Page 23 of Protect My Heart

The prison wasn’t on this side of town, but she appreciated Jim’s scenic detour. The road turned away from the river’s edge and out of the idyllic downtown toward the complex. Liz found it hard to believe this picturesque community was home to some of Minnesota’s worst residents.

A couple more turns before Jim pulled his new F-150 into the lot.

Liz’s breath caught as she looked at the place that had been her father’s last home. The historic brick building stood imposing with its towering steel fences encasing the yard beyond. She had never been here. For most of Liz’s life, her father was held in the St. Cloud correctional facility. Her mother visited him there a few times but never took Liz. After nearly twenty years at St. Cloud, he’d been transferred to Stillwater last year.

Her door swung open. Startled, she jumped.

“Ready?” Jim held out his hand.

Her eyes focused on it, vision blurred. She nodded. This would be her one and only visit to the prison. As a child, she had envisioned coming to see her father. Asking him why. Why he killed Mikey? Remembering back she could hear his yells for her mother. Shouts to call 911. Now, she would never know.

She slipped her hand into Jim’s and let him pull her from the truck. His arm encircled her back and gave her the support she needed. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the memories back and walked forward, ready to close this chapter of her life.

Inside, Jim stayed with her through the process of entering the prison and presenting her identification for her father’s things. They sat in the waiting area and Jim held her hand. The comfort he gave seeped deep into her marrow. She had always thought of herself as a strong woman, but having his support shored up her weakened strength. He was a good cop and a good man. She knew he didn’t have business at the prison today. He did this for her, a woman he met a week ago.

The guard, a hulk of a man with a graying buzz cut, came through the door.

“I’m Corrections Officer Sampson. Follow me.” His low, gravelly voice boomed with all the hard surfaces in the room.

Liz turned to Jim. He still held her hand. “I know you have business to attend to. I’ll meet you here after.”

“Yeah, but Doc, I’m here if you need me.” He squeezed her fingers before he dropped her hand.

She nodded and followed the guard without looking back. If she turned to Jim and saw the concern in his eyes, she would falter.

The smell of floor polish assailed her nose as she followed the guard. Her eyes bounced from his hulking presence to the sparse concrete walls. Visions of horror movies jumped to mind. He opened the door to the conference room and motioned her to a chair. She hid a flinch. This place gave her the creeps.

The door opened, and Liz swallowed the squeak in the back of her throat.

A female guard entered carrying a medium size box, no bigger than a printer paper box. Blonde hair in a tight bun, a face devoid of makeup, and a boxy uniform did nothing to hide the woman’s natural beauty. Setting the box down, she picked up a clipboard and pen from the top. “Identification, please.”

Liz relaxed her shoulders and smiled at her. She tried to ignore the sympathy in the guard’s eyes as she handed her ID over. The guard made notes on her clipboard and handed Liz’s license back. With a signature from Liz, she nodded and gestured to the box. One hand on the doorknob, she turned back to Liz. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Her nose stung and her throat grew thick. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Before a response could pass her lips, the female guard was gone.

Liz jumped at the sound of the mechanical lock.

Staring at the box, an acidic taste burned her throat. She picked it up in trembling hands. She swallowed down the grief that rose in her chest. Her father. Papi. This was the last of his earthly possessions. A part of her wanted to rip open the top off the box right where she stood, but now wasn’t the time. All she wanted to do was make it out of the prison and home without puking.

A throat cleared. Liz jerked. She’d forgotten Officer Sampson was still in the room. He led her down the hall to the waiting area. Eyes straight ahead, clipped stride. “I’m sorry for your loss. Patty and I served together in Afghanistan.”

“You knew him before?” She blinked away the surprise and picked up her pace to catch up to him.

“Yeah.” He stopped and turned to her. His face was wiped of emotion. “He was a hell of a soldier and a good man.”

Doubt furrowed her brow. “He was in prison for murder.”

His gaze connected with hers and she’d swear she saw grief swimming in the large man’s eyes.

“We all make mistakes, and we all pay for them, one way or another.” He opened the door and let her into the waiting area.

Jim stood in the middle of the room talking to a man in his fifties in a gray suit. They both turned when she entered. The man’s face held a hard edge, like the guards, but his expression softened as he approached her, hand extended. “Doctor Garcia, I’m Warden Finden.”

Jim stepped forward and lifted the cumbersome box from her. His eyes held questions.

The only problem, she didn’t have any answers. She extended her hand to the warden. “Nice to meet you.”

His large hand engulfed hers and held it for a moment as his gaze dipped down to the opening of her blouse. His smile was polite but the hairs on her arms started to twitch. She really needed to get out of here. Her emotions were messing with her.