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.