After Ezra brought Denise to the hospital, the unease in his chest refused to settle.
He paced. He sat. He stood again. Finally, he decided to call the psychiatric facility.
He had heard things about electroshock therapy. That the pain was excruciating. That patients lost control of their bladders, their bowels. That some were left on the floor afterward, unable to move.
Even the most hardened criminals broke after a few sessions, sobbing through their confessions.
Shelagh was so thin. So slight. If she was strapped into that chair, something could go terribly wrong.
He pulled out his pager and was about to dial when the door burst open.
A communications officer stumbled in, ashen-faced, and shouted at everyone in the room:
"We have a situation! Headquarters just confirmed that twelve high-security convicts are missing!"
"Someone on the inside let them out!"
