Free Blind Justice by Ethan Cross Page B

noticed a few rummage sales occupying the front lawns. They opened the windows, and the smell of burning yard waste floated on the breeze. Bright blue skies. Rolling green mountains in the distance. Black had a hard time reconciling such a picturesque and serene atmosphere as reality against the prison world to which he had become accustomed. He noticed a sign regarding the Catoctin Mountain Park and knew that to be the location of the famous Camp David. He understood why the President would want to visit this area to relax.
    They wound down two-lane roads until they reached a rock lane hidden among the trees just north of town. A two-story colonial revival style home sat at the end of the lane in front of a sprawling front yard. Its gray and stone face reminded Black of old cobblestones. A large porch enclosed by white pillars and railing wrapped around the house.
    “This is where you live?” Black asked Munroe.
    “You like it?”
    “It ’s beautiful. ”
    “ Well, don ’ t get the wrong idea. Even though we ’ re only an hour out of DC, this place cost me less than a third of what a little condo would have in the city.”
    The interior stunned Jonas even more. Oak cabinets, hardwood floors, open staircase, a sun room, pocket doors, sky lights, stone accent walls, walkout basement. By his standards, it was a mansion. He felt like he had just been adopted by Daddy Warbucks.
    Once inside, Munroe navigated the house like a sighted person. With the exception of tripping over a basketball bag that someone had dropped in the middle of a walkway. Munroe growled and kicked it to the side. He directed Black and Annabelle to the kitchen table and started preparing a meal.
    Munroe pulled food boxes and can goods from the cabinet and held his phone up to each. A mechanical voice on the phone announced the name of the product. One by one, Munroe scanned the cans and packages, sitting the ones he wanted aside. He grabbed out measuring cups and cooking utensils marked with small Braille labels.
    Munroe asked if they wanted something to drink, and Black watched with interest as Munroe hung a device with two extended prongs over the edge of cup and poured in the liquids they had requested. The device beeped when the liquid reached the proper level.
    A door opened from the garage, and two young girls stepped into the kitchen. They both held cellphones in front of their faces, typing furiously. The older girl said to the other, “I ’ m telling you. He ’ s got a horse face.”
    “Shut up, Mak. At least I have a boyfriend.”
    They both came up short at the sight of the large, dark, tattooed man sitting at their kitchen table. Before they could run screaming for the hills, Annabelle rushed over and gave each girl a hug. But they still eyed Jonas cautiously.
    “This is Jonas Black,” Annabelle said to the girls in her sweet Southern voice. “He ’ s going to be working with your dad and me.”
    The perky younger sister stuck out her hand. She had bleach-blonde hair and bright blue eyes that reminded him of Munroe ’ s, only without the vacant stare. “I ’ m Chloe. The pretty one. That ’ s Makayla. The weird one.”
    Black laughed and shook Chloe ’ s hand. The older girl, Makayla, looked him up and down and said, “What ’ s up.” She wore ripped up jeans and a Nirvana T-shirt. On first glance, Makayla seemed to be the antithesis of her sister. Perky versus reserved. Pretty versus smart. Cheerleader versus rocker chick. But Black sensed that Makayla carried a lot more weight on her shoulders and in her heart than her younger sister.
    He couldn ’ t help but think of his own brother. He and Michael had also been very different. Michael had been thin and wiry. He ran from conflict, while Jonas always seemed to be fighting someone or something. One played guitar, one played football. One went to college, one went to the military.
    But blood would always be thicker than personal style and interests.
    Munroe walked in and