Wayne Yorke sat in the front passenger seat, his pulse hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The air in the car was thick, tasting of recycled air and the metallic tang of fear. He had expected Ambrose Ward to be a formidable investigator, perhaps even a vengeful one, but he hadn't expected this—a direct, unvarnished line to the woman he was currently trying to hide from.
The realization that his mandatory cooling-off period was about to be aired in front of the Joint Investigation Task Force felt like a bucket of ice water over his head. If the Task Force knew he was officially separating from Lynn Graves, his last shred of political capital—the "shield" of being the husband of a powerful Borough Administrator—would vanish. He would be just another parasite without a host.
“He
