The Southern Nevada Correctional Center was located in Jean, Nevada, just a thirty minute drive from Las Vegas.  It was medium security, holding mostly sex offenders and small time felons, and of course, it was also the primary residence for William Harold DeMille aka Willie D. 

Agent Orange was not a good color for Willie and it was pretty clear from the man’s graying hair and scruffy appearance that prison life wasn’t such a good look for him either.  He shuffled along to the visitor’s booth, pulled the aluminum chair out with a screech against the concrete floor and warily took his seat.  He let out a heavy, exhausted sigh before picking up the receiver.

“You gotta get me out of here, Lindsey.  Things aren’t…good,” he said, voice rough.

Lindsey McDonald, Senior Associate at Wolfram and Hart, had tried his best to get Willie acquitted of the charges against him, but they had been cursed with a hard-assed judge who Willie had been before on multiple occasions.  Judge Snyder had dismissed Lindsey’s attempts to explain that it was all some sort of misunderstanding and promptly sentenced Willie to the maximum sentence.

“I’m working on it, Willie,” Lindsey replied, even though he knew it was an empty declaration.  The senior partners had already decided Willie wasn’t worth the effort and while he didn’t know it yet, this would be the last visit from Wolfram and Hart that Willie would be receiving.

While Willie wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, he wasn’t completely stupid either and he didn’t hesitate to show his mistrust.  “Damn you, McDonald!  I’m in here because of you, you know.  I wouldn’t be in this mess if I hadn’t taken that job to find your boss’s kid.  Now get me out!”

Lindsey hissed at him.  “Shut up now or we’ll stop payment.  Unless, that is, you want your mother to be kicked out on her ass because she can’t pay her mortgage.  Is that what you want, Willie?”

“No!  No, don’t-  I won’t say anything, I promise.  I just…”  Tears began to well in the man’s eyes, fear making his face go slack.  “You don’t know what it’s like in here.  This isn’t like work camp.  There are some serious sick fucks in this joint.  Please, Lindsey.  Please get me out of here.”

“Okay.”  Lindsey sighed heavily and wiped his hand over his face.  “Okay, just let me work on it, Willie.  It’s not going to be easy, but I’ll fix it.  Just keep your head down and your mouth shut until then.  Got it?”

Willie nodded emphatically.  “Yeah, yeah, no problem, boss.”

“Good.  I have to go.  I’ll put some money on your books,” Lindsey told him then hung his receiver up.

As he walked away, Lindsey saw Willie put his palm to the glass and look longingly at the lawyer’s retreat.  Fuck.  The guy was too soft to be in prison and while Lindsey’s conscience was usually turned off to such things, Willie’s predicament was weighing heavily on his mind. 

He pulled out his cell phone once he left the building and quickly dialed Marcus Hamilton’s office.

“Wolfram and Hart, this is Hamilton.”

“It’s Lindsey.”

“Oh, good, Mr. McDonald, I was expecting your call.  The senior partners have made a decision regarding your client, William DeMille.”

Lindsey knew too well not expect good news even though Hamilton’s voice was cheerful and professional.  He had learned that there wasn’t a bastard on the face of the planet that could rival Hamilton’s cold heart.

“As of today, Wolfram and Hart is severing all ties to Mr. DeMille, including payment for his services.  The senior partners want you back in the office by five today to go over the Hoffman case,” Hamilton said jovially.

Shit.  “Look, Hamilton, I think we should reconsider cutting Willie loose.  He’s ready to talk if we drop him and I know Mr. Summers wanted to keep-“

“Mr. DeMille will be handled.  Mr. Summers has requested that I take over the details of his daughter’s disappearance.  You will be reassigned to the Hoffman case.”

Lindsey ran a rough hand through his hair.  “What do you mean ‘handled’?  We’re not in the business of murder-for-hire last time I looked.”

Hamilton grunted and his tone took on a dangerous quality.  “This is not up for discussion, Mr. McDonald, and you should be very careful not to give off the perception that you are less than a team player.  The senior partners have made their ruling.  If I were you, I would forget all about Mr. DeMille and any involvement you have had with the Summers’ case.  Bad things happen to people who don’t mind what they’re told.”

The line went dead with a click.

Lindsey ground his teeth together and threw his phone against the blacktop of the parking lot.  Son of a bitch!  He’d worked for months to find Hank Summers’ teenage daughter, tracked her all the way to Las Vegas and was just days away from finding her.  This was how his hard work was repaid?  A hit on his longtime associate and removal from a case he had built from the ground up?   

There was something wrong.  This wasn’t just some girl running away from home.  Why was Hank Summers spending valuable company resources to find his daughter without alerting the authorities or press?  Did the girl know something she shouldn’t?  It wouldn’t surprise him if she did; after all, Hank Summers wasn’t the most upstanding citizen even if he worked hard to maintain that he was.

If it were true, how far would Hank go to keep his daughter from spilling his secrets?  Was he evil enough to suffer her the same fate that had befallen Willie?  The scary part was while Lindsey couldn’t say if he was, he also couldn’t say he wasn’t either.  That sort of ambiguous answer didn’t inspire confidence and if Hank were capable of doing such a thing, then Lindsey had practically handed her dead body on a plate to the fucker.