Page 77 of The Perfect Marriage

Anne gives a quick glance at me. I purse my lips giving her neither direction, nor communication. Bob walks out with his chin slightly up in the air.

When everyone exits, Matthew and I are left face to face with Sheriff Stevens.

“So…” he opens the exchange, “quite the shitshow in the upper echelon today.” A sardonic grin is plastered on his face. I know he likes to have the upper hand and see me squirm. He is going to milk this show for all it is worth now that he has me back on his ground. I’m not going to cave to him though.

“Yeah,” I respond.

“If only some officers of the law would have responded faster when an alarm went off telling them a man accused of murder who is on house arrest went barreling off his designated premises at 100mph, then maybe this all could have been avoided. But hey, it’s hard to hear alarm bells over the loud chewing of doughnuts,” Matthew quips.

I glance at Matthew and let a small smile sneak into the corners of my mouth.

“Who are you?” Sheriff Stevens asks.

“Matthew Latchaw,” he thrusts his hand for a handshake, establishing dominance.

Sheriff Stevens folds his arms in front of his chest. “Our officers followed protocol to the best of their ability and were mere minutes behind Mr. Morgan upon him leaving his domicile. You both should be thankful for how fast they did in fact respond. The scene at your office could have been far worse.” There’s a serious tone to his delivery.

“Maybe so. But if Scott Summers hadn’t been there Bob might still be able to walk normally this evening,” I chime in.

“Deputy Summers actions were… regrettable as I noted. His behavior will be dealt with.”

“What’s the plan?” I ask wanting to move this process along. My cheek is burning and I need a stiff drink.

“We’ll question both Anne and Bob. Frankly, I’m just crossing the Ts and dotting the Is as this case is closed on our end.”

“You have to admit this is a weird connection. Bob has motive, and Anne threatened Adam. So, I’d appreciate it if you did more than just cross the Ts and dot the Is,” I say sternly. “And I’d like handwriting analysis of the note in comparison to Anne’s.”

“You’re right. It’s definitely suspicious. If either of them were involved, we’ll find out.” He tries to match the seriousness in my tone of voice. “No need on the handwriting analysis. She’s already admitted to writing the note.”

“Have you heard of false confessions? I’ll need the handwriting analysis.” This sheriff’s police work is sloppy at best, and I’m unsure if it’s due to ignorance or if it’s intentional.

He presses his lips tightly together and nods.

“May we observe the questioning of the two persons of interest?” I ask. “Their testimony will ultimately be pertinent to my case.”

“Sure. I don’t see why not.”

I can’t tell if he thinks he is doing me a favor or is just in an agreeable mood. “Would you mind staggering the interviews then? So we can observe them both?”

Sheriff Stevens raises his eyebrows at my question, “I suppose we could,” his voice trails up very high at the end, “but you do know that will greatly increase the time you are here for the evening, right?”

“Obviously.” Matthew rolls his eyes.

“I understand,” I say with clear confidence in my voice.

“Okay then… sure. I’ll let the deputies know. Do you have a preference of who first?”

“Let’s start with Anne.”

47

Adam Morgan

What the fuck is taking so long? And where the hell is my mom?

I called her as soon as they finished booking me. I pace back and forth in the interrogation room, a place I have become quite familiar with over the past two weeks. They better find something on Anne and Bob. This is my last hope, and I need Sarah and Sheriff Stevens to believe me. They have to believe that I didn’t do it, just enough to thoroughly look into Bob and Anne.

The door is thrown open with such force it slams against the concrete wall and bounces back into Scott Summers. He winces in pain and then shuffles in, flinging the door closed behind him. He looks like a wild animal, flushed, breathing heavily, eyes bloodshot, lips pursed. “We need to talk,” he says sternly.

---