of demeanor.
"Well then you should know I hire ex-cons here. The diner is a part of a work program, and I support a halfway house for those transitioning back into society. For the most part, we have a pretty good success rate, but you'll see prison tats, and a few are still adjusting to being out. It isn't easy on them, especially if my customers have attitudes."
Kallie chuckled. She liked this guy. He was a straight shooter and damned observant. He’d need to be both to run a program for transitioning cons. She could see why he was successful with them. "No attitude from me, unless the soup sucks." She took a drink of her coffee. "But the coffee is good, so I have hope."
"The coffee is awesome. It was good to meet you..." He paused for her to fill in her name.
"Detective Kallie Redman. Homicide." She extended her hand to him. His rough, work-worn palm slid into hers.
"Good to meet you. I'll go get that soup and send Dominque over with more coffee."
She watched him disappear behind the counter and hand her coffee pot to a younger man. The guy smiled and nodded quickly before he beat feet over to the coffee urn. Her phone vibrated. She didn’t recognize the number, but the area code was one she recognized. Texas. Houston, to be exact.
"Hello."
"Hey, Kallie, girl. How's life been treating you?" The low rumble of her ex-husband's voice sent a cascade of ice through her veins. Thank God she hadn't answered with her last name. He didn't need to know she'd changed it.
"What do you want, Rich?"
"What? I can't check on my wife?"
"Ex-wife. The divorce was final over four years ago. Are you out?" Her old Captain in Houston had sent her an email and gave her a heads up that Rich was up for parole. It was the only communication she’d had with anyone in HPD since she'd left the city. She'd moved to Atlanta and worked there in private security before she’d gotten her shit together enough to apply for a position in Hope City. She'd done everything she could to delete any trace of Rich from her life.
"As of yesterday. Where are you? Your apartment manager said you'd left years ago without a forwarding address. Why would you do that, baby?"
"I'm not your baby. I left; we're done. Get over it." Her hand shook, but she would be damned if she let her voice tremble.
"But we have unfinished business. You fucking testified against me."
"You killed that woman."
"She was going for a gun."
"No, she wasn't. She was unarmed." The victim had held a neon-pink cell phone in her hand. The event played over and over in her mind like a fucking six second meme. Her ex-husband had been undercover for almost a year, and he was strung out, culminating in a massive bust which she and her partner took part in. They were moving across the warehouse toward where Rich was reported to be. She saw it in freeze frame. He looked directly at her and then elevated his weapon and shot the girl. In the back. In cold blood. Her partner claimed to be looking the other direction. Kallie knew he hadn't been, but he wouldn't testify against her husband. She had, and it had cost her everything.
"She was a worthless whore."
"I can't believe you. No life is worthless. None. But be honest for once, would you? Why? Why'd you do it?" She turned her head away from the doors and sightlessly stared past the red leather side panel of her booth. He'd been convicted and sentenced to fifteen years. He’d served five.
"I saw a gun." His story had never changed, but the facts were the facts. He’d pointed his gun and killed the woman. In court it had become apparent that Rich and the woman he’d shot were in a relationship while he’d been undercover. The woman had had a record for aggravated assault. Rich's attorney claimed he’d thought the woman was pulling a weapon to use on her as she crossed the warehouse. That was a lie, and she’d told the judge and jury the truth. Then Rich’s lawyer had gone after her. He’d made outrageous claims ending with the whopper that she’d been having an affair with her married Lieutenant. It was ridiculous and baseless, yet she was immediately transferred from her precinct, and life went from crispy in a frying pan to smoldering in the fire. No one would work with her.