Free Now That She's Gone by Gregg Olsen Page A

Washington Corrections Center for Women for attacking a boyfriend and making certain that he’d never cheat on her again. Lorena Bobbitt had become a quasi-celebrity when she’d sliced off her husband’s penis for similar reasons, but not Edna. Slicing it off in a fit of rage, a bloody payback for betrayal was one thing.
    Feeding it to the family’s dog was something entirely too disgusting for mass appeal.
    â€œNever hesitate,” Edna had instructed Brenda when they were on kitchen duty one time, early in her incarceration. “That’s the key. Go fast, go deep, and never look back.”
    â€œGood advice,” Brenda said. “But you forgot one thing.”
    Edna wiped the sweat off her hairy upper lip.
    â€œWhat’s that?” she asked.
    Brenda knew she’d made the same error. They were there together, pulling kitchen duty. Nevertheless Edna was too dumb to get it.
    â€œNever get caught,” Brenda said.
    Janie Thomas started wriggling. It made Brenda think of one of those “Magic Fingers” beds she’d slept on when she was a child in a place two levels below the house that she and Janie were hiding out in.
    Brenda let out a loud sigh.
    â€œLook,” she said, her tone suddenly sharp. “You want me to cut your lips? No one wants to kiss bloody lips. Hold still.”
    Janie shut her eyes.
    Brenda repositioned herself over Janie to ensure that she didn’t move so much and ran the blade down the center of the silvery duct tape and a sliver of red dripped down.
    â€œLook what you made me do, you stupid bitch!”
    Janie let out a muffled cry.
    â€œI swear that you are almost more trouble than you’re worth. If I didn’t love you so much I’d cut your head off right now, babe,” she said.
    She knew she could do that. But not now. Not when she needed Janie. Useful Janie. Puppy dog Janie. The prison superintendent who had been her ticket out from the razor wire into the world of fresh air, quiet nights, men she could pick up, beguile, ride in the backseat of a car, and then . . . do what she did best.
    Second best.

C HAPTER E IGHT
    S econd Cup, Second Chance was located on Bay Street in what had once been an antique shop and before that, a waterfront warehouse. Inside, it had been stripped of the doilies, old tables, and other questionable antiques and was outfitted with a distinctly modern vibe. It was as if Apple Computer had come in and taken over the space. The mix of the old wood with the brushed steel finishes of the tabletops and the Eames-style chairs (all white, with one turquoise one for a tasteful quirk) made it modern, fresh, and very teen friendly. In the back corner was the espresso bar. In the opposite corner, a gigantic flat screen showed teenagers’ artwork on a rotating basis. Kendall Stark had never been inside before, and she was impressed.
    Brit Frazier was talking to a teen.
    â€œWe have rules, Sammie, and they are simple. You can spend all day here if you like, but you cannot sleep here. The city won’t allow that. You can take a shower. I do have meals at nine, eleven, and four. More than anything, I want you to work with a mentor to help you find your way out of your situation and on to your ‘Second Chance.’ That’s what we’re all about.”
    She looked up, caught Kendall’s gaze, and nodded. She mouthed the words “just a minute” and motioned for Kendall to take a seat across the room.
    A moment later, she came over with two cups of coffee.
    â€œIt’s about the show, Detective Stark. Isn’t it?” she said, sitting down.
    Her directness surprised Kendall. She was probably adept at reading people; her history as a guidance counselor was a strong indicator of that. Also, in that moment with the girl Sammie, Kendall could tell that being direct, kind, and honest was probably the course Brit Frazier had always chosen.
    â€œYes. How did you know?”