Chapter 20

A text pops up on the burner phone I use to communicate with him: Hearing over. Opening Zoom.

"What?" I can hardly believe my ears. Dawkins had told me this should be an easy win for the prosecution. The most we could hope for was a preview of their evidence against Morales. Actual victory wasn't a real possibility. "I thought all they had to do was show there was a substantial chance Morales committed a crime. How did they lose?"

"So what happens now? Is the case over?"

So that was the fly in the ointment. I knew there must be one. "I see. Let me know if there are any further developments."

Ten minutes later, a driver picks up Morales and whisks him to a waiting private plane. The knots in my stomach loosen and I take a sip of my tea, which is now lukewarm but still good. I lean back in my chair, stare out at the rain-shrouded landscape, and smile. This day has turned out much better than I expected, and I have Hez Webster to thank.

***

He paused to admire the view, which he did even when he wasn't searching for an excuse to stop running. He could see most of the animal refuge, and it was remarkable. Covered, open-air safari trucks lumbered along the roads on the African bush excursion. A lion sunbathed on a rock outcropping half a mile away. Birdlike hoots from a forest grove in the other direction told him that the sanctuary's family of bonobos was nearby, probably laughing at the silly humans running for no reason. A giraffe's head appeared from behind an acacia tree beside the road. Its long-lashed brown eyes watched him for a moment as it chewed lazily. Apparently satisfied that he was harmless, it turned back to its meal.

"Sightseeing or just out of shape?" Blake called from fifty yards ahead.

"A little of both." Hez started running again and caught up with his cousin by the time they reached the sanctuary's office.

Blake chuckled. "No, you couldn't. You'd be bored in less than a week."

Hez looked at his glass, watching the tendrils of cream and coffee slowly mix. "Yeah, I guess I do like to keep busy."

"Think he's okay?"

"I hope so. He mentioned that he had family back in Mexico. Maybe he's headed back to them." That was all part of a defense attorney's job—he couldn't judge a defendant's guilt or innocence. All he could do was put the government to its proof and ensure his client's rights were respected.

"Which one?"

Blake arched an eyebrow. "What about Savannah?"

Hez swallowed the rest of his coffee. "Things don't seem to be working out."

Blake grimaced in sympathy. "Sorry to hear it."

Blake shook his head. "A mistake to show your wife who you are now and let her know how you feel? No. You did the right thing. But you can't force her to love you back."