Coming Home(173)

Danny stared at the images, desperate to find a flaw in their relationship, needing to discover even an inkling of discontent—anything that would explain Troy’s indifference just now when he talked about his visits with her. But the people in that picture were unmistakably happy, their affection for each other evident in their eyes.

Maybe Troy’s apathy was just a front, just something he used to keep his true feelings at bay.

Or maybe thirteen months of this shit had managed to turn the people in that photograph into fictional characters—individuals who existed on paper but nowhere else.

Is that how he and Leah were destined to end up? Danny refused to believe he’d ever be capable of indifference when it came to her.

But then again, every last one of his expectations had been refuted since he’d come here, so what the hell did he know anymore?

“The following people have been requested at the visitor’s center,” a voice crackled over the loudspeaker. “Charles Velasquez, Darrel Simpson, Daniel DeLuca, Ray Brenner, Benjamin King, and Sean Foley.”

Danny’s heart came alive in his chest as his stomach churned.

Some small, unquenchable piece of his heart desperately needed to see her. He could feel it trying to fight its way to the surface, like someone submerged under water for far too long, striving for a restorative breath. But the more tenable part of him was terrified beyond belief.

He had no idea what he was going to do once they were in the same room together. What he would say. How he would behave. There were rules now. People were watching. Who were they supposed to be under these new circumstances?

As he approached the door leading to the visitor’s center, he tried to convince himself that once he saw her, everything would make sense. He wouldn’t have to think. This was Leah. Everything with her had always been so effortless, even when he was trying to fight it in the beginning.

This day was going to change everything for him. He just needed to have faith and let it happen.

Danny recited that mantra as he approached the inmates’ entrance to the center. The guard at the door was someone he didn’t recognize, but as he got closer, he could read the name Layne on his ID tag.

He gave Danny a quick once over before he opened the door and gestured for him to enter first.

On the other side of the door was a small room with an exit that led into the visiting area, and as Danny stepped in, Layne came in behind him.

“Arms out,” he ordered.

Danny lifted his arms, staring straight ahead as Layne patted him down.

Contraband checks were so commonplace around here that Danny often wondered if there was an inmate black market he hadn’t yet become privy to. But they were always conducted before a visit, and once the visit was over, they would check him again, making sure he hadn’t been passed something from the outside that he could bring back into the facility.

“Shoes off,” Layne said as he came to stand in front of Danny.

He dropped his arms to his sides. “You want my shoes off?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it? Is English your second language?”

Danny felt his jaw flex before he reached down to untie his boots.

He’d never had to remove his shoes during a contraband check before. It would be virtually impossible for him to retrieve something from his shoe during a visit without being caught by the guards, which meant Layne was just trying to make this difficult.

As soon as Danny’s boots were off, Layne grabbed them and turned them upside down, giving them a little shake before he inspected the soles.

And then he tossed them on the floor in front of Danny.