LEONARD'S POV

The leather seat of the fancy car felt soft under my fingers. It was a smooth, sweet change from the cold concrete walls of the prison where I had waited for my trial for the last six months. For all that time, I had slept on a thin bed, eaten cold food from a metal tray, and listened to a guard's keys jingle down the hall every night. Now I sat in a warm, quiet car, and the only sound was the low hum of the engine.

I reached down to my lap and poured myself a glass of twenty-year-old scotch from the small bar built into the...