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But she was too late. Three days earlier, in a cinder-block common room at Northfork, a man named Darryl “Smooth” Withers had been working his angle. Smooth was in for wire fraud, a white-collar criminal among blue-collar thieves. He didn't lift weights; he lifted information. He paid a corrupt data entry clerk in the admin office $50 a month for a weekly export of new inmate numbers and their “preferred contact” lists—the phone numbers of mothers, sisters, girlfriends, and grandmothers.

Outside, the first truck of the morning rumbled past her window. Somewhere in a sleek corporate office park in Texas, a GTL executive watched quarterly profits rise, driven by “unexpected third-party deposit volume.” He called it organic growth. Carmen called it a sentence without end. global tel link advance pay

“Carm?” Marcus’s voice was a rasp, thinner than she remembered. “You got it? The money?” But she was too late