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"I can drive if you want to rest," he said.
"I'm fine," Nicky said. She needed to keep her eyes on the road. While it was true that being stuck in a vehicle made her anxious, nothing made her more anxious than being the passenger. That was what would really remind her of what happened, and Nicky couldn’t stomach that. She needed to be behind the wheel, because she needed to keep control. "Besides, it'll give me a chance to learn more about you,” she said. “You’ll just be sitting there enjoying the scenery, so you can tell me all about yourself.”
"What's to learn?" Ken said, his eyes hard. “I’m just another guy. Not much to see here.”
Nicky jutted her lip, actually having a moment with Ken. She remembered the book he was reading on the way up and dished up something faux-insightful: "Everyone thinks they're just like every other person. That they're normal. But they're not. Everyone has something that makes them unique. Maybe you'd be better at helping me out if you were a little more self-aware."
“Where’d you get that one, a horoscope magazine?” Ken shot back.
Nicky nearly laughed. “Very original.”
Once they located their rental car, Nicky got behind the wheel. Ken took the passenger seat, and they drove out of the airport, heading down the wide road leading to the highway. Tropical trees fanned over the road, and the sun beat down on them.
Nicky had the radio turned on low, and both agents were quiet. She tried not to let her eyes stray to Ken, but she was being serious before about learning about him. Nicky didn’t have friends outside of work, but the truth was that somewhere inside of her, she was still a social butterfly, remnants of who she used to be before she left West Virginia. Maybe it was the trauma of what happened, but she had a much easier time talking to people at work outside of it, because having people actually in her personal life made her feel too vulnerable. But at work, things felt different.
Ken was quiet, though, and Nicky figured a guy like him would be hard to get to know.
"This is some place," she said finally, gazing out at the Florida landscape surrounding the highway. Palm trees reached into the cerulean sky. With the window down, the air was humid, the constant wind carrying smells of the sea and rich, tropical earth.
"Yeah, it's not bad," Ken agreed.
Taking the moment to learn more about him, Nicky asked, "Where are you from, Agent Walker? We've been in the same office for at least a month, but I barely know anything about you."
Ken glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. "You know everything you need to know about me, Agent Lyons," he said.
“I know you were transferred from Portland, but that’s about it,” Nicky said.
“What aboutyou?”Ken asked, deflecting. Nicky sighed. Of course he’d turn this around on her, but Nicky was more comfortable being open about her past.
“I knew I wanted to join the FBI in high school,” she said, “so I went into the academy as soon as I moved away from West Virginia. I became the youngest field agent in my class.”
“Impressive,” Ken muttered. “West Virginia. That’s pretty different from Florida. Why the switch?”
Nicky looked out at the sunny scenery that surrounded them. “Things are just… brighter here,” she said.
From then, they traveled on in silence. Nicky's grip was tight on the wheel. Ken sat staring out of the window, his arms crossed, still a stone wall. But if he didn’t want to chat, it made no difference—she wasn't on this case to become best friends with Ken Walker. She was on it to save girls' lives. She just hoped she’d be able to keep it together—and keep Ken on her side as the leader of this team.
***
The prison finally came into view. Beyond the fence, the imposing building rose up out of the ground like an enemy bunker. The prison was made of white concrete, three stories high and solid. The razor wire atop the fence was electric, the current strong enough to light up the skies if touched. Guards patrolled the fence, their rifles at the ready, just in case.
Nicky's chest tightened as she parked the car. This Bernard Brown guy--his mugshot had looked bone-chilling, and Nicky wasn't looking forward to meeting him.
On the flight up, she'd been reviewing his file, getting to know his long history of crimes. He was an active serial killer thirty years ago. The file said there were over a dozen victims. Now, he was a man serving a life sentence in a maximum-security prison.
The world was a better place without him, Nicky reflected. But his murderous ways didn't stop in prison. He'd killed a cellmate once before, fifteen years ago, and was put in isolation for eight years before finally being let back out. Obviously, he ended up killing a cellmate again, so he had been put back in isolation. Nicky couldn’t help but think it was a gross lapse in judgement for them to ever think he could be trusted with a cellmate again, but after all those years, they must have made the call.
Ken and Nicky were met at the gate by a guard. He took their weapons and then escorted them inside. Inside the main building, it was bright and clean, but that didn't make Nicky feel any better. There were still bars everywhere, and the guards were watching their every move. Prisons weren’t her favorite place in the world, and often, when she was in them, she couldn’t help but think about the man who’d taken her and Rosie all those years ago, and how this was where he belonged. But he was still out there, free. It all made Nicky’s blood burn.
Nicky glanced at Ken, still silent. "Hope you like being in a maximum-security prison," Nicky said to Ken, trying to break the ice.
"It’s just business as usual,” he muttered, although he looked as disturbed by their surroundings as she did.
They were led down a corridor, and then left into a small room. A guard took their IDs and then left them alone.
"So, how are we doing this?” Ken asked. “Are you gonna be in charge of the interrogation?”
"It's not an interrogation, per se," she said. "At least, we don’t want it to feel like one. We just want to ask him some questions, that's all."
