"Hey." Nate scooted closer and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "It's okay. I'll go. Charles is behind bars. He can't hurt you."

"I'm just..." She shook her head, afraid to even voice her fears for her daughter and sister.

"I'm not going to tell Charles where you are."

She turned to face him. "But what about you?"

Nate swallowed hard. "I'll be fine."

Chapter 11

SING SING CORRECTIONAL Facility squatted uncomfortably on the east bank of the Hudson River about an hour's drive north of New York City. Nate parked in the visitor lot, dread settling in his stomach as he looked up at the guard towers overhead and imagined the rifles perched there. He took his driver's license and his keys. He'd left his wallet with Marisa at the Dunkin' Donuts a few miles away, where she waited with Garrison. He wasn't sure why they'd both insisted on making the trip. Marisa he could understand. As she'd explained to him rather loudly that morning, it was her daughter and her sister in danger. But Garrison?

Nate stepped out of Brady's blue pickup and surveyed the view of the Hudson River. The sun reflected off it, making the gunmetal gray waters shimmer. He turned back to the prison. Amazing the difference a hundred-eighty degrees could make. All concrete and barbed wire.

After the rigmarole of getting checked in and searched, Nate left his ID, his keys, and his hope with the guard. When the door closing him off from the free world slammed behind him, he had the sudden urge to turn and bang on it, beg them to let him out. The terrible fear rose in his stomach until his entire body trembled. He rubbed his wrists, felt the skin where ropes had once held him, fought the urge to scream. Finally, the next door clicked open, and he walked into a metal and concrete hell.

He was led to the visiting area, an overlarge room where he chose a table near the door and sat with his back to the wall. There were a lot of tables, which he figured were crammed on the weekends, considering Sing Sing's two thousand prisoners. Just a few other prisoners and visitors were there today, far from where Nate sat. The room wasn't bad, all things considered. No discernible scent apart from cleaning solution and coffee. Vending machines stood along one wall, and trash cans were scattered throughout. Though Nate didn't go to get a closer look, it seemed there were toys and playthings in one corner for children who visited.

Who would bring a child there? And what would it be like to visit your father in a place like this? To visit his own dad, the town lawyer and solid citizen? He couldn't comprehend such madness. Even though his mother had died when he was a teen, he'd still been dealt a good hand where his family was concerned.