this feeling of peace. As soon as she was seated in that stark room and saw Tommy in his drab prison garb, looking lean and strained, that black, hard core of grief would settle in the pit of her stomach once again.
One of these days, he would walk out of that miserable place.
Realizing she was on the prison grounds, Brittany whipped into the nearest parking space and got out, the immense size of the plain brick buildings further intimidating her. Gritting her teeth, she made her way inside, refusing to acknowledge the smells, the sounds, that were part of this drab world.
Soon she was through security, seated, and waiting for her brother. When she saw him coming, she plastered a smile on her face, though she had to catch her lower lip between her teeth to keep it from quivering. Now that she was here, she realized anew how difficult it was going to be to keep the truth from Tommy.
Once he was seated behind the glass directly in front of her, they both picked up their phones simultaneously, though Brittany hated touching those phones with a passion. She’d been tempted to bring a can of Lysol and spray the receiver, except that she knew it would make her brother feel worse than ever.
“Hey, sis,” he said, then narrowed his eyes and added, “What the hell happened to you?”
“Hello to you, too, brother dear,” she said in a light, forced tone.
“Who hit you?” he asked coldly, his brown eyes narrowing to slits.
Hesitating on purpose, Brittany perused him closely, as she did every week when she saw him, checking to make sure he wasn’t run-down or ill. Before his incarceration, he’d been thin and small boned, like her. But he was tall, which made up for his lack of weight, and very healthy, rarely sick until he started smoking pot. At one time he might have been considered good-looking, with his dark wavy hair, dark eyes, tanned skin and sullen-slanted mouth.
Now, after three years behind bars, his entire face had become sullen, which made him anything but good-looking. He appeared much older than his twenty-three years. She noticed right off that he’d lost some weight, which didn’t help his appearance. Had he been ill?
She voiced that thought. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t try and change the subject.”
“Okay, I was involved in a minor auto accident,” she lied. “I ran off the road and hit a tree.”
A smirk tightened his lips. “It looks like your boyfriend might’ve worked you over.”
Brittany winced, then said in a dull tone, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Well, you should. Do you ever have any fun?”
“I’d rather not talk about me.” But then, he wasn’t really interested, anyway. He hadn’t even bothered to ask for any details. While she should have expected his self-centeredness, it still smarted. She wondered what he would do if she really had been in an accident and couldn’t come see him.
“Okay, we’ll talk about me,” he said bitterly, “and all the fun I’m having in here.”
“Tommy, please—” Her voice broke. “I know you hate this place, and I hate you being here. But right now, there’s nothing more I can do.”
“What if you went back and tried to find Renee?”
“Oh, Tommy, she’s long gone. You know I went to her trailer and tried to find her right after it happened.”
“I know, but maybe she’s come back.” He moved the receiver closer to his mouth. “What about knocking on that shithead lawyer’s door again? The one who sold me down the river. Maybe he’s had a change of heart.” Tommy finished with a sarcastic smile.
Heaven forbid, Brittany thought, hiding her dismay. She didn’t relish the thought of facing Darwin Brewster again. “You know better than that,” Brittany responded in a tired voice. “He’ll never admit to any wrongdoing. You’re just grasping at straws.”
Tommy thrust a hand through his hair. “But you don’t understand. You can’t understand. Some days I think I won’t survive if I have to stay here. It’s making me nuts.”
Brittany fought back tears. “You’re making it harder on yourself.”
“Don’t preach to me,” he said angrily. “I get enough of that shit in here.”
Some days there was no pleasing Tommy. Today was one of those days. It appeared that no matter what she said or did, it would be wrong. Something had happened to ignite his temper, though she didn’t dare ask what.
“Is there anything you need?” she asked instead.
“Yeah, but you obviously can’t hack it.”
Another low blow, which she didn’t deserve, but she took it, nonetheless. If only she didn’t feel so responsible for her brother, so responsible for everything that concerned him—good, bad or indifferent. She continually berated herself for not having taken better care of him, for not keeping a tighter rein on him. If she had, then maybe he wouldn’t have ruined two lives—his own and Jackson Williams’.
Realistically she knew she couldn’t hold herself responsible for his behavior on the night of the accident or any other night. Considering the way they’d been reared, she’d done her best. And while she remained loyal to him and really did believe in his innocence in this particular situation, she wasn’t blind to his shortcomings.
Tommy had done a lot in the past to bring shame on both of them.
Still, she loved him and would continue to work diligently to get him released, back into society where he could get counseling for his problems.
“How ’bout some money, sis? Maybe a little extra for this week. What you gave me two weeks ago didn’t last. Cigarettes keep going up.”
“Sure.” Although she didn’t have any extra money, she fished what she did have out of her purse and clutched it in her hand. Before she left, she would stop by the office, where the cash would be put in his account. “I wish you’d try and stop smoking.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Paling under his insulting tone, Brittany stood. Enough was enough. She’d had all of his ill-temper she wanted for today. Maybe next time he would be a little more considerate.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“What’s your hurry?”
“Your attitude.”
“How the hell would you like it if you were innocent,” he lashed back, “and no one believed you?”
“I believed—believe—you.”
“Then get me out of here.”
Brittany suppressed a tired sigh. “I’ll see you next week.”
Collier found Jackson in his suite, parked in his usual place, in front of the fireplace, staring into it. Although he could only see his profile, he knew Jackson was brooding. “I hear you’re under the weather, big brother.”
“So?”
Collier barely held on to his temper. When Jackson was in one of his moods, which was all the time lately, he could be as trying as hell. After Mason had told him that Jackson was suffering with a bout of the flu, he’d detoured by the mansion on his way home from a Sunday in the office to check on him, hoping to cheer him up a bit. So much for his gesture.
When the silence became stifling, Collier made another attempt to carry on a normal conversation. “Once you’re up to it, I could sure use your help on this sexual harassment case I’m working on, or that’s working on me, I should say.”
“I think you have enough attorneys on staff to assist you,” Jackson