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doesn’t mean that I’d take the rap for him.’
    â€˜Hey, that’s the point,’ Jennifer had explained, as if Lenny was stupid, deaf, or not even present. ‘There is no rap. Donald doesn’t do anything that the boys at Salomon Smith Barney or Morgan Stanley or Lazard Frere don’t do every day of the week.’ She, who had never worked at any of those places, was only parroting back what she’d heard. ‘They’re envious.’
    â€˜You don’t know what Donald has done,’ Lenny had shotback. ‘Nor do I. None of us do. That guy is the most compartmentalized person I’ve ever met. He doesn’t even let his left hand know what the right one is up to.’
    Jennifer put her hand on Lenny’s narrow shoulder. ‘Thanks for trying to look out for me,’ she said. ‘But you forget that I like taking risks. No guts – no glory.’
    The grip on Jennifer’s left arm grew tighter and she was snapped out of her reverie. Now every step she took away from the Warden’s office put Jennifer deeper into the hideous nightmare of the Jennings Correctional Facility. As she was marched off to Observation – whatever the hell that was – she felt that if she didn’t get some fresh air to clear her head and her lungs she might actually fall to the floor. The meeting with the Warden had been catastrophic. How had it gone so wrong? Was it her fault? Hadn’t Warden Harding been contacted? If not, why not? Donald Michaels was powerful enough to get the governor on the phone in a heartbeat at any time of the day or night. She knew that. Why hadn’t he reached the Warden? The answer had to be because he didn’t want to. So whom had he reached instead ? Perhaps, just this once, Donald had made a mistake and aimed too high. If he started with the governor, or even the State Attorney General’s Office, how long might it take for the trickle-down effect to take effect?
    â€˜This way,’ Officer Camry instructed. Jennifer thought she saw a look of pity on his bland, round face. The idea that this thirty-eight-thousand-dollar-a-year civil servant with the thinning brown hair, the flat brown eyes, and the plain brown uniform – the idea that this pathetic excuse for a man whose IQ probably wasn’t one hundred and one in the shade had reason to pity her made her feel both furious and pitiable. She wondered whether Roger’s life at home was anybetter than his life in prison. Who would choose to do a job like this? You had to be nuts, stupid, or very, very limited. She glanced at Roger Camry out of the corner of her eye. He looked like he was probably all three. Officer Byrd, on the other hand, wasn’t even that qualified. But he obviously received another kind of compensation – women to frighten or even hurt.
    Jennifer tried to keep her head as they passed from the administration wing into the prison itself. It all looked oddly familiar, and Jennifer was reminded of how she felt whenever she saw a famous landmark. There’s no surprise when you finally see the Eiffel Tower – it looks just like all the pictures. The same was true for Big Ben and the Statue of Liberty. But, despite the familiarity, the same was not true with prison. Sure, it looked just like every jail photo and movie she’d ever seen. But the enormous surprise was the horror that she felt at being here herself. Jen couldn’t control the shakes in her hands, so she clenched her fists again. It won’t be for long, she reminded herself. What had Tom said? A day. Two at the most. Not long.
    The three of them – Jennifer, Roger, and Byrd – walked through one more set of doors, buzzed in this time by an observer in a glass booth, and entered the Observation Wing – at least that’s what it said in chipped gray paint over the door.
    Jennifer suddenly realized just how tired she was. She would’ve been grateful to lie