Page 24 of The Perfect Divorce

“Can anyone verify that you drove back to DC?”

“Yeah, my wife and my daughter.”

“I mean after you left. Can anyone other than yourself verify that you drove to your house in DC and stayed there all night?” she clarifies.

I press my lips firmly together and shake my head. “No, I was alone.”

“Speaking of your wife, does Sarah know about your affair?” Hudson asks.

I slide my tongue over the front of my teeth and then bite it to keep myself from laughing like a crazy person.Sarah. That evil, conniving, vengeful...This has her written all over it. My eyes flick to Hudson and then Olson and back again. How can they not see it? Her first husband, Adam, had an affair and his mistress was found murdered in cold blood. My one-night stand (because I wouldn’t constitute her as a mistress) is now missing. She’s screwing with me, has to be.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, Sarah is aware of the mistake I made.” I tilt my head, hoping they’ll see the writing on the wall.

“Sarah must be pretty pissed,” Hudson says.

There we go.I think he’s getting it. He’s putting the pieces of this fucked-up puzzle together and realizing there’s no such thing as coincidences when it comes to Sarah.

“She filed for divorce.”

“Good for her,” Olson says with a slight smirk.

I need to put an end to this. They’re connecting dots that shouldn’t be connected. I’ve given them enough of my time, probably too much of it, because if Sarahisbehind this, then I may not have much of it left. She might just be trying to scare me so I’ll stop fighting the divorce, or she might have a much more sinister plan in place. I never know with her.

“Am I free to leave?” I ask.

Hudson leans back in his chair. “Yeah, you’re free to go.”

I stand, immediately heading for the door. It feels like I’ve got a clock hanging over my head, except it’s not keeping time, it’s counting down.

“Hey, Bob,” Hudson calls out just as my hand grips the handle.

I pause, glancing back at him.

“Don’t leave town.”

I give the sheriff an amused look and shake my head. “You must know you have no legal authority to enforce that.”

He smirks. “I’m well aware. But I also know thatyou knowexactly what that means.”

Blood starts to pool in my face, so I leave before my temper gets the best of me.

And yeah, I know what that fucking means. It means I’m their number one suspect.

FIFTEEN

SARAH MORGAN

My daughter, dressed in a black one-piece swimsuit, climbs onto the starting block and gazes up at the bleachers. When she spots me seated at the very top, she beams. I smile back and clap my hands. She’s the only thing in the world that matters to me. Summer readjusts her goggles and focuses on the pool, readying herself. The other parents are seated down in front, mingling. Sometimes I join them, but most times I sit alone.

A whistle blows, and the kids dive into the water, with Summer taking the lead. She’s the best on the team, and I couldn’t be prouder of her. I’m not proud because she’s the best. I’d feel the same way if she were the weakest swimmer. I’m proud because she puts her all into it. She works hard. She practices. She doesn’t give up. Effort is what I admire because you don’t get results without it.

Shoes clomp heavily against the bleachers, shaking them. It seems intentional, like someone wants me to be aware of their presence. I look to my left and find Bob stomping toward me with tapered eyes and lips pursed so tightly they could burst. I’m not in the mood to deal with him right now, so I shake my head and return my attention to Summer.

Bob takes a seat right beside me because he doesn’t understand boundaries.

“Where the fuck is she?” he seethes.

“Jesus, Bob.” I give him an incredulous look and scoot a few inches away. “Summer’s in lane four.”

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