Priya slid a piece of paper under a stack of towels and disproved his entire theory of the world.

Chapter 9 — The Dashcam

Women in prison know people.

That is the thing the free world never quite understands about the inside — that it is not a place cut off from the world but a place threaded all through it, by blood and debt and favor.

Guards have cousins.

Cousins drive cars.

Cars, more and more of them now, have dashcams that run whether anyone remembers them or not.

And somewhere in the city, outside a hotel parking garage on the night everything was said to have happened to Larissa, one such camera had been running, and it had captured a woman stumbling alone across the concrete, cursing into her phone, entirely un-pushed by anyone, because there was no one else there.