stories he told, I owe it to Tyrone. Iâd want him to give the same respect to my daughter if the situation were reversed.â
She gulped back a heaping dose of emotion. After not seeing or talking to him for twenty-five years, the idea that her dad bragged to others about her was sobering. Hell, even the fact that he knew so much about her life gave her pause.
âI appreciate that.â She fought hard to regain her detectiveâs mojo. It had disappeared the minute she walked into this place. âWas my dad fighting with anybody inside? Anybody you know of whoâd want to do him harm? Did he talk about anything that was upsetting him?â Even though she knew the truth, it was worthwhile to explore the prison dynamic.
âMe and Ty been here a long time. Guys come and go. Most leave us old-timers alone. Thatâs why it shocked me heâd been killed. Usually the young guys get involved in that sort of thing. Weâd already made our peace with where weâd landed.â He rubbed his chin. âBut something had been on his mind for a while. He seemed uneasy, maybe nervous, couldnât say for sure. He wouldnât talk about it, though.â
She wanted to ask him about her alleged visits, but didnât want to give away her hand. The guard stepped in closer and she figured their time was about up. âI want to thank you for talking to me.â
âYour dad loved you very much.â He didnât say anything else, just stood and shuffled off to return to his duties.
His words brought about suppressed memories. âLove you, baby girl.â The feeling of her fatherâs lips on her cheek and the warmth of his hug stung through her body, making her feel woozy. It wasnât until the guard touched her arm that she was able to shake off the sensation.
âDetective Sanchez.â He eyed her closely as if he wanted to say something but couldnât decide if he should or shouldnât. Finally, he spoke. âIâm sorry about your dad.â He gave her a tight smile. âThis might sound strange considering the circumstances, but your dad was a nice guy.â He cleared his throat. âThings move slowly around here, but when we figure out who killed him, you can be sure heâll be brought to justice.â
The last thing she needed was some kind of love fest about her father right now. Sure, most people waxed nostalgic about the dead, but this was frickinâ ridiculous. The guy was a murderer. Then again, they were all incorrigibles at this place. Maybe her father was just one of the better ones.
But there was something even more troubling in this guyâs words. She was pretty darn good at spotting a liar. And he wasnât lying. He truly believed her father was killed in prison. Sheâd have to go up the chain of command to learn anything different. But would they tell her?
From what she could tell so far, no way. Even their own employees were misguided about what happened, or were Oscar-caliber actors. Somehow she didnât think that was possible.
In the end, she said the only thing she could. âThanks, I appreciate that.â
She walked back to her car and thought long and hard about where to go next.
* * *
âHello.â She sounded distracted, like her mind was a million miles away. Fat chance sheâd say anything to him, even if he had a good suspicion of what might be troubling her.
But to be honest, Landry was a little surprised she answered at all. After the scene outside the police station this morning, he figured sheâd avoid him for a while. Could be a couple of hours, couple of days, couple of months. With Isabella, he never knew how long her avoidance would last. In the past whenever things got too close for comfort, sheâd withdraw.
âI checked this morning. Your place isnât ready yet. Youâre more than welcome to spend the night with me again. In a strictly platonic sense, of
Alicia Danielle Voss-Guillén
Hilary Storm, Kathy Coopmans