Fear Nothing (Detective D.D. Warren #7) - Lisa Gardner Page 0,65

imagine, but the other inmate, the one she’s in contact with, might be. And there are inmates willing to assist with these kinds of transactions if only to relieve their boredom. Bottom line: We have only an hour or two a quarter to evaluate our policies and revise our procedures, while the inmates spend twenty-four/seven, three hundred and sixty-five days a year figuring out how to beat the system. Why, there are women in here clever enough and capable enough to run Fortune 500 companies, if only they’d focused their powers on good instead of evil.”

“Is there an inmate Shana’s close to? A friend, either past or present?”

Superintendent McKinnon frowned slightly. “Not that I’m aware of, which is the more surprising piece of this puzzle. Most inmates forge relationships. Even a female as hardened as Shana . . . there are younger, more vulnerable inmates who’d look up to that sort of thing. And whether she identifies herself as straight or gay, most lifers end up with a partner. But to the best of my knowledge, Shana has never had even a girlfriend.”

“She’s never mentioned anyone to me,” I spoke up.

“Nor to look at her commissary transactions—one of the first signs of a budding relationship is one inmate purchasing ‘gifts’ for another, just as you would see in the real world. A bottle of shampoo. A scented lotion. But Shana makes very few transactions, and they’ve been solely for herself. Nor has anyone sent her any gifts. If anything . . .” Superintendent McKinnon hesitated; her gaze slid to me.

I nodded my assent.

“I have been concerned about Shana’s nearly total social isolation,” Superintendent McKinnon continued. “Despite what you may think, unhappy inmates are not in our best interest. Depression leads to anger, which leads to an increased chance of violence. As I’ve discussed with Dr. Glen, I’ve been troubled about Shana’s state of mind for the past several months. It’s been clear to me that she’s been deteriorating, meaning yesterday’s suicide attempt wasn’t a surprise.”

“Hang on,” D.D. spoke up. “You mean there’s been a marked change in Shana’s behavior? Starting when?”

“Maybe three or four months ago? I’d assumed it had to do with the approaching anniversary of her first murder, but of course I can’t know for certain. While Shana is entitled to mental health resources, she’s refused all overtures.”

“Who manages her care?” Phil asked.

I raised a hand. “I do. I’m a licensed psychiatrist, as well as one of the only people Shana will speak with. While it’s not completely . . . kosher . . . to be diagnosing a relative, Shana and I hardly have a traditional relationship. For most of our lives, we haven’t even lived as family.”

“But she calls you her little sister,” D.D pushed.

“Only when she’s trying to push my buttons.”

“Which sounds like a sisterly thing to do.”

“Or a patient hostile to the possibility of change.” I regarded D.D. drolly. “Why, you’d be amazed some of the things my patients say and do in order to resist my efforts.”

She flashed me a grin, clearly unrepentant. Then she returned her gaze to the superintendent. “Does the number one hundred and fifty-three mean anything to you?”

Superintendent McKinnon shook her head.

“Do you think it’s possible Shana could be in contact with this so-called Rose Killer? Or the killer be in contact with her?”

“Oh, it’s possible. I’d like to know how, though. The thought of an active killer communicating with an incarcerated murderer doesn’t exactly make me sleep well at night.”

“If I may?” Three pairs of eyes turned to me. “Maybe now is not the time to worry about the how. Perhaps the more relevant question is why? Shana committed a horrible crime, but it was also nearly thirty years ago. The case hasn’t even been on the news, enabling Shana to maintain a pretty low profile for years. Maybe next week, the anniversary week, that will change, but to date . . .”

“She doesn’t have any pen pals or known admirers,” Superintendent McKinnon supplied. “Which is uncommon. Generally, the more infamous the killer—male or female—the larger the volume of mail. And/or,” she added dryly, “marriage proposals. As far as most notorious murderers go, Shana lives a quiet life.”

“What if it’s about Harry Day?” D.D. said. The detective focused on me. “If someone was, say, an admirer of your father, and he wanted more information on your father’s—”

“Harry’s,” I corrected. I couldn’t help myself.

“Harry’s techniques,” D.D. continued smoothly, “he wouldn’t very well ask you, would he? I mean, you’re