“Yes, ma’am, I need to speak to the warden.”

“Can I tell him who’s here to see him?”

“My name’s Lyla Evans. I’m a nurse in the infirmary for Fulton.”

Finally, she smiled back at me. “Sure. Have a seat and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

I sat in an uncomfortable chair and twiddled my thumbs. Finally, his door flew open and he stood there, looking over at me. He was short and stocky, older than I thought he’d be. His brows were bushy, his face stern, but he still managed to smile at me.

“Ms. Evans, please…” He held a hand out toward his open door. “Come on in.”

He ushered me inside of his very luxurious office. Compared to the bleak, white-walled halls I walked every day, this was like a five-star resort. His rich leather furnishings shone in the sun that came through his large wall of windows, and his walls were a dark burgundy trimmed in gold.

A decanter on the far side of the room was filled with an amber liquid that I assumed was an expensive scotch. Pictures of senators and even the president lined his walls.

“So, Ms. Evans, how are you adapting here at Fulton?”

I sat in the chair in front of his desk and nodded. “Very well, thank you.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. I was sorry to hear about your attack. Mr. Perez was a real piece of work. He’d been a problem here at Fulton since we received him.” He leaned back in his chair, the leather squeaking. “I’m just glad the officers got to you in time.”

He was obviously misinformed and didn’t seem to have any grief over Carlos’ death.

“The officers didn’t save me. Mr. Christopher Jacobs did.”

Surprise flickered in his eyes briefly before he was able to contain it.

“Is that so? Well, regardless, I’m glad.” He looked away and adjusted a pile of papers on his desk. “So what can I do for you?”

Touching his forefingers together, he pressed them to his lips as he examined me with a steely look. It unnerved me, and I felt myself growing nervous.

“I have a friend in the sheriff’s department, and after hearing about Mr. Jacobs and his past, some things didn’t add up.”

His brows lifted. “Some things?”

“Yes, sir.”

I went on to explain, filling him in on my knowledge of the human body and the difficulty one would have cutting through muscle and bone with a dull kitchen knife. I went on to mention a few other tidbits of information. His eyes grew darker the more I talked, and a coldness settled over his expression. It was unnerving and the more I talked, the more uncomfortable I became. Something wasn’t settling right with me.

A momentary look of fear passed over his expression, stopping me and allowing me to catch my breath. As soon as it did, it passed, his features smoothing and all emotion leaving his eyes.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I suddenly realized that maybe coming to the warden wasn’t my brightest idea. I wasn’t a fool to the ways of law enforcement; I knew there were bad guys mingled in with the good, but the warden? Something about him gave me a bad feeling.

The temperature in the room grew colder, and something told me I needed to keep my mouth shut about everything else I’d found out. Still, I continued, explaining Sarah’s connection to one of the largest mob bosses on the East Coast.

“Having the last name Rizzuto had put a massive target on Sarah’s back and after looking over the files, the fact that her father was a part of the mob wasn’t even mentioned. Plus, DNA was found under Christopher’s nails that didn’t match the victims.” I swallowed against the knot in my throat.

“So they are thinking about reopening the case?” he asked, his lips thinning in what looked like anger. “What do they hope to get out of this?” He studied my face too sharply, making me feel as if he could hear my unsure thoughts.

“I’m not sure. Some of the information regarding the case seemed off. That’s all I know.” I stood, ready to flee his office. He was making me uneasy. Perhaps I was just being paranoid, but he seemed to be pissed off by the information I’d brought him.

He smiled, but it never reached his eyes. There was no kindness or even a twinkle in them, only ice. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Ms. Evans. I’ll call the sheriff and have him fill me in on the details. I’m sure it will all get resolved soon enough.”

His eyes shifted toward the phone on his desk before he reached out to shake my hand. It was cold and impersonal, faked. Once he let go of my hand, I turned and went for the door. He sat at his desk, unmoving.