Chapter 1
October 2006
Great Meadow Correctional Facility
The prison air hit her like a slap, bleach and something sharper underneath, metallic and old. Hanna shifted her bag higher on her shoulder. At least she wasn’t in a damn suit. The crisp blouse, sleeves rolled, left room to breathe; the gray slacks let her move. White sneakers, scuffed from the sidewalk, were better than heels, which they banned anyway. She hadn’t come to impress anyone. She came to find something human, if it still existed in places like this.
Hanna never tried to stand out. But somehow, she always did. A strand of blonde slipped loose, and she tucked it behind her ear out of habit, nothing more. The rest stayed pulled back, low and neat, the way she liked it.
Her eyes did the rest. Not soft, not anymore. That bright, open blue had long since darkened—storm-gray now, unreadable. Grief had cracked her wide open and left her to rebuild from pieces no one else could see.
The heavy clank of the security gate echoed down the hall. Hanna lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. She’d spent years perfecting that walk, keeping her head high, like nothing could touch her, like she belonged. She didn’t know if she believed it, not really, but her heart didn’t care. It knew what it knew. Belief wasn’t necessary, but strength was, and Hanna Nowack had plenty of that.
Her sneakers squeaked softly against the tile; overhead, the lights buzzed with mechanical insistence. Far off, a metal door slammed, the sound carrying down the hall like a warning.
Another day. Another monster looms, ready to unravel. Today, she was meeting Richard Hale. She had sat across from men like him before, charismatic, calculated, and utterly hollow. He made her stomach twist. She didn’t like it. Didn’t trust it. Maybe it was the way he looked at her. Or the fact that he had asked for her by name.
The steel doors groaned open. The air shifted, dense with something unspoken. Two guards led Hale into the room, his shackles clinking against the tile like a metronome counting down to something inevitable.
Richard Hale wore his warmth like a mask. The jumpsuit didn’t bother him. It should’ve. Most guys in here looked worn down, like the weight of the place had already crushed them. But Hale? He wore the whole thing like it was temporary. Like, none of it really applied to him. This was only a setback, a waiting game he played with absolute patience.
His dark hair, now streaked with silver, was neatly combed, a quiet display of control amid the chaos. He trimmed his beard just enough to appear deliberate, not unkempt. The jumpsuit should have stripped him of his power, but it didn’t. Somehow, he still looked like the most in-control man in the room.
Then there were his eyes. Behind rectangular glasses, they were brown, cold, and unreadable, yet precise. Always watching and assessing, noticing weaknesses and gauging advantage. Even shackled, he moved with measured confidence. As if he’d never rushed a day in his life. Because men like Richard Hale didn’t need speed to be dangerous. Power wasn’t about movement. It was about patience and control.
He didn’t say anything at first. He just sat there, studying her, calculating. Then he smiled; easy, too easy. The kind that didn’t belong here. The kind that could make someone forget what he really was.
But Richard Hale wasn’t the type to make threats. He made certainties.
Hanna took her seat.. The room was barren and lifeless, a place where emotions went to die.
Richard shifted back in his chair, shackles rattling. His fingers drummed against the metal armrest, slow and deliberate. He looked at her not like prey, but like she reminded him of something he couldn’t quite place.
“You seem different today, Richard.”
He smirked, tilting his head. “Different? That’s not much of a clinical observation, Doctor. Can you be more specific?”
She ignored the bait. “You’re quieter. Less anticipatory. In our previous sessions, you spoke about control. You mentioned the excitement it brings. But today, you’re just sitting there, just waiting.”
Richard gave a dry chuckle, almost thoughtful. “Maybe I just enjoy our time together. You listen well. Not many people do. They hear, but they don’t listen.”
“And what do you think I hear that others don’t?”
He exhaled through his nose, his gaze narrowing. “The parts of me I don’t say out loud. The things I leave unfinished.” His smile curled slowly. “You hear her in me, don’t you?”
The words landed heavier than she expected. Hanna straightened, tightening her grip on the clipboard. Her breathing stayed even, but something twisted inside her.
“Who is she, Richard?”
He leaned in as far as his restraints allowed, eyes dark and knowing. “You already know.”
Stillness blanketed the room, pressing against her like a second skin. “You’ve never spoken about a woman before, not like this. Who was she to you?”
He shifted, jaw clenched. His fingers twitched at the cuffs. Then he looked up suddenly, distracted, as if something had gone missing. “She kept me, how do you say it, stable.” Then, softer, almost fragile. “When she was there, the noise in my head wasn’t so loud. The need to do something wasn’t as strong. She looked at me like she knew everything, the worst parts, and it didn’t scare her.”
Hanna looked at his hands. The way they moved as he spoke. His voice had dropped lower. His breath changed. “And when she died?”
His mouth pulled tight. Something flickered in his eyes, sharp and dangerous. Then it vanished. He shifted, the cuffs creaking, but didn’t resist them. “I lost the one person who made me feel like I mattered. And when you’re cut loose long enough, you stop trying to come back.”
For the first time, Hanna felt something she hadn’t allowed before. Not sympathy or empathy, but something worse, recognition. She leaned in slightly, “You loved her.”
Richard swallowed. A muscle in his jaw jumped. He met her gaze, and for a moment, there was something raw in his expression. Then it disappeared. “More than I ever knew was possible.”
They sat in silence. Her heart held steady, but something pushed against her chest, heavy and insistent.
Carefully, she asked, “Is that why you dreamt of her? Is it because you still feel her presence?”
He laughed once, dry and humorless. “No, Doctor. I dreamt of her because I lost her in an accident. A real one. One without a hand guiding it. That’s what we have in common, isn’t it?” He looked at her again. His gaze cut through her, not cruel, just precise. “Your husband wasn’t taken by accident, right?”
His words hit hard. She didn’t flinch, but inside, something cracked open. Her fingers ached from the tension in her grip. The walls felt closer. Hanna forced her voice to stay calm. “What did you just say?”
Richard leaned forward again, his voice dropping to something disturbingly gentle. “You still wear the grief like a second skin, Hanna. You’ve built a life around it and wrapped it in purpose. But tell me.” His voice lowered to a hush. “Does it ever stop feeling like unfinished business?”
She gasped. The room felt colder, shrinking around her. The past wasn’t behind her. It was sitting across from her, and for the first time in years, she wasn’t in control.
MHU staff room
The coffeemaker hissed and sputtered. Hanna stood at the counter, both hands around a warm mug, letting the steam curl over her fingers. She stared past it, still running the session over in her head.
Richard Hale had changed today. Not in what he said, but in how he said it. The way his jaw tightened. The breath he held. The subtle tension in his fingers.
Michael Carter’s voice broke through. “Hale again?”
Hanna nodded, distracted, still trapped in memory. She pictured Hale’s hands, the restraint in them, the way his shoulders shifted. She set the mug down and turned to face him. “He felt something today.”
Michael crossed his arms, skeptical. “He wanted you to think that. That’s what they do.”
“No,” she said quietly. “This wasn’t rehearsed. It wasn’t part of the act.”
He studied her. Something unreadable flickered across his face. “Alright, I’ll bite, what was different?”
She paused. “When I asked about the woman he lost, his whole body changed. He locked up and his breath shifted. That wasn’t control, Michael. It was something that was breaking.”
“You think she triggered the violence?”
“I think she was the turning point.”
Michael exhaled. “And you think you can use that?”
She hesitated. She wanted to believe she could. She wanted to dig deeper. Because grief changes people. She knew that more intimately than anyone.
“Hanna,” Michael said, voice firm.
She looked up. There was more than concern in his expression. It was personal.
He was there at the start. Watched her fall apart once. He wasn’t going to let it happen again.
“You can’t use your grief for this.”
Her breath caught. Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? She wasn’t just analyzing Richard Hale. She was chasing something. Trying to understand him. Trying to understand herself.
“I’m not,” she said.
“You are.”
She turned away, holding the cup tighter.
He didn’t push. He didn’t have to.
Because they both knew he was right. And that scared her more than Hale ever could.
Hanna walked the corridor back to her office, Richard’s words still echoing. Had she finally broken through—or was Michael right? Was Richard just playing her, like he played everyone else?
Maybe that’s why she ended up in this career. Not just to help them, but to figure herself out too. Her life had always been steeped in distrust, loss, and lies. The people who were supposed to protect her had been the first to betray her.
December 1996
The baby was asleep in the nursery, the glow of the Christmas tree casting flickering shadows on the walls. Hanna sat at the kitchen table, an offer letter in her hands—an internship at Great Meadow Correctional Facility.
Brian stood by the counter, his badge and service weapon resting beside a half-finished cup of coffee. He was frustrated.
“Tell me you’re not actually considering this, Hanna.”
She rubbed her temples. “Brian, we’ve been over this.”
He snapped, “No, we haven’t. You decided—and now I’m just supposed to live with it?”
Hanna exhaled slowly, trying to stay calm. “It’s a good opportunity. A real one. This internship is a stepping stone for my career.”
Brian shook his head. “You don’t need a career, Hanna. You have us. You have Caitlyn.”
That hit harder than she expected. He said it like it was law. Like being a wife and a mother should be enough.
“So that’s it? I’m just supposed to stay home forever? I don’t get to have something that’s mine?”
Brian ran a hand down his face, exhausted. Not just from this argument, but from everything. From the secrets, the double life, and the pressure of trying to be two men at once.
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
Hanna stood, sliding the letter across the table toward him. “Then what are you saying?”
His eyes flicked from the page to the closed nursery door. “I don’t want you near those men.”
“Brian, it’s a prison. There’s security. It’s not like I’m walking down an alley looking for criminals.”
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just fear. His voice dropped, low and sharp. “You don’t get it. You don’t know the kind of men who end up in places like that. You don’t know what they’ve done or what they’re capable of.”
She folded her arms, her voice even. “You sound like you do.”
Brian froze. Then said, sharply, “I’m a cop, Hanna. It’s my job to know. I’m the one who puts them in there.”
But Hanna wasn’t naive. She’d seen the late nights, the missed calls, the look in his eyes like he was carrying something no one else could see. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“I’m telling you you’re not taking this job.”
“I’m doing this, Brian.”
He exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair. His pulse pounded in his throat, in his temples. He knew he couldn’t stop her. That terrified him. “Just promise me,” he said. “Promise me this won’t come back to bite you.”
Hanna met his eyes. “I promise.”
Present Day -Hanna’s Office
She sat down at her desk, opened her laptop, and began her report.
Hanna stared at the blank document, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Richard Hale was different today. He wasn’t playing games. He wasn’t performing. He had lost the smug, cocky smirk that usually indicated he was ten steps ahead of everyone else. Instead, he had sat there, still, unnervingly still. His gaze was sharper, heavier, and more calculating.
Then he’d do what men like him always do. He turned the conversation back on her.
She started typing.
Richard Hale. October 17, 2006. One-on-one therapy sessions.
Her hands hesitated. She exhaled, then kept going.
Unusual behavioral shift. Less performative, more controlled.
Introduced personal history unprompted.
Mentioned a past relationship as an ‘anchor.’
He claimed he was stable with her. That losing her was his breaking point.
Possible emotional trigger? Or just another manipulation tactic?
It should’ve ended there. But then he brought up Brian. Hanna’s fingers curled into a fist. That single moment had sent something cold down her spine. It wasn’t just that Hale was aware of her husband’s existence. But because of how he said it.
Will it ever stop feeling like unfinished business? It is not a question or a guess but a statement. How the hell did he know? Hanna shut her laptop. She’d deal with the report later. Right now, she needed answers.
She grabbed her keys, shoved her laptop into her bag, and did a final sweep of the office.
As she was locking up, a correction officer walked by. “Don’t know how you do it, Doc. I don’t know if I’d want to be in their heads.”
Hanna laughed, though it felt hollow. “Sometimes I wonder myself. I like to think there’s still some humanity left in them.”
The CO snorted. “I don’t know, Doc. I work them on the block. They’re animals.”
Hanna smiled politely. “Have a good night.”
“You too, Doc.”
She walked to her car, but her mind wasn’t in the parking lot. How did Hale know about Brian? Was he just fishing, throwing out vague statements until something stuck? Or was this different? Was this how he pulled his prey in before he killed them?
Was Michael right? Should she back off? Or was there more to this? She felt a deep-seated need to discover the truth. She needed to learn not only about Richard Hale but also about herself.
Hanna picked up her phone and called down to his block. “This is Dr. Nowack, I want Richard Hale brought back on Wednesday, same time.” She hung up, locked her office, and stepped out into the cold night air. As she started her car, her thoughts didn’t leave her. They stayed locked inside that room with Richard Hale.
