Page 13 of The Perfect Divorce

“No, we shouldn’t,” I say because I already know he can’t be trusted.

NINE

SHERIFF HUDSON

“Who the fuck leaked this to the media?” I yell to the room full of my subordinates. Clutched in my hand are the results of the DNA analysis that links Stevens to the Summers case, the same one Channel 5 News reported on last night. The papers flap against one another as I hold them up, shaking them. The bullpen is dead quiet, save for phones ringing off the hook. Each call goes unanswered, though, because everyone is frozen in place, scared to make the first move and attract unwanted attention. Their eyes dart, never landing on me. Even Chief Deputy Olson stands quietly off to the side, looking down at her boots, her hands clasped together. She’s the one that keeps me calm, but right now, she’s giving me the space to vent. Olson knows we’re in deep shit too, but she doesn’t know just how deep that shit is—because she wasn’t around when all this happened.

I always knew there was something off with the Kelly Summers case. Nothing about it ever felt right. I had my theories. This wasn’t one of them though. Back then, I tried to dig into it, but I didn’t get far. I was too green, too low on the totem pole. And Stevens kept me at a distance, under the guise of there being a potential conflict of interest, given my friendship with Kelly’s husband, Scott, who was chief deputy at the time. I know now that was all a load of bullshit.

“Someone better speak up now!” I yell, my heart hammering in my chest. It feels like it’s constricting with each passing second. The more my thoughts race, the more my chest seems to tighten. I feel like I’m losing control of my station and maybe even myself.

“We’re a team,” I say, my voice harsh and firm. “We’re a unified front. We plan out what information we share and how we share it. What we don’t do is leak things outside of this station. Why?”

I walk to the windows and turn to face my full shift of officers before tugging the blinds open. Six news vans are parked outside, and I’m sure there are more on the way. Broadcast cameras are in position, and reporters armed with microphones are standing at the ready. We’re in the center of a media circus, rather than in front of it, thanks to some jackoff who decided to take matters into their own hands.

“That’s why!”

Several officers jump at the sound of my knuckles cracking against the glass. Itisthe public’s right to know this type of information, but there’s a reason we have procedures. This should’ve been shared via a press conference, not a segment on the nightly news.

I toggle the cord, and the blinds drop, snapping against the windowsill. “Who leaked it? Who!? I wanna know right goddamn now!” I pace back and forth in front of my team, waiting for one of them to step forward.

“Sir,” a meek voice calls from somewhere in the back. It’s one of my rookies, a thin little thing but reliable. He slowly rises from his desk, stammering a bit.

“Spit it out, Deputy Lane. I don’t have time for this.”

Lane clears his throat and cautiously glances around the room at the other officers. It’s obvious from the look on his face he’s already regretting speaking up. “We received the CODIS results after the news segment aired, so the leak had to have come from the lab.”

Lieutenant Nagel takes a step forward, lifting his chin. He towers above everyone and sports a strong jaw and an even stronger work ethic. “Lane’s right, Sheriff Hudson. The results were delivered to us after it hit the news.”

I squint and move my mouth side to side, stealing a quick glimpse at the lab report clenched in my hand. The delivery timestamp reads 9:42 p.m., and the news segment aired just a few minutes after nine.They’re right.The leak must have come from the lab, not here. Someone over there probably thought we were gonna cover it up to protect one of our own—so they took matters into their own hands. I could put an officer on finding the person responsible, but from an optics standpoint, leading a witch hunt wouldn’t make our department look good, and we already don’t look good as it is.

I pull my lips in and nod at Deputy Lane and then Lieutenant Nagel. The deputy retakes his seat, and Nagel falls back in line with the group.

Drawing in a deep breath, I hold it for a few seconds before exhaling. Some of the tension in my shoulders dissipates, just enough to stop me from continuing to use my team as a punching bag. They didn’t cause this massive screwup. Most of them weren’t even old enough to drive when Kelly Summers was murdered. Shit, it’s been over twelve years now.

“All right,” I say, my voice calmer this time. “We need to get ahead of this, so the Summers investigation will be reopened in its entirety, and I’ll need all hands on deck. If you didn’t work here when it happened, get up to speed. If you did, refresh your memory. I want everything from that case pulled, and I meaneverything. Witness statements, trial notes, testimonies, police reports, every single shred of evidence. Understood?”

“Yes, Sheriff,” the room says in unison.

I stand there for a moment, my eyes flicking to each person to ensure the seriousness of my words will sink in. “Good. Now, get to work.”

My team wastes no time because we’ve got no time to waste, immediately scattering in all directions. I head for my office and slam the door closed behind me.

“What the hell did you do, Ryan?” I question the empty room, shaking my head to punctuate my frustration. Even if Stevens were here right now, he’d give me some bullshit answer.

I toss the lab report on my desk and collapse into my chair, staring at the fissured ceiling tiles, wondering how this all happened. Stevens spiraled horribly in the last year or so—but was he ever good? I can’t understand how he could have had an affair with his chief deputy’s wife. You don’t do that to a fellow badge. And what would Scott Summers think of this? Has he heard the news that his former boss betrayed him and may have even had something to do with his wife’s death? Actually, is he even still alive? He quit the force and left town shortly after the trial. I never heard from him again.

I walk to one of the filing cabinets lined up against the wall and pull open a metal drawer, thumbing through the folders until I land on the one I’m looking for. I graze a finger over her last and first name printed on the tab of the case file.Poor Kelly.I thought maybe we got it right, that we got justice for her, but honestly, the whole investigation never sat right with me. It was too easy. And then there was that mess of a trial. I don’t know much about the court side of the law, but Sarah Morgan acting as her husband’s defense attorney in a homicide case was clearly a conflict of interest, and the commonwealth never even challenged it. Maybe that was because the evidence was stacked against Adam, and the case seemed open and shut, or maybe it was Stevens pushing it through. Who knows? It was a quick trial too, one of the quickest I’ve ever seen. Most homicide cases take years to build before court proceedings even begin. But not with the Summers case.

I take a seat at my desk again and splay the folder out in front of me. It’s not the complete file, just key details. The fact that we’ll have to go through this entire case again—word for word, every piece of evidence, every transcript, every police report and testimonial—is overwhelming, to say the least. Plus, reinterviewing witnesses and suspects will be nearly impossible considering how long ago this happened. It’s going to be a lot of tedious work for this office, and more than likely, it’ll all be for nothing.

I lift my head, looking at the half dozen filing cabinets along the wall. There are dozens more in the archive room. Once this swells in the media and lawyers smell blood in the water, every single investigation that has Ryan Stevens’s signature on it, hundreds upon hundreds, could be up for appeal—depending on what other bullshit he pulled throughout his tenure.

Two knocks on the door save me from my spiraling thoughts.

“Come in,” I say.

The door partially opens and my admin, Marcy, pokes her head in.

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