know I have information that could lead her to Megan Rawlings.”
“You think she’ll want to talk to you?”
Marc lifted one of the articles, glanced at the byline. “I know she will.”
CHAPTER 2
S OPHIE FILLED HER water bottle at the watercooler, trying to gather whatever thoughts were in her aching head for the I-Team meeting. Worried about Megan and Emily, she’d found it hard to sleep last night despite the alcohol in her system. She’d finally given up at five, shuffling into the kitchen for water and aspirin when her hangover had kicked into full gear. Outside her kitchen window the thermometer had read fifteen below.
“Any word?” Kat’s soft voice came from beside her.
Sophie capped her bottle. “No. I checked with police dispatch this morning, and they hadn’t found them yet. I don’t know what scares me more—what will happen if the cops don’t find them or what will happen when they do.”
Kat gave her arm a squeeze. “All you can do is keep them in your prayers.”
Sophie managed a smile. “Thanks.”
She walked back to her desk, downloaded her e-mail, and checked her voice mail. A call from an activist group that was hoping to halt the building of yet another private prison. A long rant from a woman who wanted to know why Colorado’s prison system wouldn’t let her have conjugal visits with her husband like the California prison system had. A quick word from Officer Harburg, Megan’s parole officer, who praised her article and suggested they meet for lunch to talk about some of the subtleties of the parole system.
Was that male interest she detected in his voice?
Would it bother her if it was?
No, it wouldn’t. He was an attractive man—tall, dark, masculine. So what if he was several years older than she was? He might have some insights on Megan that would help all of this make sense. Besides, she hadn’t had a date for months.
She’d just written down his number when her phone buzzed with an incoming call. She was tempted to let the caller go to voice mail, knowing she had only a few minutes until the I-Team meeting, but then she’d just have another message to wade through.
She picked up the line. “Sophie Alton.”
“Are you looking for information about Megan Rawlings?”
Sophie’s adrenaline picked up a notch. She hit the record button on her phone. “Yes. Absolutely. Who is this?”
“I’m just calling to let you know that you should request an interview with Marc Hunter, an inmate in Cañon City. He’s her brother. He can help you out.”
The caller rattled off a DOC inmate number and then, before Sophie could ask him any other questions, hung up.
Momentarily forgetting the I-Team meeting, Sophie opened her Internet browser, logged on to the DOC’s website, and filled out the online interview request form, using the information the caller had provided. Hadn’t Megan mentioned once or twice that she had a half brother who was also in prison? Yes, she had. Her brother had stayed with their mother, while Megan had been placed with Social Services for adoption. Despite the fact that they must have grown up apart, Megan had seemed to feel real affection for him.
Sophie wondered who the caller had been. It couldn’t have been Marc Hunter himself. Prisoners could only make collect calls, and this hadn’t been a collect call. Perhaps the caller was a friend, someone on the outside. Or maybe he was a CO—a correctional officer—someone who did Hunter’s business from the inside in exchange for bribes. In either case, Megan’s brother had to have illegal connections.
What kind of information could he have? He wasn’t supposed to be in communication with his sister. Megan’s parole prohibited her from having any contact with other felons. She wasn’t even allowed to write letters to her brother. Of course, parolees broke that rule all the time, and some went back to prison for it.
Sophie had just placed a request with the Colorado Bureau of
“You think she’ll want to talk to you?”
Marc lifted one of the articles, glanced at the byline. “I know she will.”
CHAPTER 2
S OPHIE FILLED HER water bottle at the watercooler, trying to gather whatever thoughts were in her aching head for the I-Team meeting. Worried about Megan and Emily, she’d found it hard to sleep last night despite the alcohol in her system. She’d finally given up at five, shuffling into the kitchen for water and aspirin when her hangover had kicked into full gear. Outside her kitchen window the thermometer had read fifteen below.
“Any word?” Kat’s soft voice came from beside her.
Sophie capped her bottle. “No. I checked with police dispatch this morning, and they hadn’t found them yet. I don’t know what scares me more—what will happen if the cops don’t find them or what will happen when they do.”
Kat gave her arm a squeeze. “All you can do is keep them in your prayers.”
Sophie managed a smile. “Thanks.”
She walked back to her desk, downloaded her e-mail, and checked her voice mail. A call from an activist group that was hoping to halt the building of yet another private prison. A long rant from a woman who wanted to know why Colorado’s prison system wouldn’t let her have conjugal visits with her husband like the California prison system had. A quick word from Officer Harburg, Megan’s parole officer, who praised her article and suggested they meet for lunch to talk about some of the subtleties of the parole system.
Was that male interest she detected in his voice?
Would it bother her if it was?
No, it wouldn’t. He was an attractive man—tall, dark, masculine. So what if he was several years older than she was? He might have some insights on Megan that would help all of this make sense. Besides, she hadn’t had a date for months.
She’d just written down his number when her phone buzzed with an incoming call. She was tempted to let the caller go to voice mail, knowing she had only a few minutes until the I-Team meeting, but then she’d just have another message to wade through.
She picked up the line. “Sophie Alton.”
“Are you looking for information about Megan Rawlings?”
Sophie’s adrenaline picked up a notch. She hit the record button on her phone. “Yes. Absolutely. Who is this?”
“I’m just calling to let you know that you should request an interview with Marc Hunter, an inmate in Cañon City. He’s her brother. He can help you out.”
The caller rattled off a DOC inmate number and then, before Sophie could ask him any other questions, hung up.
Momentarily forgetting the I-Team meeting, Sophie opened her Internet browser, logged on to the DOC’s website, and filled out the online interview request form, using the information the caller had provided. Hadn’t Megan mentioned once or twice that she had a half brother who was also in prison? Yes, she had. Her brother had stayed with their mother, while Megan had been placed with Social Services for adoption. Despite the fact that they must have grown up apart, Megan had seemed to feel real affection for him.
Sophie wondered who the caller had been. It couldn’t have been Marc Hunter himself. Prisoners could only make collect calls, and this hadn’t been a collect call. Perhaps the caller was a friend, someone on the outside. Or maybe he was a CO—a correctional officer—someone who did Hunter’s business from the inside in exchange for bribes. In either case, Megan’s brother had to have illegal connections.
What kind of information could he have? He wasn’t supposed to be in communication with his sister. Megan’s parole prohibited her from having any contact with other felons. She wasn’t even allowed to write letters to her brother. Of course, parolees broke that rule all the time, and some went back to prison for it.
Sophie had just placed a request with the Colorado Bureau of
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