Morning came too fast.
I barely slept. My mind kept replaying everything, the inmate file, the name John Hunter, and every f*****g thing about this case. When I finally sat up in bed, the room felt cold… or maybe that was just me.
All I knew was that today mattered.
If I left that prison without answers, then we were right back where we started—blind, confused, and depending on reports written a decade ago by someone who didn’t give a damn.
By the time I got to the living room, Ryder was pacing back and forth in the kitchen. Cole was leaning on the counter, arms folded tightly.
“We ready?” I asked.
Cole nodded.
Ryder didn’t. He just grabbed his jacket and muttered, “Let’s get this over with.”
The drive to the prison was the quiet kind that stretched nerves to the limit. The type wh
