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dead. Justice is served, he said to himself. He thought he might be getting too hardened from fifteen years on the force, but he was always one to see it in his own way.
    "Quiet down! I will now turn it over to Captain Jacobson. He has been with the FBI for over twenty-five years and has been at the scene of the crime from the moment we found out about the report." A tall lanky-looking man with bottle cap glasses stepped up and the moment he spoke Kirk thought that his voice didn't match his appearance. It was strong and commanding.
    "Here's what we know, first, every inmate died within seconds of being around the food, but not all of them ate it, next, not one guard has died or even become ill, even though some of the guards ate the same food. And last but not least, we found no trace of poison or anything abnormal in any of the bodies." The Captain finished and showed them some more slides.
    Kirk looked with new interest not because a bunch of slime bags died but because he loved a good mystery. He wanted to know how it was done, to see if he could crack the case and look into the eyes of a mastermind. The yard on the side of the prison was littered with body bags, and the slide was filled from top to bottom. There were people milling about in hazmat suits with the letters CDC stamped in their backs like a bold black warning. They looked like they were
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    testing something. Kirk guessed it would be the air and food. More pictures were shown of agents going through the rooms looking for any clue that would lead to an answer to the cause of death.
    A lean redheaded agent, wearing a pale gray suit sitting in the front row raised her hand.
    "Yes, Sally, go ahead," Jacobson said.
    "So what you're saying is ... there's no poison, no toxic substance in the air, and nothing out of the ordinary?"
    The captain looked nervous as he pulled up the next picture. "Well, not everything. This is what was discovered inside of every inmate's pillow. It was sewn inside like it was put there from the factory." The picture showed a cut-open pillow with a small piece of cloth with the initials "W.J.A."
    "We're looking into every possibility. In addition, if this has been done as some sort of vigilante group, we will stop at nothing to catch them. I need you all to be on top of this case, and unless we get anything that proves the contrary, we will be classifying this case as a mass homicide."
    Captain Jacobson looked around the room one last time, then turned everything back over to Special Agent Mathews and turned and took a seat next to the thin redhead in the front row.
    Kirk watched as the Mathews began to give out his last orders. He split up the room and gave each of them assignments. Each person was handed a cream-colored file folder stuffed with photos and case records, and each file contained everything you did and didn't want to know about the inmates housed at David's Island. They were to follow up with the deceased families and see what--if anything, they could find out. It was a shot in the dark and Kirk thought that they were barking up the wrong tree. They should be looking into this W.J.A. note, the pillow factory, and the food delivery service; someone had to have seen or remembered something that could help.
    After they were dismissed, he left hurriedly, heading for the exit. He pushed open the door to the parking garage where he had parked his rental car.
    "Chirp, chirp." The lights lit up on a dark blue Ford Crown Victoria, it was a hard habit to break. He had driven a Crown Vic for as long as he could remember and he liked knowing what he had under the hood. Getting in, he tossed the files in the back where they scattered all over the seat and a few loose photos fluttered to the floor. He turned the key and peeled out of the garage leaving a black rubber tire mark on the pavement. He started driving back in the direction of his hotel. He had to think, to really think, did he want to do this?
    Did he have a