The call came on a Monday morning, and I knew it was trouble the moment I heard the voice on the other end.
"Mrs. Sterling," Dr. Reed said, her voice smooth and composed, as if she were calling to schedule a tea party rather than a meeting from her prison cell. "I'd like to meet with you. To discuss a mutually beneficial end to this conflict."
I nearly dropped the phone. Dr. Reed was in prison. She'd been convicted, sentenced, locked away. How was she calling me? How had she gotten access to a phone? How had she gotten my number?
"Dr. Reed," I said, my voice carefully neutral, my mind racing. "How did you get this number?"
"I have my ways." She laughed, a soft, practiced sound that sent a chill down my spine. "I've always had my ways. Connections, favors, people who owe me. But that's not important. What's important is that we talk. What's important is that we have a conversation."
"About what?"
