“I’ll miss you, too. In fact, I was hoping I could come over this morning and say good-bye to you and the baby. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“No, no, of course not. I’m stuck home until my mom shows up anyway, because my baby-sitter is taking a personal day. It’s awful timing, I’m just frantic at work with the Benson case and everything.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Yes. How’s that going?” Sophie asked stiffly.

“It’s been pretty rough, but I won’t burden you with the gruesome details. I brought it on myself, after all. So when should I expect you?”

“Is it okay if I come over now? I put all my furniture in storage yesterday. I’m just sitting in a Starbucks with nowhere to go.”

“Of course. Gosh, why didn’t you call me? You could’ve slept on my couch last night.”

“It’s okay. When is your mom coming?”

“After lunch.”

“Listen, if you want me to baby-sit Maya until then so you can go to work, it’s no problem. My flight doesn’t leave until this evening.”

39

THE ATTENDANT’S BOOTH IN THE G-CAR PARKING lot was locked up tight. Melanie cupped her hands around her eyes, peering in the window, as if someone might be hiding in its cramped, dark interior. The sign posted on the door said the lot opened at nine, and it was only eight-fifteen. She stood there sweating in a tailored shirtdress, trying to think of an alternative to waiting for forty-five minutes. Waiting was not an option at this point in the game.

A faded gray four-door sedan turned into the lot and pulled up beside the booth. With the glare on the windows, she couldn’t see who was driving. Then the door opened, and Joe Williams, her colleague from the office, stepped out.

“Joe.” She was genuinely glad to see him.

“Why here so early? You have a court date on Long Island or something?” he asked, squinting through his thick glasses against the beating sun.

“Not exactly.”

He looked at her closely. “Everything okay? You don’t look so good.”

“No, actually. All hell is breaking loose. Another witness killed last night. Benson’s daughter. We can’t seem to catch Slice, and I don’t know which way to turn. I need to get to Otisville right away to interview a prisoner. But I can’t get a car for another forty-five minutes. Unless you’re returning that one,” she said hopefully.

“I am, but old Stella here is not in great shape. She’s been making a funny grinding noise.”

“Hey, I don’t care. Beggars can’t be choosers. Just give me the key.” She held out her hand.

“Are you sure? I don’t know much about cars, but she doesn’t sound good.”

“Joe, it’s an emergency.”

“Okay.” He handed her the key. “If you like, I’ll fill out the paperwork for you once the attendant gets in.”

“That would be great. You’re a pal.”

“Hey, anything I can do. Watching you suffer through this case, I actually feel guilty you caught it instead of me.”

“Oh, come on, we both know I deserve whatever I get. Teach me to try to further my career,” she said. She opened the car door and slid behind the wheel, throwing her bag onto the passenger seat.

“Oh, speaking of careers, I have some news,” Joe said, then waved his hand. “But never mind. You’re in a rush.”

“No. What is it?”

“I’m considering an offer from Fogel, Bingham and McGuire. I may be leaving the office.”

Her face fell. Her friends were deserting her. Not like she had many to spare either. Steve had been right about that.

“Oh, Joe! No, you can’t. How will I get along without you?”

“It’s nice of you to say that. I’ll miss you, too. But it’s not like we ever see each other, you know.”

“But we will, once things slow down.”

“As if that’ll ever happen. The thing is, Melanie, I need work that challenges me intellectually. No matter what I say, Witchie-Poo keeps assigning me buy-busts.”

“When I get a minute, Joe, I’m talking you out of this.”

He smiled. “Aw, well, thanks for caring.” He stepped back as she pulled the door shut. “Good luck!” he shouted, but she’d turned on the air-conditioning and didn’t hear him.

HER LEG WAS CRAMPING FROM THE TENSION OF pressing the pedal to the floor.

“Godamnit, Stella!” she shouted, pounding the steering wheel. Damn thing kept losing power. She had to get to Delvis before the engine died. She had to hear the answer. It wasn’t just about catching Slice anymore. If people around her were dirty, she needed to hear the rest. Because the pattern had become too obvious to ignore. The missing evidence. The doors left unguarded. Rosario. Jasmine. Now Amanda. Someone on the inside was working with that animal, tipping him off. She needed to find out who. She had to stop the killings. And, for her own reasons, she needed to learn the truth about Dan O’Reilly.

As she passed through the barbed-wire gates of the prison, she breathed normally again. She made it this far. It wouldn’t be long now until she knew. Melanie turned off the engine, wincing at the terrible grinding sound. Then she grabbed her bag and ran for the entrance, clip-clopping in her high heels.

Leona Burkett, the bleached blonde with the wide behind whom Melanie remembered from the other day, met her by the X-ray machine. Melanie flashed her credentials, shivering in the frigid air-conditioning, thinking about what she would ask Delvis. It was amazing how work calmed her, focused her mind. She felt the ground back under her feet.

“You just show up, without an appointment?” Leona snapped.

“I apologize,” Melanie said. “This investigation is moving so fast. The need to speak to Diaz again came up unexpectedly.”

“Have a seat while I check the computer. I have no idea whether it can be arranged for today.”

“Please, whatever you can do. It’s urgent.”

Leona jerked her head toward a small waiting area to the left of the entrance, then walked away.

Melanie was beginning to get agitated, looking at her watch, when Leona returned about fifteen minutes later.

“Looks like you wasted a trip,” Leona said. “This is why I tell you people to call first.”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“Prisoner was just transferred to Leavenworth. Went out on the five A.M. airlift.”

“Leavenworth? Kansas?”

“Yes, ma’am. That scumbag’s attitude finally caught up with him. He pissed somebody off to get sent there. Leavenworth knows how to deal with the hardened cases. I doubt we’ll ever see Diaz again, but if we do, let’s just say he’ll be more cooperative.” She snickered.

“No! That can’t be right. I just spoke to him yesterday. He never said anything about getting transferred.”

“He didn’t know. They wake him up, tell him to grab his box of belongings, and get his ass on the plane.”

Something occurred to her. “Exactly when was the transfer arranged?”

Leona flipped through several sheets of paper attached to the clipboard she carried.

“Let’s see,” she said, removing one. “Here’s the redesignation paperwork. ‘Diaz, Delvis, number A6452-053, designation transfer, airlift, LV.’ LV is Leavenworth. This was entered into the computer last night at 1807 hours, so just after six o’clock.”

Delvis had called Melanie in the late afternoon, some time between four and five. If she had any doubt about whether the transfer was a coincidence, the timing re- solved it. Delvis was transferred for one reason and one reason only-to interfere with her speaking to him again.

“Who ordered him transferred?” Melanie asked.

Leona pointed to a column on the sheet of paper. “See here? It just says D for discretionary. That means it was at the discretion of the Bureau of Prisons rather than by a writ. So it was somebody in the BOP ordered it.”

“Can I find out who? Ask them why they did it?”