46 NoraNora squirmed in her plastic visitor chair. She glared at the empty inmate chair on the other side of the square plastic table.
The two vending machines on her left hummed loudly and the air smelled of lemony floor cleaner.
The manila file folder centered before her on the table held a printout of Prosecuting Attorney Cunningham’s plea bargain offer.
Nora’d clipped a fine-point black-ink felt pen to it.
She’d crossed the state to get her client’s reaction to the offer. Whatever choice Silvia made, her signature would be bold and clear.
Planting her folded arms on the table, she ordered herself to hold still.
Squirming wasn’t going to put her at ease in Washington Corrections Center for Women.
She detested being inside prisons. And she hated asking a client to consider a lousy
