Page 11 of Caretaker

When my fingers brushed Shane’s hand, he shivered, then laced his fingers with mine. He didn’t look at me, and his face didn’t soften, but he squeezed my hand.

Shane could be an asshole.

But sometimes, he could be exactly what I needed.

We entered a set of double doors and found ourselves in a large waiting room with scuffed tile floors and scattered seating, with a bank of windows against the left wall.

“Help ya?” a woman called.

We walked to the windows, and with every step, my stomach got tighter.

“We’re here to visit Angus Stark,” Shane said.

Al stuck his hands into his pockets, then crossed his arms, his nervousness as apparent as my own.

Only Shane seemed completely at ease, but I knew him. He was as tightly wound as the rest of us. He was just better at hiding it.

“Visiting hours are every Thursday from 8:00 a.m. to 11:00 a.m.” The woman pointed at the clock on the wall behind me. “It’s currently 4:45 p.m. And it’s Tuesday.”

I slapped my pass down on the counter. “We have passes signed by Judge Bennett.”

Shane and Al tossed theirs to the countertop as well.

The woman heaved a heavy sigh. She dragged the little pile of cards through the window, peered at them, then muttered something under her breath that sounded unflattering toward the judge.

Finally, she shook her head, shrugged, and slid them back to us. “All right then. Cindy!”

Another uniformed guard stuck her head into the little room. “Yeah?”

“Visitors for Stark. Take them over?”

Cindy leaned forward and peered at us through the window. “Are you kidding me?”

The first woman shrugged. “Bennett sent them.”

“Sentthem?” Cindy studied us, and I got a terrible feeling she was going to turn us away, passes or not. But in the end, she gave the first woman a mystified look, hit a button, and buzzed us through to the hall.

When we walked through the doors, a male guard was waiting with her. “Got any weapons on you?” he asked.

“Nope,” Shane told him.

The guard crossed his arms. “I would take your word for it, but I believe I’ll search you instead.”

Shane shrugged. “Knock yourself out.”

Cindy elbowed the male guard, her stare on me. “Larry. It’s Trinity Sinclair.”

Larry paused with his hand on Shane’s back and scraped his stare over my scarred face. ”Hunters. I’ll be damned.” He held out his hand. “We don’t see many of your kind around here.”

“Are you working a case?” Cindy asked. “Is that why the judge sent you?”

I shook Larry’s hand and lied to Cindy. “Yes. Top secret though.”

They seemed impressed, but at last, the male guard turned back to Shane. “I hate to ask, buddy, but rules are rules. You sure you’re not carrying?”

“I’m sure,” Shane said. “I left all my weapons at home.”

But the guard was no dummy. “Sorry, man. Gotta check. You sneak something in there, it’s my ass.”