I started to rise. Gabriel gripped my arm, and his touch may have been as light as the guard’s seemed, but the look in his eyes was rock hard. I followed his gaze to see the other guard and the video cameras trained around the room. Gabriel’s meaning was clear. We are in a jail. With armed security. Who will not hesitate to act if we seem to be interfering with a guard.

Ransom bent to Chandler’s ear. “Do you hear the hounds, Edgar?”

Chandler gave a jerky nod. “I—I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I’ll make amends. I’m doing that right now.”

“He is,” I cut in. “Let him make amends. Please.”

The guard didn’t appear to be more than thirty, but when he turned his gaze on me, I saw someone much older. “I’d be concerned about your sentimentality if I didn’t know you were only pleading for his life because it benefits you. Edgar here is a genius. But that does not mean we consider him an ally or that we don’t feel the need to bathe in bleach after dealing with him.”

Chandler made a noise that might have been a protest but came out as a terrified bleat.

Ransom continued. “He is a self-absorbed, egotistic maniac, Olivia. That means he lies. Consistently and pathologically. He will not tell you the truth. He will tell you whatever version of it best suits his needs. If you want answers, come to us. Only us. As for Chandler . . .” He leaned down to the man’s ear again. “You hear them coming, don’t you?”

Chandler’s head bobbed.

“Good. Then I need say no more.” He patted Chandler’s shoulder and looked at us. “Visiting time is over.”

—

On the way out, I hit the restroom. I couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but from the look Gabriel gave his watch when I exited, you’d think it had been hours. Waiting was one thing. Waiting without doing anything productive was quite another.

“You could have gone out to the car,” I said.

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

“I’m in a prison. The only danger I face is that they might decide I should stay.”

As we passed through security, I recognized the man ahead of us. It was Ransom. When we reached the parking lot, he continued to the streets beyond.

“I’d like to follow,” I said. “See where he goes.”

CHAPTER SIX

The neighborhoods surrounding the jail were . . . well, pretty much what you’d expect for neighborhoods surrounding a jail. There were good areas in East Garfield Park, but they didn’t extend to the doorstep of the nation’s biggest prison. Still, it wasn’t such a bad neighborhood that we looked out of place. Ransom stuck to the sidewalk, moving at a purposeful stride down one street after another.