I’ve been in and out of sleep all day. When I’m fully awake, I mull over everything, meaning the facts of the case I have. There’s Adam who is undoubtedly the most obvious suspect. He has means, motive, and opportunity—which is all the D.A. needs to put together a case against him and convict. But there’s also Scott, and the interaction I had with him supports what Adam said. He has a temper, and he apparently cannot control it. Plus, the text messages Adam mentioned are pretty damning. He also has means and motive, but the question is, does he have the opportunity? I take a pad from my nightstand and jot down a couple of notes. I write opportunity and circle it.

Could there be anyone else? Kelly was the victim, but she was having an affair. What else was she doing? What else was she into? Is there anyone else that would want her dead? I write down Seth’s Coffee. I must talk to her co-workers, her customers, and anyone else that may have been in contact with her.

My phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, and I hesitate to pick it up. It’s 9pm, but it could be Adam calling from the hospital. I should have gone back and checked on him, but Sheriff Stevens assured me that he was fine and that I needed to go home and rest.

I pick up the phone. “Hello.”

“Hey, Sarah, it’s Sheriff Stevens. I’m just calling to check in on you and let you know that Adam is doing just fine. I just left the hospital, and he’s awake.”

“What did the doctor say?” I’m not worried about how I’m doing. I’m concerned about Adam.

“They said he has a broken cheekbone, a minor concussion, and some bruising. But he’ll heal up. I submitted the paperwork to our insurance company, so you don’t need to worry about the cost.”

“I don’t care about the cost. I just care that he’s okay.”

“Well, he is. Sorry to bother you,” he says, and he’s about to hang up.

“Wait.” There’s a bit of panic in my voice. I don’t want him to hang up. I for some reason want to talk to him, but I don’t know why—maybe it’s because he understands what I’m going through. Perhaps it’s because he showed me kindness and understanding when no one else at the department did. Maybe it’s because I can’t seem to read him or maybe it’s because I want his help—actually, I need his help.

“Yeah?” he asks waiting patiently for my response. He seems to be hanging on my every word. I think he wants to talk to me too.

“Thank you, sheriff—”

He stops me. “Ryan, call me Ryan.”