Dead Hunt

Начало книги

It wasn’t the sound of the steel doors clanging shut behind her that bothered Diane Fallon about the prison, or the flashing red lights, or the blare of highpitched horns that screamed their warnings when the doors were unlocked. It was the smell, like no other— the accumulated odor of hundreds of women caged for years in close quarters.

Greysfort Maximum Security Prison for Women looked clean—the gray-green walls were freshly painted, and the tile floor of similar color was so highly polished that Diane could see her reflection as she walked down the hallway to the interview room. But bad odors always come through, and even the pine scent of disinfectant in the air carried with it the smell of urine and feces.

Diane was accustomed to the unpleasant odors of death. They held useful information. But she didn’t have to live with those odors as the prisoners and guards did here. The thought of it was depressing.

Читать дальше →