She looked confused. “I didn’t do anything to Tony. I could never . . . I loved him. Took care of those other two buttfucks to protect him. I didn’t . . . I could never . . . hurt him. I . . . I’ll hurt everybody . . . else here . . . you . . . all of . . . but not him. I’m . . . not goin’ to . . . talk to . . . any . . . I’ve got that nosy bitch from Classification . . . you’re so . . . in . . . I’ll kill her. I’ll slice her open.”

She spun around on her stool to the bed behind her, pulling off the sheet to reveal Anna, bound and gagged and crying.

When Anna saw me a quick flash of relief danced in her eyes. But it didn’t last long. Her eyes filled with terror again when Sandy pulled the scalpel from her pocket and placed it at Anna’s throat.

“So . . . pretty . . . So . . .”

“Sandy, no, please. Don’t—”

She pressed the knife hard against Anna’s throat.

Sandy had obviously administered some sort of paralytic or something because Anna didn’t move or scream as blood began pouring out of the small opening on the right side of her neck.

“Miss Sandy, you okay?” Allen Jones asked as he stepped into the infirmary.

Walking over toward her, he glanced at Anna with neither expression nor comment.

I had to come up with something quick, but what? How long did Anna have?

I thought about Sandy saying she hadn’t killed Anthony, that she loved him and would never—

“You didn’t kill Anthony, did you?” I said.

She looked back at me. “I told you . . . I wasn’t even . . . here . . . when it . . . happened. Oh God, I want him back.”

The blood was flowing more freely from Anna’s neck now.

“In a way you did kill him,” I said.

“What . . .”

“Your love for him got him killed. He was killed by someone who loves you.”

“What . . . Who?”

“Him,” I said, gesturing toward Jones.

I could see the look of realization as the truth of what I’d said dawned on her.

“He was watching that night,” I said. “He can be seen just behind Skipper, watching what they did to you on the video. He was going to kill them all but you beat him to Johnson and Jacobson’s been in Confinement, but Thomas . . . When his wife got him released from Confinement . . . he . . . did to him what he had done to you—only with a scalpel.”

She looked over at Jones with utter contempt.

“You . . . stupid . . . fuckin’ . . . old useless nigger. What the fuck? What the fuck did you do? What did you think? That . . . you . . . had a shot. I loved him, not you. Never you. He was my everything. You are nothin’ to me. A worthless . . . old . . . You mop the floors for fuck sake. You . . .”

She started toward him with the scalpel.

When she reached him, she brought up the weapon, but slapped him first hard across the face with her open hand.

He didn’t flinch.