CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

RICHARD'S POV

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as I walked down the sterile, echoing corridor of the county jail. My footsteps, though quiet, seemed to announce my presence with an authority I wasn't sure I possessed. At the end of the hallway, a guard waited by a heavy metal door, his expression unreadable. He checked my ID, then buzzed me through.

The visiting room was stark, the kind of place that seemed designed to remind you of the bleakness of your circumstances. I took a seat at one of the tables, the cold metal chair barely moving on the polished floor.

James was brought in a minute later. His orange jumpsuit was a stark contrast to the drab surroundings, and his hands were shackled in front of him. The guard led him to the table opposite me and then retreated to the back of the room, his eyes never leaving James.

As soon as James saw me, his face crumpled. He stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet, and collapsed onto his knees in front of me. His shackle