Chapter 10 - VISITING HOURS
Z
The state penitentiary was a bleak fortress of concrete and razor wire, rising like a gray tombstone out of the flat, desolate plains. I hadn't seen my sister in eighteen months. I had vowed never to look at her face again. Yet, here I was, sitting in a sterile visitation booth, waiting for the heavy steel door to open.
When Melissa walked in, the breath caught in my throat.
She looked hollowed out. Her previously dyed-blonde hair was graying at the roots, chopped short and uneven. The orange jumpsuit hung off her frail frame like a flag on a broken pole. Her eyes, once full of bitter arrogance, were completely dead.
She sat across from me, picking up the heavy black phone on her side of the thick plexiglass. I picked up mine.
“You came,” she whispered, her voice raspy, as if she rarely used it.
“Who was driving the car, Melissa?” I didn't waste time with pleasantries. I leaned close to the glass, my eyes burning into hers. “I know it wasn’t you. You’re too short to have reached the pedals from where the seat was locked. You took a plea deal for a murder you didn't commit. Why?”
Panic, swift and violent, flared in Melissa’s eyes. She slammed the phone down and started to stand up.
“Sit down!” I barked through the glass, loud enough that the nearest guard flinched. Melissa froze, trembling, and slowly picked the receiver back up.
“You shouldn't be here, Natalie. Leave it alone. The case is closed.”
“A man named Driver88 left a comment on my blog,” I said softly, watching the color completely drain from her face. “He wanted me to know you were a coward. He wanted me to know he was the one behind the wheel.”
Melissa began to hyperventilate. She looked around the visitation room like a trapped animal. “He promised Mom he’d stay away if I took the fall. He promised!”
“Who, Melissa?”
She pressed her forehead against the scratched glass, tears spilling down her hollow cheeks. “Mom wasn't just broke, Nat. She didn't just lose money in real estate. She borrowed money. A lot of it. From people who don't send collection agencies. They send... fixers.”
My mind raced back to the financial documents Maya and I had reviewed. Millions of dollars vanished into shell companies. We thought Evelyn was just incompetent. We never considered she was laundering money, and failing at it.
“Daniel found out,” Melissa choked out. “He found Mom’s ledgers. He was going to the FBI. That’s why he locked up the trust—so the cartel couldn't seize Lily’s money to cover Mom’s debts. Mom panicked. She told her creditor about Daniel. They sent a man to... take care of him. I just provided my car to make it untraceable.”
“And you took a twenty-five-year sentence to protect this man?” I asked, disgusted.
“I took it to protect you and Lily!” Melissa snapped, a flash of her old self returning. “If I went to trial, if I pointed the finger at the cartel's fixer, they would have slaughtered all of us! Mom went down for the conspiracy, I went down for the crash, and the cartel got their vengeance and walked away. It was the only way they would let you and Lily live!”
I stared at the broken woman across from me. She wasn't just a greedy sister; she was a terrified pawn in a game I hadn't even known we were playing.
May you like
“He’s watching me now, Melissa. He commented on my blog.”
Melissa closed her eyes, a look of profound despair settling over her features. “Then he’s not done, Nat. If he’s reaching out to you... he thinks Daniel left the ledgers with you.”
