CHAPTER 17

Chicago, October 26, 2019

RORY WAS IN FULL BATTLE GEAR—GLASSES, BEANIE HAT, GRAY jacket, and lace-up combat boots. Her face burned crimson as she sat in her car in the parking lot. She took deep breaths as she thought of sitting across from her father’s oldest client, a cold and calculating killer, pretending to hammer out the details of his release. An odd guilt came over her when she considered the notion that her dead father had some nefarious business relationship with this killer from 1979.

“Nothing can scare you unless you allow it to scare you.” She took a few more calming breaths, and allowed the attack to escape her lungs with each exhale. When her hands were steady, and her lungs freely expanding and contracting without the hiccup rhythm of panic, Rory opened the car door, stood from the passenger seat, and sucked in the cool fall morning. She stood in front of Stateville Correctional Center in Crest Hill, Illinois. It was where The Thief had been housed for the past forty years.

She had her identification prepared, the paperwork filled out ahead of time, and a copy of Judge Boyle’s orders to permit the impromptu visit. Still, processing moved slowly. She was finally called to the window to fill out additional visitation forms. A woman slid the partition window to the side and looked up from her computer.

“Name, please?”

“Rory Moore.”

“Relationship to the inmate?”

“Attorney.”

The woman typed on her computer for a moment.

“Name of the inmate?”

Rory looked at the file in her hands, read the name from the bottom flap.

“Thomas Mitchell.”