Chapter 8: Through the Glass
The heavy steel door of the visitation room clicked shut behind the guard, leaving the familiar hum of the overhead fluorescent lights to fill the silence. The air smelled of industrial disinfectant and stale dust. I walked up to the thick metal-framed glass partition, my boots clicking hard against the gray concrete floor. I sat down on the bolted metal stool, pulled it closer to the counter, and waited.
A moment later, a side door opened, and Mom walked in. She was wearing the same orange jail jumpsuit, her hair pulled back into a loose, unwashed ponytail. Her face was pale, the dark circles under her eyes deeper than they had been during my first visit. She looked at me, and I saw the immediate wave of fresh tears well up in her eyes. The guard guided her to the stool on the other side of the glass, stepping back into the shadows near the back wall.
Mom reached out immediately, pressing her right palm flat against the transparent surface. I didn't hesitate. I raised my hand and matched her movement, pressing my palm against the glass mirror-image style, skin against cold acrylic. The steel support beam cut vertically through the upper corner of our line of sight, dividing the stark room.
"You shouldn't have come back so soon, baby," she said, her voice muffled slightly by the thick partition and the small speaker grille beneath the frame. "They watch you here. You need to stay away from this place."
"I had to come, Mom," I said, keeping my voice steady, flattening my fingers against the glass to steady my breathing. "I went to the courthouse. I pulled the initial filings, and I found the ledger from the precinct's asset forfeiture account. The signatures don't match yours. Someone forged your initials to cover the missing cash."
Mom shook her head frantically, her other hand coming up to press against the glass beside the first. "No, listen to me. This isn't a game. The people who did this—they aren't just local cops. They have influence. They own this county. If you dig too deep, they'll hurt you."
"They already arrested an innocent woman," I replied, staring straight into her red-rimmed eyes. "I'm not going to sit in that empty apartment while they ruin the rest of your life."
"I'm telling you to focus on your future," she pleaded, her voice cracking as a fresh tear spilled down her cheek, tracking through the dust on her face. "You're seventeen years old. You have college applications, a life to build. If you throw yourself against these people, you won't survive it. Promise me you'll stop. Promise me you won't go looking for trouble."
I didn't answer right away. I held my hand against hers through the glass, feeling the chill of the partition through my skin. I couldn't break the promise she wanted, because I had already crossed too many lines to turn back. I had the ledger numbers in my backpack at home, and I had already looked the junior prosecutor in the eye. But I couldn't let her see the raw terror of the threats hanging over my head either. She needed to believe I had a plan that kept me out of the direct line of fire.
"I'm taking care of it, Mom," I said quietly, letting the ambiguity hang between us. "I found a ledger, and I'm finding people who know how to look at it properly."
"Who?" she asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion and fear. "Who are you talking to?"
"Just someone who knows how the courts work," I lied smoothly, keeping my expression flat and unreadable. "You just keep holding on. I'm going to bring you home."
The guard in the background stepped forward, tapping his heavy ring against the concrete wall. "Visiting time is ending. Step back from the partition."
Mom squeezed her hand harder against the glass, her lips trembling as she fought for composure. "Be careful," she whispered, her voice barely audible through the speaker. "Please, baby. Be careful."
May you like
"I will," I said, pulling my hand away from the glass as the guard unlatched her side of the room.
I stood up from the stool, watching her get escorted back through the side door without looking back again. The heavy metal door slammed shut with a definitive, echoing thud. I turned and walked out into the gray afternoon light, my mind already racing past the county borders. The local authorities were dirty from top to bottom; trusting them was a dead end. I needed an incorruptible investigator, someone outside the county lines who couldn't be bought off by a forged ledger or a sheriff's badge.
