Taylor stood and crossed to the door, peering through the narrow, reinforced window. The tier outside was a long corridor of cells stacked one above another, all concrete, steel, and fluorescent lights. Women moved through it in worn uniforms and shower shoes. Some talk in clusters, some stand alone, others watch.
A few of them noticed her immediately. Fresh meat.
The phrase drifted through her mind from some crime show or half-heard conversation years ago. Her stomach turned.
A woman leaning against the rail on the upper tier paused mid-conversation and looked directly at Taylor through the glass. She was older, maybe late forties, with dark hair streaked silver. Tattoos wind down both of her forearms. She didn’t smile, just watched.
Taylor stepped back from the door just as a voice c
