eagle attacked the wolf. Talons out, screaming, total balls-out attack. Who would’ve ever thought a bird would attack a wolf? But goddamn if I didn’t witness it.”
“Were the eagles okay?” she whispered.
“Nope. The pack closed ranks and both birds went down,” I told her. “But that’s not the point. The first eagle wasn’t giving up. He was fighting to the death. The second eagle swooped in like a warrior. Swear to God, it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed. Can’t say, I don’t know if they were both males, male and female, parent and child. What I do know is that the eagle came out of the sky to help its fellow bird, uncaring it was going to battle a wolf. And right then, I understood the definition of a warrior. I had to ask myself when the time came would I be brave enough to answer the call? I wanted to be the eagle. I wanted to go into battle knowing I was brave enough to fight the wolf even if it meant certain death. And if I was the one on the ground, bloody and mangled, I wanted to have it in me to claw and screech and draw my last breath fighting.”
I heard her suck in a breath, I felt the rush of air against my skin, and I still didn’t press Shiloh to tell me what was wrong.
Big mistake.
“I love you, Shiloh.”
I kissed the top of her head and her body went solid.
“I love you more than anything in the whole world, Luke. More than I ever thought possible,” she whispered.
The words felt like velvet when they hit my chest. But they sounded off. Yet, I didn’t push her to open up.
Big fucking mistake.
I woke up the next morning and Shiloh was gone.
I spent ten hours searching for her and when I finally found her I knew I’d made the biggest mistake of my life not pushing her to open up.
28
I sat and waited.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait too long. I needed to get this done and get back on the road.
I’d been in plenty of detention centers, jails, and prisons over the years. If the building housed inmates I’d been in it. But this was different.
Vastly different.
This felt suffocating sitting in the large, sterile visitation room. With each inhale, I could smell the desperation and hopelessness. Disinfectant mixed with despair.
It was not a good idea, me being inside Georgia State Prison. And not because I was there to see Lester. For my safety, I was offered a private room. A police officer being seen by an inmate they’d had a hand in incarcerating could turn ugly. But I couldn’t stomach the thought of being in a room alone with my father. This was bad enough—having to sit across from him in a huge, open space.
Finally, Lester was shuffled into the room by a corrections officer. I took the opportunity to study the man who had a part in creating me. And instead of doing what a father should do—that being love, protect, and nurture—he’d done the opposite. He’d crushed me. From a very early age, I knew he was mean. As I got older I learned he wasn’t just mean, he was a total asshole. Quick to belittle, quick to yell, quick to raise his hand in anger. I couldn’t remember a time when Lester had tucked me into bed, read me a book, kissed me goodnight, hugged me, or told me he loved me.
Before Lester Kent became a piece of shit cop killer he was a piece of shit father.
And watching him walk toward me, not having seen him for years, his hair fully salt and pepper—mostly salt—with his skin a weird shade of yellow, his face weathered and wrinkled, it hit me—Lester Kent was a broken man. He had always been broken. There was something inside of him that was not right. But whatever that something was, it was not my problem.
He’d made it mine. He’d forced it on me. He’d toyed with my brothers. He’d made us feel worthless. Lester had also found himself a broken woman and forced us to endure her as well. Together they made their children’s lives misery.
“A reminder of the rules,” the correction officer began. “You may embrace at the start and end of the visit. No other touching. No gifts. This includes letters. Hands must remain on or above the table at all times. Keep your voices low and do not disturb the