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She had to think of the baby. She had read of women having babies in prison, but the stories had been so remote from her own life that it was as though she were reading about people from another planet. Now it was happening to her. You'll have to do whatever you think best with your baby, Charles had said. She wanted to have her baby. And yet,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], she thought,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], they won't let me keep it. They'll take it away from me because I'm going to be in prison for the next fifteen years. It's better that it never knows about its mother.
She wept.
At 5:00 in the morning a male guard,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], accompanied by a matron, entered Tracy's cell. "Tracy Whitney?"
"Yes." She was surprised at how odd her voice sounded.
"By order of the Criminal Court of the State of Louisiana,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Orleans Parish, you are forthwith being transferred to the Southern Louisiana Penitentiary for Women. Let's move it,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], babe."
She was walked down a long corridor,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], past cells filled with inmates. There was a series of catcalls.
"Have a good trip, honey...."
"You tell me where you got that paintin' hidden, Tracy,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], baby,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and I'll split the money with you..."
"If you're headin' for the big house,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], ask for Ernestine Littlechap. She'll take real good care of you...."
Tracy passed the telephone where she had made her call to Charles. Good-bye, Charles.