The heavy black car drove through the iron gates of the state prison. Rain had started to fall again, tapping softly against the glass.
Clara sat in the passenger seat, holding the photograph tight in her hands. Her heart was beating fast.
Alexander reached over and gently took her hand. "Whatever he tells us today, Clara, we face it together."
Clara looked at him and nodded. "Thank you, Alexander."
Inside the prison, a guard led them down a long, dark hallway. They stopped at a heavy door with a small square window. The guard unlocked it, and they stepped into a small, cold room.
Sitting at a gray metal table was Clara’s father, Arthur. He looked older than his age. His hair was completely white, and his hands were trembling slightly as he held a plastic cup of water.
When Arthur lo
