She drew herself up to her full height, which wasn’t very tall compared to either of the men in front of her, but at least it helped her feel a bit more confident. “No, but...”
“Are you legal counsel?” The shorter, middle-aged guard with blond hair asked.
She shook her head.
“We only allow family, lawyers, and law enforcement to visit detainees.” The taller man’s voice was so loud it ricocheted off the walls. “Anyone else will need permission from the judge to visit while the detainee is awaiting a court hearing.”
“Oh. I... um... but what if...” Her mind scrambled, trying to find a way these two men would let her see Mikhail, even if it was only for a minute or two.
The man with streaks of gray in his otherwise blond hair seemed to understand what she was thinking, because his gaze softened just a bit, and he came around the front of his desk. “Are you the woman from the expedition? Miss Wetherby, is it?”
She nodded. “Are you sure I can’t talk to Mikhail? It’s important, I promise. And I’ll be quick. It won’t take more than a minute or two.” She really just wanted to tell him that she was sorry, and she wasn’t going to lie to protect her father’s funding. That she’d find a way to get him free somehow.
The blond-haired man shook his head, his lips forming a sad smile. “Even if we were to make an exception and allow you to visit without being family, it’s not visiting hours, and some of the prisoners are sleeping.”
Her shoulders slumped, and thickness filled her throat. She glanced wordlessly at the thick wooden door separating her from the jail cells, but she could think of nothing else that might change guards’ minds.
“I take it you’re a friend of Mikhail’s?” he asked.
She nodded again, not knowing what else to say.
“I’m sorry we can’t let you visit him now, but do you need someone to walk you back to where you’re staying?” He extended his arm in what could only be described as a fatherly gesture.
“No.” She wouldn’t go back to the Caldwells’ mansion. She didn’t know where to go or what to do, but now that she’d left, the thought of going back and enduring one more meal with the Caldwell men made her want to claw an eye out. “No, I don’t need an escort. I just...”
She blinked, but it did nothing to stop a fresh round of heat from climbing into her eyes. It seemed like that was all she’d done since learning about the charges against Mikhail—cry.
“I’m worried it was all a mistake.” The words tumbled out of her in a rush, and she twisted her hands together. “That I said something wrong, or they took something I said and used it to charge him, and I just... He wasn’t responsible for Richard’s death. Mikhail would never be negligent or cause anyone harm. He wants to save people’s lives. That’s why he guides all these expeditions, so that people don’t die while they’re exploring Alaska. That’s why he agreed to find us so late in the year too. If he hadn’t shown up, we’d all be dead, but maybe that would be better, right? Because then Mikhail wouldn’t be sitting in a prison cell. He’d be free and...”
She shook her head. She was a rambling, crying mess, but she couldn’t bother to be embarrassed about it. “Richard died because he was arrogant and pigheaded and wouldn’t listen. That’s how he’s always been. He’s always known better than anyone else, and... and...”
A sob burst from her chest, and it was utterly mortifying to be crying uncontrollably in a jailhouse with two strange men.
A hand patted her back, and she didn’t need to look up to know it was the older of the two guards. “There, there, sweetheart. Mikhail Amos isn’t going to spend the rest of his life in prison. His family will make sure of that. He’s just got to sit here for a few days until the new judge can set bail. There’s no court being held over Thanksgiving weekend.”
“Or the new judge could dismiss the charges entirely on Monday morning, and then we can all go home and be done with this fiasco,” a new voice said.
Bryony straightened and moved her gaze to find a woman with long brown hair covered with a scarf standing in the doorway that separated the jail cells from the guardroom. A tall, dark-haired man stood beside her.
“At least that’s what I’m pushing for as my brother’s lawyer.” The woman moved forward, her lips turning up into a soft smile. “You must be Bryony.”
Bryony sniffled, then wiped her cheek with her palm. “That’s me. You’re Mikhail’s sister?”
“I’m Evelina, yes.” The woman offered her another smile, this one warm enough to melt the snow covering the mountains they’d just traipsed through.
“I never... I didn’t... I came as soon as I found out. I think I said something wrong when the Marshal questioned me, and now Mikhail is trapped here, and it’s all so terrible, and I just want a way to stop it, but the guards said I can’t see Mikhail.” She blinked at the other woman, then reached out and gripped her sleeve. “Did you get to see him? Is that where you were? How is he?”
“He’ll be fine. This is no way to spend Thanksgiving, but like the guard said, he only needs to be here for a few days. I can get him out on bail Monday morning. But I’d like to talk to you more about the expedition. Since tomorrow’s a holiday, what about Friday? Do you think you’ll have time to answer some questions then?”
“I would love to tell you yes, but they won’t let me talk to you. They wouldn’t even let me go for a walk earlier. Besides, I can’t go back there. I just can’t. I don’t care how fancy that house is. It’s a horrible, horrible place. I don’t know how Rosalind stands it.”
Evelina’s brows pinched together. “Why won’t they let you talk to us?”
“Because Father and Heath are worried the Caldwells will stop their research funding. And because deep down, I think Heath really blames Mikhail for Richard’s death. It’s not fair, and I don’t claim to understand it, but everyone is going along with this farce because of the funding. But I don’t want anything to do with it. I just want Mikhail to be free.”
“Bryony?”
At the sound of the familiar voice, she looked up, and suddenly Mikhail was there, standing beside the taller of the two guards. He was disheveled and handcuffed, but still there.
