mingled with nausea. Could she open herself up to that kind of publicity? Then everyone would know....
“I’d like to talk to Hank myself.” Sergeant Ward turned to the warden. “Can I do that now?”
The warden’s scowl cut Avery to the bone. “Sure. But you’re wasting your time. In all the years Tierney has been here, this is the first time he’s ever claimed innocence.”
“What kind of prisoner has he been?” the Texas Ranger asked.
The warden pulled up his record on his computer. “A loner. Kept to himself. Got into fights a lot when he first got here.” He scanned the notes. “Prison psychologist said he kept saying he was glad Mulligan was dead.”
Avery’s chest ached with the effort to breathe. “Was he abused in prison?”
The warden folded his hands on his desk. “Lady, this is a maximum-security facility. We do our best to protect the inmates, but we’ve got rapists, murderers, pedophiles and sociopaths inside these walls. They’re caged up like animals and have a lot of testosterone and pent-up rage.”
Avery bit her lip. She’d heard horror stories of what happened to prisoners, especially young men. And Hank had only been a teenager when he was arrested. Not able to defend himself.
“When he was sentenced, he was only fourteen.” Sergeant Ward said. “Why didn’t he receive psychiatric care and chance of parole?”
Warden Unger grunted and looked back at the computer. “The prosecuting attorney showed pictures of the gruesome, bloody crime scene, a dozen stab wounds altogether. That was enough for the jury to see that Tierney was violent and dangerous enough to be locked away forever.”
Avery rubbed her wrist, a reminder of her past.
And how far she’d come.
At least she thought she’d survived. But she’d been living a lie. Never moving forward.
Ignoring her brother who’d fought and lied and risked his life to save her.
The system had failed them by placing them with the Mulligans.
Shouldn’t the fact that she and Hank were being abused have factored in to the court’s decision? Hadn’t anyone argued for Hank that he’d been protecting himself and her?
* * *
JAXON STOOD, BODY TAUT. Avery Tierney was obviously upset and struggling over her visit with her brother. Had Hank Tierney manufactured this story as a last-ditch effort to escape a lethal injection?
Was he guilty?
An uneasy feeling prickled at Jaxon’s skin. If Avery didn’t remember the details of the murder, could she have stabbed her foster father, then blocked out the stabbing?
Damn. She’d only been a child. But if the man had been abusing her, and she’d fought, adrenaline could have surged enough for to fight the man and inflict a deadly stab wound.
Not likely. But not impossible.
The more believable scenario was the one the assistant district attorney had gone with when they’d prosecuted Tierney. They had concrete evidence, blood all over the boy and his hands, and those damning crime photos. For God’s sake, Hank was holding the murder weapon and had admitted to stabbing Mulligan.
And Hank and Avery were the only two people in the house at the time.
“Talk to Hank and you’ll see that he’s telling the truth,” Avery said. “Please, Sergeant, help me save him.”
Man, that sweet voice of hers made him want to say yes. And those soulful, pain-filled eyes made him want to wipe away all her sorrow.
But he might not be able to do that. Not if Hank were guilty.
Avery touched his hand, though, and a warmth spread through him, a tingling awareness that sent a streak of electricity through his body.
And an awareness that should have raised red flags. She was a desperate woman. A woman in need.
A woman with a troubled past who might be lying just to save her brother.
He’d fallen into that trap before and almost gotten killed because of it. He’d vowed never to make that mistake again.
But the facts about the case bugged him. Considering the circumstances, the kid should have been given some leniency. Offered parole. He’d been fourteen. A kid trying to protect his sister.
Unless those circumstances hadn’t been presented to the jury.
But why hadn’t they?
His boss would know. But hell, Landers wanted Hank Tierney to be executed.
Because he believed Hank was a cold-blooded killer?
Or because he’d made a mistake and didn’t want it exposed?
Jaxon tried to reserve judgment on Hank Tierney as a guard escorted the inmate into the visitors’ room, shackled and chained. Hank’s shaved head, the scars on his arms and the angry glint in his eyes reeked of life on the inside.
A question flashed in Tierney’s eyes when he spotted Jaxon seated at the table.
“Hello, Mr. Tierney, my name is Sergeant Jaxon Ward.”
The man’s thick eyebrows climbed. “What do you want?”
“To talk to you, Hank. I can call you Hank, can’t I?”
The man hesitated, then seemed to think better of it and nodded. For a brief second, Jaxon glimpsed the vulnerability behind the tough exterior. But resignation, acceptance and defeat seemed to weigh down his body.
“I just talked to your sister, Avery.” Jaxon watched for the man’s reaction and noted surprise, then a small flicker of hope that made Tierney look younger than his thirty-four years. Maybe like the boy he’d been before he was beaten by Mulligan and he was locked away for life.
“I can’t believe she called you. I just saw her.” Emotions thickened his voice, a sign that he hadn’t expected anything to come of their conversation.
That he hadn’t expected anything out of life for a long time.
“She didn’t,” Jaxon said, knowing he couldn’t offer Hank Tierney false hope. In fact, all he really knew was that a jury had convicted him.
And that he and his sister might have concocted this story to convince a judge to order a stay of execution.
“I came at the request of my director. But your sister showed up at the warden’s office while we were talking.”
Cold acceptance resonated from Hank at that revelation. “So you came to make sure they stick the needle in me?”
He
