Chapter 1 - The Seat Nobody Took
Nobody understood why Ana Torres had chosen Table Seven.
In Redwood Women’s Correctional Center, people learned fast which doors stuck, which officers hated paperwork, and which seats could get you hurt. Table Seven belonged to Lucia Vega.
Ana knew that.
She carried her tray across the dining hall anyway and sat down.
Seven minutes later, Lucia stopped beside her.
“Get up.”
Ana lifted a plastic fork to her mouth. “I’m eating.”
A few women looked away. Others froze with food halfway to their lips.
Lucia’s smile disappeared.
“I said get up.”
Ana chewed, swallowed, and finally looked at her. “I heard you.”
Lucia grabbed Ana’s metal tray with both hands and flipped it.
Rice, beans, steamed vegetables, and one piece of bread hit the concrete. Lucia stepped on the bread slowly, grinding it beneath her boot.
Nobody moved.
“You eat when I say you eat,” Lucia whispered.
Ana stared at the ruined lunch.
Then she looked toward the camera in the corner.
And smiled.
“Perfect.”
Lucia’s eyes narrowed. “Perfect what?”
Ana reached beneath the table and pulled free a tiny black recorder no bigger than a matchbox. A red evidence seal crossed the back.
Lucia stopped breathing normally.
Electronics were forbidden inside Redwood. Everybody knew that.
Everybody also knew who could authorize a device like that.
Internal investigations.
Ana placed the recorder beside her empty tray.
“You should’ve stopped after the food.”
Lucia looked toward the security camera.
The same camera she had believed was dead for six months.
Its green light was on.
The dining hall doors opened.
Warden Keller entered with two officers and a woman in a navy suit carrying a thin black case.
Lucia took one step back.
“This is a setup.”
Ana shook her head. “No. I sat down for lunch.”
“You knew I’d come over.”
“I knew you liked this table.”
Lucia pointed at the recorder. “You planted that.”
“It was authorized.”
“So you were trying to trap me.”
Ana looked down at the crushed bread under Lucia’s boot.
“I didn’t make you do any of that.”
For the first time in years, Lucia Vega looked around the dining hall and saw something worse than fear.
She saw people thinking.
Renee stood first.
Her hands shook so badly her cup rattled against the table.
“She takes our commissary.”
Lucia turned. “Sit down.”
Renee didn’t.
Then Jasmine stood.
Then Miss D.
Then two women from Unit C.
One by one, chairs scraped backward.
Lucia’s face changed.
Ana should have felt relief.
Instead, she noticed Officer Phelps standing beyond the doorway.
He wasn’t looking at Lucia.
May you like
He was staring at Ana.
And with one finger, very slowly, he drew a line across his throat.
