I’m more than a prophecy!

I’m happy here, thanks

The next week passed in a haze. Police investigations, interviews, keeping the inmates calm… more interviews, reading through files, creating spreadsheets… I haven’t been in my classroom all week and life has gone into standstill at Hartley Well. All lessons cancelled, outside curriculum and visits postponed. We were essentially in a lockdown.

One moment that stuck with me within the last week, was when I was sat in one of the many meetings with people much higher up then me. Being left to my own devices, as most of them didn’t even know my name until Rafael explained it was me who discovered the case. The meeting room was huge, with old expensive oak round table in the middle, sharp contrast to the paint peeling of the walls and drafty windows.

It was Monday, and everyone around me was busy arguing and trying to figure who was behind the incident. I was sat staring into my laptop, feeling a sense of victory. After 2 days of inputting data of all the affected prisoners into a single document, I was done. It only took me a couple of minutes of browsing through it, to recognise the patterns emerging.

“Holly f**k!” I exclaimed, forgetting where I was and that I was surrounded by a lot of important people. The whole room went silent, everyone staring at me. Most people looked offended with my language.

Rafael looked at me with his usual stone cold expression, but his eyes were twinkling with hidden laughter.

“Care to elaborate?” He asked from his position at the top of the table.

“Yes,” I breathed, excited and terrified at the same time.

“I have cracked this. And… and it’s bad. It also explains a lot” I speak really fast, probably not making any sense at all.

“What are you talking about?” The mayor asks angrily. “You are interrupting an important meeting. Either get on with it, or shut up. I don’t have all day.” The way he’s looking at me, I’m half tempted to slap him, and half tempted to just disappear under the table. I can see Rafael is getting angry, and Arthur steps in before he can make a scene.

“You were analysing all of the prisoner data by yourself, is that correct Kristina? Kristina here has amazing analytical skills, Sir.” Arthur chimes in, calming Rafael and helping me to find confidence to speak.

“Yes, I have just finished inputting all the data in. I have compared profiles off all the affected and unaffected inmates and discovered the following patterns or similarities. All of the inmates that we suspect have been drugged against their will, have been recently cleared either for discharge or for the Rehabilitation Program. They have all been seen by the same therapist. And,” I add, raising my voice slightly and stopping the onslaught of questions with my hand, “they have all been in for similar crimes. Majority are for s****l offences, a couple for s****l harassment, some who broke restraining orders. They have ALL been deemed save by Dr Thompson, most of their reports mentioning I quote ‘exceptional personal progress and desire to grow as a person, showing deep regret for their actions’”.

“I have been given permission to access the inmates, or as we should really call them, victims, medical and behaviour files. There is a direct link between a therapy clearance and changes in behaviour, followed by increased number of strange health complaints. Seeing this, I have requested a list of visitors from this period as well as a list of guards on shift prior to these episodes. I will let you know if and when I get these, should there be anything to report.”

The silence in the room is absolute. I now understand what people mean, when they say the silence was deafening. Where seconds ago everyone looked ready to burst with questions, now they were frozen staring at me in horror.

Arthur was the first person to recover. “Well, you certainly weren’t kidding when you said you are good with data, kid. If you ever decide to change profession, we could use a brain like yours at the force.” He added the last bit with a sneer, looking sideways at Rafael and waiting for a reaction.

“”I’m happy here, thanks. But I’ll keep your offer in mind should things change.”

Arthur grins at me, then turns to the room.

“This changes everything. I think even Rick has to agree now, that this is an inside job with outside connections.”

Rick nods curtly, not saying anything. He’s as pale as a sheet, rubbing his temples tiredly.

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As the week went by, dr Thompson was suspended and after long questioning proudly admitted to sharing the list of inmates with her accomplices. She has refused to share names, but it didn’t matter, the investigation was moving at a top speed since my discovery.

Angela has indeed been released from prison 4 weeks ago, 3 days before the attacks started. She has missed her last parole meeting and the police were now searching for her as a prime suspect. With her motive and history, it wasn’t really a surprise for anyone. While she was never involved with drugs, she was believed to have the means and the connections to make things happen.

After working with Rick, going through endless files and CCTV, we have compiled a list of 40 guards who were on most shifts when the changes in behaviour have been reported. While every single guard and prison officer has been questioned, there were 25 from our list that Arthur suspected to be involved. So far, he has collected evidence against 13, and additional 5 confessed.

The news hasn’t leaked outside of Hartley Well yet, but it was really just a matter of time. Inmates families were getting impatient with the temporary block on visiting times. The affected inmates themselves were coping, in my opinion, exceptionally well. They were all cooped up in an unused wing, with army guards watching to make sure nothing else happened. While they occasionally complained and argued, they usually settled fairly quickly and didn’t cause any damage.

I was put in charge of keeping them up to date and was terrified to tell them we suspect the guards to be responsible for their drugging. To my surprise, however, they have been amazing. With Martin in lead, they looked relieved with the news of there being arrests and suspects. Apparently they didn’t expect a proper investigation after all, especially not within the staff team, who they believed “would cover for each other and just blame it on one of us. We’re replaceable.”

Today was Friday, and it looked like we were all going to get at least tomorrow off, for the first time in a week. I’ve done a good 100 hours at work in the last 7 days, and Rafael usually stayed in longer then me, often getting calls in the middle of the night.

While we have spent a lot of time in the same room, we have had a very little time to think and talk about anything other than Hartley Well. We have been staying over at each other places, and sneaking a quickie here and there, but the strain of everything going on was visibly mounting on Rafael’s shoulders and he was becoming withdrawn the last couple of days. He might also have been sulking, as I’ve been falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, too tired for anything romantic to happen.

Tonight was also the first time in a week we finished work at 5pm, a welcome change after getting home after 10pm most days. I have decided to make lasagne for Rafael and me, as neither of us have had a proper homemade meal since all of this started. Once it was in the oven I’ve left Rafael in the living room, and started running myself a bath, when the doorbell rang.