Chasing you | ✓

Chapter 52 - Pennsylvania county jail

Our footsteps echoed on the hard concrete floors. The cold seemed to ooze off the cement walls and I inched closer to Jack as we followed the cell guard to the visitor's area. The guard was a gangly man with a key chain dangling from his pants. It made a high pitched clank with every step he took, and I tried not to wince as I followed behind him and Jack. The electrical buzz from the barred doors we had passed through seemed to vibrate through the halls and into my skin.

Jack's hand found mine when we got to the visitor's area.

It didn't look the way I had expected. In my head I had envisioned a narrow, windowless room with phone booths and acrylic glass dividers and lightbulbs in the ceiling casting a surreal blue-ish hue that was featured in every single cop movie.

Instead it was a large, open space that slightly resembled a school cafeteria. The tall, barred windows overlooked frosty benches and a basketball court. The fluorescent lights overhead added to the sensation of being back in High School. Nothing about the place felt cop movie-esque. Except maybe the armed guards. 

There was only one guard stationed in the room when we entered, by the door across the room, probably leading back to the cells. The gangly one who had escorted us hovered by the entrance. He shifted his feet apart and hooked his thumbs in his belt, taking on a fit-for-fight stance. It seemed a bit ridiculous considering this room was quieter than the street outside had been.

Apart from them, there were a couple of men in the room. They were handcuffed and in uniforms, spending some time with their loved ones before the holidays. 

Except for one man. One man was sitting alone. 

Patrick Rooney wore the same blueish-gray uniform that the other two prisoners did. His hands were cuffed and resting on the table and his eyes were trained on them. He had pulled up his sleeves to his elbows and I could spot a black tattoo peeking out. His hair was a dirty blonde, a couple of shades darker than Jack's, with streaks of silver along the temples. The hair seemed to be thinning with age and while he kept his gaze lowered he revealed a balding patch on the crown of his head.

As if he could sense us, his head snapped up. He had probably heard our footsteps echo on the solid floors.

What struck me the most were his piercing blue eyes. They were the exact shade of Jack's and Cade's eyes. I also noticed that his face was scruffy, as if he hadn't been able to shave since he was detained.

His eyes were cautious and weary as he looked from me to Jack.

"Hello, Jack."

Jack seemed uneasy by his biological father's unrelenting stare and shot me a nervous glance before sliding down onto a chair. I followed suit.

Patrick's eyes were firmly trained on the features of Jack's face.

"I wasn't sure I was going to get to see you," he said after we all had sat in a minute of silence. "Helen said you were outside. You sure made me wait for it, with an hour left of the visiting hours. It was a real nail biter, I'll tell you."

His face lit up with a cheerful smile as if to lighten the mood. When Jack and I remained somber, Patrick's smile fell and he cleared his throat.

"Gotta admit I'm surprised you're here."

Jack finally looked up from the table, daring to look at the man across from us. I desperately wanted to know what was going through his head as his face seemed to battle a range of emotions before settling on a tired look, like the way he looked after a four hour dance practice.

"I wasn't sure I wanted to see you," Jack said, his voice carrying loudly across the open room. "I'm still not sure if I want to see you."

"Then why are you here?"