Kitty Takes a Holiday (Kitty Norville 3)

“Don’t let him see you upset,” he whispered. “We’re supposed to be supportive.”

“I know. Sorry.” I held his hand with both of mine and tried to stop the trembling. I was supposed to be the strong one. I was supposed to be the one who helped Ben keep it together, not the other way around.

On the other side of the partition, a guard led out a man wearing an orange prison jumpsuit. His light brown hair was cut shorter than it used to be, which made his face seem more gaunt. I tried to convince myself that he wasn’t thinner. His mustache was the same. So was his stoic frown.

He sat in front of us, on the other side of the glass. My smile felt stiff and fake. He’d know it was fake. Had to be cheerful, couldn’t let him see how upset I was. Ben was right.

He was handcuffed. When he picked up the phone to talk to us, he had to hold both hands up to his face. Ben held our phone between us. Leaning close, we could both hear.

“Hey,” Ben said.

“Hey.” Cormac smiled. Broke my heart, him smiling like that behind the glass. “Thanks for coming.”

“How you doing?”

Cormac shrugged. “Hanging in there. No worries.”

He was here on felony manslaughter charges. He’d killed to save my life, and now he was serving time for it. Four years. I owed him a huge debt, which hung on me like lead weights.

It could have been worse. That was the only way we could all sit here smiling at each other and thinking of how much worse it had almost been.

He didn’t seem to grudge me the debt. He’d probably never mention it. Right from the start, he’d approached this prison sentence as doing penance, just like he was supposed to. Just another obstacle to overcome, another river to cross.

Ben handled this better than I did. “You need anything? Besides a cake with a file baked in?”

“No. Just more of the same.”

I’d been ordering books for him—having them sent, since private citizens weren’t allowed to send packages to inmates. It had started out as a joke after I’d accused him of being illiterate. But then it turned earnest. Reading kept his mind off being trapped. Kept him from going crazy.

“Any requests?” I said, and Ben tipped the mouthpiece so he could hear me.

Cormac shook his head. “I’m not picky. Whatever you think is good.”

We had an hour for small talk. Very small talk. I couldn’t say I’m sorry, because then I’d get upset, and we were supposed to be cheerful. Leave on a happy note. Ben and I wanted more than anything to make sure Cormac got out of here in one piece, or at least not any more damaged than he was when he went in.

“Would you believe some of the guys listen to your show?” Cormac said.

“Really? That’s kind of weird.”

“I tell them you’re not that mean in person. I’m ruining your reputation.”

“Great,” I said, smirking. “Thanks.” Ben turned away, chuckling.

“You two look good,” Cormac said, leaning back in his chair. “You look good together.” His smile turned satisfied, almost. Comforted.

He’d told us both to look after each other. Like he couldn’t trust either of us to take care of ourselves, but together we’d be okay. He was probably right. Ben and I had cobbled together our little pack of two, and we were doing okay. But it still felt like we were missing something. He was sitting across from us, on the other side of the glass. And we were all pretending like everything was okay.

We all had to pretend like everything was okay, or the whole façade would come crumbling down around our ears.

A guard loomed behind Cormac. Time’s up.

“I’ll see you next week,” Ben said.

Cormac said, to me specifically, “Thanks for coming. Everyone in here’s ugly as shit. It’s nice to see a pretty face once in a while.”

Which broke my heart again. There had to be more I could do than sit here and be a pretty face. I wanted to touch the glass, but that would have been such a cliché and hopeless gesture.

Then he put the phone up, stood, and was gone. He always walked away without turning to look, and we always stayed to watch him go until he was out of sight.