“Yes, he was! By even being here, he was. Just cause he wasn’t some pushover or afraid of you doesn’t give you the right to do what you did.” I try to keep my voice quiet enough so Bob can’t hear, but loud enough so Sheriff Stevens can know my anger.

“I thought I could get something out of him. I was just trying to find an angle to provide some help,” Sheriff Stevens says with a hint of pleading in his voice.

“Well, you didn’t. Instead, you borderline tortured a man about his fucking dead brother. You found a wound, stuck a knife in, and amused yourself as you slowly started twisting. He isn’t on trial here for murder, he was trying to be agreeable as best he could. But do you think he will help now?”

“Sarah, I was just trying—”

“Save it. I hope you feel big. In fact, how about you take some of that bloated tough-guy cocksureness and go do your fucking job and find out what really happened.” I turn on my heels and walk down the hallway. Matthew is only a few steps behind me. Sheriff Stevens says something, but I’ve tuned him out so thoroughly I couldn’t even begin to guess what he said.

Out in the lobby Anne is sitting in a chair crying and Bob is pacing. They both look at me when the door opens, and I consider for a moment offering them a ride home, but I don’t trust either of them. Sheriff Stevens didn’t get to the bottom of anything with Bob, and thanks to his line of questioning, I have no idea whether or not he’s involved. And Anne’s still on my shit list.

“You have to sign out on the register if you are all officially leaving!” Marge yells through the silver tinted mouth slats lodged in her glass bulletproof separating wall.

“Fuck off, Marge,” I say over my shoulder.

I glance at Bob and Anne for a moment and then avert my eyes. I can’t look at either of them right now. Out in the cold night air, Matthew and I head toward my car in silence. A trend that continues the entire car ride home.

51. Sarah Morgan

51

Sarah Morgan

After two double Tito’s, both of which I consumed in under thirty minutes while reviewing case documents, the sting in my cheek begins to lose its potency. That bitch of a mother-in-law really clocked me one and the gaudy jewels that adorn her knuckles didn’t help either.