CHAPTER EIGHT

The prison had all the familiarity of an alien planet.

Between the long, forgettable drive out from Quantico, and cold, austere halls leading labyrinth-like through the building, Ruby felt practically abducted. Many others in the FBI dedicated huge swaths of their time traveling out to prisons, sitting across from killers to interview and understand them.

Ruby couldn’t deny the research was important, but she could never imagine herself volunteering time after time to be a guest in the cell blocks. She couldn’t imagine

“Vallejo seems… excited to see you,” the warden said, “as excited as someone like Vallejo gets.”

Percy Woodward was a thin man, more bureaucratic than tough. A place like Boone Correctional Facility needed a face like Woodward’s: an even-tempered and academic looking man to be the public facing figure in charge of the starkly inhuman box.

It must have comforted judges and politicians to see Woodward. They didn’t want a warden who reflected the brutality committed by the occupants of a supermax prison unit.

His suit was a stiff gray, creating the impression of an odd sort of camouflage as they moved through the bland halls. His sharp cheekbones caught the harsh lighting in much the same way the architecture did, casting deep shadows.

“Wish I could say the same,” Ruby replied dryly.

Excited was definitely not the right word, but her whole body was alive in a certain brand of anticipation. The extended lead up, walking escorted down the cavernous, white-walled halls, didn’t help. It was all build-up to a moment three years in the making.

Ruby hadn’t seen the man since he’d been locked up, but there hadn’t been a single day he didn’t cross her mind. The mark he had left on her was indelible, whether she liked it or not. Every facet of her life since that case had been altered by it. Her ability to trust, her role in the world, the trajectory of her future… it had all been undeniably affected.

Vallejo was the person who had the single greatest impact on her life and that was a fact Ruby could hardly deny. He had taken so much from her, but she was stronger now. As much as he had affected her life, was the prison not proof that Ruby had an equally significant effect on his?

“Here we are,” Woodward said. “Be careful with that one.”

The accompanying guard unlocked the door, holding open the gate to a particular kind of hell.

Vallejo sat at a sturdy table, undoubtedly chained to it, but underneath the table so it gave the illusion of moderate freedom.

He managed to make a jumpsuit look refined. In some ways, he even looked healthier than she’d last seen him. Paler, certainly, but that was to be expected. Vallejo wasn’t getting much sunlight these days.