Deven parked in the designated visitor’s lot and readjusted the wig she wore; a quick twenty-dollar find that looked the Great Value version of something Kennedy spent thousands on. It would have to do. It wasn’t like she was trying to fool Keith, just the security personnel. She exited her car and tried to walk casually—or as casually as one could going into a prison.

The lobby smelled like a soiled locker room and looked just as bleak with its metal floors and walls. A few women who looked like they knew the routine well were a few steps ahead. Deven fell into line behind them. They approached another guard that held out his hand for their IDs once more before ushering them further through the metal detector and then the conveyer belt for their purses and bags. Deven noticed that no one spoke, and she wondered if that was some kind of prison etiquette that everyone was expected to know. The girls in front certainly did, so Deven just tagged along and tried her best to hide her anxiety. Not only was she sneaking around and committing, what she assumed was, a felony by using Kennedy’s ID to get in the prison, but she was about to face her mom’s long-time lover. And her dad’s nemesis. And if that was the case, didn’t that make him a man she loathed as well, even if he hadn’t technically done anything but steal her mother’s heart and was attempting to steal her money?

Finally, after verifying they weren’t sneaking in weapons, or other contraband, they were escorted into a large, cafeteria-style room with metal picnic tables and benches. Deven watched the other visitors pick random tables and sit down to wait. She hesitated. Wasn’t there supposed to be some kind of partition with phones for them to talk on? They were actually about to sit across from criminals? In touching distance? There had to be a rule against that.

“Ma’am, have a seat,” a short female security guard said, her face slack with boredom. “The prisoners will be out in a second.”

Deven nodded and chose an empty table in one of the corners with a prime view of the prison courtyard surrounded by an electric fence. The whole aura looked depressing and Deven wondered how anyone could live in these conditions and keep their sanity.

A buzzer sounded, startling her and she caught one of the far doors open. Prisoners were herded into the room in a single-file line, punctuated by officers on either end. They all wore matching navy jumpsuits with white block numbers embossed on their backs and handcuffs binding their wrists to a chain around their waists. The clanks and shuffling feet almost moved in unison, but other than that, silence. Maybe they weren’t supposed to speak unless the guards gave them permission to.