Page 115 of Girl Lost
Corbin’s throat went dry. He forced himself to move, to take the seat across from the man who had dominated his nightmares for so long. The metal chair was cold and hard beneath him.
“Hello, Dad.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth.
His father leaned back, the chains of his shackles clinking. “Twenty years, and that’s all you’ve got to say? I’m hurt, son.”
The familiar mocking tone set his teeth on edge. He clenched his jaw, reminding himself why he was here. “How have you been?”
Damien shrugged. “Oh, you know. Three squares. Roof over my head. Can’t complain.” His eyes narrowed. “But I doubt you came all this way for small talk. Why are you really here, Corbin?”
“I got married.” Corbin’s hand went to his wedding ring, twisting the smooth metal. “And I’m a father now.”
“Well, congratulations,” he said. “Doesn’t explain why you’re here, though.”
Corbin met his father’s gaze, steeling himself. “I had to come. I had to see the man who almost took all of that away from me.”
Damien’s face hardened. “And how exactly am I to blame for your life choices? If I recall, you were a father before you were a husband.”
Years of pent-up anger bubbled to the surface. “You want to know how? Your drinking, your abuse. The way you beat Mom, beat me. The anger, the rage you passed down to me like some twisted inheritance. It nearly ruined me.”
He leaned forward, his words coming faster now. “And then there’s the small matter of your rampage. Murdering those cops. Do you have any idea what that did to me? To my career? To every relationship I’ve ever had? To be the son of a cop killer?”
Nights spent cowering in his room, listening to the crash of bottles and his mother’s begging. The shame of showing up to school with bruises he couldn’t explain. The whispers that followed him through the police academy, the sidelong glances from fellow officers who wondered if he’d turn out just like his old man.
Damien’s face remained impassive, but he could see the tension in his jaw. “So you came here to what? Yell at me? Make me feel guilty?”
Corbin took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. This wasn’t why he’d come. Not really.
“No,” he said. “I came to tell you about the forgiveness and redemption I’ve found through Jesus. The healing that’s taken place in my life.”
A harsh laugh erupted from Damien’s throat. “Jesus? You came all this way to preach at me?”
“I’m not preaching,” he said, even as he recognized the defensive tone in his voice. “I’m telling you about the change in mylife. How I have peace. Joy.” He paused. Gave himself room to let the right words come. “I’ve forgiven you, Dad,” Corbin said. “For everything.”
The words hung in the air between them. He watched his father’s face, searching for any sign of emotion. But Damien’s expression remained carefully neutral, a mask honed by years behind bars.
“I’ve left a Bible for you with the guards. I wondered if you’d want to read it yourself, and we can talk about it. When I come visit.” He swallowed. The words were out there now. The offer. The reconciliation.
Silence stretched. Corbin could hear his pulse thundering in his ears. Part of him wanted his father’s anger and wrath. Then at least he’d have an excuse to walk away. But the other part, the bigger part of him, wanted this relationship more than anything else.
Finally, Damien spoke. “Why? Why would you do that? Why leave your fancy house and wife to come preach forgiveness to a washed-up old con?”
“Because.” Corbin smiled. A small, joyful thing. “The Shepherd will always leave his flock of ninety-nine to go find the one lost sheep.”
He stood, ready to leave. He’d said what he came to say, laid bare the wounds of the past and the hope for the future. It was more than he’d ever expected to share with this man who had loomed like a shadow in his nightmares.
“Wait.” Damien’s voice stopped him.
Corbin turned back, surprised to see a flicker of vulnerability in his father’s eyes.
“That gym you used to go to,” Damien said, shifting in his seat. “The one where all the cops work out. You still go there?”
Corbin nodded, uncertain where this was going.
“That girl, the one who used to go there too. Victoria Crew. You still know her?”
She hated being called Victoria, but he wasn’t about to offer anydetails about her to a prisoner. Not even one who shared his blood. “Yeah,” he said cautiously. “We’re still friends.”
Damien’s eyes shone with an intensity that made Corbin’s skin crawl. “I want her to come visit me.”
