Page 65 of The Perfect Divorce

“A what?”

“A burner. A disposable phone. Whatever you wanna call it. Those prepaid flip phones you can purchase from shitty convenience stores. Do you own one?” He’s moved to the side of the table, resting one hip on it as he positions himself right in front of me.

“No. I have a regular phone with a wireless plan through Verizon. I’m sure you can check that for yourself,” I say, pushing my chair back to create some distance between myself and the sheriff.

“Yeah, of course we can look up that one. But not a burner phone. That’s the exact reason why they appeal to criminals. You’re a lawyer, Bob. I’m sure you know all about burner phones, don’t you?”

It’s a gotcha question, so I don’t answer it. Something in Hudson’s eyes flickers.

“We’re done here,” Brad says. He stows his legal pad back into his briefcase and stands.

“We’re not finished yet, Mr. Watson.” Chief Deputy Olson rises.

“Oh, I think we are, and I’ll make this very simple. Are you charging my client with anything?”

“Not yet, but he’s admitted that his DNA is all over a crime scene,” Hudson says.

“You mean the hair on the floor from a haircut he received at the salon?” Brad belts out a single staccato laugh.

Hudson points a finger directly at my neck. “Let’s not forget the blood too.”

Brad shakes his head and addresses me. “Let’s go, Bob,” he says, walking toward the door.

The blood is a problem. Brad knows it and so do I. That’s why he ignored Hudson’s comment.

I stand from my chair, making eye contact with Hudson and Olson. They clearly think I’m the main suspect in the disappearance of not one, but two women.

“I told you everything I know. I get that the circumstances seem... suspicious, but that’s all it is, optics... and it’s exactly what Sarah wants.” I don’t mean to say that last part aloud, but I do; it just comes out quieter.

Brad snaps his head in my direction.

Hudson and Olson exchange a look of pure confusion. “What was that?” she asks.

“Yeah, what do you mean it’s ‘exactly what Sarah wants.’ Why would your wife want any of this?” Hudson tilts his head.

Before I can say anything else or clue them in to what is really going on, Brad cuts me off—and that’s probably for the best.

“That’s enough!” he yells, herding me toward the exit. “My client is under a lot of pressure and stress right now, both personally and professionally. If you have any further questions, you can contact my office.” He guides me to the door, opens it, and pushes me to the other side.

I keep walking down the hall, through the lobby, and out the front entrance. The fresh air feels nice, like a piece of life is being pumped back into my body. I close my eyes and look up to the blue sky, inhaling through my nose and exhaling slowly through my mouth, letting the tension in my shoulders ease away. Suddenly, a hand presses against those same shoulders and shoves me forward.

“What the hell was that in there?” I turn around to see Brad squaring up to me, his face red and his eyes darting back and forth quickly between mine, searching for answers.

“I’ve already tried telling you this. Sarah is setting me up.”

He huffs. “Even if that were true, you don’t tellthemthat, especially since you have zero proof. You’re in the midst of a divorce, and you’re in there blabbing to the cops about your wife setting you up for abducting women? My God, Bob, that’s insane, and you know it.” Brad pauses and rubs his forehead, letting out a sigh of frustration. “The reason I’m here is so you don’t have to answer anything, but you’re just freely offering ludicrous theories to the police who are peggingyouas the bad guy.”

“I’m telling you. This is all her. It has to be.” I turn from him, looking away at nothing in particular. I know this is Sarah, but how is she doing it? How can I prove it? How do the pieces fit? I could see her paying off Stacy to skip town. But the salon break-in doesn’t make any sense.

“What is it that you think she’s doing, Bob? Help me understand.”

“I don’t know, exactly.”

Brad steps forward and places his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, man, but I think you’re paranoid.”

I shrug his hand off. “I’m not paranoid. You just have to trust me.”

“Fine. I do trust you, okay? But me trusting you doesn’t change anything. If you really think Sarah’s behindallof this, then you need something concrete, something definitive. Because right now you look like a deranged, paranoid asshole who’s unable to deal with the consequences of his own actions.”

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