Around one–thirty the older of the black women was escorted to the visitors’ room. Two more people arrived—a Hispanic couple, middle–aged, nervous, wanting to know what to expect when they saw their daughter. The white woman continued to stare stolidly ahead, but the second black woman began explaining the procedure, where you sat, what you could talk about. It was hard for the pair to follow her underneath the noise of the television. As she repeated something for the third time, the corrections officer returned to escort me to the warden’s office.

CAPTAIN FREDERICK RUZICH, WARDEN, the plaque on the door announced. The CO saluted smartly; the captain dismissed her and invited me to be seated. Despite his military title he was wearing civilian clothes, a pearl tropical worsted with a navy tie. He was a big man; even sitting he seemed to loom over me. With his gray hair and eyes he looked almost colorless, certainly terrifying.

“I understand you want to see one of our prisoners, Miss … uh …”

“Warshawski. Yes. Veronica Fassler. She’s serving a five–year sentence for possession and—”

“So you’re familiar with her case. I wondered if you were coming out here on a fishing expedition.” He smiled, but with so much condescension that it became an insult.

“No one comes to a prison hunting for clients, Captain. The legal–aid money doesn’t even cover gas and tolls from Chicago. Do you take a personal interest in every lawyer–client consultation here at Coolis?”

“The important ones I do. Have you talked to Veronica’s regular lawyer about her case? I would have expected him to be here with you or at least to call ahead to let us know a different arrangement had been made.”

“Ms. Fassler asked to see me when she called my office. And her representation arrangements are with me, not between the prison and other counsel. Or between me and the prison.”

He leaned his massive torso back in the chair, his hands clasped behind his head, the smile lurking at the corner of his mouth. “Be that as it may, we had orders to transfer her. She’s in another part of the prison system. So you made your trip out here for nothing, Detective.”

I stared steadily at his smirk. “It’s true I’m a detective, Captain. But I’m also a lawyer, in good standing with the Illinois bar. Where was Ms. Fassler sent?”

“I wish I could tell you that, but I can’t because I don’t know. Carnifice Security sent someone in with a van and moved her and the infant yesterday morning, and that’s all I can tell you.” His gray eyes were transparent, like a guppy’s, which made it hard to look at them.

“Why was she moved? She didn’t know anything about it when she phoned me.”