“Don’t say that,” Flo said. “Why’re you saying that?”

“Why can’t you admit the truth for once? You always loved Pike more than me. You always blamed me for Pike. And it’s just like your husband said—this is Pike all over again, only this time with more dead people!”

“Please, Marie, don’t say that!” her mother pleaded. “Maybe when this is over we can get you the help you need—”

Marie banged the headset against the glass, dropped it to the counter, flashed both middle fingers at her parents and left.

Nicola Hope Gorman had been transferred to the Manitoba Youth Centre, the largest juvenile correctional facility in the province, a sprawling, low-standing, red brick building in Winnipeg’s west side.

Nikki rarely had contact with other female prisoners, who all were under eighteen. She was isolated because of her age and alleged crimes. But secrets seldom survived in prison. The others knew who she was. So when Nikki’s caseworker, a broad-shouldered woman named Irene, who’d lost the ability to smile, removed her from her cell and escorted her in handcuffs past other cells toward the visiting area, the other girls mocked her.

“Yo, killer queen!”

“Hey, four-count girl!”

“Super freak!”

Nikki and Irene waited for the unit security door to be buzzed open, then entered the visiting room. Because prisoners held in MYC were longer term, policy did not separate families by glass during visits. But Nikki’s case was different. She was taken to an open area and seated at a metal picnic table bolted to the floor. No one else was in the room.

“No contact,” Irene said. “I’ll be near. This will be supervised.”

“Because I’m special.”

“Yeah, so special.”

Across the room there was a loud electronic buzz, a metallic clank, a door opened and Nancy Gorman entered. Nikki’s blank face twisted into a scowl when Telforde Rahynes followed behind. In a reflexive response, Nikki stood to leave but felt a hand on her shoulder and glanced at Irene, who gave a subtle shake of her head. Nikki sat back down.

Nancy moved across the room, her arms rising to embrace her daughter until she saw the flash of Irene’s big palm and her icy headshake, underscoring the no-contact policy. Nancy and Telforde sat with their palms flat on the table as instructed earlier.

Nikki’s first words to her mother were: “Why did you bring him?”

Nancy was taken aback. “I live with him. He drove.”

“This whole thing is your fault,” Nikki said.

“What?” Nancy said. “I don’t understand.”

“Hello, Nikki,” Telforde said, his eyes taking a quick walk over her jumpsuit. “They only gave us twenty-five minutes, so show your mother some respect.”

Nikki shot Telforde a middle finger. “You’re not paying my rent anymore.”

Disgusted, Telforde shook his head with a sideways grin.

“Nikki,” Nancy said. “Don’t do this. Tell me how they’re treating you?”