“That’s for my investigation,” I say trying to collect it all into one pile. I don’t need her going through this. If she’s not going to help me, then she doesn’t need to be here. I have work to do. She’s looking at the list of phone numbers, perusing them one by one. What is she looking for? Or is she just trying to appease me? Trying to make it look like she’s taking this seriously? What is her endgame? Her eyes linger a little longer than I’d expect. Then, she finally sets the paper down.

“Yeah, you’re wasting your time.” She pauses. “What did you spend the ten thousand dollars on?”

“What’s it to you? That was my money—an advance on my book,” I say defiantly.

“All right then. We’ll be in touch.” She gets up and starts walking toward the front door. Why is she always in a hurry? I have no idea who she is anymore. How did she know about Rebecca and the phone calls and the money? She’s watching me, or she has someone watching me. But why? To help me? To hurt me? Or to keep me contained?

Before she leaves the living room, she stops and turns around. “By the way, if you end up in prison and you don’t finish your book, I’ll end up paying that advance back. So, please stop spending MY money, asshole.”

“I thought it was our money, Sarah? We’re married. Remember?” I snark back, folding my arms in front of my chest.

“Oh, was it our marriage when you were balls deep in some waitress?” She narrows her eyes at me.

I look away for a moment. She’s got me there.

“Exactly.” She stamps her foot.

“Regardless, you won’t have to worry about your money anymore. I’m writing a tell-all, and there’s already a bidding war for my book.” I smirk.

Sarah’s mouth drops open. “You have got to be fucking kidding me. I’m working my ass off on your case, and you’re turning this whole thing into a goddamn circus, you and your delusional mother.” She puts her hands up. “I’m done.”

Sarah turns on her foot and leaves the house, slamming the door behind her.

39. Sarah Morgan

39

Sarah Morgan