CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Broadville Port, Maryland
Later that morning, the correctional officer escorted Dee to Jonathan’s secluded cell and she almost ripped the bars out the floor at what she saw.
Instead of Jonathan suffering or crying like she’d hoped, he was laying on the steel bed, which had been covered in a red velvet cloth, reading The Sea Wolf as if he were vacationing on the Cayman Islands.
He’d covered the drab depression of the cell with printouts of Picasso paintings and scraps of fine silk and lace.
“What is this?” Dee stared at the guard with her mouth open. “They allow prisoners to redecorate the jail cells now?”
The nonchalant guard shrugged, sticking square gum in his mouth.
“This is disgusting. This man is a prisoner and he’s in here calling shots?”
“I don’t run the j
