“How are you, really?” I studied her eyes.
Kobe shrugged, looking down. Clearly, there was something she didn’t want to tell me. “I got a visit from a case worker,” she finally answered.
“You want me to contact my dad, or you can, and he’ll let you stay with him until you’re eighteen.”
Kobe just shrugged again, as if her own welfare didn’t matter. But as much as she didn’t want to admit it, what happened to her was more important than her finding the person responsible for Jared’s death. I looked around me once more. There was a guard standing a few feet away, staring into the distance like he wasn’t listening. Everyone knew he was. In fact, our conversations were recorded. Even with him there, though, no other prisoners could overhear me and mark me as an easy target.
I leaned forward and whispered as if she could hear me better even with the phone receiver against my face, “I care about you, Kobe. I know this is hard, but you have to keep moving forward with your life. Make decisions that would make Jared proud.”
Kobe’s face hardened. Her eyes narrowed. “Finding Jared’s killer is the only way to give him justice. I won’t deny him that and neither should you. If you try to stop me, then I’m not going to visit you anymore.”
“Kobe...” But she was already putting the phone on the hook. She stared at me a minute more through the glass, but she couldn’t hear me. I did the only thing I could think of. I pushed the sleeve up my arm and showed her the tattoo that matched her brother’s. We had gotten them together when we turned seventeen—our birthdays were three days apart—and it meant that no matter what, our bond would always be stronger than blood. Kobe’s eyes flitted down to the tattoo. I knew she recognized it, but she just pressed her lips into a thin line, stood, and left the room. I only had a moment before the guard was scooping me back into my cell again. How was I supposed to protect Kobe if I was in jail?
Kobe
Four Years Later...
I willingly walked into the sheriff station, the same sheriff station where I was interviewed after my brother’s death four years earlier. The memory of them questioning me about my whereabouts when my brother died, had me curling my fists as I allowed the memories to fuel my anger and moving me forward in my mission.
“Is Detective Getty here?” I asked the woman behind the desk. She nodded and pointed to the row of chairs behind me.
“You mean Captain Getty?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Mark Getty,” I clarified.
“Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll let him know you’re here. What’s your name?”
“Kobe Brogan.”
I had not come here since my brother’s death, and I wasn’t sure whether the man would even remember me or not. Hell, for all I knew, Jared was just another faceless murder victim to him. But I was desperate, I needed someone backing me up as I was finally able to put my action plan into place to discover Jared’s killer. I never thought I would see the day I trusted a cop more than anyone in my life, but since I didn’t have anyone else, it was the best that I could do.
“You can go on back,” the woman said a moment later. He’s in the second office on the right. I walked back with steady steps. I had already decided my plan—I just needed to know if I had backup when the time came. If I didn’t, that wouldn’t stop me from moving forward—it would just change my expectations.
I raised one hand to knock and noticed the placard on the door read, Captain Mark Getty.
“Come on in, Kobe.”
“Thanks,” I responded, eager to focus on the business at hand. “I’m not here for a social call.”
“Didn’t think you were. Have a seat.”
“I’m here because your department has done nothing to find out who killed my brother, so I’m going to.” With each word I spoke, anger in me began to boil. “I’ve got it all figured out. I just wanted to tell you because, well…I thought someone should know.”
Captain Getty leaned back in his chair as though I had just hit him with a bullet and he needed a moment to absorb the impact. “Are you out of your mind?”
“No. I thought once Easton Crandall was released that you would find the real person of interest and then arrest that person, but you didn’t.”
“Easton Crandall was released because we didn’t have enough evidence to hold him, but I still think he had something to do with your brother’s death,” Captain Getty stated matter-of-factly.
“So you arrested him because of what? What evidence did you have? None. That’s how much. Instead of continuing to look, you shrugged it off and decided it wasn’t worth it. So, I’m going to solve this, and when I do, I expect your department to do its part and charge the assholes.”
“Of course, we’ll charge them. But you need proof and the reason no one else was ever arrested for your brother’s death is because we never had any. They won’t just offer up that information and I guarantee you that the gun they used is long gone.”
I pressed my lips together. “They won’t tell a cop anything, but I’m not a cop.” I relaxed a bit because he
