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“Right. Do you know him?”

Shaking my head, I look down at my hand. “Only by reputation.”

“He’s flying out here tonight. We’ve collected everything you put together on Sloan—good work, by the way—and with Melissa’s evidence, we should be able to build a strong case for ‘defense of others.’”

My eyebrows rise. “I hadn’t considered that.”

“You can thank my little brother,” he laughs. “Seems you’re not the only college graduate in the office.”

“If you weren’t so busy playing soldier, you’d have finished college.”

“Somebody’s got to defend our country.”

It’s our old banter, and it takes my mind off the shit I’m living with now. The America private citizens wonder if we should worry about defending. The America they’d rather kill. My mind drifts to the nighttime. The things I miss most.

“Can you get me a picture of Melissa?” I ask, looking down at my hands. “When they arrested me, I only had my phone, which they confiscated.”

“Of course.” He nods. “You got it.”

“And one of Dex.”

“I’ll get them to you tomorrow. Tonight if I can.”

We’re quiet a moment, and I can’t help saying what’s on my mind. “She has to go on record with what happened to her.” Wincing, I look down at the Formica space between us. “She never wanted anyone to know. She wanted to put it behind us.”

“Look at me.” Stuart’s voice is sharp, and when I glance up, his brow is lowered. “Melissa is more determined than I’ve ever seen any woman. She’s not angry or backing down. She’s doing whatever it takes to get her man home.”

“Yeah,” I say through an exhale. “Because of what I did.”

“You did what you had to do.” His tone is more emphatic, and I can’t stop the label that floats across my brain: Badass. “We’re doing what we have to do. Keep your spirits up. It won’t be long.”

* * *

Dinner. I’m in the line, holding my tray as a blob of what appears to be pulled pork is dumped on it. Turning away, I’m faced with a cafeteria full of men waiting to be convicted, sentenced, and either let back out into the population or sent to prison.

Two young guys who should be in college joke and laugh as they take their seats. An old man who looks too weak to do anything significant passes. He’s probably the worst offender of all, preying on those weaker than him. Then my eyes land on the table in the back, the group of thugs waiting to see if I’ll join them.

I was a Marine. I took an oath. Now I’m one of these guys, a convict trapped in a holding pen while the system either succeeds or fails. Clenching my jaw, I start toward the same spot where I had my lunch earlier, where I’ve had every meal here alone. I’m not a pussy, but I’m not a thug. I might be a badass, but I’m not joining the ranks of the repeat offenders.

Nobody speaks as I take my seat, but I feel Chairman’s eyes follow me. Regardless of what happens outside with Stuart and the rest, I’m on the inside, and I have to establish my identity. Here it is.

Chapter 14: The Case

Stuart

Pacing my hotel room, I study the photographs I printed off at the drugstore earlier. One is Melissa looking up from where she’s sitting on the beach and smiling. The breeze is swirling her long hair back, and her sunglasses are pushed up on her head. I nod. It’s a good one.

Flipping it back, I have one of Dex. Melissa texted it to me. It’s from his birthday party, and he’s hugging Derek, climbing into his lap with a big smile. The last is the one from his condo. I’ve seen it in a frame there dozens of times. Melissa, again, forwarded it to me. They’re perfect—loving and sweet—they’ll keep his spirits up, remind him of home, help him remember why he has to get out.

It’s late or I would take them over tonight. Instead, I’ll run them by first thing in the morning before I meet with the prosecutor. My phone buzzes, and I slide my finger across the face.

“Stuart here.”

“It’s Marcus,” the male voice says. “Just checking in about tomorrow. I’m pretty sure we have all we need.”

“Did you get Melissa’s evidence.”

“It was on my computer when I got to the hotel.” He pauses, and I hear him struggling for words.