Page 9 of The Perfect Divorce

SARAH MORGAN

“Walk me through what happened,” I say, crossing my legs at the ankles.

Ryan Stevens is seated across the table from me in a private visitation room, unable to hold eye contact.

“I don’t remember anything,” he says, looking down at his lap like he’s searching for the answers he lost at the bottom of a bottle.

“I’m not surprised to hear that, since your BAC level was 0.28 percent. You’re lucky you didn’t die from alcohol poisoning.”

“Wish I would have.” He shrugs.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t go saying that around any of your old buddies. They’re not your friends anymore. They are the law, and you are a criminal. And if they hear you make any threats of self-harm, you’ll be put on suicide watch, which would destroy your chance of making bail.”

“Is that even a possibility?”

I flip through the report, deducing as much as I can. “I haven’t had time to review this in full yet, but from what I gathered, it is a possibility. It’s just not going to be easy.”

“I figured as much,” he says, resting his elbows on the table and propping his head up with his hands. “So, what’s your plan?”

I close the folder and slip it into my bag, giving myself a moment to think. I probably shouldn’t be helping him for several reasons. It’s not a good look for the foundation, especially considering he’s the former sheriff, and more than likely he’ll be charged with aggravated involuntary manslaughter. But Stevens and I have history, a bond that tethers us to one another, even if he’s not aware of it. So, unfortunately, it is in my best interest to help him.

“The commonwealth is going to paint you as a degenerate drunk who’s so reckless with your own life, you’ve become a danger to society. What I will try to do is paint you as the complete opposite, a storied hero sheriff who slightly lost his way but is deserving of a second chance.”

“Is anyone going to buy that?” he scoffs.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But that’s the part you let me handle,” I say with a nod. “If the autopsy on the victim comes back with any abnormalities that could suggest she was impaired in some way, we might be able to assign her partial fault. However, a jury will most likely check out the minute we try to blame the dead woman. But my team will look for witnesses, review surveillance footage from the area, check road conditions at the time of the accident, and sift through the police report with a fine-tooth comb. If any errors were made during your arrest that could get evidence or even the case thrown out, we’ll find them.”

“It sounds like the only way I’m getting off is through some lucky break,” he says.

I tilt my head, eyeing the sorry sight before me. “That’s a fair assessment.”

“What do I do now?”

“You sit tight while I go to work. Given your police background and that this is your first serious offense, you do have a good shot at making bail. So, I’ll start?—”

My phone vibrates against the metal table, slowly dancing itself in a circle.Jesslights up across the screen.

“It’s my lawyer. I need to take this,” I say, gathering my belongings and getting to my feet. I head for the door and knock several times, signaling to the guard that I’m ready to leave.

“You have a lawyer?” Stevens asks. “For what?”

I glance back at him. His brows are shoved together in confusion.

“Divorce.”

I clickAcceptand press the phone to my ear. “Sarah Morgan.”

“Wait,” Ryan calls out.

“One second, Jess.” I mute the call before meeting his worried gaze.

“Shoot it to me straight. What are my odds of walking away from this?” He shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

I tilt my head to the side and squint. “Do you remember my former husband’s case?”

“Yeah.”

“Your odds are worse than his.”

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