PART 4
The emergency hearing was scheduled three days later.
Three days.
After three years in prison, three days should have felt like nothing.
Instead, every hour crawled.
Reagan found out before the hearing.
Of course she did.
She showed up at Mara’s office wearing a cream coat and a face full of grief she had clearly practiced in the mirror.
“Finnley,” she said when she saw me, “why are you doing this?”
I looked at her.
Not as the boy who once tried to accept her into our family.
Not as the prisoner she helped create.
As my father’s son.
“Because my dad left me a key.”
Her face changed.
Only for a second.
But enough.
Mara stepped between us.
“Mrs. Dennis, direct all communication through counsel.”
Reagan ignored her.
