Page 26 of The Perfect Divorce

“I didn’t realize you two were still seeing each other.”

“We’re not. I haven’t had any contact with her in weeks, so I don’t know why she would tell her roommate that.”

“Maybe you pissed her off. And now, she’s the one messing with you. Women don’t like to be fucked and forgotten, Bob. Or did you not know that?”

He buries his head into his hands, letting out an even deeper sigh. I return my attention to the pool just in time to see Summer finish first. I’m immediately on my feet, cheering for her. In my peripheral view, I notice Bob hasn’t even looked up, doesn’t realize the race is over and his daughter came in first. Summer rips off her goggles, grins ear to ear, and waves at me excitedly, her head floating just above the water.

“Smile at your daughter, Bob,” I say, never taking my eyes off her.

He slowly lifts his head and stands, waving his arm dolefully at Summer, his lip quivering from the strain of his artificial smile.

SIXTEEN

SHERIFF HUDSON

Pam and I are seated across from one another in a booth at a small bar, mostly frequented by cops—which is good, because we need distance from the public while we work to undo the mess Ryan’s gotten us in. The place is dimly lit and quieter than usual. Aside from the two of us, a couple of older guys on the force are bellied up to the bar, arguing over the evaluations of some company showcased on an episode ofShark Tank. They don’t care what this town thinks of them because they’ll be able to take off those uniforms soon enough, collect their pensions, and live the peaceful lives they’ve worked the last forty-odd years for.

Pam pulls her chin in and clasps her hands around the beer bottle set on the table in front of her. “So, how are you feeling... about Ryan?”

She and I haven’t really talked about it yet because each time she’s asked, I’ve changed the subject. The image of Stevens slumped forward with a belt cinched around his neck flashes before my eyes again. I’ve seen far worse, but I’m usually primed for it. When I’m called to a crime scene, I’ve already gotten a heads-up on what’s happened and what I’ll be encountering, so I can somewhat prepare myself. But with Stevens, I had no idea what I was walking into. The moments that shock you are the ones that live with you forever.

“Marcus?” Pam snaps her fingers a few inches from my face.

I blink several times, and she comes into focus again. She always brings me back.

“I’m just glad he’s going to be okay,” I say, staring into my glass at the brown liquid.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

I lift my head and give her the faintest smile, knowing she’s not gonna let me talk my way out of talking this time. Before Pam came into my life, I bottled up everything, pushed it all down, so it would fester and build. I thought it was a good way to cope with the trauma that comes with the job, but it took its toll on me. I’ve been on the force for thirteen years now, witnessing the worst of the worst. I’ve seen all forms of evil, gruesome crime scenes, bodies in every stage of decay. You carry all of that with you even if you don’t want to. The best way to deal with it is to talk about it—or at least that’s what Pam says.

I look to her. “I don’t know exactly what I’m feeling, but when I do, I’ll let you know.”

She holds my gaze for a moment and then nods, accepting my answer because it’s the honest one, and she knows it. Pam takes a swig of her beer and sets it back on the table.

“Okay, how are you feeling about our interview with Bob Miller?”

“I think he’s hiding something and not just about Stacy Howard’s disappearance.” I sip whiskey from a highball glass.

I’ve never been a beer guy. I like the hard stuff because it burns when it goes down. Some things in life are meant to be enjoyed and some aren’t. I always thought alcohol fell into the latter category. Like the truth, just give it to me straight, no matter how much it hurts.

“I got the same feeling,” Pam says. “Like why would he assume we brought him in to talk about the Summers case?”

I rotate the glass, busying my hands. “I have to admit, he did have a good explanation for that since he was a suspect at one point, but he really downplayed why he was ever a suspect to begin with.”

“What do you mean?” She squints.

Pam started working at the station five years ago, so she doesn’t have firsthand knowledge of the Summers case. Prior to that, she lived in Florida, but it does feel like she’s always been here. Maybe that’s just because she fit in so well, right from the start. I haven’t had a chance to catch Pam up on the Summers investigation, and I know she hasn’t had a chance to go through that behemoth of a case file.

“Kelly was married to Bob’s brother, Greg. She went by Jenna back then. The two of them lived in Wisconsin. Greg was murdered, and she was charged with it, but the case against her fell apart when key evidence went missing during the trial. After that, Jenna changed her name to Kelly and relocated down here to Virginia to start a new life.”

Pam’s mouth slightly parts. “That’s quite a motive.”

“It is, and we—well, Stevens—explored it back then, but as Bob mentioned, he had a solid alibi. He was out of state at the time of Kelly’s murder.”

“Unless he hired someone to do it,” she says, lifting her drink and taking a quick swig. “Did the department ever look into his finances?”

I tuck my chin in and shake my head. “No, Stevens had tunnel vision on Adam. Everyone else that could have been a suspect was cleared almost immediately, when really, they shouldn’t have been. Back then, I tried to do some digging on my own, but it was Ryan’s investigation, so I was just met with lots and lots of red tape.”

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