Chapter 11: The Visiting Room

Darius's POV

Brinley had gone on television and said Nadine liked Stafford money.

So I drove three hours to the state prison on a Saturday.

I did not tell my mother.

I had not seen my brother's face in nine years.

The guard at the gate checked my ID twice.

"Stafford," he said. "You're his first family visitor in a long time."

"His mother comes."

"Not since the summer."

I signed the book and did not ask why.

The visiting room was a long hall with bolted tables and a vending machine.

I picked the farthest table and sat with my hands flat on the top.

They brought him in through a steel door.

He was thinner than the poster.

His sandy hair was cut to the scalp, and his pale blue eyes found me at once.

He sat down across from me and did not smile.

"Darius," he said. "The prodigal."

"Luka."

"They told me you made a speech. About me."

"I didn't make a speech."

"No. You made a worse thing. You refused to sign."

He leaned back in the chair.

"Mother told me on the phone. She cried. I've never heard her cry. I think she does it to order."

"I read your trial transcript."

"Congratulations."

"I read what you did to her."

He did not flinch.

He rubbed the side of his jaw, slowly, and looked at the guard by the door.

"She's a good witness," he said. "I'll give her that. I never thought she'd get up and talk at a gala. I thought she'd go away."

"She isn't going away."

"No."

I made myself say the next part evenly.

"I came to ask you one thing. Not about the parole. Not about what you've learned. One question."

"Ask."

"Did you know her before that night?"

His mouth went flat.

"Why?"

"Because Nadine says she'd never seen you."

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