Page 45 of The Perfect Marriage

Sarah turns back and looks at me. She nods, but the look she gives saysGet it your fucking self. She pulls out another mug. She’s probably just being polite since Sheriff Stevens is here. She wants nothing to do with me. I’m sure she wishes I was rotting in my cell during the trial.

Sheriff Stevens and Sarah begin talking about the case. She asks about the witnesses that he’s interviewed, and it sounds like he interviewed nearly everyone Kelly worked with as well as Scott.

“Did you know her first husband?” Sarah asks.

“I had heard something about it,” Sheriff Stevens says.

“And what’s that?” I pipe in.

He gives me a look, awhy are you talking to melook. “That he was murdered—”

“Yeah, by her,” Sarah says with a bit of bite in her voice.

“What?” Sheriff Stevens widens his eyes.

“It was in her file. The case against her fell apart during the trial after some key evidence went missing. Isn’t that where you heard about it from?” Sarah asks. She pours three cups and hands one to me and one to Sheriff Stevens.

“If she did murder her first husband? And hypothetically, if Adam killed her? Is it even a crime? Like double jeopardy or something?” Mom calls from the living room. The wine is clearly going straight to her head.

“Yes, Eleanor. Killing someone is a crime.” Sarah rolls her eyes.

Mom hiccups. “Someone’s got to be asking the hard questions around here.” She mollifies her hiccups with another mouthful of wine.

Sheriff Stevens takes a drink quickly and then slams his fist against the counter. “Shit. Ouch!” He winces.

“Yeah, it’s hot coffee,” I say with a laugh. This guy is a moron. He gives me a dirty look. Sarah quickly sets down a glass of cold water in front of him. He drinks the whole thing in one gulp and thanks her for it.

“Well, I better be going,” he says. “I’ll let myself out.” He says goodbye and leaves rather quickly. Sarah and I stand on opposite sides of the kitchen, holding our cups of coffee, and looking at each other. She’s trying to read me, and I’m trying to read her. Is something going on with Sheriff Stevens? Why did he leave suddenly? Did he pick up on the fact that I was figuring these two out? Are they having an affair? If they were, would I even have the right to be mad? Of course, I would. She’s still my fucking wife, and she’s my lawyer. Her only focus should be my case, not some hick sheriff. She sets her cup of coffee on the counter, her eyes looking off into the distance, not fixated on anything.

“I have to go,” she says suddenly as if she was just snapped back to reality.

“Can’t you stay?”

“No.” She dumps her coffee cup in the sink and leaves the house without another word.

“Good riddance. I thought she’d never leave.” Mom says as she refills her drink

“She was here for five minutes.” I shake my head and pour myself a glass of scotch. I take a seat on the couch. “Can you please try to put down your sword, Mom? Sarah is my wife, and she’s defending me. You need to try to get along.”

She sits down on the loveseat and cradles her wine with both hands. “I suppose I can try.”

29

Sarah Morgan

Ipark my car outside Seth’s Coffee and watch as a few customers enter and leave. Someone there must have seen Kelly with a man other than Adam or her husband, Scott. Who does that third set of DNA belong to? It has to be someone that would have a reason for wanting to remain hidden. Why else would he use a burner phone? I get out of the car and pick up my tote bag. The café is only open for another hour, so I’ll have to work quickly.

I enter the establishment and take in my surroundings, being sure not to miss anything or anyone. The café is small and filled with eclectic furniture and décor. Nothing quite matches, but somehow it does, and it works. Random wooden tables, chairs of many colors and made of different materials—plastic, wood, metal. There’s an orange couch with a coffee table in front of it and two white leather chairs on either side of it, all situated in a cozy area.

A middle-aged man is sitting on the couch. His gaze bounces around the café, from his laptop to other customers to me and back again. A woman sits alone at a table reading a book. She doesn’t look up, and her attention is solely on the book four inches from her face. There’s soft classical music playing. A lone barista is leaning against the counter fiddling with her fingernails. She’s a young black woman with full, ringlet hair and big brown eyes. I’d guess her around the same age as Kelly. Perhaps they were friends.

When she notices me, she straightens up and greets me. Her name tag saysBrenda.

“Hi, I’ll take a small black coffee.” I pull out my wallet.

“Can I get a name for that?”

“Sarah.” She writes my name on the cup and punches a couple of buttons on the cash register. I hand her the cash from my wallet.

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