Page 43 of The Perfect Divorce

I motion toward the hallway. “Second door on the right.”

He nods and makes his way around the kitchen table and down the hall. I exhale deeper this time, trying to release all the pent-up frustration inside me. But it’s still there.

There’s a knock at the front door, three knocks to be exact. The thorn has returned to my side. I stomp toward it, ready to rip Bob’s head off.

Hurling the door open, I say, “I told you to...”

But I stop midsentence because it’s not Bob standing on my porch. It’s someone far worse, someone who’s been a thorn in my side far longer than my husband has.

“Hello, Sarah,” she says, delivering her classic smug grin.

“Eleanor.”

TWENTY-FIVE

SHERIFF HUDSON

“Morning,” I say, entering the chatty briefing room, which resembles any high school classroom. There are rows of tables with deputies seated at them, all facing forward. They fall silent and sit up straight as I walk to the front. Olson and Nagel stand off to the side, their hands clasped together in front of them.

I take a seat, fire up the computer, and select the document detailing updates on our open investigations. The computer screen projects three bullet points onto the whiteboard behind me.

Ryan Stevens murder

Kelly Summers reinvestigation

Stacy Howard disappearance

Lifting my head, I look out at my team. “Obviously, you all heard the news that Ryan Stevens is dead. He was murdered while asleep in his hospital bed at around one thirty this morning.”

I tap the mouse, and a blurry image of a man standing in the hospital hallway projects onto the whiteboard. He’s dressed in scrubs, a doctor’s coat, and a surgeon’s cap and mask. “The victim’s throat was slashed ear to ear by this man.” I point to the image rendered from a security camera.

It feels weird to refer to Ryan as a victim. He was the sheriff for a long time, then he was a drunk, and then he was a pain in my ass. But he’s never been a victim.

“Did we locate the murder weapon?” a deputy sitting in the front row asks.

I shake my head. “No, but the medical examiner believes the weapon was a scalpel.”

I look to Pam. “Olson, do you want to update us on what you and your team have so far, regarding security footage and witness statements?”

She nods and steps forward, addressing the room. “We’re still in the process of reviewing all the footage, but we know he entered the hospital through an employee entrance shortly before one a.m. and exited the same way at one forty. He kept a low profile and waited for Deputy Morrow to leave his post. He kept a close eye on Morrow while moving in and out of other nearby rooms as though doing hospital rounds. He never removed his mask or surgeon’s cap, so identifying him will be difficult, but we would guess he’s a white male, anywhere from six foot to six four, average build, age somewhere between midthirties to midfifties. It’s hard to tell though, given how much of his face was covered.”

“How did he get through an employee entrance? Don’t those require a code or a fob or a badge?” a deputy seated in the back questions.

“He used an employee badge belonging to a nurse on staff. She said it went missing sometime between her previous shift on Thursday and her shift last night, but she hadn’t reported it to the IT department yet,” Olson says.

Sergeant Lantz clears his throat. “Do we believe her?” He’s been on the force longer than I have, but he’s got an attitude problem, which is why he hasn’t moved up in rank—and why he probably never will. I can tell by the sad yet angry look on his face he’s not taking the news of Stevens’s murder well.

“Her story was corroborated by another nurse who swiped her in when they started their shift yesterday afternoon. I’ll note she was very upset when we questioned her,” Olson says.

“Why didn’t she report her missing badge to IT at the beginning of her shift? Stevens is dead because of her,” Sergeant Lantz seethes, his face turning red.

“She’s well aware, Sergeant.” Olson purses her lips. “But Stevens is dead not because some nurse misplaced her badge or had it stolen from her. Stevens is dead because someone murdered him.” She turns her attention back to the room. “Whoever this man is, he knew what he was doing. He acted calmly, never changing his pace, even after he killed Stevens. We interviewed several witnesses that encountered the suspect, mostly just passing him in a hallway, and not one person could tell us a single detail about him. He blended in seamlessly, bringing no attention to himself, so identifying him is going to be extremely difficult, if not impossible.”

A hand goes up in the back. “Do we think this is related to the Clarke woman Stevens killed?”

Olson looks to me for the answer.

“We’re not ruling anything out,” I say.

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