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She stared at her brother though the glass.Glass, plastic?What the hell was it?Lark wasn’t sure and it didn’t really matter, anyway.She’d just call it glass.What truly mattered was that she’d come week after week and talked with Lane through the divider.He sat on one side, clad in his bright orange jumpsuit, and she sat on the other.She gripped a phone to her ear and heard his rumbling voice drift to her.
No visitors were actually allowed in a room with her brother.No visitors but his lawyer.Not that there had been a trial, not yet.And there was certainly no bail for him.
A faint bruise slid under his jaw, and a circle of black covered his right eye.
“You were in another fight,” she whispered.
“Don’t worry about me.”
All she did was worry.
“I have a target on me in here.I can take care of myself though.”
Her gaze slid to his hand, the one that cradled the phone.His knuckles were red and scraped.
“You need to distance yourself from me,” he told her.“If they are tearing me apart in the media, I know they have to be doing the same thing to you.”
They were.Her shop had closed.You couldn’t sell flowers when there were no customers.Her house had been egged.Bricks had been thrown through her windows.Her car had been keyed.Multiple times.Her tires slashed.“I’m fine,” she told him as her left hand clenched.
His eyes closed.“You could never lie for shit.”
Her lower lip wanted to tremble.She caught it with her teeth.
“I’m your older brother,” he growled as his eyes slowly opened.“You have to listen to me.”
Older by three minutes and thirty-two seconds.
“Take care of yourself.Don’t crawl into this grave with me.”
For a moment, she feared her grip might shatter the phone.“You are not dying in here.”
“I am if the prosecutor has her way.”
Her breath came faster.“You didn’t hurt those women.”Her certainty had never wavered.It would never waver.
“I didn’t hurt those women,” he said, voice flat.“I wouldn’t.And going after someone who looks like you?Hell, no.Never.”
“Someone framed you.”
His lips twisted in disgust.“Probably the Fed who was fucking you.”
She flinched.He fucked me and fucked me over.Fucked my whole world to hell and back.But Oliver wasn’t going to win.She would not let him take her brother away forever.“I will find out who did this.”Determination filled her voice.It was the same driving determination that helped her get out of bed every morning when she wanted to curl up into a ball and hide.“You are not going to be locked away for the rest of your life.”Or, worse, you will not be executed for something you didn’t do.
“Lark…”
She put her free hand on the glass.“You wouldn’t leave me in here.”
He shook his head.No, he wouldn’t.They both knew it.
“I didn’t leave you before,” she whispered to him.“I’m not about to do it now.”
His hand lifted and pressed over the glass.Right over hers.As close to a touch as they could get.
“I’m going to find the real killer,” Lark promised him.“I don’t care what it takes.I don’t care what I have to do, I am going to find him.You won’t go to prison for crimes you never committed.I won’t let you.”
“Lark—”
“Trust me?”
