Bradley opened up the half gate at the front of the station and waved his arm to let me enter the station's private area.

"Wow, it's so nice back here. You guys have really put the taxpayers' money to good use."

He rolled his eyes as we continued toward the back of the building and the four cells. "Can it, Vonnie. We both know you've been here before. Usually without permission."

"If my tax dollars pay for the lights, I should get to inspect that they're in working order." I enjoyed a good verbal sparring session with Bradley on the bests of days, but right then it also helped keep my mind off seeing Uncle Richard behind the bars at the end of our walk.

We stopped in front of a large metal door, and Bradley used his key to open it. "I can't wait for the day Anderson really arrests you. Hopefully, he lets me snap on the cuffs."

"Whatever. Then I'd just be here to visit with you every day," I said with my biggest smile.

He shuddered. "I'm letting you visit him alone because we have the place covered in cameras. Don't do anything stupid, don't piss me off, and don't make me regret this."

"Roger, captain." I gave him a salute as I slid past the half-open door and into the cell area.

Bright florescent lights lit the area, casting a harsh glow on the metal bars of the cells. The first two were empty as I walked past. The third had a man sleeping on his cot with his back turned. I slowed, but his hair color didn't match my uncle's.

"Vonnie?" Uncle Richard said as I approached the fourth cell. He had his face pressed against the bars to get a better view of the visitor in the walkway.

I forced my lips into a smile, trying to be positive. "Hey, Uncle Richard. You're looking good."

He glanced down at his gray jumpsuit and pulled on a sleeve. "It's a little scratchy."

"How are you doing?" I crossed my fingers that he told me he was the happiest he'd ever been.

His face fell into a frown. I guess not then. "I'm in jail, Vonnie."

"Right." I reached the start of his cell and grabbed onto the furthest metal bar. It was warm to the touch rather than cold like I'd expected.

Besides the dull gray jumpsuit, he looked okay. His hair was combed to the side, and while he had a bit of stubble on his chin, overall, he looked well-kempt. His cell matched the other three. A single cot pushed against the far-left wall with a toilet and a small sink on the right side. In the far back, a small window covered with thick Plexi looking glass had a view into the street past the jail.

I guess they didn't expect many jail breaks in Pelican Bay.

"With me in here, there's no one to take care of Claire and Jeffrey," he said. The mention of their pet fish Jeffrey gave me pause, but I kept my smile in place. He needed positivity, not a reminder that I found his wife's fish obsession concerning. The goldfish had a travel bowl for vacations. That wasn't right.

A man wearing all black-jeans and a T-shirt-walked down the sidewalk outside Uncle Richard's window. He paused at the crosswalk and made a hand gesture at a blue car as it stopped at the stop sign.

"How is Claire?" he asked, pressing his face against the bars harder. "Have you seen her?"

"Um." I lowered my gaze to the floor and bit my lips. He did not want me to answer truthfully. "Claire is doing okay. She's getting my mom into all kinds of new crafts."

He laughed, which made it easier for me to lift my head and meet his gaze. Outside the window, the blue car at the stop sign sped off, the tires smoking as the car rounded the corner. He slammed on his brakes and stopped next to the curb.

I yanked my gaze from outside back to my uncle with a furrowed brow. "Hasn't she been in to see you?"

He was only in city jail. If they locked Broadrick up here, I'd be in to annoy him every day. It's not like he had anything else going on. If my aunt had time to craft with my mother, she probably had time to see her incarcerated husband.

Why had I thought she was visiting him every day? Had someone told me that? Who?

"Once," he said wistfully. "But we discussed other stuff. You know, Claire. She never wants to talk about herself."

That wasn't really the Claire I remembered, but I nodded along with his assessment.

He made a fist and tapped it against the bars. "We had such plans, Vonnie. Now I've ruined them for her."

That was probably true. They'd been planning an early retirement in Florida, but with my uncle possibly going to jail for a few years, they'd have to put that on hold. If he knew I gave Anderson the evidence to put him behind bars, he wasn't holding it against me. I returned the favor by not telling him Claire's insistence I find his mistress had gotten him caught.

"You two really love each other. Don't you?" I asked, staring into his eyes. They were always a weird couple, but a couple, nonetheless. They fit together in their uniqueness.

A thud brought my attention to the window again as the driver's side door to the blue car slammed shut. The driver walked toward the sidewalk where the man in all black stood. He threw his arms out wide like he was trying to make himself appear bigger to scare a bear.

"I'd do anything for Claire." Uncle Richard moved away from the bars and leaned against the concrete wall, half blocking my view out the window.

I repositioned just in time to see the other man also throw out his arms and approach.

"You know, Claire had a rough start in life," he said, totally unaware of the activity right outside his window.

"Really?" I moved a little to the left to watch as both men inched toward one another. I couldn't hear their voices, but their mouths were moving.

Uncle Richard continued, blissfully unaware. "Yes, she grew up in Detroit. Her mother was on drugs and kicked Claire out at sixteen when she refused to keep selling drugs to her high school friends."

What? I'd never heard that story. "Aunt Claire?"

"I've always worked to provide her with a better life," he continued without clarifying he didn't have a second secret wife living somewhere.

Aunt Claire collected chickens and did diamond paintings for fun on the weekends. They had a pet fish. The story didn't mesh.

"What about the drugs? It was a misunderstanding. Right?" If he told me I got it wrong and where to find the evidence to clear his name, I'd head that way now. "Who wants you in jail?"

The two outside men crept toward one another, their hands waving, and their mouths silently moving.

Uncle Richard shrugged, leaving his left shoulder higher than the other. "Sure, I sold a little for Pete to help us make bills."

"For Pete?" The known first drug lord of Pelican Bay? Ridge Jefferson and his team put Pete out of commission years ago, but no one had ever mentioned my uncle. And he definitely wasn't brought up on charges back then. I'd remember something of that nature.

"Once Pete and his top line were out of the game, it made sense to take over operations," he said with glazed eyes, as if lost in memories. "Noone else wanted to do it."

I put my hand up to stop him and glanced at the camera hanging from the corner of the hallway. "You shouldn't be saying this here."

My heart thumped against my chest, trying to escape. Was he confessing? What about the man who forced him to sell drugs?

Anderson would definitely use a confession against him. I didn't want to be the one to provide even more evidence in his trial.

He lifted that left shoulder higher. "The cops are aware. They have so much evidence, Vonnie. There's no use. I told them everything. I had to."

My stomach rolled. They had that evidence because of me. Richard wasn't on their radar until I dropped a black backpack of drugs at Anderson's feet.

I turned my attention out the window again to avoid making eye contact with my uncle. The man in black took a few steps back at whatever the car driver said. They were getting dangerously close to one another, and their arms were reaching out wider and wider.

"Claire and I wanted a quiet life. Things just got out of hand. I'll confess and save her the trial costs. Then she can live her best life in Florida. My mistake of getting caught shouldn't be a punishment to her."