It was a long walk from the cement walls of the Federal Correctional Complex to the barbwire fences that separated it from the California desert. Only a few had dared to escape. None ever made it. Harry Sims had never even tried.
He knew that he did not need to.
A full six months before he was up for parole again, something already twice denied him, Harry was granted a visitor. The news surprised him. It was late. And it was not a Saturday when his wife showed up for their conjugal visits only to bitch at him over the fact that her BMW was in the shop again. His momma came around on the first and third Monday every month. And his younger brother— hell, the last time Harry saw him was the day he got convicted.
The guard stood outside the room after letting his visitor inside. Harry stayed seated. It worked better that way, being handcuffed and all. His visitor wore Armani. It had been a long time since Harry had worn anything but an orange jumpsuit. He did not know the man from jack, but knew the instant he set his fancy leather briefcase on the table just what he represented.
A smile spread across Harry’s face. Finally, the day had come.
“Mr. Sims, my name is Jake Devries.” He produced a card from a tiny leather holder and slid it across the table. The logo of Wolfram & Hart was emblazoned across it. “I’m your lawyer.”