Secret Contract
Burge, happy whenever he got to order her around, pushed her through the green metal door at the far end of the cell block but didn't follow. What did they want with her now? She was on her guard, scanning the people ahead with suspicion—a good basic stance for the incarcerated.
The sharp scent of bleach hit her nose. The room had gotten a scrub down that morning. Thank God, she hadn't been pulled for that job.
"Miss Jones." The greeting came from one of three men, outsiders, who stood at the head of the room. "Why don't you take a seat?"
One of the dozen or so harsh fluorescent lights above flickered as she went straight to the back, picking her way among white plastic chairs and folding tables that were set up classroom style for the elderly volunteer who came in twice a week to give GED classes. Three women waited there already, wearing the same orange jumpsuit that hung on Carly's figure. Clothes that marked them, set them apart. She would never wear ... read full excerpt from Secret Contract ebook
