Page 55 of The Perfect Marriage

Adam Morgan

Iheard from Rebecca, the journalist I’d asked to do some digging for me, sooner than I thought… actually, I wasn’t sure I’d hear from her at all. She called me late last night, telling me she’d be over Monday afternoon. She works fast. She had said on the phone that she got everything I asked for. I don’t know how she did it, and I don’t care as long as it’s right, and it clears me of this crime. I got up and showered, shaved, and dressed myself. It was quite the accomplishment as I’ve been nothing short of a slob these past couple of days. I even tidied up the place. I couldn’t stand sleeping on the couch another night. My back is aching, but I guess the couch is better than the twin-sized bunk at the jail.

Since our mattress was thrown out during the crime scene clean-up, I ordered a new one online. I won’t get much use out of it if I’m convicted, but in the meantime, I sprung for the most expensive one with the highest thread count sheets and the plushest pillows and mattress pad. If these are my last couple of weeks in my own bed, they’re going to be luxurious. I haven’t heard from Sarah since our encounter on Friday night. I had hoped she’d stop by again, but after the news picked up the story, I assumed she was lying low.

I’m sitting on the couch dressed in old jeans and a flannel top, flipping through my well-thumbed copy ofThe Corrections, wondering why my career hadn’t taken the same path as Mr. Franzen’s. But I only need to read one page of his writing to remember why.

The phone rings and I lean over to pick it up. I don’t even get a chance to say hello. “Adam! It’s Daniel. Great news! I already have multiple offers on the tell-all.”

“You pitched the book? I didn’t even agree to write it.”

“Adam, you and I are one and the same. We both love money. Don’t be dumb. This is the chance of a lifetime. I’m talking seven figures, movie deals, the whole shebang.” He stops talking, waiting for me to agree. I can hear heavy breaths from his overexcitement.

My eyes light up, thinking of the money, fame, and power. A smile grows on my face the more I daydream of what my life could be, and then I can’t stop my own response from leaving my mouth. “Fine. But I’m going to write the truth—none of this ‘I’m the murderer’ bullshit.”

“That’s perfect. People like true crime better these days anyway. I’m setting up an auction, so get to writing. I’ll be in touch, buddy.”

The phone clicks and I hang up the receiver, sitting there in a daze for a moment.Holy shit. All my dreams are finally going to come true. I take a seat at my desk, ready to pour the pages out. This story is going to make my career, it’s going to make people know who Adam Morgan is. I crack my knuckles and open a blank word document. I type,Adam Morgan: Murder He Wrote.

There’s a knock at the door. I turn in my seat and then it hits me. Damn, I forgot all about Rebecca and my investigation. I can’t let anything get in the way of figuring out the truth. This book will mean nothing if I’m rotting in a prison cell or worse, dead. I close my laptop and rush to open the door. Rebecca walks in before I even have a chance to invite her. Her hair is in tight curls under her hat, and her cheeks are a rosy red.

“That was quick,” I tell her as she removes her coat and hat and takes a seat on the couch.

“I work fast, and you don’t have much time,” she says, picking upThe Corrections. She glances at it and sets it on the coffee table. “If only he could have been my writing professor.” There’s a smartass grin on her face.

“Then you wouldn’t have been at a community college, now would you?” I snap back, my jealousy coming through. I can tell by her eyes she knows the comment did its job. Her perceptivity is impressive. “Anyway, you’re right, I don’t have much time. Can I get you something to drink?”

She shakes her head, and I join her on the couch. Rebecca pulls out a couple of file folders and lays them out in front of her. “You ready for this?”

I nod.

“Okay, so Kelly or Jenna’s first husband’s name was Greg, and they were married for a year and a half—got married young, like twenty. You know about the murder, the misplaced evidence, and the fact that Scott Summers helped her get away with it. The two left Wisconsin after the case was closed and wound up here in Prince William County, Virginia.” She flips through the papers. I take pages here and there, reading them myself. Most of this I knew.

“Where’s the new info? Like his family or something?”

“I’m getting there. Yes—both his parents are still alive. But I couldn’t find much about them. The father works in commercial real estate, and the mother does a lot of volunteer work. They don’t seem like they would have had anything to do with this. They’re in their sixties. It just seems like a bit of a stretch,” she explains.

His sixty-year-old parents do seem a bit far-fetched. I mean, I couldn’t imagine my own mom being involved in some vicious murder. But then again, Harold Shipman, AKA Dr. Death was murdering people well into his fifties, and that couple in Missouri picked up the hobby of killing drifters in their seventies. So, age doesn’t really rule people out. If nothing else turns up, I’ll have her dig deeper into where they were when Kelly was murdered.

“Here’s the thing—Greg had a brother. His name’s Nicholas Miller. Based on what I could dig up—which isn’t a lot—I believe he lives in the area.”

My eyes light up.It has to be him. Who else would want to kill Kelly?“Where does he live? Where does he work? Let’s find him.” This is it. This is my lifeline. This is my miracle. Everything is going to be okay.

“See, here’s the thing. I called the home and spoke with the mother. The conversation I had with her is also why I didn’t think the parents had anything to do with this. She was so friendly and nice. I enjoyed speaking with her. I might just call her regularly since my own mom is such a jerk.”

“Okay, get to the point, Rebecca. We can talk all about your family problems after I’m cleared of this.”

“Sorry. Anyway. I asked for Nicholas since when I pulled the background report on Greg, I saw he had an older brother. Well, the mother told me he had just visited and left the other day to head back to Maryland.”

“Maryland. That’s not Virginia,” I say.

“Correct, but it’s very close. There are so many cities, and towns he could be in that are less than two hours from here. He could have easily done this.”

“How do we find him?”

“I’m still looking. I haven’t been able to locate a Nicholas Miller, but I have found some others with that same last name. I was going to start there and see if anyone knows him. It’s not that common of a name, so I might just get lucky,” she says.

“Well, how ‘not common’ is it?”

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