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The door opens and Melissa breezes back in. She hands me the papers. “I’ll fax my evidence as soon as Elaine gets here with it.”

“She texted she could probably be here tonight,” Patrick says, reading from his phone.

“Perfect,” she’s focused, all business. “Marcus needs everything we have on Derek—medals, service awards...”

“I can personally vouch for his conduct in the line of duty,” I say.

Melissa’s brow relaxes, and her eyes glisten with tears. “Bring him home, Stuart.”

I touch the salty drop off her cheek. “I’ll do everything in my power.”

Chapter 13: Inside

Derek

My lunch tray has just touched the long cafeteria-style table when I feel him standing over me. So far it’s been pretty quiet, but I knew it was a matter of time before the population would start to feel me out. Without lifting my eyes I wait as the large form takes a seat across from me.

The food is shit. A flat sandwich, bologna on stale white bread, sits in front of me. A banana and a plastic cup of juice complete the meal.

“We’ve had two new guys since you got here.” My lunch guest pauses, but I don’t look up. “You still have your own cell.”

Silence.

I pick up one half of my sandwich and inspect it. Mayonnaise and what I can only assume is fake cheese join the flat processed meat. My stomach turns and I put it back down.

“You a mole?” The enormous guy isn’t deterred.

“No,” I say, acknowledging him.

“A snitch?”

“No.” My expression is flat. I appear calm, but my adrenaline is ticking up slowly.

His dark eyes inspect me. “You’re white collar.” A beat, another quick scan. “What you in for?”

“Murder.” Returning to the food, I decide it’s probably wise to keep my strength up, even if it’s crap, and take a bite. The meat is salty and the bread sticks inside my mouth.

The fellow across from me bends a dark eyebrow. “How’d you do it?”

Reaching for the plastic cup of orange juice, I pull the foil off and t

ake a sip trying to get the crap food off my teeth. It takes a moment, and in the meantime, I turn my right hand over, palm up.

His eyes flicker down to it then back up to me. “Strangled?”

Shaking my head, I’m able to speak. “Broke his neck.”

Silence falls between us again. He’s studying me. “You Italian?” I shake my head no. “Latino?” Another no. “Irish?”

That makes me almost laugh. “No.”

“Biracial?”

Lifting my blue eyes, I smirk. “What do you think?”

He watches me a beat. “You’re military.”

“Good guess,” I say, trying the banana. Peel off, I break a piece and put it in my mouth. Mealy.