CHAPTER 91

LEEWOOD FOLCRUM

I NMATE 82145

My daughter doesn't ask for much, so when Paige wanted to get cleared for her and the Wultz kid to get a visitation with Leewood, I did it. Yeah, I got some kickback for it, but you gotta do what you can do for your kids. I haven't given her shit else in this life.

—William Smith, Lancaster Prison corrections officer

The two girls came to my hospital room. I knew something was up when officers brought handcuffs in and cinched me to the bed. I could barely roll over to shit, so the security measures were unneeded.

I studied the officer latching the cuffs. "What's up?" I asked.

"Got a visitor. Two. Behave with them, or I'll come back in here and pull the plug on you myself," he said gruffly, and I didn't bother telling him I wasn't on life support.

"Cops?" I asked, moving my wrist in a position to give him better access.

"Nope." He pointed to a camera in the corner of the room. "This isn't your attorney, and you aren't in a visitation room, so be aware that this won't be private. You got ears and eyes on you." He checked the lock, then opened the door, waving someone through. I tried to straighten up in the bed and failed. Looking for the controls, I saw the incline button, but it was just out of reach. Fuck.

Two girls entered, and I'm shit at ages, but the brunette looked to be in college. The blonde was Jenny's age when I last saw her, and my breath caught in my throat when our gazes connected.

Even without the photo Grant had shown me, I would have known. I would have recognized Jenny's child anywhere. She had the same crooked nose. The same sharp, intelligent eyes. The same Cupid's bow–shaped mouth.

"Hey, Lee." She smiled, and my own mouth trembled as a wave of emotion and grief hit me. I tried to respond, but instead started to weep.

I told them everything, a final confession of my soul. I didn't care about the cameras and I didn't share that I had told Grant the truth—I just told them what had happened the night of the party and that I hadn't spoken to Jenny since the night I was arrested.

I already knew that Jenny had died—that news had made it to the prison, and I spoke freely about the past, no longer bound to keep her secrets.

I didn't tell them my opinion of what had supposedly happened to Jenny. There was no way my daughter took her own life. I suspected Grant—but to be honest, I didn't give a damn how it had happened. What mattered was that this little girl was okay. Hopefully, history wouldn't repeat itself and put Grant in prison for her crime. If it did, he'd do the time, and without bitching. You did what you had to do to protect your children.

They stayed almost an hour. At the end, the blonde—Sophie—gave me a kiss on the cheek, and I gripped her hand for a long moment, my waterworks springing back to life.

Then they walked out, my vision blurry as I watched them leave, and I realized I didn't even know who the brunette was or why she had tagged along.