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Asperger’s . . . Anyway, he was creating a disturbance and had some marijuana on him, and that was that. A hundred eighty days for the marijuana and a hundred eighty days for disturbing the peace.”
    â€œHow much marijuana?” Michelle had to ask.
    â€œOh, it was about half an ounce or so.”
    Great, Michelle thought. Half a year for half an ounce.
    And Danny? Coming in between 200 pounds and a ton?
    â€œThat seems pretty harsh,” she said.
    â€œWell, it was the second time he got caught with it.” Deondra’s smile was more of a grimace. “At least he might get some treatment, if I can get him transferred to MHU.”
    â€œMHU?”
    â€œThe mental health unit. They’ve got more resources inside here than they do out in the community, I’m sorry to say.”
    They’d reached the front of the line. The Latina woman standing at the window stepped aside. It was Michelle’s turn.
    She pushed the piece of paper with Danny’s information into the battered aluminum trough.
    â€œID?” the deputy asked.
    She gave him her California driver’s license. Emily’s license.
    There was nothing to worry about, she thought. Emily didn’t have any outstanding warrants.
    She wasn’t so sure about Michelle.
    The deputy held up the license, studying the photo, then shifted his attention to her face.
    Sweat beaded on her forehead, dripped down her back.
    Well, it’s over 90 degrees outside, she thought, so he won’t think that’s strange.
    Will he?
    She shivered in the cold draft from the air conditioning vent.
    â€œCalifornia?”
    She managed a smile. “Yes.”
    He turned away to stare at a computer screen, and started typing on a keyboard.
    She stood there. Waited.
    Finally, he scribbled something on the white slip of paper with Danny’s information, and slid that under the window.
    â€œYou get the license back after,” he said. “Have a nice visit.”
    The next line was for the metal detector.
    It should have been quick, but it wasn’t. The detector seemed to buzz for every third person passing through it.
    â€œThey’ve got that thing set so sensitive,” Deondra said, rolling her eyes. She busied herself taking off her earrings, her necklace, a bracelet, and putting them in a Baggie. “You never know what’s going to set it off. Sometimes it’s the hooks in your brassiere, I swear.”
    Michelle was glad that Derek had warned her about underwire.
    It took her two tries to get through the metal detector, the second time passing it by removing her shoes. On the other side of the metal detector was an elevator. She stood at the back of the crowd waiting for it to return from the upper floors.
    Behind her, Deondra asked. “Did you bring a wet wipe?”
    â€œA wet wipe?”
    Deondra reached inside the Baggie she’d used for her jewelry and pulled out a small packet. Stretched her hand out to Michelle.
    A sanitary wipe.
    â€œI brought two. Believe me, you’ll want to use it.”
    Inside the elevator, Michelle faced the doors. She was nearly pressed up against them. Close enough to stare at the scratches in the aluminum that spelled out, suck pussy .
    Another Plexiglas window with a uniformed deputy behind it. Another line, a short one this time. It was colder than downstairs, ridiculously cold. “Yeah, that’s why I wear the sweater set,” Deondra told her. “Supposedly keeping it cold helps with sanitation. There’s a lot of diseases here. Staph infections. Chicken pox.”
    She hadn’t seen a single window on the floor. Nothing but artificial light. The visitation room reeked, the scent of stale sweat and sewage carried on the chilled air. To her right were a series of windows, barely separated by narrow acoustic dividers. Visitors crowded around them, most leaning against the cement pillars that served as stools rather than sitting on them, some