Prologue
The door to my holding cell swings open.
“You have a visitor.”
Doug’s gruff voice has become depressingly familiar since my case was brought to trial. He’s not bad for a small town sheriff, a little rough around the edges and likes to give me shit for winding up here in the first place, but not a bad guy.
Shame I couldn’t say the same for myself.
I drag my ass off the filthy bench and duck through the open door. A beam of sunlight squeaks through the dark and dingy place of my current residence, offering a reprieve from the short-term imprisonment I find myself in.
Fifteen days in a shitty holding cell is fifteen days too long.
A couple of the other sheriffs look up as I pass, their shrewd gaze tracking my movements as if I’m one move away from snapping my cuffs and making a run for the door. It’s a stupidthought because even if I managed to make it out, where the fuck am I going to go?
One of the younger officers catches my eye. I jerk forward, doing a piss poor impression of making a lunge for his throat. The guy all but falls out of his chair, causing Doug to roll his eyes and the other uniforms to snicker.
“Keep the beast on a leash, Kaminski.” Flushing to the tips of his ears, the rookie scowls in my direction, “He shouldn’t be allowed out of his cell.”
“He’s got a visitor.” Doug offers him a shrug, but I catch the slight twitch of his lip, “Maybe next time you should treat his brother with a little bit more respect.”
A growl escapes my throat at the reminder. The dipshit takes another step back, his eyes narrowed but obedient as he sits down and returns to his files.
That’s right. Put your eyes back where they belong.
“You could try to be civil, you know.” Pulling another set of keys from the loop around his waist, Doug casts a glance over his shoulder, “Would go a long way to swaying the jury’s vote in your favour.”
I don’t say anything because there’s nothing to say.
The photos submitted into evidence speak for themselves. The blood I left behind with my fists. The bones I broke with a fucking smile on my face.
I don’t need a judge to tell me I’m guilty because I already know it. I’m guilty for a lot of shit over the years, and if this is the one that’s finally going to send me away then so be it.
“If we’re just going to stand here so you can give me another lecture, I think I’ll head back to my cell.”
Doug doesn’t flinch at my tone. I’ve never been known for having a great attitude and the last fifteen days have only made it worse.
I feel restless. Unsettled.
Angry.
The last one doesn’t come as a surprise, but still I bite back another sharp remark before Doug finally turns and opens the door. He’s made his position clear since day one, his tough love approach falling short of the father figure I never had growing up.
Sorry, Doug. Too little too fucking late.
He opens his mouth to start preaching and I quickly brush past him. My shoulders barely fit through the narrow doorframe and the tiny folding chairs waiting on the other side do nothing to offer comfort for a guy of my size.
My cuffs clang noisily on the metal table as I settle myself down. Doug follows closely behind, grabbing the chains from the middle of the table and attaching them to my wrists.
“You can take those off. He won’t be needing them for much longer.”
The feminine lilt catches my attention. My eyes dart to the corner of the room, taking in the figure lingering in the shadows.
“Ma’am, it’s not procedure to let-
“Take them off.”
The thin blade of a stiletto taps the dirty concrete. Twice.
