and she was in. If she proved herself worthy and gained Hancock's trust, she would have full access.
Like the waiting room, the corridor beyond the secured door was a blank slate of white walls, ceiling and floor. At the far end another security access area waited. A blue-uniformed guard stood by. He nodded to the administrator, pressed the necessary button, and the bulletproof glass wall parted, allowing passage.
"You'll need to leave your personal belongings here," Hancock said.
"Of course.” Jenna handed her purse to the guard. She raised her arms while he moved the security wand over her body. Prepared for this step, she'd worn no earrings or jewelry, not even a watch. Not that time really mattered much to her anymore.
The guard nodded to the administrator and Jenna followed Dr. Hancock beyond the final security point, where the corridor widened then divided to detour around the attendants' desk. A hush teeming with secrets permeated the air on this floor. The students resided in small private rooms designed for their own protection.
It wasn't that a single resident of this facility was dangerous in a sinister way. Not at all. But the residents were unpredictable. An explosion of violence could follow too much of the most ordinary stimuli. At least that was what she'd been told, and she had corroborated the information as best she could with research of her own.
Hancock acknowledged the attendants—some teachers, some nurses—on duty. Each eyed Jenna as she breached their territory. Based on what Hancock had told her, she would be the first new hire at this facility in half a decade. Guess that made her special.
One thing was certain: it made her lucky as hell.
But then, she'd had help. Another secret that had to be kept.
Outside a door marked Classroom One, Hancock paused.
"This is one of six classrooms. At this time in the afternoon, students are encouraged to let their imaginations guide them. As you can see, some read while others draw. We've decided to expand our curriculum and include a more structured fine arts endeavor."
Her knees shaking, Jenna managed a nod. For the first time she dared to allow her gaze to rove over the wall of windows that separated the classroom from the corridor. Books lined the walls except for one end where the shelves were stocked with games and drawing supplies. In the center of the room a long table flanked by chairs held court. At the table, students, heads bowed, focused on their choice of entertainment.
Jenna's barely restrained interest settled lastly on the girl at one end of the table. Her breath caught before she could stop it. It would have been impossible for Hancock to miss the sound. A new kind of fear mushroomed in her chest.
"That one is a very special little girl," Hancock noted, his attention settling on the darkhaired child as well. "Her name is Diamond. If she responds to you, all the others will follow suit."
Nerves jangling, Jenna nodded her understanding. She felt certain she should say something brilliant, but for the life of her she couldn't summon a word.
"I have reservations about your ability to fit in here, Miss Thomas.” Hancock scrutinized her. "Ultimately, it's not me you need to impress. The Wallace Institute exists for these students. If they accept you, then the job is yours."
Her heart pounding, Jenna managed a stiff smile. Don't blow it. Stay cool. "I understand." Reading him was easy now. He wanted her to see that he wasn't happy about how she got a foot in the door. There was a smug arrogance about his expression. He expected her to fail; maybe he even wanted her to. Then he would have the last laugh. His attitude wasn't really surprising. No one liked it when someone higher up on the food chain got involved with personnel matters.
"Five minutes, Miss Thomas. That's all the time I can give you to prove yourself." He gestured to the plaque on the wall by the door that reminded those who entered that the room was monitored by
Like the waiting room, the corridor beyond the secured door was a blank slate of white walls, ceiling and floor. At the far end another security access area waited. A blue-uniformed guard stood by. He nodded to the administrator, pressed the necessary button, and the bulletproof glass wall parted, allowing passage.
"You'll need to leave your personal belongings here," Hancock said.
"Of course.” Jenna handed her purse to the guard. She raised her arms while he moved the security wand over her body. Prepared for this step, she'd worn no earrings or jewelry, not even a watch. Not that time really mattered much to her anymore.
The guard nodded to the administrator and Jenna followed Dr. Hancock beyond the final security point, where the corridor widened then divided to detour around the attendants' desk. A hush teeming with secrets permeated the air on this floor. The students resided in small private rooms designed for their own protection.
It wasn't that a single resident of this facility was dangerous in a sinister way. Not at all. But the residents were unpredictable. An explosion of violence could follow too much of the most ordinary stimuli. At least that was what she'd been told, and she had corroborated the information as best she could with research of her own.
Hancock acknowledged the attendants—some teachers, some nurses—on duty. Each eyed Jenna as she breached their territory. Based on what Hancock had told her, she would be the first new hire at this facility in half a decade. Guess that made her special.
One thing was certain: it made her lucky as hell.
But then, she'd had help. Another secret that had to be kept.
Outside a door marked Classroom One, Hancock paused.
"This is one of six classrooms. At this time in the afternoon, students are encouraged to let their imaginations guide them. As you can see, some read while others draw. We've decided to expand our curriculum and include a more structured fine arts endeavor."
Her knees shaking, Jenna managed a nod. For the first time she dared to allow her gaze to rove over the wall of windows that separated the classroom from the corridor. Books lined the walls except for one end where the shelves were stocked with games and drawing supplies. In the center of the room a long table flanked by chairs held court. At the table, students, heads bowed, focused on their choice of entertainment.
Jenna's barely restrained interest settled lastly on the girl at one end of the table. Her breath caught before she could stop it. It would have been impossible for Hancock to miss the sound. A new kind of fear mushroomed in her chest.
"That one is a very special little girl," Hancock noted, his attention settling on the darkhaired child as well. "Her name is Diamond. If she responds to you, all the others will follow suit."
Nerves jangling, Jenna nodded her understanding. She felt certain she should say something brilliant, but for the life of her she couldn't summon a word.
"I have reservations about your ability to fit in here, Miss Thomas.” Hancock scrutinized her. "Ultimately, it's not me you need to impress. The Wallace Institute exists for these students. If they accept you, then the job is yours."
Her heart pounding, Jenna managed a stiff smile. Don't blow it. Stay cool. "I understand." Reading him was easy now. He wanted her to see that he wasn't happy about how she got a foot in the door. There was a smug arrogance about his expression. He expected her to fail; maybe he even wanted her to. Then he would have the last laugh. His attitude wasn't really surprising. No one liked it when someone higher up on the food chain got involved with personnel matters.
"Five minutes, Miss Thomas. That's all the time I can give you to prove yourself." He gestured to the plaque on the wall by the door that reminded those who entered that the room was monitored by
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