Page 1 of Save Her Life

PROLOGUE

Washington, DC

The man was making her skin crawl. Just the way he kept looking at her, not even trying to hide his attention. He was old enough to be her father. Justgross.If she ignored him, he’d hopefully take the hint and harass someone else with his disgusting leering instead of her and her best friend.

“You know what? I really need to get going.” She was grateful for a prior appointment if it got her away from this guy. She stood and kissed her friend on each cheek, their way of doing things, and headed for the door. A part of her felt guilty for leaving her friend behind to deal with him, but Avery assured her she’d be fine.

As she walked a cool tingle laced down her spine. She gave a casual look over her shoulder, and her heart shuddered. That man was following her. She picked up her pace, and in a few seconds glanced back again. He was closing in on her.

The sidewalk was crowded this time of day, but she’d never felt so alone. She could call attention to him and create a scene, but if it turned out to be nothing, she’d look the fool. It wasno secret her imagination was a powerful tool as her English teacher often praised her for it. According to him, she had a bright future as an author if she wanted to direct her efforts there, but she had her sights set on becoming a nurse or doctor. Someone who helped saved lives, or at least brightened them. That was why she volunteered on the weekends at a nursing home.

Suddenly, she was attuned to the sounds of her shoes slapping against the concrete and beeping horns from angry drivers making their way down M Street NW. The smell of vehicle exhaust hung heavy in the air and made her lightheaded, but her destination wasn’t far now.

But as she kept her focus on that, she was rushed from behind. She never even had a chance to scream before everything went black.

ONE

TWO DAYS EARLIER

Bruceton Mills, West Virginia

This was the place people wished for death to find them. Fluorescents flickered and buzzed overhead, their harsh light casting more shadows than already existed in this black hellhole. On each side, she was hemmed in by gray-painted concrete walls, and beneath her, the linoleum floors were unforgiving of rubber soles, raising the odd squeak in protest and leaving behind a strip of black.

Sandra Vos was following a corrections officer through USP Hazelton Penitentiary, a high-security federal prison, to the parole hearing room. She was here because the man who had killed her twin brother was requesting early release. Darrell Patton was only thirty-three years and three months into his fifty-year sentence. The full term wasn’t enough to compensate for Sam alone, but Patton was also charged for kidnapping his own seven-year-old daughter and holding thirty people hostage at gunpoint that fateful day. He deserved to serve every single year he’d been given. For Sam, she’d do her best to make sure that would happen.

Sam had been her entire world. More than her physical twin. Her twin flame. They had telepathy as attested to in some circles but dismissed by many skeptics and those in the scientific community. He could finish her sentences, and she his. Sometimes they could carry an entire conversation with just one look. It was like he was the other half of her, and when he was taken, she lost a piece of herself.

But they’d been through hell together and back between the loss of their parents and subsequent placements in various foster homes for two years before landing with a loving adoptive couple. The Davenports were nurturing souls brave enough to take on the responsibility of twelve-year-old twins because they didn’t want them separated. But just less than two short years later, the Davenports would bury one. Sandra had perched at the side of her brother’s grave tossing a flower onto his lowering casket, while the Davenports wept. She was too numb to cry.

At times that felt like yesterday.

Yet here Sandra was all these years later, still putting one foot in front of the other. Though she wasn’t left with much choice. The way she saw it, the best way to honor Sam’s life was to make the most of the one she had and whatever time she had left. They say that time heals, but it was more like a scab, able to be ripped off again and the wound made fresh.

It didn’t help that today took her straight back to that time. Not only was she forced to recall losing Sam in vivid detail, but she was about to face the man who had put him in the ground. The unfairness of it, that Patton had the nerve to request parole to claim his freedom early while her brother rotted six feet under poured acid on her grief. It had her reacting on instinct, standing up for her brother to protect his memory. She promised herself and Sam that for as long as she drew breath, she’d do her part to keep his killer behind bars.

The corrections officer she’d been following gestured for her to go into a room. Voices from inside filtered into the hallway. She took a deep, steadying inhale, thankful her career groomed her to remain calm in stressful situations. She’d lean on that training to get her through this.

She left the officer and entered the room. It was a simple, cool, sterile environment that held no secrets as to its purpose. Another officer stopped her and verified she was in the right place. “Parole hearing for Darrell Patton.”

She nodded. “I’m Sandra Vos, here to speak in opposition to release.”

He gestured toward a seating area, implying she pick a chair. There were ten total in two rows, all unoccupied.

She sat down in the front, trying to ignore the fact that Darrell Patton was mere feet away. He was sitting to the side of the room next to a man in a suit, most likely his attorney. Long lines marred his face, leaving a trace of every expression he’d ever made. His brown hair was heavily threaded with silver. When he’d gone away he was a twenty-five-year-old and was now a man of fifty-eight. Somehow in this environment, and with his vulnerable posture—slightly slumped forward and rounded shoulders—he appeared harmless, plain, tired, and haggard. But she believed nothing that her eyes could see. Not until it could be backed up by fact. For all she knew this persona was an act his lawyer told him to put on for the parole board.

A table was set out widthwise at the front of the room. Two board commissioners and the deputy commissioner were already seated there. They didn’t have name cards, but she had done her homework before coming and could identify each of them. They all made brief eye contact with her but remained expressionless. After all, they were serious men here for serious business.

She was surprised that Patton’s daughter or friends hadn’t shown up when notice would have been sent to all of them. They could have spokenforhim. She found herself especially wondering about the daughter. She’d be thirty-nine now, since her birthday was in June. Did she ever develop a relationship with her father? Sandra imagined that would be challenging with him behind bars.

“The clock tells us it’s time to get started,” the deputy commissioner said in a cool tone, and the guard near the door started to close it, just as a man entered.

Sandra overheard him tell the guard his name was Lonnie Jennings, a friend of Patton’s, and he was there to speak to his favor. He was directed to take a seat and claimed the end chair in the front row, closer to Patton.

The deputy commissioner called the hearing to a start and requested that Darrell Patton’s attorney speak first.

He stood and positioned himself in front of the board, tugging down on his jacket and doing up its buttons. “My client is seeking approval for early release based on his exemplary record as a peaceful inmate. Darrell Patton has served thirty-three years and has lived with the consequences of his actions every one of those days. He regrets having put himself and the lives of others in danger.”

Sandra stiffened at how the lawyer had whitewashed his transgression, as if he hadn’t actually been responsible for the loss of life. Her fingers and arms became cold. Goosebumps rose. Chills were a common side effect when she became angry. It normally took her a long time to get there. Just not when it involved what happened to her brother. But she talked herself down by reminding herself her time to speak was coming. Then she’d make it clear just how dangerous Patton was thenandnow.

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