Page 91 of The Perfect Divorce

Her eyes dart back and forth between the two of us. “Sheriff Hudson. Chief Deputy Olson,” she says with a slight nod. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

FIFTY

SARAH MORGAN

TEN HOURS EARLIER

The gun pressed into my abdomen isn’t as deadly as the gun I have pressed to the side of Alejandro’s head. But if he pulled the trigger, I’d most likely die a slow and painful death, while his would be quick, instantaneous. His brain would shut off before it even had time to send signals to the body, letting it know it was in pain.

“No,I’msorry,” I say. “Now, tell me who the fuck you really are.”

His eyes go wide as they flick to his gun, then in the direction where he knows mine is. Finally, he meets my gaze and sees the grave look on my face—it’s a warning: If he makes any movement, I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger. He’s lucky I haven’t already. I could have done it as soon as I answered the door, but I didn’t. I wanted him to make the first move... or at leastthinkhe was making the first move. The moment I laid eyes on Alejandro, seated in my conference room, waiting for me to welcome him into the program, I knew he wasn’t who he said he was.

“How’d you know?” he asks.

“Bob’s never recommended a candidate for the program, not once, and I knew it wasn’t because he had some soft spot for you.” I narrow my eyes. “And that bullshit background check he compiled didn’t check out either, so tell me who you really are.” I press the muzzle against the side of his head with a little more force.

He winces and swallows hard, his Adam’s apple rocking up and down. I can practically see his brain churning, trying to decide whether he should answer the question or attempt to get the upper hand on me.

“I won’t ask you again,” I say calmly.

“He hired me to kill you.”

“Seriously?” I scoff, disappointed that it wasn’t something more clever than him just not wanting to get his hands dirty. “He’s such a pussy.”

The corner of Alejandro’s mouth perks up. He must think the same of my husband. He stays still, waiting for my next move; his hands are calm, unshaking, like this isn’t the first time he’s been in this position. His gun is still pointed at my abdomen. My gun remains firmly pressed against his temple.

I’m surprised how far Bob was willing to take this. I really didn’t think he had it in him. Well, clearly he didn’t—because he couldn’t do it himself. But I wonder what pushed him over the edge... or had he planned this from the very beginning, the moment I told him I was divorcing him? Was his coup de grâce always me being buried in the ground somewhere as he rode off into the sunset with our daughter’s hand reluctantly in his?

“When did he hire you?” I ask.

It takes Alejandro a moment to respond, like he’s trying to make sure he answers correctly. One wrong move, one lie, and he won’t have the chance to answer any more of my questions.

“A few weeks ago.”

Called it.He went on the offensive as soon as he knew we were over, but why all the groveling and begging for me to take him back then?

“I was originally hired just to keep an eye on you though,” he adds.

“What changed?”

“I don’t know exactly. He texted me yesterday, asking to meet this morning. That’s when he told me the new arrangement. Said something about having other plans, and how they’d work much better if you were dead.”

“What ‘other plans’?”

“He didn’t say.”

I search his eyes, looking for a twitch, something to tell me he’s lying. But there’s nothing. He’s stoic as he stares back at me, his gaze never faltering.

“How long have you and my husband known each other?”

“A long time.”

“And has he ever used your services before?”

Alejandro lets out the smallest sigh and says, “Yes.”

I remember it was Bob who suggested we hire someone to kill Kelly, but I was against it—because if you want something done right, you do it yourself. He clearly didn’t learn anything from me.

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