Sentencing Sapphire (Sapphire Dubois: Book 3)

Chapter 19

The familiar claustrophobia crept up on Sapphire as she moved through the cold walls of the prison. Knowing she could spend years locked behind the same thick walls, unless she escaped, signaled her muscles to run.

She swallowed the panic as the guard patted her down and sent her into the visiting room.

After the hysteria of her father's kidnapping, Sapphire had looked though her purse for the recorder the Copycat gave her, praying she may have missed a clue. Somehow, the recorder was gone. She did find the handwritten note. It was a jewel if you knew the right person, she'd realized.

She sat down in the glass booth and waited for the man she hadn't seen since she was twenty.

When he entered, a chill went up Sapphire's spine. She never thought she'd lay eyes on him again. Capital H.I.M., her first catch.

Professor Thomas Broker's face looked pale against the jump suit. He saw her and stopped mid-walk. His demeanor changed to something angry, then cocky.

He sat and grabbed the phone from the wall. Sapphire did the same.

"Hello, professor," she said, resuming the old habit.

"Alas, here she is," Broker said, "the woman of my nightmares."

Sapphire scoffed. "Said the man who murdered five of his students."

"Details." He leaned back and glared at her. "Is this what you do? Like a killer keeps his trophies, you relive your glory by observing your conquests in the Hell you've placed them in."

"No." Sapphire said. "I have a note, and I need to find out who wrote it." Professor Thomas Broker was the country's best graphologist. He could decipher personality traits, childhood experiences, and even an individual's psychological patterns based on their handwriting. The cops came to him all the time when searching for murderers... ironically. "I need..." Sapphire swallowed the bile, "your help."

"My help?" Her old professor laughed, tilting his head back. "Oh, the incongruity. Why on earth would I do this?"

It was Sapphire's turn to look amused. "Because you love being a know-it-all just as much as you love killing."

The professor's eyes narrowed for a few beats. "You attended my language class; you should know the proper word for know-it-all is the Germanic besserwisser."

Sapphire rolled her eyes. The irony of his words escaped him. "You going to help me or not?"

"I might." He rolled up the sleeves of his jump suit. "If you do something for me in return."

"If it's a cake with a file inside, you're out of luck. Because I can't bake, and you're not a cartoon."

"Still incorrigibly witty, I see." His stare was apathetic. "In exchange for one inquiry which you must reply to with absolute candor."

"Done," Sapphire agreed, then pulled out the note.

Thomas Broker eyed the guard a few feet down, then shook his head. "Because of my irrevocable state, I'm not granted to do anything without the warden performing a scrutinizing commission that utterly infringes on my unique aptitude."

Sapphire stared at him. "What?"

The professor sighed. "You have to give the note to the guard on your way out so the warden can look it over. Then they'll give it to me and I'll call you with the evaluation."

Damn. She didn't have much time. She scribbled her number below Play Me, Sapphire Dubois, then flashed it to him.

"Okay, so what's your question?" Sapphire asked, eyes on the time.