“Please, take a seat,” Lee Whitlow said, motioning to a group of chairs surrounding a low table. She had not even noticed the room’s furnishings until now. There was a brown-metal filing cabinet to her right, with a large desk to her left, and folding metal chairs were placed in the center of the room around a low, round table. No windows. Fluorescent lights. Maybe this is the bereavement room, she thought as she sat down. Never having been there, it was hard to say, but whatever the room’s purpose, Tessa knew her reason for being here could be life-changing.
As soon as she was seated, Steven Kilhefner, a short, stocky man who appeared to be in his early forties, sat beside her and placed a large briefcase on the low table. He removed what appeared to be legal documents, as the files were legal-sized. No, she thought, this cannot be good. Her hands shook, and her mouth was suddenly dry.
Bethany Young must have read her mind. She placed an unopened bottle of water on the table in front of her and four more close to the edge. “We talk a lot, our mouths need fuel,” she said, smiling, a way of explaining the extra bottles of water. Bethany couldn’t have been a day over twenty-one, Tessa thought as she took the water. Of average size, the woman was dressed in beige slacks with a pale blue blouse and wore a smartly fitted navy blazer. Her sunflower-colored hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, held in place with a tortoiseshell barrette. Tessa quickly glanced at Bethany’s hands, but she wore no jewelry. Girl next door came to mind.
Whatever the reason for the water, Tessa didn’t care. She opened the water and drank half the bottle, then steadied what was left in the bottle between her knees.
Sam sat beside her, placing his hand on her shoulder. Again, his touch sent waves of . . . something she didn’t want to put a name to through her. She had not felt a man’s touch in such a very long time. She tried not to focus on the physicality of her situation, the closeness of the man beside her.
She searched the faces of the people whom she assumed to be the bearers of bad news, and asked, “Could you please just tell me why you’re here, and get it over with? Is it Lara? Has something happened to her?” She turned her gaze to Sam, imploring him to answer her questions.
“No, Lara is fine. At least she was the last time she came to the office to pick up a check. That was a few weeks ago,” Sam explained. “I keep tabs on her. I’m confident she’s doing just fine.”
Tessa felt a wave of relief wash over her. While she and Lara weren’t close, she was the only family Tessa had left. If something had happened to her, Tessa would be completely alone in the world. This thought struck her so fast, it took a moment for it to register. She was alone. She would always be alone even though she was surrounded by hundreds of women just like herself. No, she wasn’t like those other women.
She was not a murderer, she truly was innocent!
The thought offered little comfort. This was her home now. She had accepted that and learned to live with the court’s decision.
Tired of waiting, Tessa focused her attention on Mr. Whitlow, asking, “Why are you here?”
Again, Sam placed his arm around her shoulders. She jerked so quickly the water bottle she had secured with her knees fell to the floor, the water forming a small circle around her slipper-clad feet. “Sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be,” Whitlow replied. “You’re nervous, and we understand. Bethany, grab a tissue and give Ms. Jamison another bottle of water.”
The young woman pulled a few tissues from a box on the desk and tossed them onto the small puddle to absorb the liquid, then used a clean tissue to pick up the wet glob and toss it into a garbage can beside the desk.
“Thank you,” Tessa said. She felt foolish and wasn’t used to having people clean up after her. That was her job. Monday and Wednesday, showers, the nastiest of all jobs. Tuesday and Thursday, the library, a much-coveted job. Fridays were spent doling out prescription medications in the prison’s infirmary/pharmacy. Another much-sought-after position. Tessa did not care much for this particular assignment either, but given her education and background, it was common sense that she be placed at the “pill window,” which was always monitored by guards inside the small area that constituted the prison’s pharmacy and outside the window where inmates lined up for their meds. Prisoners must be observed by a guard while taking medication. Inside, an antibiotic or a pill that couldn’t be purchased over the counter at the commissary was extremely valuable.
“I know you must be curious why we’re here,” Whitlow said, stating the obvious.
Tessa nodded, afraid to say anything for fear of the answer.
“Lee, just tell her. You have kept her in suspense too long,” Sam demanded.
“The Florida Supreme Court recently ruled that a suspect’s silence can’t be used against them in court.” He paused for effect. “As you know, during your trial, there were several witnesses who stated you remained silent after your arrest—”
“I told the police,” Tessa interrupted.
Lee held up a hand. “Let me finish,
