Page 5 of The Perfect Divorce

“Reformers...” He smiles. “Makes me think ofTransformers.”

“Yeah, well, that was already trademarked.” My mouth starts to curve into a grin, but I quickly extinguish it. As I clear my throat, my gaze falls to his chest and biceps. The tight white T-shirt he’s wearing leaves very little to the imagination, and it’s obvious he spent his time in prison working out.

“What happens after the six months is up?” he asks.

“You’ll be financially responsible for yourself, but the Morgan Foundation’s resources will continue to be available to you for as long as you need.”

Alejandro tilts his head to the side. “And this is how you fix a bad person?”

His question catches me off guard, and I find myself locking eyes with him again, just for a moment—but in that moment, it feels like we can see into each other’s souls. I wonder what he sees in mine.

“No. This is how we give a person who did bad things a second chance to do some good ones.”

My cell phone vibrates against the table.Unknownis displayed across the caller ID, which is not uncommon in my line of work. A fair number of incoming calls come from prisons, jails, police officers, and burner phones—all of which share the same inviting caller ID.

“I have to take this,” I say, picking up my phone and turning my chair slightly away from him. I hitAccepton the screen and press it against my ear. “Sarah Morgan speaking.”

A heavy breath vibrates through the receiver, and I can almost feel the exhale, as though the person on the other end were in the room with me. Looking over my shoulder at Case Fifty, I notice he hasn’t taken his eyes off me.

Turning away, I say, “Hello,” into the phone.

“Sarah.” A husky voice comes through, one I immediately recognize. It’s lost the authority it once held. Life can do that to you. For most, we break down slowly over years and decades—but for some, it happens all at once. He falls into the latter group.

“I need your help,” he says.

“With what?”

He exhales noisily. “I don’t know exactly, but I’ve got a gut feeling I’m going to need your legal services.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the Prince William County Sheriff’s Office... in their custody.”

“I’m on my way,” I say, ending the call.

I let out a small sigh as I start to collect my things, pausing only to address Alejandro.

“I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to go. One of my associates will finish up,” I explain as I get to my feet.

“Is everything all right?” he asks.

“No, but it will be.”

FOUR

SHERIFF HUDSON

I shake my head at the sight of him standing in front of the inmate calling station with a phone pressed firmly to his ear. He leans against the cinder-block wall to keep himself upright. One of my deputies is positioned off to the side, arms crossed, waiting for the inmate to finish. He was brought in early Tuesday morning. It’s Wednesday now, and he’s finally woken up from his bender.

My hands ball into fists, but I steal a quick, deep breath and flex my fingers, my knuckles cracking as I bend and straighten them. He’s lucky I’ve got a better handle on my emotions these days. Besides, he’s already in a world of hurt, so I don’t need to do any further damage, no matter how pissed I am—not only at him but also at myself. If I hadn’t given him so many chances, this never would have happened. My deputy makes eye contact with me and stands a little taller, inflating his chest.

“I got it from here,” I say, relieving him of his duty.

“Yes, Sheriff.” He nods and leaves the room just as the inmate hangs up the phone, his head lolling forward.

I rest my hand on Ryan’s shoulder, applying a small amount of pressure. “Let’s go, man.”

Former sheriff Ryan Stevens lets out a heavy exhale and briefly glances over his shoulder at me. His hair is shaggy and unkempt, going in all directions. Rosacea colors his cheeks, and there’s a tinge of yellow to his bloodshot eyes. He drops his gaze, looking down at his feet.

---