CHAPTER 8

Isabella sat on the cold, metallic bed in her cell, with a small, tattered notebook in her lap. It was what she had now to try to make sense of her nightmare-a simple tool, yet in her hands, it was the beginning of far much more. She had been writing in it for days, jotting down each and every detail she remembered about the trial. With every word, another memory came to the fore, each sharper, more critical than she first had thought.

Her hand danced across the paper, jotting down names, dates, moments that had passed unconsidered during her hearing: witnesses that seemed nervous, the security footage that never quite fit with the timeline-and Helen, that key witness, something off about her testimony that Isabella couldn't quite place yet.

With a deep sigh, she closed the notebook and stared blankly at the grey concrete walls of her cell. Her mind was abuzz-the tiniest hint of hope making its slow way back into her heart. Maybe she could find a way to expose the truth. Maybe this was how she would finally get out.

The sound of keys jingling down the corridor broke into her reverie. Hastily she shoved the notebook under her thin mattress as a welcome figure hove into view at the bars.

"Mary," Isabella said aloud with a quiet, relieved voice as she hastened to the front of her cell when Mary stepped closer. "I wasn't sure you'd be able to come again so soon."

"Neither was I sure," Mary replied with a small smile, though a note of tension betrayed her eyes. She looked around to make sure they were well and truly alone before continuing. "How are you holding up?"

"I have been thinking," Isabella started, her voice shaking a little because so much weighed upon her mind. "I've been trying to put it all together in writing. So many things just don't add up, and so much has not been talked about on record. I even had a conversation with a new inmate-a woman who's been talking about corruption in the system. She tells me there's more to my case than just David's involvement."

Mary's eyes slightly widened. "You talked to her? What'd she say?

She said something about an ex-inmate, some guy who got out after exposing some of the corruption here. I have no idea if it's true, but it does kinda make sense. If there is some sort of network working to keep me locked up, that would explain why everything feels so. wrong.

Mary nodded slowly, wide-eyed with the processing of information. "It's possible, but you really have to watch out, Isabella. It might get dangerous when somebody finds out that you are digging into this stuff."

"I know," Isabella replied in a low tone, "but I just can't sit around and do nothing. I feel like I'm so close to catching onto something.

Mary's face relented, perked by Isabella's determination, yet furrowed with concern. "I think you're onto something here. But we have to tread very carefully. If this ex-inmate actually exists, then perhaps we can find her. She might be able to help you, but we need to make sure we're not raising any flags for an investigation.

I have some contacts on the outside," Mary said, in a hushed tone. "I'll see what I can dig up. But you gotta promise me one thing-you ain't sayin' nothin' to nobody else in here about this. If it gets out, we're both cooked.".

"I promise," said Isabella, yet her heart raced at the risk of what they were undertaking. She glanced around Mary's shoulder to make certain no one was listening. "We will also have to be careful about the way we communicate, too."

No sooner had the words left her mouth than the sound of steps echoed down the hall. Isabella's stomach twisted as a guard approached, heavy boots smacking against the stone floor like a warning. Then he stopped in front of Isabella's cell, darting his eyes suspiciously between her and Mary.

"What are you two whispering about?" he asked in a thick voice laced with authority.

Mary immediately stood up straight; her face grew impassive in a second. "Nothing, catching up. We haven't seen each other in some time."

The guard raised an eyebrow, he did not believe her a second. He moved closer and looked sideways at Isabella. "You better watch what you say in here. We don't take kindly to troublemakers.

Isabella swallowed as the silence stretched. She willed her face not to show anything. "We're not causing any trouble."

The guard didn't say a thing, only stood for a moment, his gaze darting from one to the other, before snorting loudly and walking away. His footsteps disappeared down the corridor, leaving behind unease.

It wasn't until the guard was out of earshot that Mary slowly exhaled. "That was close."

"We need to be more careful," Isabella whispered, shaking. "If they hear us talking about this, we're done."

"You're right," Mary said, her tone turning more somber in an instant. "From now on, discretion is what we need. If we talk, we use code. I will think of a system to adopt for ourselves. Meanwhile, though, be discreet with whom you would confide in.

Isabella nodded, the weight of their conversation weighing full force. They'd come so far, but suddenly danger felt more real than ever before. She could feel prison walls closing in and ever-watchful eyes of guards, uncertainty as to who else might be working against her.

But deeper than the terror, something was there: a connection-strong, unspoken between her and Mary; something in which they were both involved, and that knowledge, at least, brought a flicker of comfort.

"Thank you," Isabella said softly, full of her deeper appreciation. "For everything."

Mary smiled back, but it was tinged with sadness. "We'll get through this. I promise."

She turned to leave, got another overly polite response from Isabella, who watched her go as the weight of their plan settled over her. She knew they were both walking a dangerous line, but it was a line she had to walk if she was ever going to find the truth.

Isabella sat back onto her bed, the notebook still hidden under the mattress. The risks were high, but she had no choice now. She was in too deep, and the only way out was to keep pushing forward-no matter the cost.

She took a deep breath, reached under the mattress once more, and pulled the notebook out in front of her, pen poised. The fight was just beginning.