“Carm?” Marcus’s voice was a rasp, thinner than she remembered. “You got it? The money?”
That was the hook.
Two hours later, her own phone rang. The caller ID read: NORTHFORK CORRECTIONAL FACILITY . She answered on the first ring. global tel link advance pay
Smooth used his own tablet, one of the contraband ones that ran on a smuggled cellular chip, not the monitored prison Wi-Fi. He logged onto the GTL website using a prepaid Visa card bought on the outside by his girlfriend. He didn’t need Carmen’s permission to make an “advance pay” deposit. The system only required an inmate’s full name and ID number. It was a feature, not a bug. GTL’s terms of service, all 12,000 words of fine print, stated that any third party could fund an account. The company had no incentive to stop it. In fact, they loved it. Every deposit, legitimate or predatory, came with a non-refundable $3.95 processing fee. “Carm
Smooth deposited $150 into Marcus’s phone account. Then he waited. Two hours later, her own phone rang