“Another day working in a fortress,” Henry replied. This was probably a significant factor as to why Henry was young and single. Either no one dated him because he worked at a super max prison or he worked at a super max prison because no one would date him. Vallejo hadn’t collected quite enough information to decide just yet. He just knew that Henry had no one to go home to.

A second guard joined them as Henry led Vallejo through the labyrinth of halls. Thankfully, the path avoided much of the general population. Vallejo had no desire to look upon the other occupants. They were savage, feral creatures with no self-restraint. They got caught because they were sloppy.

Vallejo was caught only because he wanted to be. Evading the FBI was one kind of thrill, but to conduct his business while the FBI knew he was behind bars in his own private suite? That was an entirely new and exhilarating experience.

The guards led him finally to the infirmary. Even a man in solitary confinement could not be wholly alone.

“Hello, Claudia,” Vallejo said pleasantly. He took a seat, his chains clattering against each other.

The guards remained close, but Claudia’s demeanor was not frightened or guarded. She was not terrified by the prospect of seeing him.

She was such a pretty thing for her age. Vallejo always wondered what she had done to be forced to work in the prison system. Was she too rough with the average patient? Had she been chased out of every reasonable hospital in the state?

Her thick, dark hair was pulled into a severe bun. Her scrubs were plain and shapeless. Still, she was the only woman Vallejo spoke to regularly, until of course, Agent Hunter came knocking again.

Inevitably she would, but it was too soon for that just yet.

“You look well,” Claudia said evenly.

“You would be the one to tell me so,” Vallejo replied. “We’ll see if the test results agree.”

She went about her business in an admirably clinical, efficient manner. Theirs was a routine. That was exactly what Vallejo set out to accomplish. This was all a comfortable, regular experience. This was Vallejo lulling the Boone staff into a false sense of ease. He had to thank the more chaotic offenders for making it possible. They made him seem normal by comparison. Harmless. Trustworthy.

Vallejo remained still and seated while Claudia wrapped rubber tubing around his arm. Then came the needle, large and looming. Claudia pressed his skin, searching for his elusive veins. The nurse was not one of those incompetent types that needed three attempts to find it.

She plunged the needle in, the point pinching Vallejo’s arm for a brief moment. He watched intently as blood filled it, pulled from his body to be looked at under a microscope somewhere.