D.D. blinked. She hadn’t even considered that fact. They were basically searching for an institutionalized lifer. A woman who’d never owned a cell phone, driven a car, let alone experienced the full frenzy of the modern world. Shana might as well be a cavewoman, suddenly freed from a block of ice.

“She have computer experience?” D.D. asked now.

“Shana’s taken several continuing ed classes. Depending on her behavior, she’s sometimes had a radio in her cell. She also reads a lot, meaning she may know a lot, she just hasn’t . . . done a lot.”

“Our best odds are to catch her now,” Phil muttered. “Before the learning curve sets in.”

Superintendent McKinnon escorted them back to her office. “I’m assuming you will want to speak to Dr. Glen.”

“Absolutely.”

She nodded. “Adeline is in the infirmary. The cuts to her face are mainly superficial, but given her inability to feel pain, doctors are worried about her wounds becoming infected. In particular, there’s significant damage to her hands. They’re pumping her full of antibiotics now.”

“Her hands?” D.D. asked.

“They were badly slashed, including a severed tip on her left index finger. Defensive wounds, I would guess, as she tried to block the razor.”

D.D. looked away. Cuts were hard for her to take. She didn’t know why. Gunshots wounds, rope burns, acute poisoning, not so bad. Slicing and dicing, on the other hand, gave her the heebie-jeebies.

“From the beginning?” Phil asked, whipping out his recorder.

He set it on the desk, and the superintendent began.

Adeline had set things in motion, shortly after 7:00 A.M., by requesting a visit with her sister.

“Regarding the Rose Killer?” D.D. interjected.

“Personal business, she said. Something to do with their father.”

D.D. and Phil nodded.

Upon arrival, one of the corrections officers had escorted Adeline to the private visitation room normally used for her and Shana’s meetings. About eight minutes into their conversation, however, there was a disturbance outside.

“What kind of disturbance?”

Superintendent McKinnon sighed heavily. “Firecrackers. Rolled underneath one of the vehicles in the rear of the parking lot. At first, of course, it sounded like gunfire. A guard sounded the alarm, then mobilized the tactical unit.”

“You got cameras on the parking lot?” Phil asked sharply.

“Covering the first few rows. Unfortunately, the car in question was parked too far away. According to my chief officer, the fireworks were planted sometime before; someone had attached a long, slow-burning cord. His initial impression was that it was simple criminal mischief, perhaps related to the vigil last night. Of course, given what happened next . . .”

“What happened next?”

“Officer Maria Lopez turned just in time to see Shana tackle Dr. Glen. Apparently, Shana leapt right over the table and slammed into Adeline, taking her down—”

“Hang on,” D.D. interjected. “Aren’t Shana’s hands normally restrained?”