Page 94 of Hart of Vengeance
“Today?” I asked through a mouthful of food, tensing.
“Kelton advised Denim of the legal way he could take down Tito. I wouldn’t worry.”
That was easier said than done. The last thing I wanted was to lose Denim when I’d just gotten him back. But Denim was working with the FBI. Surely they would keep him safe. Unless Denim lied and was meeting with Tito rather than Agent Travers.
Don’t get upset. He’s trying to protect you.
Mallory pulled out an envelope. “Oh, this was delivered to the office via courier this morning.”
I examined the envelope that had my name and office address on it. I wasn’t sure who would know where I worked other than my immediate friends. Or maybe the contents had something to do with one of Kelton’s cases until I sawpersonal and confidentialprinted on the envelope.
“Well,” Mallory said. “Open it.”
So I did. Inside was a sheet of paper with words typed on it and another envelope addressed to me from Savannah. My brain froze as a chill tiptoed up my spine.
“What is it?” Mallory asked.
I gulped down a mouthful of air. “It’s from Savannah.”
Mallory’s eyes bugged out. “For real?”
I held my breath. Savannah had never written me a letter from prison. Savannah had never written, period. I’d been the one to keep a diary as a teenager.
She’d teased me about it many times. “Why would you spill your guts on paper? What if someone found it who you didn’t want reading it?”
“No one ever will,” I’d replied. I’d kept my diary in a shoebox hidden in my bedroom. My parents had never been the type to snoop, and neither had Savannah.
I read the letter that accompanied Savannah’s first.
Dear Ms. Kelly, my name is Ellie Rogers, and I was a friend of Savannah’s. She wanted me to give you this envelope if anything ever happened to her. I stopped by the address she’d given me a couple of times, but you weren’t home. Your kind neighbor, who I begged by the way, mentioned you worked for Davenport Law Firm. Anyway, I’m so sorry for your loss. I adored Savannah. If you get a chance, please let me know if you are having a funeral service for her. I would love to be there. Kind regards, Ellie.
She went on to leave her address and phone number at the bottom.
I looked at Savannah’s envelope then at Mallory. “I’m not sure I can open it.”
“You got this, girl. I’m right here too. Can I see that one while you read Savannah’s?”
I slid Ellie’s letter over to her then walked over to the window and opened Savannah’s. My hands trembled as I removed the two-page letter.
Swallowing down my nerves, I began reading.
Dear Sis,
If you’re reading this, that means I didn’t make it out of prison alive. You’re probably wondering why I would even write a letter like this to begin with. But I felt the need to lay out the truth. Because if I’m dead, then the truth might never come out.
I would like to start by saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not listening to you. I’m sorry for taking advantage of you. I’m sorry for so many things. I know you’re probably wondering why I didn’t tell you that when you came to see me. It’s hard to talk when others around me are listening. I had to be careful with what I said.
My tears were spilling over like Niagara Falls.
As I mentioned on your last visit, I need money for protection. There’s a group of girls, or a gang, who has it out for me. At first, I didn’t think twice about it. You know me. I’m a fighter. I’ve fought my own battles and have needed no one to do that for me. But prison isn’t high school. The women inside are bigger, meaner, bitchier, and have no regard for human life. It’s been tough to stay alive every day for the last two years, and everyone inside needs protection. I know you might not comprehend that, but it’s true.
But the main reason I’m writing this letter is because I need you to know something. For the last six years, I’ve been carrying around a secret, and I didn’t know if I could ever come clean. I didn’t know if I would ever be able to say what I’m about to say to you.
I know you’ve never stopped loving Denim, which is why I could never bring myself to face you and why I treated you horribly.
Denim Hart didn’t kill Hector Alvarez. I was at Hector’s the night he was murdered.
I shrieked, holding my stomach.
