Dragonfly Bones by David Cole

hair was somewhere between black and brown, not even noticeably colored.
    He slid over to the I-10 right lane, turned on his blinker for the Cotton Lane exit. We headed north on Cotton Lane, my heart thumping. I’d been here before, been here just last year, the start of one of the worst days in my life, the day Meg Arizana was kidnapped down at Nogales. Tried not to show my anxiety at being here as he turned left at McDowell Road and then right on Citrus Road for approximately half a mile.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” he asked, pulling into a parking lot instead of the main prison complex entrance.
    â€œI’ve been here once.”
    â€œA friend in there?”
    â€œNo.” Licking my lips, tugging at the beret. “I’ve never been inside.”
    â€œWant to talk about it?”
    â€œLet’s just get this over with.”
    This time, I paid more attention, saw a bunch of gray buildings, looking like blockhouses, spread out within the confines of the entire Perryville grounds. I knew that “complex” actually meant specific buildings in a prison.
    â€œExplain to me what I’m going to see,” I said, alerted by the remembered anxiety of my last visit.
    â€œArizona Department of Corrections. Each complex is run by a warden and each unit within the complex is run by a deputy warden. Each complex warden is assisted by a complex deputy warden, each unit DW is assisted by an associate deputy warden, an ADW.”
    â€œForget the alphabet soup.”
    â€œI don’t know many details about Perryville regarding units. I never worked here. All I know, it’s a woman’s prison, there’s a Criminal Investigation Unit here. My impression is of a fairly large complex of single-story gray buildings with this large parking lot out front, facing the flat, one-storied admin building. Here.”
    He got out, moved to the front of the car before realizing Iwas still inside. He laid his briefcase on the hood and waited. His cell phone rang, he flipped it out and open. A Samsung a310—I notice these things, it helps when I’m anxious or frustrated, I focus in on technology, my safety valve, my emotional throttle-down escape.
    One Mississippi, two Mississippi…ten deep breaths, and I got out of the car, eyes on the pavement and then up, defiant, ready to deal with it.
    â€œShe’s supposed to be at the camp,” I heard him say. “ Shit! I authorized one of my men to pick her up. To hold her as a material witness.”
    An Anna’s hummingbird buzzed past my ear, flirting with the red ocotillo flowers. A male, its gorget and crown a brilliant iridescent red, the helmet absolutely glowing when you saw it head-on, but turning dark as it flew the other way.
    â€œSee if you can find that guy, that…Sean, the guy who supposedly told her about the bones. Okay, bodies. Whatever. Call me when you leave the camp.”
    â€œProblems?” I said.
    â€œNo.”
    Â 
    If I’d have known right then that Theresa Prejean had been assassinated on a Tucson street, on a corner only six blocks from where I used to live, if I’d have known, I’d have…what? I thought, What the hell would I have done anyway?
    He folded the cell, tucked it away, and gestured toward the entrance. He followed me inside to the front desk, showed his ID, and we were escorted through a barred-door sally port into a long hallway and then a windowless visitors’ room. Twenty feet wide, over fifty feet long, chairs set on either side of tables, aligned perfectly in a row stretching the length of the room.
    â€œYou can leave us,” he told the correctional officer.
    â€œCan’t do that, sir.”
    Brittles slapped his coat pockets, found another ID cardwith a green border around a bright yellow background. Shielding it from me, maybe just an accident, but I couldn’t make out what it said. The CO’s eyes widened, he was young and seemed a bit