“It’s nothing to worry about—everything is taken care of.” And I hope I’m right. Adam better not have interfered with the case. I’m having a hard enough time as it is. Anne nods and leaves my office when the phone on her desk rings. A few moments later, she’s talking to me through the intercom on my desk phone. “Sheriff Stevens is on line one.”

I take the call.

“Nice to hear your voice, Sarah,” he says.

Great, we’re back on a first-name basis. “What can I do for you, Sheriff Stevens?”

“I’m just calling to let you know the DNA results came back on Jesse. He’s not a match.”

Shit. How could it not be him? I was convinced it was him. If not him, then who? Maybe this third set of DNA has nothing to do with the case; maybe it does. But I will never be okay not knowing. I have to figure out what the fuck I’m still missing.

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Now what?”

“Not a whole lot I can do since the case is closed, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for you and let you know if I find or hear anything.”

“Thanks,” I say feeling defeated.

“I’m sorry, Sarah. I know things have been… difficult, but if you need anything, please let me know.”

“Yeah. Thanks, sheriff,” I say, and I hang up the phone. I slam my fist against the desk. I can’t deal with his back-and-forth, wishy-washy thing we have going on. I’m not sure what his angle is. Is he trying to help me or is he trying to help himself? I can’t worry about him though. I’m running out of time, and I’m not any closer to getting the answers I desperately need.

40. Adam Morgan

40

Adam Morgan

I spent most of last night drunk dialing, so much so that I have to call some of those numbers again. What the fuck is wrong with me? I can’t even help myself. Rebecca is supposed to stop over this morning or at least that’s what I remember her telling me last night. I could be wrong though. Regardless, I have five phone calls left to make, and I best do that before she arrives.

I woke up and showered for the first time in days, trimmed up my beard (I decided to keep it), and got dressed in somewhat presentable clothing, jeans, and a T-shirt. There’s a fresh pot of coffee, and I’ve just sat down on the couch with the telephone in front of me.

I dial the first number, and I get the voicemail for a woman who says her name is Gretchen. I cross that number off the list.