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It was a prayer he’d started praying when he left the CIA, when he’d realized how far off track he’d gotten. When he’d resigned from the CIA and requested a transfer to small-town homicide, he’d ended up here and promised himself a fresh start.
But this wasn’t the fresh start he’d been imagining.
Was it part of some greater plan, maybe?
As Lachlan closed his eyes, he vowed to put his faith in God and stop trying to control everything for the first time in his life.
He realized in that moment this was the greatest test of faith he’d ever face—and this was a test he was determined to pass.
The sound of metal startled him awake and he sat upright, blinking.
Mitch entered the cell with apologetic eyes.
Lachlan nodded. “Please don’t cuff me. I’m not running anywhere.”
I’ve spent too many years running.
Mitch eyed him and, perhaps against his better judgment, nodded in return.
“Lachlan Taylor, you are being charged with the murder of Jessica Mella. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney...”
Mitch’s voice sounded like it was coming from the room next door.
Lachlan felt like he was watching it all from outside the cell, but he wasn’t.
He had officially been charged with murder, and even though he’d known it was coming, he couldn’t believe it.
He squeezed his eyes shut as he remembered the promise he’d made to God last night. He would put all his trust in Him: the One.
“I understand,” Lachlan said once Mitch finished reading him his Miranda rights.
“You are scheduled for court this afternoon. Emma Jones has been hired to represent you—I believe you know her, or know of her?”
Lachlan raised an eyebrow but nodded, wondering who had pulled strings to get Emma on his case.
“Of course, you are entitled to hire your own lawyer should you wish,” Mitch continued with a small smile, one that indicated he knew Lachlan would not be changing his lawyer.
Emma Jones was one of, if notthe, top criminal lawyer in the country. She was fierce and relentless, and suddenly he felt a flicker of hope in his chest.
Thank you, God.
“Jones flew in this morning and is waiting to meet with you, if you are willing. What do you say?” Mitch asked, still wearing that hint of a smile.
Lachlan was stunned that she was here already. He was almost at a loss for words. “Yes, please.”
Mitch nodded. “I’ll send her in.” He turned and walked from the cell, locking it behind him before returning a moment later with Emma. She looked exactly as he remembered her—like a catwalk model in a suit—but there was nothing delicate or wispy about Emma Jones.
Lachlan held her gaze, wondering if she thought she was looking at an innocent man or not.
The door to the cells swung closed and Emma looked over her shoulder. When she seemed confident they were alone, she turned her attention back to Lachlan.
“How are you holding up?” she asked, to his surprise.
“I’ve been better. Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he said, still wondering exactly how all of this happened.
“You’re still one of them, even if you resigned,” she said, confirming that somehow the CIA had heard he was to be arrested—they had ears everywhere—and so they stepped in to save their reputation, because it didn’t look good if an ex-agent went on a killing spree.
“I didn’t do it, in case you’re wondering,” Lachlan said. “And I will plead innocent, regardless of what consequences that holds. I will not confess to a crime I didn’t commit. I’d rather spend my life in jail.”
