“Oh my God. That’s awful.” Rebecca takes a sip of her coffee, and I can practically see her brain working as her eyes stare off into the distance and her forehead crinkles.

“Well, who would want to hurt her?”

“My guess would be a family member or friend of her first husband. Someone who wasn’t happy to see her get away with murder. The way she was killed was the same way she killed her husband—almost like poetic justice for the person who did it.”

“What about her husband? I’ve heard rumblings in town that he may have been involved.”

“I thought that too. And I think that’s still a possibility. Although, she had said that he abused her while she and I were together, but he adamantly denies it. I really don’t know what to believe there, but he does seem to have an anger problem, and he did suspect Kelly of cheating. So, he should be considered. Although, apparently his alibi for the night in question is his partner Deputy Marcus Hudson. Despite that, there’s something in my gut that’s telling me to look into her past.”

“Got it.” Rebecca sets her coffee down and proceeds to take more notes. “What about the third set of DNA that was found in her?”

“Is that public knowledge?”

“Not yet, but I have my ways.” She gives me a coy smile.

“I really don’t know who that third guy could be. Maybe a one-night stand? I couldn’t even believe she was with another man other than myself and her husband. And I know how weird that sounds. Plus, someone threatened me. They sent a photo of Kelly and me together with a note that said, ‘End it or I will.’”

“Who knew about you two?”

“Her husband Scott, I’m sure. Maybe his partner. I don’t really know.”

“What is it you need me to do?” she asks.

“Well—thanks to this,” I pull up my pant leg showing off my ankle monitor. “I can’t leave this house, and it makes it difficult to investigate my own case.”

“What about your lawyer?”

“You mean my wife?”

Rebecca lets out a nervous laugh.

“I’d say considering the circumstances I’m not sure she has my best interests in mind.” I raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, that can’t be true. I’m sure your wife is doing everything in her power to win this case for you,” she says trying to feign optimism in her voice, which I find odd, considering she doesn’t really know me, and she doesn’t know my wife, but I suppose I understand the gesture.

“Maybe. But my life is on the line, and I’m not just going to sit here and have it taken away from me. Not without trying my damnedest to find out the truth.”