Slammer

The final picture wasn’t of the crime scene, but instead, it was a full body picture of X after he’d been arrested. I stared at it, memories of our kiss moving through my mind. His eyes were hot and full of lust then, but in the picture, he looked dazed and afraid.

His young body was unscarred and smaller, much smaller. His was still tall, but his muscles weren’t as defined. No ink graced his skin, and he looked pale and confused. Prison had changed him. The cinderblock walls that held him in had transformed that boy in the picture to a hardened man. He wasn’t the monster he claimed to be before Fulton. Fulton had bred that monster, and the inmates and COs had fed it.

My eyes moved over the picture, taking in the blood that covered his body. It was on his face, chest, and arms. He stood there, naked to the world with his arms out and his palms visible. And that was when I knew. He was too small to have committed the gruesome crime. He couldn’t have been strong enough to cut through muscle and bone. X hadn’t cut those people into pieces. He was innocent.

I sat back in my chair as the realization came crashing over me. Losing myself in that moment, I let snippets of crime scene information move through my mind. I was so lost in thought that when Douglas came up behind me and touched my shoulder, I jumped.

“So what’s the verdict? Monster or not?” He studied my face, as if he were trying to figure me out.

“I don’t know yet,” I lied. “But I tend to find out.”

CHAPTER 14

LYLA

MY FOUR DAYS off were exactly what I needed to recharge. The week had been hectic and with all the new information I had swirling around my brain, I was mentally exhausted. I needed help, and I knew exactly where I needed to go to get it.

When I got out of the shower, I wrapped myself in my robe and towel dried my hair. My day wasn’t going to be pleasant, but if it meant possibly clearing Christopher’s name, then I would do it. I’d do whatever it took. Maybe I was drugged by the mere thought of him. Perhaps his kiss had sent me on a downward spiral, but I meant to find out.

Slipping on my favorite jeans, I pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of socks. As I finished running my fingers through my curly hair, I added a touch of color to my face, which I hadn’t done since I started at the prison, and sprayed on my favorite perfume.

Grabbing my purse and keys on the way out the door, I headed to the place I’d known all of my life. It was like a second home to me, and when I opened the doors of the station and stepped in, I immediately went back in time.

The scent of coffee was welcoming and the banter between the officers made me smile. Phones rang every few seconds and I took it all in, enjoying the wave of nostalgia it brought me.

I stood in the center of the police station, my eyes touching every wall and piece of furniture until I landed on the photo of my dad. There was a plaque next to his picture, a dedication from his fellow officers. Swallowing against the emotion that threatened to choke me, I closed my eyes and wished that I could hear his voice once more.

“Lyla?” a voice called from behind me.

When I turned around, Charlie, my dad’s old boss, was standing there smiling back at me. “I must be seeing things.” He chuckled.

“Hi, Mr. Charlie.” I opened my arms, and he embraced me like he used to when I was younger. He had always doted on me.

“What are you doing here, carrot top?” He pulled away, taking in how much I’d changed since I’d last seen him at my dad’s funeral. “You’re not in any trouble, are you, sweetheart?”

I shook my head. “No, sir, but I could use some help. Do you have a few seconds?”

He motioned for me to follow him to his office, and when I walked in, I took a seat in the worn leather chair he offered. Looking around his office, my eyes moved over the pictures of his history as the police chief. He even had a picture of him and my dad together, both smiling at the camera after catching a murderer.

“It’s been, what, two years since I’ve seen you? Not since your daddy’s funeral.”

“Three years.” I swallowed hard, trying not to think about the pain being in his office brought. Trying not to think of the pain of missing my dad.

“My, how the time flies,” he said sadly. “I’m sorry, darlin’, I know your dad’s a sore subject. I miss him, too. More and more every day. He was a great man and one hell of an officer.”

I nodded as an image of my dad standing in his police uniform crossed my mind. He’d worked for Charlie for almost thirty years before he was shot three months shy of retiring. After thirty years of being shot at, sleep deprived, and kicked around, he’d died from a fatal shot to the head right before he was finished.