The fluorescent lights were too harsh for his sensitive eyes. The heavy security door buzzed and swung open and a slight, pale figure was ushered into the room flanked by a matronly guard with a humorless face. He exhaled slowly and drew his lips into a straight line. He itched for a cigarette.
As soon as she sat and picked up the telephone receiver, he picked up the corresponding receiver and began. "Why, Anna?" he asked softly, his Cajun accent thickened with disappointment. "I could've helped y' get outta dere."
The young woman opposite raised her weary eyes to her lawyer. "Had ta be done, Sugah," she said flatly.
"Y'do realize how heavy de charges are, non?" Remy LeBeau leaned his elbows on the table. "I don' know if I c'n talk de judge into a lighter sentence."
"Ah guess that just proves the ol' bastard still managed to get the last laugh," Anna smirked mirthlessly.
"An' what's dat?"
Anna bit her trembling lip and lifted her hand to the Plexiglas barrier between her and the outside world. Remy followed suit until their fingertips lined up against each other, hand to hand but only feeling the cold, unyielding glass beneath. "He said if he can't touch me no more, then the rest of the world can't."