Page 57 of The Perfect Marriage

“Don’t you dare question my investigation.” He points a finger at me. “And I think Adam just may have done it.”

My eyes grow wide. “Why would you think that all of a sudden?”

“That thought has always been there. I just thought there may have been other possibilities and there wasn’t any that we could find. So, case closed.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“Actually, you of all people should know that this is exactly how it works. That’s the justice system for you.” He shrugs.

I cross my arms showing how displeased I am with him. Of course, that’s how the justice system works. I know that, and I don’t need him telling me that. I need him to find out who the third set of DNA belongs to and whether or not this Jesse Hook knows more. He went from being this nice gentleman to this total asshole in the blink of an eye.

“Well, lucky for you—I’ve been doing your job.”

“My job here is done, Mrs. Morgan. Now, you can leave my office.” He points to the door.

“Then who’s Jesse Hook? Did you look into him at all?”

He gives me a bewildered look. “Name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Exactly. I thought so. Apparently this Jesse Hook was a bit obsessed with Kelly, practically stalking her. A co-worker of hers, Brenda, said that whenever she saw Kelly, Jesse was nearby. I wonder how close Jesse got to her and how much he saw of her that night or maybe he was there. Maybe he did it. Maybe he saw the man that did it. Or maybe he wasn’t the other man in her life, but maybe he knows who that man is.” I give him a smirk and raise an eyebrow.

Sheriff Stevens doesn’t speak. I can see him mulling over everything I said. I toss the folder with everything we have on Jesse onto his desk. He flips through it. On the third page is a large photo of Jesse taken from an old newspaper where he placed in some art show. He has shaggy brown hair and a cold stare. He’s not smiling, but he seems pleased with himself.

“I’ve seen this kid around,” Sheriff Stevens says.

“And?”

“I’ll look into it.” He closes up the folder.

“I’d like to be there when he’s questioned.”

“Sarah, you’re not a member of this police department.”

“I don’t care. I want to be there, and I’m going to be there. How long until you can get him in?”

He rubs his forehead in annoyance. He knows I’m not giving up, and he knows arguing with me won’t do him any good. “Fine. I can get a car to bring him in within the hour.”

“Perfect. I’ll be in the waiting area. Text me when he arrives.”

Sheriff Stevens nods. As I’m leaving his office, he stops me. “Want some company?”

“No, I think I’ve had just about enough of your company.”

I leave his office and pull out my phone, sending Anne a quick text.

We got him. I’ll be back late this afternoon.

36

Adam Morgan

I’ve made it through half the list with no luck. No one has even heard of a Nicholas Miller. I decide to take a break from cold-calling and pour myself a scotch at the wet bar. My decanter is empty, but there’s two full bottles of scotch next to it, courtesy of Sarah. I pour myself a double, slam it, and then pour another. I slowly sip this one while I light the fire.

It’s still bright out, but I don’t care. I close the curtains and make the house as dark as I can manage with only the fireplace providing any light. It’s how I feel right now—dark, hopeless, and just waiting for my time to pass. I sip slowly. Perhaps the slower I drink, the slower my time will pass by.

I sit there for a good twenty minutes, stewing in my own depression. Is this it for me? I make one mistake and my life is over. How is that fair? How is any of this fair? There’s a lot of things I deserve, but jail or execution isn’t one of them. I guess this is the life I chose. This is the path I decided to walk down. This is it.

After the scotch makes its way through my bloodstream, I try calling Rebecca, but I get her voicemail, and although leaving a voicemail isn’t the cool thing to do these days, I do it anyway. “Hey, Rebecca, it’s me—Adam. I’m about halfway done and haven’t gotten anything yet. Was hoping you’d be having better luck. Taking a break right now, but I’ll start back up. If you want to come over for dinner, feel free to. I’ve got a couple of steaks in the freezer. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up the phone. That dinner invitation was the scotch talking.

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