Chapter 16: Veronica Donovan
April 28th. Visiting hours started at 1300.
I wasn't expecting to be in the waiting area—just happened to be passing through after a guard escort from Pope's office. Chess game had run long, and Pope insisted on walking me back personally.
That's when I saw her.
Veronica Donovan stood at the check-in desk, waiting for clearance. Late twenties, professional attire, briefcase in hand. Dark hair pulled back, minimal makeup, the kind of natural beauty that didn't need enhancement.
But it was her eyes that caught me. Sharp. Intelligent. Carrying weight.
Lawyer. Definitely lawyer. Emotional investment in this case. Personal connection.
"Veronica Donovan," she told the CO. "I'm here to see Lincoln Burrows."
Bingo.
I cold-read her in seconds. The way she held herself—confident but stressed. The wedding ring tan line on her left hand—recently removed, maybe six months ago. The legal pad covered in notes—obsessive detail orientation. The slight tremor in her hands when she mentioned Lincoln's name—fear mixed with determination.
She cares about him. Deeply. And she's terrified she'll fail.
A child nearby—maybe five years old, visiting with his mother—was crying. Scared of the prison, the guards, the whole situation.
I moved without thinking. Pulled a quarter from behind my ear, made it dance across my knuckles.
The kid stopped crying. Watched.
I made the quarter disappear. Pulled it from behind his ear. His eyes went wide.
"Magic," I whispered. Handed him the quarter. "Keep it. For good luck."
The mother smiled gratefully. The kid clutched the quarter like treasure.
Across the waiting area, Veronica was watching.
Our eyes met.
She looked away first, but not before I saw something flicker in her expression. Interest. Curiosity.
Hook set.
VERONICA'S POV
Veronica Donovan sat across from Lincoln Burrows in the visiting room, trying to focus on his case while her mind kept drifting to the prisoner in the waiting area.
He'd been kind to that child. Gentle. The magic trick had been simple but effective—distraction when it was needed most.
Who does magic tricks in prison?
"You listening, Vee?" Lincoln's voice pulled her back.
"Sorry. Yes. You were saying?"
"I was saying that guy you saw out there—Daniel Miller. He's good people. Smart. Keeps to himself mostly, but he's been helping my brother."
"Helping how?"
"Don't know details. Michael doesn't tell me much. Thinks he's protecting me." Lincoln's hands clenched. "But Miller's been watching my back. Making sure nobody messes with Michael while he's... doing whatever he's doing."
Veronica made a note. "This Michael's cellmate?"
"No. Sucre's his cellie. But Miller's become friends with them both. Some kind of mentalist or something. Reads people."
Reads people. That explained the intensity in his eyes. The way he'd assessed her in three seconds and then looked away.
"I should go," Veronica said, gathering her notes. "I'll keep investigating. We'll find something."
"Thanks, Vee. For not giving up."
"Never."
DANIEL'S POV
I timed my exit to coincide with hers. "Accidentally" ended up in the waiting area just as she was collecting her belongings.
"Ms. Donovan?" I approached cautiously, respectfully. "Sorry to interrupt. I'm Daniel Miller. I'm Lincoln's... neighbor, I guess you'd call it."
She turned, studying me. "You're the magician."
"Guilty. Though I prefer 'entertainer.' Less pretentious."
Her lips twitched. Almost a smile. "Lincoln mentioned you. Said you're helping his brother."
"Michael's a good guy. And Lincoln's innocent. Doesn't take a genius to see that." I paused. "He talks about you a lot. Says you're the best lawyer he knows. He's right to trust you."
"What makes you think that?"
"Because you're here when you don't have to be. Because you removed your wedding ring six months ago but you're still fighting for him. Because you believe in him even when the evidence says otherwise." I met her eyes. "That means you see the truth others miss."
Veronica's expression shifted. Surprise. Wariness. "You're observant."
"Occupational hazard."
"For an entertainer?"
"For a survivor." I extended my hand. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Donovan."
She shook it. Her grip was firm. Professional. But there was warmth underneath.
"Veronica. And you too, Mr. Miller."
"Danny."
"Danny." She said my name like she was testing it. "I should go."
"Be careful out there. Lincoln needs you. Michael needs you."
"I will."
As she turned to leave, my hand moved. Sleight of hand, perfected over thousands of hours. The note slipped into her briefcase outer pocket, invisible and unnoticed.
She walked out without looking back.
VERONICA'S POV
Veronica reached her car in the parking lot, mind still processing the conversation with Daniel Miller.
He'd read her. Completely. The wedding ring, the timeline, her emotional investment in Lincoln's case. All from a thirty-second conversation.
What else can he see?
She opened her briefcase to file her notes and found the folded paper in the outer pocket.
When did he—
She unfolded it. Neat handwriting. Simple message.
Gray sedan following you from courthouse. Ex-military driver. You're being watched. Be careful. —DM
Veronica's blood went cold.
She looked around the parking lot. Most cars were empty. Visitors coming and going. Nothing suspicious.
Then she saw it.
Gray sedan. Two cars down. Tinted windows. Engine running despite the mild temperature.
As she watched, the driver shifted position. Military posture. Waiting.
How did he know?
Veronica got in her car, hands shaking. Started the engine. Pulled out carefully.
The gray sedan followed.
She drove for twenty minutes, taking random turns, testing. The sedan stayed three cars back. Professional surveillance.
They're watching me. Whoever framed Lincoln is watching me.
Daniel Miller's note had just saved her from walking into a trap.
She lost the tail in downtown traffic and headed home, mind racing.
That evening, Veronica sat in her apartment and dialed Lincoln's prison number. Waited through the automated system, the connection delays, the recording warning that all calls were monitored.
"Vee?" Lincoln's voice.
"Who is Daniel Miller?"
A pause. "The magician? I told you, he's good people. Smart. Why?"
"He warned me I was being followed. He was right."
Lincoln was quiet for a long moment. "Then listen to him. Kid sees things others don't. If he says you're in danger, you're in danger."
"But how did he know?"
"I don't ask questions like that anymore. I just accept that some people notice what others miss."
After the call, Veronica lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
Daniel Miller. Prisoner. Entertainer. Mentalist.
He'd identified surveillance she hadn't noticed. Slipped her a warning without anyone seeing. Protected her from across prison walls.
Who is he really?
She pulled out the note, studied the handwriting. Neat. Precise. Confident.
Be careful.
She would be.
But she'd also find out more about the mysterious prisoner with kind eyes and impossible observational skills.
DANIEL'S POV
That night, lying in my bunk, I organized the interaction in my mind palace.
Veronica Donovan: Sharp, determined, emotionally invested in Lincoln's case. Being surveilled by Company assets—probably Kellerman's team. In danger but doesn't fully realize how much.
The note would protect her. Make her cautious. Buy her time to continue her investigation without walking blind into a trap.
And it established connection. She'd remember me now. Remember that I'd helped when I didn't have to.
Future asset. Possible ally. Definitely someone worth protecting.
My hands shuffled cards in the darkness.
Twenty-two days until Lincoln's execution.
The crew was forming. The plan was progressing. The complications were mounting.
But Veronica Donovan was alive and warned. That counted as a win.
Michael would need her eventually. Lincoln needed her now. And I...
I needed to stop thinking about the way her eyes had softened when I'd performed the magic trick for the crying child.
Focus. Mission. Escape.
Romance can wait.
But my mind drifted back to her handshake, her almost-smile, the intelligence in her eyes.
Definitely worth protecting.
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