I fly into the police station parking lot and charge right in through the front doors, wearing five-inch nude Louboutin heels and a white dress with a camel-colored trench coat. “I need to see Sheriff Stevens,” I say to the woman working the front desk. She’s dull and tired-looking. Haggard would probably be the best word for her.
“And you are?”
“Sarah Morgan.”
“Let me see if he’s available.” She returns a few moments later. “Sorry, he’s busy right now. You can come back later.”
“Listen, lady. I just drove over an hour to get here. I am going to see him now!”
She rolls her eyes and just before she’s about to speak again to tell me no or I’ll have to wait, I scurry past the desk. She tells me to stop and follows behind. She’s a bit plump and old, so she’s no match for me even in my heels. I throw open the door to his office. Sheriff Stevens is sitting there eating a sandwich. He looks up at me and tosses his food on the desk. “Damn it, Marge!”
The receptionist appears behind me. “I’m sorry, sir. She just ran past me. She’s a persistent little shrew,” Marge says as she tries to grab my arm. I elbow her, and she clutches at her stomach in pain. I enter the office, smooth out my dress, and take a seat.
“I’m so happy you could squeeze me in.” I smile.
Sheriff Stevens shoos Marge away, accepting defeat. “What do you need, Sarah?” he asks leaning back in his chair.
“Your help.”
“I told you I couldn’t put any more man-hours on this case. The charges have already been filed.”
“What happened to you saying that you would help me regardless and that you’d be there for me no matter what?” My eyes narrow.
“Things changed.”
“What changed?”
“For starters, I’ve found no new evidence.” He puts his hands in front of his chest, pressing his fingertips together.
“Because you haven’t looked,” I argue.
“Don’t you dare question my investigation.” He points a finger at me. “And I think Adam just may have done it.”
My eyes grow wide. “Why would you think that all of a sudden?”
“That thought has always been there. I just thought there may have been other possibilities and there wasn’t any that we could find. So, case closed.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“Actually, you of all people should know that this is exactly how it works. That’s the justice system for you.” He shrugs.
I cross my arms showing how displeased I am with him. Of course, that’s how the justice system works. I know that, and I don’t need him telling me that. I need him to find out who the third set of DNA belongs to and whether or not this Jesse Hook knows more. He went from being this nice gentleman to this total asshole in the blink of an eye.
“Well, lucky for you—I’ve been doing your job.”
“My job here is done, Mrs. Morgan. Now, you can leave my office.” He points to the door.
“Then who’s Jesse Hook? Did you look into him at all?”
He gives me a bewildered look. “Name doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Exactly. I thought so. Apparently this Jesse Hook was a bit obsessed with Kelly, practically stalking her. A co-worker of hers, Brenda, said that whenever she saw Kelly, Jesse was nearby. I wonder how close Jesse got to her and how much he saw of her that night or maybe he was there. Maybe he did it. Maybe he saw the man that did it. Or maybe he wasn’t the other man in her life, but maybe he knows who that man is.” I give him a smirk and raise an eyebrow.
Sheriff Stevens doesn’t speak. I can see him mulling over everything I said. I toss the folder with everything we have on Jesse onto his desk. He flips through it. On the third page is a large photo of Jesse taken from an old newspaper where he placed in some art show. He has shaggy brown hair and a cold stare. He’s not smiling, but he seems pleased with himself.
“I’ve seen this kid around,” Sheriff Stevens says.
“And?”
“I’ll look into it.” He closes up the folder.
“I’d like to be there when he’s questioned.”
“Sarah, you’re not a member of this police department.”
“I don’t care. I want to be there, and I’m going to be there. How long until you can get him in?”
He rubs his forehead in annoyance. He knows I’m not giving up, and he knows arguing with me won’t do him any good. “Fine. I can get a car to bring him in within the hour.”
“Perfect. I’ll be in the waiting area. Text me when he arrives.”
Sheriff Stevens nods. As I’m leaving his office, he stops me. “Want some company?”
“No, I think I’ve had just about enough of your company.”
I leave his office and pull out my phone, sending Anne a quick text.
We got him. I’ll be back late this afternoon.
36
Adam Morgan
I’ve made it through half the list with no luck. No one has even heard of a Nicholas Miller. I decide to take a break from cold-calling and pour myself a scotch at the wet bar. My decanter is empty, but there’s two full bottles of scotch next to it, courtesy of Sarah. I pour myself a double, slam it, and then pour another. I slowly sip this one while I light the fire.
It’s still bright out, but I don’t care. I close the curtains and make the house as dark as I can manage with only the fireplace providing any light. It’s how I feel right now—dark, hopeless, and just waiting for my time to pass. I sip slowly. Perhaps the slower I drink, the slower my time will pass by.
I sit there for a good twenty minutes, stewing in my own depression. Is this it for me? I make one mistake and my life is over. How is that fair? How is any of this fair? There’s a lot of things I deserve, but jail or execution isn’t one of them. I guess this is the life I chose. This is the path I decided to walk down. This is it.
After the scotch makes its way through my bloodstream, I try calling Rebecca, but I get her voicemail, and although leaving a voicemail isn’t the cool thing to do these days, I do it anyway. “Hey, Rebecca, it’s me—Adam. I’m about halfway done and haven’t gotten anything yet. Was hoping you’d be having better luck. Taking a break right now, but I’ll start back up. If you want to come over for dinner, feel free to. I’ve got a couple of steaks in the freezer. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up the phone. That dinner invitation was the scotch talking.
I dial again. It rings and rings, and then Sarah’s voicemail picks up. “Hey, Sarah. It’s me—Adam. I’ve been thinking about you. I miss you. Please call me. I love you… Sarah…” I trail off and just hang up the phone.
I’m not sure why she’s too busy to return a call to me. I called her earlier too, and she didn’t pick up. I know things got weird on Friday night, but I thought we had a sweet moment. I thought we were making progress. I haven’t touched the box of evidence she brought over. I still think someone from Kelly’s past has to be responsible for her murder. If someone murdered the person I love, I would never let it go, ever. I would wait until I had an opportunity to get them back, even if it took years or my whole life. I truly believe Greg’s brother has done that. It’s the only explanation.