Novels by Olaitan Runsewe

Marissa POV FCI Phoenix Day Four Catherine arrived at exactly 2 PM.They brought me to a small attorney conference room barely bigger than my cell, but it had a real table and two chairs and a door that closed for privacy.Catherine looked exhausted. Dark circles under her eyes, hair not quite as perfect as usual, tension in her shoulders."You look terrible," I said."You look worse. Solitary is already taking its toll." She set down her briefcase. "How are you holding up?""Four days in isolation. I've walked approximately fifty miles in an eight by ten cell, counted ceiling tiles until I've memorized every pattern, and started talking to myself. So great. I'm doing great.""Marissa ""Is he really going through with it? The funeral?"Catherine's face told me everything. "Tomorrow. 2 PM. Small service, family only."I closed my eyes against the wave of pain. "My children are going to watch my coffin lowered into the ground.""Your children are going to believe their mother is at pe

Von POV Los Angeles Day Four The funeral was in twenty four hours.I stood in my closet, staring at my black suit, and wondered how I'd gotten here.Planning a funeral for my living wife while my children grieved downstairs and somewhere in Arizona, Marissa sat in a concrete cell believing I'd betrayed her.My phone rang. Marcus."Tell me you found something," I said."I found something. You're not going to like it.""I haven't liked anything in the past six months. Tell me anyway.""The Bureau of Prisons administrator who authorized the money transfer to Diana Foster? His name is Deputy Director James Whitmore. Thirty year career in federal corrections, impeccable record, connections throughout DOJ.""And?""And he's been on someone's payroll for at least a decade. Shell companies, offshore accounts, payments disguised as consulting fees. He's been facilitating prison transfers, manipulating inmate records, arranging 'accidents' inside federal facilities for years.""Who's paying hi

Marissa POV FCI Phoenix Day One, Evening Dinner arrived at 5:30 PM.A tray slid through a slot in the door. Plastic plate with mystery meat, vegetables that had been boiled into submission, a bread roll, an apple, and a carton of milk.I ate mechanically, tasting nothing.After dinner, nothing. No activity, no interaction, no distraction.Just me and eight by ten feet of concrete.I tried to read one of the basic books Officer Hayes had left a romance novel someone had donated to the prison library. But the words blurred together. My mind couldn't focus.I did push ups instead. Fifty. Then sit ups. One hundred.Physical exhaustion to combat mental spiraling.It didn't help.By 8 PM, I was climbing the walls. Literally pacing the tiny cell, touching each wall in sequence, counting steps.Seven steps from door to back wall.Four steps from side to side.Twenty two total steps around the perimeter.I walked it fifty times. Then one hundred.By 9 PM, I'd walked the equivalent of several

Von POV Los Angeles, Same Day The funeral home was too quiet.I sat with the director a professional woman named Mrs. Patterson who'd handled everything with efficient sympathy and made decisions about a funeral for a wife who wasn't dead."Closed casket, as you requested," Mrs. Patterson said, showing me options on her tablet. "Given the circumstances, that's often preferred. It allows the family to remember the deceased as they were."The deceased. Marissa, reduced to a category."This one," I said, pointing to a simple but elegant casket. Not the cheapest that would look suspicious but not ostentatious either. Marissa would have hated anything too elaborate."Excellent choice. Now, for the service itself, you mentioned family only?""Yes. My mother, Marissa's mother if she's capable of attending, our children, and a few close friends. Maybe twenty people total. Nothing public.""Of course. Friday at 2 PM, as you requested. We'll have a private viewing room, then a brief graveside

Marissa POV FCI Phoenix, Arizona Day One The transport van pulled into the facility at 2:47 PM.I'd been Maria Sanchez for exactly six hours.Maria Sanchez, age thirty two, arrested at the Mexican border with fifteen kilos of fentanyl. First time offender who'd been coerced by her abusive boyfriend. Cooperating with federal authorities to take down a larger trafficking network. Facing ten years but likely to get reduced to three with good behavior and continued cooperation.They'd given me her entire life story during the medical transport. Made me memorize details where she grew up (Tucson), her mother's name (Rosa), her fake boyfriend's name (Diego Reyes), the trafficking route (Sonora to Phoenix to Los Angeles).I was supposed to be terrified, compliant, grateful for protection while I testified against dangerous criminals.I was supposed to keep my head down and stay invisible.The intake process was different from Victorville. Smaller facility, newer. The guards were professiona

Von POV County Morgue, 9:15 AM The viewing room was cold.Marcus stood beside me, silent support as the medical examiner pulled back the sheet.The woman on the table was approximately Marissa's age, height, build. Dark hair. Similar facial structure.If you squinted. If you didn't look too closely.If you wanted to believe."That's her," I said, voice hollow. "That's my wife."The ME Dr. Reynolds, on Marcus's payroll nodded sympathetically. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Mr. Castellano. Would you like a few minutes alone?""No. I've seen enough."Because standing here, looking at a stranger's corpse and pretending it was Marissa, was obscene. Necessary, but obscene.Marcus guided me out, keeping his hand on my shoulder like he thought I might collapse.Maybe I might."The body will be released to the funeral home this afternoon," Dr. Reynolds said. "Given the circumstances, I recommend a closed casket service. The family can say their goodbyes without the visual trauma.""Fine. What