Chapter Thirteen
LEONI
I stare up at the looming grey building, its concrete walls stretching high enough to blot out the sun. I know prisons aren’t designed to look welcoming, but this place feels like it was built specifically to crush hope on sight. Cold, miserable and heavy.
“Next,” a guard calls, his voice echoing off the slab-like exterior.
I step forward, the gravel crunching under my boots.
The visitor line is shorter than I expected, and when I glance back, Anthony is right where he promised he’d be.
Leaning against the car. Watching me with that same calm, unreadable expression.
He gives a small, encouraging smile, like he can feel the tight coil of nerves twisting inside me.
I swallow, face forward again.
When it’s my turn, I hand over my visitor slip. The guard barely glances at it before nodding me toward the scanner.
I slip off my coat, step through, holding my breath out of instinct. Nothing beeps. No complications. No delays. Just the steady thump of my heart pounding in my ears.
“This way,” another guard gestures.
I follow her through a set of metal doors that slam shut behind us with a finality that makes my stomach clench. She leads me down a bland, fluorescent-lit corridor and points toward a small, enclosed visiting area.
“Table one.”
I take a slow breath, force my legs to move, and walk toward the table.
My palms are already sweating. I’m not ready for this. But I’m here. And there’s no turning back now.
I remember my father as a big man. Broad shoulders, heavy muscles, and oversized confidence. He used to spend hours in the gym, and for a while he even boxed. I never watched him fight, but Isaac told me stories. Stories that made him sound larger than life.
But the man who takes the seat across from me looks even bigger than the one in my childhood memories.
Older, harder, solid looking. Faded tattoos snake down both arms, disappearing beneath the pushed-up sleeves of his grey tracksuit, only to reappear up the side of his neck.
And yet, he smiles. The way a father should smile at his daughter.
With pride. With love. With something that makes my throat go tight.
“You have no idea how many times I dreamt about this moment,” he says eventually, his voice roughened by years of confinement.
I glance around, needing a second to collect myself. Other prisoners have taken their seats now, laughing, leaning forward, grabbing the hands of wives and partners and children. A room full of reunions I never got to have.
“I imagined meeting you again one day,” I admit quietly, “just…not here. Not like this.”
“It must have taken a lot for you to come.”
“You have no idea,” I murmur, picking at the edge of the table.
He hesitates. “How is she?” His eyes flicker away like he already knows he shouldn’t ask.
A cold wave rushes through me. “Don’t,” I whisper. “Don’t ask about her. You have no right.”
He nods immediately, ashamed maybe, but I don’t let myself soften.
“You’re right,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry. I just…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “Never mind.”
Silence folds between us for a moment before he clears his throat.
I shake my head, then shrug helplessly. “I’m not sure.
Mum wasn’t exactly thrilled when she saw the visiting pass.
” Tears sting, blurring my vision, and I focus on the gouges carved into the table.
I trace one with my fingertip just to keep my voice steady.
“We argued. I haven’t been home for a few days. ”
He reaches across the table and traps my hand between both of his tattooed ones. The sudden contact steals my breath and I gasp quietly.
“I’m so sorry, Leoni,” he says, voice low and thick. “I never wanted to cause any more problems for you, or for her. But thank you for telling me about my boy. Most people hear news like that from guards who don’t give a damn. Hearing it from you, even if it broke me, meant everything.”
“You deserved to know,” I whisper.
“I reached out to him,” he mutters, releasing my hand slowly. “Several times. He ignored me. I don’t blame him. I just wish I’d known he was going down that path.”
“None of us knew,” I say quietly. “Not really. I only started to suspect when he suddenly had money instead of asking me for it.” I huff a tired laugh. “He denied it. Obviously.”
“He shouldn’t have been coming to you for money,” he says firmly. “It should be the other way around.”
I smirk. “The world must’ve changed in the last ten years. Women make their own money now.”
He chuckles, softening. “Independent. Just like I always knew you’d be.” He leans in, eyes warm in a way that twists my stomach. “Tell me about your life, Lee. What do you do? Where do you live?”
“There’s not much to tell.” I force a smile. “I’m a secretary for a big design firm. And I have my own place, it’s really nice, actually. Overlooks the city.” My smile collapses as fast as it comes. “I haven’t been back since Isaac.”
His eyes sharpen. “Why?”
I swallow. “It’s where he died.”
His entire face tightens. “In your apartment?”
I nod. “Yeah. He got beat up the night before, came to mine to rest, and whoever did it came for him.”
“Who?” Mick leans forward, voice gravelly. “Did he say who?”
I shake my head. “No. The police arrested someone, but…” My voice trails off.
He scoffs. “Did they give you a name?”
“No.” I lower my voice. “They haven’t charged him, not yet. At least, I don’t think they have. Actually…” I bite my lip. “I wondered if there was any way you could find out.”
His eyes harden. “I don’t have contacts anymore, Leoni. Those days are done.”
I nod, then hesitate just long enough for the fear to show. “Could it have been anything to do with you?”
“No.” His answer is immediate. Too fast. “Who would come for me now? I’ve been locked up almost ten years.”
“I just thought,” I twist my fingers. “With you being on seg all the time, maybe you upset people here.”
“No one knows anything about my family,” he says firmly. “No photos. No addresses. Nothing. I’m careful, Leoni. Always have been.”
I release a shaky breath. “Nothing makes sense. I can’t believe someone would take his life over drugs.”
“Drugs,” he repeats, expression darkening. “He was dealing?”
I shrug. “The police won’t tell us anything.
But people on the estate say that’s what he was involved in.
Isaac wasn’t a big-time anything, Dad. Even if he pissed off a local dealer, why come for him twice?
Yeah, they could’ve jumped him. They did.
But they dumped him near Mum’s. They knew him off the estate.
He got a cab to mine, yet they tracked him to my place a day later, and killed him?
” My voice cracks. “It doesn’t make sense. ”
He thinks for a long moment, eyes narrowed. “Unless he upset someone bigger.”
“At most he made enough to buy a crappy car,” I argue. “Why would anyone bigger even notice him?”
“In my experience,” he says slowly, “the big guys only step down to handle disrespect. If Isaac had a hit put on him, it’s because he was deeper in than you realise. For a hit, he’d have had to steal—”
“A hit?” I choke out. “You think someone put a hit on Isaac?”
He glances around, then grabs my hands again, gentler this time.
“I don’t know. But like you said, it’s strange he was tracked to your apartment.
Bigger guys, they’d know everything about him.
They’d have the help and resources to track his entire life.
Look,” He leans closer, his voice dropping.
“I don’t think you should stay at your place.
Not until the person responsible is charged. ”
I rub my palms against my thighs. “Then where am I supposed to stay? Mum and I, we didn’t exactly part on good terms.”
“Friends?” he suggests gently. “Someone who can keep an eye on you?” I hesitate. His brows lift. “What? What’s that look?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly. “I just… I’ve kind of been staying somewhere the last few nights.”
He leans in, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Somewhere? Or with someone?” Heat rushes up my neck. “Ohhh,” he laughs, in full dad-teasing mode. “My girl’s smiling like she’s hiding something. Come on, Lee. You can tell me.”
I shake my head, but I’m grinning. “It’s nothing serious.”
“So, there is someone.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s new. Very new.”
“Details,” he insists. “What’s his name? Where’s he from? What does he do? Is he looking after you properly?” He softens. “I missed too many years, Leoni. Let me at least hear what your life looks like now.”
I take a breath. “He’s my boss,” I admit.
His eyebrows shoot up. “Your boss? Bold move.”
“It’s not like that,” I say quickly, though the flush in my cheeks tells a different story.
“And his name?” he asks, nudging.
“Warren—”
I jump in fright as a loud buzzing fills the room. Guards immediately start calling time. “That’s visiting over, folks. Up, let’s go! Move it!”
The moment shatters. Prisoners stand, chairs scrape, voices echo. A guard taps the table. “Let’s go. Now.”
“Warren who?” Dad asks, already being pulled to his feet with the others, trying to twist back toward me.
“Baxter!” I call as the guard herds me toward the exit gate. “Warren Baxter.”
He freezes, but a guard shoves him hard. “MOVE, Rowe. Let’s go.” He stumbles forward, still staring at me like the name hit him like a punch to the chest.
Before I can ask what’s wrong, the guard slams the security door shut between us.
And I’m left standing there, heart pounding, wondering why the hell my dad suddenly looked terrified.
WARREN
“Just pulling up on the tarmac,” Anthony says, before ending the call.
I sink back into my seat, staring out through the oval window at the stretch of runway. He’d said Leoni was quiet after seeing her father. Quiet could be for all manner of reasons. Quiet could mean shock. Quiet could mean she’d heard something she shouldn’t have.