#Chapter 70: Fall Guy

Ella The meeting had been far more intense than I'd anticipated. The courthouse’s grandeur, with its marble floors and tall pillars, had done little to cushion the impact of Westbrook’s verbal blows. As we exited the grand, double doors, the change in environment was immediately noticeable. From the stifling intensity inside, we were met with an unexpected chill. The sky had turned a somber shade of gray, with raindrops starting to patter, as if the heavens shared in our melancholy. “Ella,” Logan began, his voice hoarse from the discussions, the umbrella already in hand, warding off the steadily falling rain. His face looked drawn, every drop of rain that splattered against it emphasizing his deep-set lines of worry. I took a deep breath, feeling the moisture in the air, the weight of the day pressing down. “Logan, with this information, we need to check with the police. We need to see that bullet casing. If it has a serial number or any defining mark, a