“In the beginning,” Christi mumbled. She still wasn’t looking at them. “But they didn’t all work together very often, and Frankie, you know . . . he had appetites. So sometimes, he’d act on his own. Just appear in your cell. Suck and tuck, he’d call it. He’d whip it out. You’d suck. Then when it was over, he’d tuck it away and return to duty. Like nothing had happened. Like . . . you were nothing.”

“How many inmates did he target?” Phil asked.

“I don’t know. Three or four of us.”

“Did you file a complaint?”

The woman looked up, her expression still bleary after all these years. “How? Who? I mean, these were our guards. Who the hell were we supposed to complain to?”

Phil didn’t say anything. Mostly because there wasn’t an answer to that sort of question.

“What happened?” he asked next.

“Howard wasn’t so bad,” Christi answered. “He even said thank you on occasion, smuggled in some gifts, chocolate. I don’t think he had a girl. He seemed . . . lonely. But Frankie and Rich . . . The more they got, the more they wanted. There were cameras, so they’d take turns covering for each other. One would, like, flip this switch or something. I don’t know. I guess it caused the cameras to blink. Then, while the cameras were resetting, the other would enter your cell. Once inside, the cameras couldn’t see him, so it didn’t matter. He could stay as long as he wanted, do whatever he wanted . . . Then, when he’d had enough, he’d give a signal, and the other guy would hit the switch, and alakazam, the guard was back in the halls, on duty. They thought they were pretty damn clever. Bragged about it all the time.”

“How long did this go on?” Phil asked.

“I dunno. Months. Years. Fucking eternity.”

“And they also assaulted Shana Day?” D.D. spoke up.

Christi looked at her funny. “What would they want with Shana? I mean, she’d hacked the ear off a little boy. Who the hell wants to fuck that?”

D.D. took that to be a no.

“She kept to herself, nasty piece of work. That’s what made it all so strange, what happened next.”

D.D., Phil and Adeline leaned forward.

“It was Frankie’s night off. God help us, we were relaxing. Bastard was gone, we could finally breathe. Then there he was. In street clothes. Blabbering something about he’d figured it out. He wasn’t even working, meaning he could stay all night. Then he looked at each one of us, smirking, while he waited for us to fully understand. Richie had the desk. Meaning all Richie had to do was flick the camera switch once, then Frankie would be safely in place, and yeah, we could serve as his sex slaves. All night long. Lucky us.