“You ready?” Sheriff Stevens walks toward the front door. I nod and take the folder from the counter on my way out.
Outside Deputy Hudson is still leaned up against his car.
Sheriff Stevens closes the house up and turns back, giving me a sympathetic look. I lower my chin a little. It was hard seeing Adam happy with Kelly. He was supposed to be happy with me, not another woman. Sheriff Stevens puts his hands on my shoulders and rubs the sides of my arms. It’s completely inappropriate, but it feels nice, almost comforting.
“You did great. I’ll get someone here to pull a sample of that scotch to test, and I’ll get the lab started on the photo—”
“Hey! What’s going on with you two? Is there a second affair going on that we should all know about?” Deputy Hudson yells from the car. A large smile is plastered across his face as he smacks his chewing gum loudly in an obnoxious manner to punctuate the brazenness of his commentary.
I’m snapped back into reality and a wave of questions cascades over me. Professionalism replaces empathy, and our former roles reappear. Defense attorney. In-the-way sheriff’s department.
“Nothing, Deputy Hudson. Mind you that your presence here was neither required nor requested and is highly suspect at best. So, please carry on with your important patrol of the perimeter of your own vehicle.” Sheriff Stevens rocked back on his heels.
“What about the murder weapon?” I ask ignoring Deputy Hudson. Back to the facts.
“We never found it. We’ve searched both homes and the surrounding woods, but nothing.” The sheriff drops his hands to his side and shifts awkwardly, not knowing how to end this.
“Do they know what it is?”
“They deduced it may be a small kitchen knife, a pocket knife, or even a letter opener. They’re running additional tests to try to narrow it down. But chances are we’ll never find it anyway.”
I give a slight nod and then shift a bit. I need to talk to Adam. Does he know that Kelly was pregnant? Did he know all along?
“Well, I should probably get going. I need to stop by the hospital to check on Adam.” I step away from Sheriff Stevens and walk toward my vehicle, glancing only for a second at Deputy Hudson.
He smiles and nods at me. “I’ll be seeing you,” he says in a friendly manner, but it seems more like a threat.
My smile back is small and curt, enough to remain professional.
“Sarah,” Sheriff Stevens calls out. I stop and turn, facing him. He walks down the porch steps to his car and stops. “Adam is being moved back to the jail for processing.” He pulls open his car door. “You can follow me there if you’d like.”
20
Adam Morgan
I’m lying in my bunk dressed in standard inmate’s attire: orange cotton pants and top. The doctor released me this morning. It appears they don’t take too kindly to a patient suspected of murdering a young local woman. They got me bandaged up quick, and after one night of observation, they sent me here. Here being a tiny room with a twin-sized bunk, a toilet, and a sink, surrounded by cinder block and steel bars. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong here.
A guard taps his baton on the bars of my cell, telling me I can come out to the common room. He unlocks the door, and I follow him down a hall to a room with some tables and chairs and a television in the corner. There’re only a few other inmates here, this being a small town and all, and this not being a well-equipped prison. Two of them are playing cards at a table, and the third one is reading a book at another table alone. The two at the table look up at me as I enter and whisper to one another. The third guy never looks up. Must be a good book. It’s probably not one of mine.
I take a seat at the table nearest the television and settle in, hoping to escape through the means of some bad daytime television show. But no such luck as a special news report comes on. A news reporter is standing in front of my lake house speaking into a microphone, “A brutal murder has shaken the small town of Brentsville. Kelly Summers, a twenty-seven-year-old local woman, and wife to local Sheriff’s Deputy Scott Summers was found viciously murdered early yesterday morning by cleaning lady, Sonia Gutierrez. Reports say she was brutally stabbed to death. Police are not releasing the name of the primary suspect as the investigation is ongoing. If you have any information regarding the death of Kelly Summers, please contact the local authorities.”
I hang my head in shame and embarrassment. Not releasing the name of the suspect? Are they fucking kidding me? You’re standing in front of my house. How could this have happened? The primary suspect should be Scott, not me. I don’t care what the evidence says, I didn’t do this. I would never do this. Why won’t anyone believe me?
“Morgan,” a guard calls from behind. “You have a visitor.”
I stand up and drag my feet to the door, following behind. He opens the door, and inside, I find Sarah sitting at the table in the small room. Her side of the table is covered in notebooks and papers. The guard closes the door behind me.
“Sarah, I’m so happy to see you. This is a nightmare.” I want to hug her. I want to kiss her.
She looks up at me and gives me a small smile. I get the hint and take the seat across from her. She’s jotting down notes and flipping through pages. “I heard you were released from the hospital.”
“Yep.” I know she wasn’t looking for more response than that.
“We need to talk about the night Kelly was murdered.” She flips her notepad to a blank page and puts her pen to the paper. Her eyes return to me, and she finally catches sight of the aftermath of my beating from Scott. My right eye is closed completely. My skin is newly colored with purple, black, yellow, and red. My left cheek is swollen and filled with stitches. My lips are split in several spots, and my teeth are stained as if I had just consumed a bottle of wine, thanks to the blood that pooled in my mouth.
Her eyes give a flicker of sympathy as a part of her must have thought for a moment, My poor husband, but this quickly disappears and instead her eyes focus and pierce me.
What is she thinking now? Why is she even helping me? “What do you want to know?” I lean back in the chair.
“Everything.” She narrows her eyes. I know from an attorney’s perspective, she really wants to know everything, but as my wife, she shouldn’t have to hear any of this. But maybe she wants to know. She wants to know how truly disgusting and dishonorable I am. “Are you sure?” Because I’m not sure this is a good idea anymore.
She slaps her pen down and glares at me. “Adam. I told you yesterday. You need to be completely honest with me. What you did in terms of your infidelity doesn’t matter, nor what you did to me.”
“Okay. I just don’t want to hurt you.” I reach my hand out for hers.
She pulls away. “You already have.” She picks up her pen and writes the date and time on the piece of paper. “What time did Kelly Summers arrive at the lake house?”
“Sometime after 5pm.”
“Take me through what happened after she arrived.”
I tell her everything—how we drank scotch, fucked multiple times, how rough I was with her, how much I enjoyed it, how much Kelly enjoyed it, how she was begging for more without even uttering a word, how I left her in the middle of the night to come home, the note I wrote, everything.