Chapter 22

Leonie felt the weight of the world upon her shoulders, but she had to do what was right. Abraham Turner could not be allowed back out into the world. He belonged in prison, and she was going to do everything in her power to keep him there.

If something happened to her because of her convictions, so be it. If something happened to Ephie, God forbid, she'd find a way to make Turner pay. He wasn't the only one with friends and connections.

He had to understand that. He had children of his own. Even if he wasn't active in their lives like she was in Ephie's, he must understand that coming between a mother and child would have repercussions.

She tugged at her jacket, waiting to be called in before the parole board. Turner would be in there, so she'd have to see him. Not something she was looking forward to, but it couldn't be helped.

She touched the spot on her chest where the dime pendant rested on its chain, feeling the metal under the silk of her blouse.

The chamber doors opened, and the bailiff came out. "They're ready for you, Your Honor."

She gave him a nod and strode through, chin lifted, a practiced look of seriousness on her face.

Turner sat in handcuffs and shackles, his prison orange jumpsuit a glaringly bright spot amidst the dark business tones everyone else had on.

He grinned at her, causing the tiny cross tattooed next to his right eye to crinkle into a lopsided X.

She ignored him and took her seat. She might have to be in the same room as him, but she did not have to acknowledge his presence. But that grin told her he was fully aware of the letters and threats she'd been subjected to.

Her blood boiled. She wanted to strangle him.

Instead, she smiled politely at the parole board hearing panel. "Good morning."

The head of the panel was a man Leonie recognized from previous hearings. She believed he was a deputy commissioner with the parole board. William something. He nodded at her. "Thank you for attending, Your Honor. We're ready to hear your statement. Begin when you like."

"My statement is a simple one because the facts speak for themselves. Abraham Turner is a violent man with ties to a long list of crimes that include felony theft, illegal gambling, prostitution, human trafficking, the sale and distribution of narcotics, and the one that finally incarcerated him, murder."

"Manslaughter," Turner spat out.

"Mr. Turner." The head of the panel glared at him.

Turner clucked his tongue and leaned back like everything she'd just said was nonsense.

She went on. "As you know, I presided over the trial at which he was declared, by a jury of his peers, guilty of first-degree manslaughter. I saw the crime scene photos, heard the testimony of his surviving victim and those of the deceased victim's family."

Turner coughed, using the sound to cover a derogatory curse word clearly aimed at her.

The head of the panel glared at him. He held Turner's gaze. "Mr. Turner, you aren't doing anything to help yourself. Another outburst of any kind and we will end this hearing early."

Turner held up his hands in a pretense of innocence, his expression smug and not at all repentant. "My apologies. The damp conditions of the prison have left me with a cough I can't shake."

The head of the panel nodded to Leonie. "Please continue, Your Honor."

"I will conclude by saying that if Mr. Turner is released, it will only be a matter of time before he commits another criminal act or, worse, takes another innocent life. I will not have that on my conscience. I hope you will feel the same way and refuse to grant him parole. I also believe his admission of remorse was a falsehood for the sole purpose of being eligible for parole. He'll do anything to get out, but prison is the only place he belongs. Thank you for allowing me to speak."

"We appreciate your time, Your Honor. You're excused."

Without another glance at Turner, she got up and left, the bailiff holding the door for her. When she stepped out into the hall, she noticed two men who hadn't been there before. Thick, muscled men in black jogging suits, wearing gris-gris bags on leather cords around their necks.

Without a doubt, Turner's men.

They eyeballed her with menace, eyes narrowed, mouths bent in hard scowls.

She snorted. Like mean mugging was going to bother her. She gave them her best deprecating frown, pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of each one. Couldn't hurt. Darryl might know who they were.

"You can't do that," one of them snarled, his Haitian accent thick.

"It's a public place. It's perfectly legal. But if you have a problem with it, I'd be happy to call the police on your behalf."

He glared at her and sucked his teeth. The second man bumped the other man's shoulder and pushed his hand toward the floor like he was telling the first man to calm down.

She tucked her phone back into her purse and strode toward the exit.

She'd done her part. Now it was up to the parole panel to do the rest. She kept a careful eye on her surroundings until she was back in her car, doors locked. She drove straight to the courthouse, parking in her reserved spot, but before she got out, she called Darryl.

He picked up right away. "Leonie?"

"Yes, it's me."

"How did it go?"

"I don't know yet. I just left. I'm at the courthouse now. Hopefully, we'll hear something soon."

"How did Turner seem?"

"Same as he always does. Arrogant. Like the law shouldn't apply to him. He tried to intimidate me. In fact, he had men outside, and they tried to intimidate me, too. I took pictures of them."

"You did what?" Darryl laughed. "You are something else, Leonie. Text them to me, and I'll tell you if I know them."

She took the phone from her ear and sent him the two photos. "Just sent."

"Let me put you on speaker and have a look at them." A moment passed with just the ambient noise of his office filling the space. "I know them all right. Phillippe and Francois Charles. Brothers who work for Turner. I'm sure Phillippe didn't like you taking his picture. He's got at least three outstanding warrants. Just a moment."

She heard him pick up his office phone and dispatch officers to the parole board to pick Phillippe up. Then Darryl returned to her. "Are you okay after that? It had to be unsettling to be in the same room as him, knowing he wants to hurt you and your daughter."

"It wasn't great fun, but I'd do it again. It needed to be done. And he needed to see that he can't intimidate me into doing his will."

"You're a brave woman. Be extra careful today. If that hearing goes the way I think it's going to, Turner isn't going to be happy. And he's going to want to take it out on you."

She sighed and stared through her windshield, watching for anyone she didn't recognize. "I know. You sent an officer to the courthouse?"

"I did. He should already be there. Have him clear your chambers, if you want."

"You think Turner could have something waiting for me there?" She'd almost said bomb, but she couldn't bring herself to say the word. There was no good reason to put such a thing into the universe.

"The man is capable of things he shouldn't be capable of. Why take a chance you don't have to? I'll be there to follow you home."

That brought her some relief. "Alphonso's making fried chicken tonight with greens and macaroni and cheese."

"Mm-mmm." He laughed. "You keep feeding me like this and I might never leave."

She smiled. There were worse things that could happen. He was a good man. And great company. "See you soon, Darryl."

"You be careful, Leonie."

"I will. I promise I'll call at the slightest hint of trouble."

"You do that. Bye now."

She hung up and tipped her head back for a moment. She was very ready for this all to be over. At least Ephie was far away and safe.

Remy would protect her. Leonie felt certain of that. Didn't mean she wasn't still worried about her daughter. She was.

But some of that worry was that Ephie might fall for that blood-sucking scoundrel again. Ephie could not be with a vampire. It would ruin her. It would change her. In ways her daughter didn't even realize.

Leonie sighed. Life never seemed to get less complicated, did it?