Dead Man's Land by Jack Patterson (digital e reader .txt) 📕

coffee cups. A government news channel crackled over a radio in the back of the room.

The guard guided Prado toward a small room off to the side, this time with a gentler hand. Before he opened the door, another officer unshackled Prado.

“No girl should see her father like this,” he said, nodding at Prado.

Prado forced a slight smile and rubbed his wrists. “Thank you.”

He entered the room and looked down to see Isabel running straight toward him. “Papi!” she cried. She held her arms up.

Prado swooped her up and flung her into the air. “Oh, I missed you so much, my little princess.”

“You have one hour,” the guard at the door said before pulling it shut and locking it.

Arms folded, Liliana sat slumped in a chair in the corner of the room. She didn’t even move when Prado entered the room.

Once he put down Isabel, he turned toward Liliana. “Hey, baby. It’s good to see you.”

She looked away and sighed.

“Come on. Don’t be upset.”

She snapped her head in his direction and glared at him. “I’m not upset—I’m angry. You abandoned your daughter so you could play baseball. You’re not fooling anyone. Everyone knows you came back because you couldn’t make it there. You weren’t good enough.” She stood up and started wagging her finger. “And now you just think you can waltz back into Isabel’s life—our lives—and act like nothing happened.” She paused and took a deep breath. “You’re crazier than I thought.”

“That’s not exactly how it happened.”

“Tell it to someone who cares.”

Isabel started to cry softly. Prado knelt down to comfort her.

“It’s okay, my little princess. Everything is going to be okay.”

He gave her a hug and kissed her on the forehead.

Before he could say another word, the door swung open.

“Your time is up,” a guard said.

“You said we had one hour,” Prado said. “That wasn’t any more than five minutes.”

“It was five minutes too long,” Liliana said, as she stooped down to pick up Isabel before storming toward the door.

“Wait,” Prado said. “Can’t I at least give her a kiss before you go?”

Liliana never looked back, while Isabel’s cry escalated into a full-fledged wailing episode.

Prado made a quick break toward the door only to be cut off.

“Don’t even think about it,” the guard said, putting his hand into Prado’s chest. “You’re going with us.”

The two guards escorted Prado through the main office area and back toward his cell. However, before they reached the access point for the main prison population, they took a sharp right and went down a corridor with small rooms on each side. Each one contained a small desk and several chairs.

“Where are we going?” Prado asked.

“You’ll see,” the guard said. “Just keep walking.”

After traveling halfway down the hall, they stopped and entered one of the rooms. The two guards shoved Prado into a seat at a table; across from him sat several Cuban government officials, including Judge Cabrera.

“Sorry about our delay earlier,” Cabrera said. “We must always remain flexible.”

“I thought I was supposed to get an hour with my daughter,” Prado said.

“Like all things in Cuba, be grateful for what you get,” Cabrera snapped. “This is not the vile smorgasbord of a country like the United States.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The judge slammed his fist on the table. “What you meant was, ‘Thank you, Judge Cabrera, for allowing me to see my daughter today’—wasn’t it?”

Prado nodded. “I do appreciate it.”

“Good. Now, to the business at hand.” The judge shuffled through several pieces of paper until he stopped on one and appeared to be reading. “According to this report, you saw two men arguing on another dock before one of the men shot the other. Is that true?”

“How many times do I have to recant this story?”

“As many as it takes. Now, again, was that true?”

Prado nodded. “And that’s all I saw.”

“We know what you saw because the video camera captured you watching the two men fight. But the reason you’re here—the reason we retrieved you—is because we need to know who you saw fighting with that man.”

Prado sighed and shook his head. “I’ve already told everyone who’s asked me that. It was dark. Some of the lights on the dock were out.”

“So you’ve said.”

Prado rested his elbows on the table and put his hands on his head. “What do you want me to say? Is there someone that you’re perhaps trying to pin this murder on? Why is this so important?”

The judge leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “It’s important because there must be justice for these kind of actions. We can’t become a lawless society. There are rules—and consequences for breaking those rules. Someone broke the rules. Someone must be punished.”

“Who died that night? I can’t imagine all this fuss over some trivial matter. Whoever died had to be someone important.”

“I can’t discuss matters of this case,” the judge said. “But perhaps it will all come out if you’ll just tell me who you saw that night.”

“I think I’ve made myself clear—I saw no one that I recognized.”

“Very well, then,” the judge said as he stood up. “We’ll be in touch.”

The guards led Prado back to his cell and pushed him hard into it. Prado tripped and skidded across the floor.

“Traitor,” one of the guards said as he spit at Prado.

Prado looked up at the men and braced for a beating.

One of the guards lunged toward him, but the other guard held him back. “He’s not worth it.” They both stepped back and locked the door behind them. “Besides, the judge told me we’re transferring him to the Combinado del Este prison in a couple of days. He will get everything he deserves there.”

“And a little extra, too,” the other guard said with a grin.

Prado stood up and grabbed the cell door. “Combinado del Este?” he said.

The guards never turned back to look at him, dismissing him with the wave of their hands.

Prado buried his head in his hands. His life as he knew it was about