The day was cold and overcast, but the drive still starkly beautiful, the white snow and black trees washed with gray by a pewter sky. Angus spent most of the ride on the cell phone, and Nat tried again to call Barb Saunders, but had no luck. She’d try calling again later rather than going over there. She didn’t want to barge in yet. She focused instead on the scenery, trying not to think about Barb Saunders or the phone call last night. She had as much right to be in Chester County as anybody else. Not that she didn’t check the outside mirror—a few hundred times.

Angus pulled up to the entrance, and Nat could see that the prison was back to business as usual. They didn’t have to produce their IDs for Jimmy, who was back in good humor. In the parking lot, families sat in minivans with the engines running, waiting for visiting hours. Angus parked, and they walked in the cold up the driveway, now unobstructed by mobile crime labs or black sedans. They waved to the marshals and entered the prison the way they had that first day, going through the sally ports. Nat left her camelhair coat in the locker room before they entered the prison proper.

Tanisa met them with her characteristic smirk. “Well, I’ll be damned. You lived, freak.”

“So did you!” Angus scooped her up in a bear hug, and she left the floor, kicking her black work shoes.

“Oh hell no! Put me down!”

“Thanks for the jacket,” Nat said, hugging her impulsively.

Tanisa reared back, laughing. “I’m on the job, white people! What the hell’s got into you?”

“We’re happy, that’s all,” Nat answered. “I would’ve brought the jacket back but I didn’t know I was coming out here today. I’ll get it to you.”

Tanisa waved her off. “Don’t think on it! It’s a present to you, girl. I heard what you did to try and save Ron. That was above and beyond.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m feeling so bad about him.” Tanisa locked the door behind them, shaking her head. Her hair fishhooks peeked out from under her cap. “He was salt of the earth. I couldn’t take off to go to the funeral this morning and now I’m hearing about the burglary. You believe that?”

“Terrible.”

“I feel so bad for Barb and the kids. How much can a woman bear?”

Nat thought of the dark bedroom. “Do you know her?”

“Met her coupla times. Real nice. Went to pay my respects last night, but she was sick upstairs.”

Angus said, “I’m just happy you made it through, Tanisa. I was worried about you.”

“Hmph. Take more than a few shit cans to break me down.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t hear that? How they started the mattresses on fire?” Tanisa wrinkled her nose. “Been saving up their shit for God knows how long and threw a match into it. Nasty! What if they had that damn bug that was going around, the one that kills you? They tried to throw burning shit at me, I’d throw it right back—and add some of my own!” Tanisa’s smile vanished. “Anyway, we’re back in business. Who you seeing today, Angus?”

“Willie Potts.”

“I think he’s waiting on you. I’ll go see.” Tanisa escorted them through the metal detector, and in a minute they’d pass into the secured section of the prison.

Nat felt her stomach tense in the heat and smelled the close, antiseptic smell. In a second, they’d be in the wide hallway, just a few paces from the classroom where Buford had attacked her. She steeled herself and followed Angus past the control center, then stopped. Everything was different. The hallway had been completely reconfigured. It had been narrowed by half, and a bright white wall blocked off the corridor through which she’d run to find Saunders. The new hall ran the length of the prison. Nat stood, stymied, and identified a new smell. Fresh paint.

“Where are the staff offices?” Angus had already spun around, his confused expression mirroring hers.

“This is where the hallway used to be.” Nat ran a hand along the wall, then looked at her fingerpads. Drying white paint dusted the whorls on her fingertips, like fingerprints in reverse. “They’ve walled off the way to the room where Saunders and the inmate were killed.”

“Oh, yeah, they’re remodeling,” Tanisa said, returning with an inmate. He looked about twenty-five years old, a slight African American man with his hair shorn close to his head.

“Hey, Willie,” Angus said quickly, shaking the man’s hand. “Why don’t you go sit down, and I’ll be right over.”

“No sweat.” The inmate left for an informal meeting area near the classroom.

“Tanisa, didn’t there used to a hallway here?” Nat asked.

“Yeah, but it’s gonna be a new set of staff offices. It was gonna be Phase Two but they moved it up to Phase One. The muckety-mucks musta wanted their new offices sooner.”

“When did they change the schedule?” Nat asked, just as she spotted Machik walking toward them down the skinny new hallway. His dark suit jacket flew open as he walked, but his striped tie remained in place, under its musical clef.

“Angus! Natalie!” he called out, waving to them.

Tanisa turned. “Hello, sir,” she said as he approached.

Angus shook his hand. “Kurt, what happened to the old staff offices?”

“Hello to you, too.” Machik turned to Nat. “How’s your cut, dear? Improved, I hope.”

“Great, but I’m as confused as Angus. Where’s the room where Ron Saunders was killed? Is it behind this wall?”

Machik maintained his smile. “It’s being rebuilt. It’ll be a set of offices, a suite. When it’s all finished next year, we’ll have two new pods, an enlarged infirmary, and three new classrooms.”

“So the room we were talking about yesterday doesn’t exist anymore?”

“I suppose not. They got back to work yesterday.”

“Because of the riot?”

“It was a disturbance.”

Persistence pays.

“Not at all, it was always part of the plan.”

“Phase One or Phase Two?” Nat asked.

Machik’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “How do you know those terms?”

Nat thought fast. She didn’t want to get Tanisa in trouble. “I’m a builder’s daughter. Greco Construction, ever hear of it?”

“Why, yes, I have,” Machik said, surprised.

“Well, that’s my family. Most construction has a Phase One, which includes framing, piping, electrical, HVAC, and a Phase Two. Drywall, primer, paint, and the like. Phase Three is flooring, carpeting, the details. They’re practically terms of art.”

Tanisa’s eyes shifted from Nat to Machik and back again.

“Phase One,” Machik answered.

Why is he lying? “If they demolished yesterday, I bet the rug with the blood on it is still in a Dumpster. It’s blue.”

“I believe they emptied the Dumpster this morning.” Machik frowned. “I fail to see why you’re so interested in this issue.”

I’m interested because you’re lying. “Two men were killed in that room. I know. I was there. It’s a crime scene.”

“Natalie, Ron Saunders’s murder was a tragedy for us, the first of its kind at this facility. My wife and I, as well as the warden and his wife, Elena, attended his funeral this morning. Now we have to move on. We have a prison to run. This was a crime scene, but the murderer is dead. There’s no one to prosecute.” Machik stiffened. “We have another crime scene in the RHU—which, by the way, we are preserving, for at least another day or two—and that’s where we’re devoting our resources and efforts. Understand?”

“I understand,” Nat answered, but she didn’t. She didn’t understand why Machik would lie about the scheduling of the construction, or why they’d want to cover up the room in the first place. None of it made sense. She said, “Did you hear that Barb Saunders was burglarized?”

“Yes, I did. Terrible shame.” Machik turned to Angus. “Now. Angus. If you’re here for Willie Potts, he’s waiting for you. He’s got to be back in his cell in fifteen minutes.”

“Why?” Angus frowned. “We just got here.”

“We’re moving him.” Machik checked his watch. “Folks, I’ve got work to do. Tanisa, please show Angus and Natalie to Mr. Potts.”

“Yes, sir.” Tanisa motioned to them.

Angus turned to Machik. “Joe Graf in today?” he asked.

“No. He deserves the day off, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” Angus answered, meeting Nat’s eye.