“I’m Kelly.” Her smile spread even wider, and then she was off to fetch me my coffee. I stayed there all morning. It was an hour later that she asked me what I was working on. I told her in detail about my writing. It was two hours later that I learned about her life, her upbringing, her hopes, her dreams. It was three hours later that she took her break. She sat with me and chatted, and it was then that she told me about him, Scott, her husband.
Her description of him was laced with dark undertones. I mean she was sitting there with another man—me—opening up. Clearly, something wasn’t right. But she spoke and spoke about how they had met. She nearly described it as a fairy tale. Girl meets boy. Boy and girl fall in love. Boy and girl marry young. Boy and girl live happily ever after… but then girl opens up to a mysterious man in a café. Something wasn’t adding up. It was the cracks in her voice that gave it away. Scott had hurt her. She didn’t need to tell me that for me to know.
Four hours later, I was packing up my laptop. I had drunk several cups of coffee and eaten a light lunch. Kelly had returned to my table to chat several other times. Our conversations had turned from our personal lives to the small town, the weather, the work I was doing on the lake house. The connection between us that felt strong that morning, had weakened by afternoon. Kelly seemed to have put her guard up, and I was ready to walk away. It was silly of me to get wrapped up in this idea of Kelly and me saving each other. Saving me from a dull marriage and an inattentive wife, and me saving her from Scott, a man who had hurt in her some way.
I started walking out of the café, and she stopped me by calling my name. I turned around. There she stood untying her apron, folding it up, and putting it in her purse. She slid on a pair of sunglasses, threw her bag on her shoulder, and took a few steps toward me. “I think I have to come see this house you’ve been talking my ear off about.” Her voice was low. The patio had cleared out and was now empty.
“I think you do too,” I said with a smile.
Kelly signaled me to start walking with a slight nod, and I did. She followed a few steps behind the whole way. We crossed paths with no one in the town, and when I closed the door to the lake house, she jumped into my arms. We ripped at each other’s clothes and fucked right there on the floor of the living room, on the bearskin rug, in front of the unlit fireplace. We fucked three times that afternoon. She couldn’t get enough of me, and I couldn’t get enough of her. Like heroin, she was addicting right from the first taste, the first high—and I never came down from that high—until today.
14
Sarah Morgan
I don’t flinch when he tells me the details of how they met and fucked within four hours. I’m not here as his wife. I’m not here to judge him. I’m here to defend him. I’ll react when I can—when it doesn’t affect the case. Right now, I must listen. I simply take notes. I make eye contact with him sporadically, and I find he has a difficult time meeting my eyes. I’m not surprised. He’s been lying to me for the past sixteen months. He’s been fucking another woman. If he could lie to me for this long maybe he could kill. No, I have to stop thinking like that. It won’t do him any good.
“You met Kelly Summers sixteen months ago at her place of employment, Seth’s Coffee?”
He nods.
“And you fucked… I’m sorry had sex with her the first day you met?”
“Yes.” He pauses. “I’m sorry, Sarah.” He tries to reach for my hand, but I pull away.
“This isn’t the time.” I straighten my papers, aligning all the edges perfectly. It’s what I do when I don’t know what to do. I tidy. I clean things up.
He leans back in his chair and slides his hands down his face, pulling at his skin that seems to have paled from lack of sleep, grief, and stress. His eyes are bloodshot, and a five-o’clock shadow has taken up residence on his face. Despite what he has done and his appearance, he is still handsome to me. I can see why Kelly couldn’t resist him. I couldn’t resist him either.
“Did your relationship with Kelly continue regularly?”
“Yes, we saw each other several times a week, and she spent many nights at the lake house.” He lets out a deep breath.
“And you mentioned her husband, Scott. What do you know about him?”
Adam sits up straight. A sense of hope and anger appears in his eyes. I can tell before he even starts speaking, he hates this man and he wholeheartedly believes it was this man that killed Kelly.
“He’s not a good person. I know he had to have something to do with this. He was abusive. He threatened her. He hurt her, and I think he knew about us—” he says in a fury.
I cut him off. “Why do you think he knew about you and Kelly? Did you ever have any interactions with him?”
“Because of the texts from that night. He threatened her. He said he knew she was lying. He said he would hurt her.”
I jot down a few notes about Scott.
“If he threatened Kelly, that could help us with reasonable doubt and could give us a person to point the finger at. An abusive husband is very fitting. I’ve seen it a hundred times in my cases. If he had the means and the opportunity, it’s an easy win,” I say.
Adam’s eyes light up. “Really?”
“Yes, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. That’s one avenue we can pursue… now, did you ever meet Scott?”
“No—but I didn’t have to to know what type of man he was.” Adam clenches his jaw and tightens his eyes.
“And what type of man is that?” I bite at the end of my pen.
“A bad one.”
“And what does that make you?” My eyes narrow.
Adam’s expression goes from pure anger to one of guilt.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” I pause for a moment glancing down at my notes and then back at him. “This is a total conflict of interest. I may be the best chance you have of getting out of this, but I don’t know if I can remove the pain and anger I’m feeling from this case.”
“Please,” he says. His eyes beg me to help.
I chew on the end of my pen cap. I know we had our issues, every marriage does—but to lie to me for the past sixteen months. Yes, I was inattentive, and yes, I wasn’t exactly the loving wife, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love him and that doesn’t mean I never stopped loving him. Even now, at this moment I love him. I hate him, but I love him. Everything I was doing, I was doing for us. I was doing it for our future. Every night I spent at the office was for us so we could have the life we’ve always dreamed of. If his writing career wouldn’t have tapered off right when it started, maybe I wouldn’t have had to work so hard for the both of us.
The problems in our marriage were just as much his fault as they were mine. I did everything I could. I bought him a fucking house to help with his writing career, and instead, he used it to wine and dine and fuck another woman. Stop. I can’t think like this. I don’t know if I can separate myself from this. I just need time to think. I have to take a step back.
I begin gathering my things and push my chair back. Adam asks what I’m doing. Tears are forming in his eyes as panic sets in. He thinks I’m giving up on us, on him. I’m not. I don’t say anything. I hold back every emotion—anger, betrayal, sadness, worry, fear, all of it. I push it down, so far down.