He didn't respond, watching her instead with a mix of respect and wariness. Diane met his silence with a curt nod.
"Good day, Detective Larson. I trust we'll be speaking again soon."
With those final words, she turned on her heel and strode from the office, the door swinging shut behind her with a decisive click.
---
The clank of metal doors reverberated as Diane Matthews stepped into the sterile visiting room, her heart thrumming against her ribcage. She spotted Will through the glass partition, a shadow of the man she remembered. Their eyes met, a silent exchange of sorrow and resolve.
"Will," she said, pressing the phone to her ear, her voice steadying at the sight of him. His hand lifted to the glass, a gesture that bridged the distance between them.
"Diane… thank you for coming." His voice was a hoarse whisper.
"Nothing could've kept me away," she replied, clutching the receiver like a lifeline. "We're going to get through this. I’m here to help." I will get you the best lawyer money can buy around here. I will get you out so you can be with your children again.”
"Angela would be grateful," he said, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"Angela knew my love has no bounds," Diane affirmed, her words a fierce whisper. "And I know you're innocent."
They talked of memories and hope until the guard's stern voice announced that time was up. Diane stood, her hand lingering on the cool glass.
"I'll be back soon," she promised before the door buzzed and swallowed her back into the world.
---
The lawyer's office was a stark, utilitarian space, all sharp angles and cold light. Diane sat across from Mr. Stevenson, his suit immaculate, his gaze calculating.
"Mrs. Matthews, I won't sugarcoat it. This is an uphill battle," Stevenson began, shuffling papers with precision.
"Then we climb," Diane cut in, her tone edged with steel. "Tell me the plan."
He outlined motions, appeals, and expert testimonies. She cataloged each word and strategy with amethodical focus.
"Forensics will be key," Stevenson said, tapping a finger on a stack of reports. "If we can discredit the evidence?—"
"Discredit?" Diane interjected. "Or prove it wrong? There's a difference."
"Proving it wrong will be difficult," he admitted, locking eyes with her. “There’s a new witness; that’s all I’ve been told. We can, however, discredit other aspects of the investigation, maybe even find faults, and perhaps get the whole trial declared invalid, a mistrial. That would be my approach.”
"Difficult doesn't mean impossible," she retorted, leaning forward. "We must keep him out of jail at all costs."
Stevenson nodded, but his skepticism was tangible, hanging heavy in the air. Diane bit back frustration, her mind racing. Every second mattered, every detail a potential key to unlocking Will's cell.
"Leave no stone unturned," she stated, more a command than a request. "I'll be doing the same."
"Understood," Stevenson conceded, though his expression remained unreadable.
Diane rose, her movements crisp and purposeful. She had planted seeds of hope; now, she needed them to take root. The fight had just begun.
Chapter 4
I had barely nudgedthe front door closed when Christine's final, frantic steps faded into the morning bustle, and she left for school. A sigh of relief escaped me—all kids had been dispatched, and another day had begun. Matt's arms found their way around me, and we shared a quick, comforting embrace.
"We need to get better at this," we muttered in unison, laughter softening the edges of our morning chaos.
"More coffee?" Matt asked, his voice the audio equivalent of a warm blanket.
"Yes, please. I have time for one quick one."
