Sarah Morgan

Anne informed me on my drive that Sheriff Stevens was giving her grief about meeting me at Seth’s Coffee. I’m not sure what his deal is, but I’m going to find out. I don’t have time for his games. Time is running out, and he’s going to help me whether he wants to or not. I’m not entirely sure what changed. He went from being flirty and telling me he would help me with anything to scurrying off suddenly at the lake house, and now ignoring me. I can’t even recall what happened that made his whole demeanor change. Was it something Adam said? Did Adam threaten him?

Adam was acting a bit odd that night. But I just assumed it was because he’s on trial for murder and if we lose, he’ll get the death penalty. I’d be acting weird too.

I’m driving straight to the police station to catch up with Sheriff Stevens before he leaves for the day. I need his help finding Jesse Hook, and I need his police resources to discover everything there is to know about him and find out if his DNA matches with that third set. Plus, there’s still that photo that someone sent Adam. Whoever it is knows something—and I’d still like to interview Scott Summers and his cocky partner, Marcus. They’ve both rubbed me up the wrong way.

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.