Page 40 of The Perfect Marriage

She nods.

The information she just told me finally sinks in. “Wait, I’d have to spend the duration of the trial in jail if bail is denied?” I ask to confirm even though I know the answer to the question. I just want to talk to Sarah as husband and wife, not as lawyer and client.

“That’s correct.” I notice she has a bit of sweat on her forehead and her face is turning pale.

“That’s ridiculous. You better take care of this, Sarah.” Mom taps her heel on the floor.

“Are you okay?” I ask. She gags, hands her coffee to Anne, and runs to a nearby garbage can in the lobby and throws up. Anne rushes to her side and rubs her back, asking her if she needs anything or if she should reschedule. Sarah shakes her head and scurries off to the bathroom.

“She’ll be right back,” Anne says walking over to me.

“Is she okay? What’s wrong with her?” I’m concerned not only for my wife but if she’ll be able to handle this hearing.

“I don’t think she can handle this case. We should shop around,” Mom whispers into my ear.

“Stop, Mom.”

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Anne says.

“Maybe you should go help her,” Mom says to Anne, shooing her away. “Sarah’s clearly not strong enough on her own.”

27

Sarah Morgan

Iwalk out of the bathroom stall and splash some water on my face. I take my makeup bag from my tote, re-powder my face, swish around some mouthwash, and reapply my lip gloss. I feel fine now, but I don’t know what came over me—the stress of this case, poor nutrition, inadequate sleep, or fucking Eleanor. I have to pull it together. I pat down my hair and smooth away any flyaways.

Pulling out my phone, I text Anne—I’m fine. Must have had something that didn’t agree with me. I’ll be back in a few minutes.

I give myself a once-over in the mirror, straightening out my top and skirt and tightening my ponytail. I pick up my bag and walk out of the bathroom, running smack bang into District Attorney Josh Peters. The coffee he’s holding spills all over the both of us, and we both apologize to one another.

“Sarah, I’m sorry,” D.A. Peters says.

“No, I’m sorry, Josh.”

“Wait right here.” He dips into the men’s bathroom. He comes out moments later with a wad of paper towels. He hands me half, and we both wipe and dab at the coffee. His white button-up shirt is stained, but it’s hard to even see where the coffee was spilled on his black pants and jacket. I find myself glancing up at him as we blot ourselves. He’s in his mid-thirties and overqualified for the job he’s in. He could have gone into corporate law or defense, but his moral compass kept him in the public sector.

We finish getting as cleaned up as possible. D.A. Peters even wipes up the spilled coffee on the floor and then collects the soiled towels. He disappears into the bathroom and returns a moment later carrying just his briefcase.

“Listen, I know we’re on opposite sides and what your situation is, and I just want to let you know that I’m sorry for what you’re going through, but I’m still going to do my job.” He stands firm with perfect posture, his presence giving no hint of the sympathy he is trying to exude with his words.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, D.A. Peters.”

“Good. Are you ready?”

“Actually, I’d like to speak with you about the plea deal.”

“Sure.” He widens his stance and puts one of his hands on his hip. The open posture is supposed to signal an inviting tone as he waits to hear my offer. I have to give it to him, he has all the nuances down to a tee.

“Can we take the death penalty off the table and go for life in prison for a not guilty plea? You know just as well as I do, juries have a hard time coming up with a conviction when the death penalty is involved, and there’s a third set of DNA. We don’t even know who it belongs to.” I hold my hands out, palms face up as if offering a physical item to him.

“The evidence is stacked against Adam with or without that DNA. You know that, Sarah.” He re-crosses his arms and closes his stance as if to say,deal time is over.

“I know,” I say feeling defeated. He’s right. That DNA doesn’t really matter if we don’t know who it belongs to. Kelly was found dead in our home, and Adam was the last person to see her alive, plus his DNA is all over her.

“And Adam failed his lie detector test,” D.A. Peters adds.

“Yeah, and so did Scott. You know as much as I do polygraphs are a bunch of pseudoscience bullshit.” I narrow my eyes at him.

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