up and saw the black shoe prints across the floor he had just cleaned. It woke him from his daydream.
    â€œHey, I just cleaned that,” he said angrily. Then he stopped himself from saying any more.
    What do I care? This whole place stinks anyway.
    â€œJason, clean it back up and wash this sink down,” Andrew said, stripping his clothes off. He was splattered with blood. He collected clean clothes from the trash can. Once he washed his hands, he picked up the blood-stained clothes and took off with them. Jason cleaned the floor and sink as he was ordered.
    An hour later, everyone was locked in their cells. The police had arrived and started a search. The juvenile center was in lockdown.
    â€œThey’ll find the bloody clothes in Paul Jenkins’s cell. When they interrogate you, just say he came into the bathroom and washed blood off his hands,” Andrew ordered. Jason looked in disbelief.
    â€œIs this why we have a lockdown? You killed Watson?”
    â€œI told you he would be a corpse by tonight.”
    Jason felt cold, and he sat heavily on his bunk. If only he had told Governor Brown to move Watson, the boy would still be alive. A few hours passed before Andrew and Jason were taken to be interviewed in separate rooms.
    â€¢ • •
    â€œJason Steed, I am Detective Spencer. Are you aware why you are