“Didn’t I warn you that girl was trouble? Now look at the mess you’re in. First degree murder, Jake. You’re facing the death penalty.”
Jake Owens held the phone to his head, staring through the acrylic shield that separated him from the man on the other side. On the side of freedom. Jake clutched at the phone until his knuckles turned white, and he ground his teeth. He leaned forward, his nose almost touching the acrylic. The bright orange color of the jumpsuit he wore, marking him as a convict, reflected off the clear material.
“I only told mama you got into a little trouble with the law before I flew out here. I sure as hell can’t tell her the truth.”
“I didn’t kill anyone, Tom,” Jake said, his tone clipped and harsh. He glared at his brother, his gaze unwavering. At least he didn’t think he’d killed anyone. He couldn’t be absolutely sure, though. The evidence strongly suggested he had murdered a man in cold blood.