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whistle-blower today, but I doubt I’ll have anything by deadline.”
    And just like that Tom was off again, ranting about what would happen if state lawmakers weakened protections for whistle-blowers.
    Sophie’s mind wandered to Megan and her baby. Had she found a safe, warm place to spend the night? What was she feeding the baby? How far did she think she could get before the police found her and sent her back to prison?
    “Alton!”
    Sophie snapped back to the present. “I’d like to do a follow-up to yesterday’s piece and see how many parents on parole kidnap their own children. This was supposed to be a supervised visit, after all. I want to find out if this has happened before. Unless I find something big, I’m guessing no more than six inches.”
    Syd punched the numbers into her calculator. “Do we have any photos of the baby?”
    “Not recent ones.” Sophie glanced down at her notes. “I got an anonymous tip this morning from someone who wants me to request an interview with Megan’s brother, who also happens to be in prison.”
    “What is it—a family business?” Matt shook his head, rolled his eyes. “Does she have any relatives on the outside?”
    For some reason, Sophie didn’t find Matt’s comment funny. “I’ve already put in a request for an interview with the brother and asked CBI for a copy of his criminal record. I have no idea what kind of information this guy might have.”
    Tom leaned back in his chair. “Sounds like there’s only one way to find out.”

     

    S OPHIE MET O FFICER Harburg for lunch at her favorite downtown sushi joint.
    “We try hard to keep women out of prison, because many are mothers and most are nonviolent offenders. Those who end up behind bars tend to be hard-core.”
    Sophie set her notepad aside to make room for her miso and edamame. She met Officer Harburg’s gaze and knew without a doubt that he was interested in her. She could see it in his eyes—light blue eyes—and hear it in the warm tone of his voice. For a moment, she let herself imagine what it might be like to kiss him.
    OK, so it wasn’t fireworks, but it wasn’t a repulsive idea either.
    “More hard-core? I thought men were more difficult.”
    “Oh, yes, they are.” He picked up his chopsticks and stirred his miso. “Men are absolutely more violent and dangerous. The vast majority of violent crimes both in prison and out are committed by men, but women are harder to rehabilitate.”
    “How so?” She dipped her spoon into the soup and sipped.
    “Most female inmates are what we call dual-diagnosis—they have mental-health issues on top of drug or alcohol addiction.” He paused to pop a chunk of tofu into his mouth and chew. “Unfortunately, there are few treatment programs for female felons.”
    “Don’t they get treatment in prison?”
    “The state doesn’t have the money to give them the therapy they need. Besides, most of them are poor. Prison offers better food and housing than they’ll get on the outside. No pimps to beat them up. No kids to feed. No job to find.”
    “That’s true for male inmates, too, isn’t it?”
    “Yes, but there are more treatment programs for men, more jobs, better pay. Men are generally more assertive and more independent. Fewer men raise their kids alone. And—this is important—men are different emotionally. Women tend to form close friendships with other women in prison and have a hard time surviving without the support system offered by those relationships. Men don’t face that obstacle.”
    Sophie tried to imagine life without the support system her friends offered—and found it stark. But her friends weren’t felons. “Did Megan have close friends in prison?”
    “She’s been in and out of state custody since she was a teenager. I assume she does, though she never talked about personal things with me. I represent ‘The Man,’ you know. Based on what I’ve read of your articles—which are very good, by the way—I’d say she