Visiting Hours

The prison smelled disgusting. The lighting, the atmosphere, the smell, the way it all sat into their throats repulsed both Douglas and Elizabeth. And they were only in the lobby. Finally, an older, barrell-chested black man, towering over them both at 6'3 came out. His stark white hair was almost a complete contract to his jet black skin.

"Who are you? My attorney said you had an offer, but I don't expect any offers from two crackers I don't even know," he said, looking at them both warily.

"Moses, my name is Douglas Lancaster," Douglas said, a little nervous. "And this is my wife, Elizabeth. You'd probably recognize her as Elizabeth Castle, however. Daughter of Richard Castle." Moses's eyes widened in recognition.

"How's your dad, bitch?" he spat out. Elizabeth swallowed nervously.

"U-u-um, not good, Mr. Jones. He's senile now," Elizabeth said sadly.

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer man," Moses said facetiously.

"So we'd like you to stay with us in our guest home after you get released," Douglas said, trying to get the conversation back on track.

"Why would I do that? I have plenty of friends and allies that would take me in. Why you?"

"I get the skepticism, sir. My wife and I feel ... guilt, for what you went through. We'd like to make it up in some small way. And I have a trial upcoming, and my wife is pregnant. She needs ... companionship."

"Ohhh, I get it now. Mrs. Lancaster needs what Mr. Lancaster can't give her." Douglas swallowed, even though his mouth was dry.

"Essentially, yes." Moses smiled at Elizabeth devilishly. Elizabeth looked away. Why on earth was she so wet?