“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

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.