Page 64 of The Perfect Divorce

It was a mistake. You took advantage of me.

STACY HOWARD

Lol I think I got the short end of the stick, literally.

BOB MILLER

Fuck you, bitch!

STACY HOWARD

You already did.

“You must have been livid, Bob,” Hudson says, arching a brow. “I mean, Stacy was trying to extort you, even made fun of your manhood. That had to have made your blood boil.”

“Don’t say anything,” Brad instructs, pursing his lips firmly together.

Hudson’s trying to corner me, but I’ve done nothing wrong... well, at least nothing that he’s aware of. I know I didn’t send a text to Stacy after that, despite her continuing to message me. I stopped responding to her for a bit because I was due in court, and by the time I was going to reply, Sarah had already found out.

“This evidence is damning,” Olson notes, gesturing to the piece of paper.

“It’s circumstantial at best,” Brad says. “Where’s the rest of the conversation, or is this all you got? The only thing this proves is that Stacy’s an extortionist.”

“There was also blood found on the steering wheel of Stacy’s vehicle. We have forensics examining the DNA from both scenes as we speak. Is there something you want to get off your chest before those results come back, Bob?” Hudson asks.

“No,” is all I say because I know it’s important to always say as little as possible when dealing with the police. The more words you give them, the more they can twist them into a whole new story, particularly in court.

The sheriff squints his eyes as he studies me. “That cut on your neck looks pretty fresh. How’d you get that?” he says, pointing to my throat.

I reflexively reach up and feel the long thin scab on my neck.Shit.I forgot about that. I should have mentioned it right away. They’re going to find my blood at the salon. “Carissa nicked my skin when she was shaving me.”

Brad gives me a strained look. He’s pissed I’m just bringing it up now.

“That must have been painful. Did that make you angry, Bob?” Olson asks.

“No, it was just an accident.”

“I’d be pretty mad if someone cut me,” Hudson says.

They’re clearly trying to lead me down a path of speculation where I’m this enraged lunatic who lashed out in a spurt of anger, but I’m not falling for it. I just have to keep my cool and give him the complete opposite of what he thinks I am.

“I wasn’t. Carissa’s usually a very good stylist. She was just offon Sunday night.”

Olson gives me a pointed look. “What do you mean by ‘off’?”

“Not her normal self. She seemed almost paranoid, like she was watching for something or someone. The door was locked when I arrived too, which it never is. And she relocked it as soon as she let me in. I think that’s why she accidentally cut me. She was distracted, worried even.”

I can tell Olson is starting to believe my story, but Hudson is still hell-bent on not believing a single word that comes out of my mouth.

“Maybeyouworried her, Bob?” he says.

“No, she was already anxious before I got there.”

“But no one can verify that except you...” Hudson tightens his eyes.

“My client has already told you everything he knows,” Brad interjects.

“Do you own a burner phone, Bob?” Sheriff Hudson stands from his chair.

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