Avery Nix was a small woman, and younger than Dana might have thought.
“Who you? You some kind of cop?” she queried Dana as she was led into the visitor’s room. “They tol’ me I had a visitor, not a uniform sittin’ out here, waitin’ for me. I can’t talk to you here...I want to live to see the day I get out of this hell hole.” She ran a hand through her dishwater blond hair that hung flat, almost to her shoulders like she was trying to decide what to do.
“There’s no one in here but you, me and the CO,” Dana pointed out, as she swiveled a little in her seat and waggled a finger around the room. “You don’t want to talk, so be it. I can have them take you back to your cell and have everyone thinking you talked to me anyway.” Dana had another flashback to her visit to State to see Deshawn Dawe
