The sky was gray when Annabelle arrived at Greenhill Correctional Facility. The cold wind brushed against her face as she stepped out of her car.
The tall iron gates looked taller than she remembered, their black bars stretching toward the clouds. She tightened her coat around her and walked toward the entrance, her heels clicking softly on the wet pavement.
Inside, the air smelled of metal and disinfectant. The guard behind the counter checked her ID, then nodded. “You’re here to see Carson?”
“Yes,” she said quietly.
“Follow the yellow line to the visitor’s room,” he instructed. “Wait until the signal light turns green before entering.”
She nodded and followed the painted line on the floor. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears with each step. The corridor was long, narrow, and silent ex
