Mrs. Martin was directed to the visitors’ section at the far right. She took a seat on one of the metal stools and anxiously waited. Jack and Aunt Haddie stood by the wall, behind the yellow line painted on the floor.
There was no doubt in Jack’s mind that if he was ever put in here for any length of time, he would go mad. His chest tightened. Everywhere he looked, all he saw was pain. At the far left visitors’ section, a prisoner in a bright-orange jumpsuit sat on the edge of his round metal stool. The tendons in his neck stood out as he jabbed a finger at the emaciated girl on the other side of the glass. Each time his hand thrust, she winced. Jack felt bile rise in his throat.
Jack turned away, but his new view was no easier to watch. A young mother held a toddler up to the glass. Curious little hands reached out toward the hulking man on the other side, who had tears in his eyes. His enormous hand pressed hard against the glass as the toddler’s fingers traced its outline.
Jack wondered whether the boy had ever touched his father’s skin.
The thought caused Jack to wonder about his own biological father. Jack didn’t know anything about him. No name. No details. He fought the urge to scan the faces of the men in the room to look for similarities to himself.
Two guards escorted J-Dog into the room on the other side of the glass. J-Dog normally walked with his chin up, looking down his nose at everyone, but today he kept his chin tucked down. With one hand moving back and forth as though he was pulling himself forward with it, he strutted over to the metal stool.
J-Dog raised his head. His face was bruised and his right eye was slightly swollen shut. His upper lip was fat and cut. His right hand was bandaged.
Mrs. Martin’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, baby…” Her voice broke.
“I’m fine.”
“Who did that to you?”
“Some of the welcoming committee. It was nothing. I can handle it. I told you not to come here,” Jay said gruffly.
“I spoke with your lawyer.”
“Lawyer?” J-Dog scoffed. “The court-appointed guy’s a dumb old white guy. He’s an idiot. He’s already trying to get me to take a deal.”
“Mr. Carlson believes you should cooperate with the police.”
“They can keep on me. But I’m not sayin’ nothin’.”
“But Jay, they think you had something to do with that woman who went missing.”
“Like I’d go anywhere near a white woman. Too much trouble.” Jay glanced at the burly, pale guard standing in the corner. “I didn’t have nothin’ to do with it. I didn’t know her.”
“The police say you met her. They say you delivered baby furniture to her house.”
“So what? She didn’t even look at me. That’s not meeting someone.”
Mrs. Martin shook her head. “Jay, why won’t you just tell the police where you found the wallet? That young lady is missing. If you tell them where you found it, they said they’d consider reducing the charges.”
“You can’t believe a word the cops say. That Detective Vargas tricked me.” Jay’s nostrils flared. “He lied. He said the lady just wanted the wallet back and since I had no record I’d get probation, and even that would go away if I kept my nose clean. He said all I had to do was just admit I found it. He lied. He never said she was missing, or anything about an ATM.”
Mrs. Martin put her head in her hands. “Jay… they have a picture of you at the bank.”
J-Dog turned his face away from his mother. His lips pulled back and he bared his teeth, but he didn’t say anything.
“They also found blood. On your shoes. Is it that woman’s? Jay, did… did you have anything to do with it?”
Jay glared at the ceiling. “No. I didn’t.” His lip curled back so high, you could see his molars. His teeth were clamped tight and the muscles of his jaw throbbed.
“Oh, Jay.” Mrs. Martin reached out and placed her hand on the glass. “Please talk to Attorney Carlson.” Her shoulders shook. A small sob jolted her slender frame.
His mother’s tears extinguished the fire in Jay’s eyes. The anger burning there flickered and died. “Shh, Momma. Everything’s gonna be good. You always say that. Everything’s gonna be good. We’ll figure it out.” He leaned down and angled his head so she would look at him. “I got a little money. In my bureau, the top drawer. In a white envelope. You gotta use it for the bills.”
“I’ll use it for your bail.”
“It’s enough for bills. I’d never have the money for bail.”
“I’ll put up the house.”