Cheryl studied Becca’s badge for what seemed like an eternity, and then motioned Becca toward the bank of elevators. “Room 1209. Take the elevators to the twelfth floor, make a right, and it’s the last door on the left,” she said. Becca smiled in approval, saying a silent thank-you. She reached the twelfth floor and headed down a long corridor.

At the end of the hall, Becca spotted a police officer sitting outside Nate’s door. This was game time. She strode toward the officer, a young cop, early twenties, tall and lanky, with an unfortunate buzz cut. He stood the second he saw her, an intense kind of enthusiasm, like a puppy, all legs and arms, eager to impress.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked.

The lies were effortless as she repeated the same story she told the receptionist, holding out her badge, her gaze focused and measured. The officer’s brow furrowed. “No one said anything about him having visitors,” he said.

“It’s standard procedure for me to assess him. If you’d like to place a call to my supervisor, I’m happy to provide you with her home number,” Becca said, hoping the thought of disturbing a superior would deter him.

The cop looked uneasy. “I mean if it’s standard protocol, there’s no need to bother anyone,” he said as though trying to convince himself. He stood to follow Becca inside the room.

“Actually, our conversations are privileged.” From her vantage point, she could see Nate was restrained so she wouldn’t need to worry about him getting physical.

Another nod. “Yeah. Good luck getting him to talk. That kid is not saying anything.”

“That’s what I was told. Orders are orders. Gotta at least try.”

“I hear that. Mind if I go grab a coffee? They’ve got me working a double tonight,” he said.

Leaving his post was actually completely against the rules and very much a fireable offense. Becca was relieved she wasn’t the only one breaking the rules.

“Take all the time you need,” she said. He smiled and hurried down the hall. Becca took a deep breath and opened the door. Nate lay awake in bed, gazing up at the ceiling. His hands were held down with soft restraints, his left eye swollen, shades of blue and yellow forming. He was so pale, he appeared almost ghostlike, as though he weren’t quite there.

“Nate,” Becca said softly. His gaze swiveled over to her. He blinked furiously as though not quite believing she was here.

“Get the fuck out,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Nate, I don’t have much time. I need to find Mo, and she said you would know where she was staying.”

Nate shifted in the bed, his mouth turned upward in a sneer. “You want me to help you? Like you helped me?” he spat. Becca’s face flushed. He remembered their meeting.