I nod and walk to the bedroom. The bed is unmade. The once white sheets are stained red and brown, soaked through to the mattress and there’s a puddle of dried blood on the floor beside it. The smell of iron and decay hits me like a smack in the face. I cover my nose, trying to breathe through my mouth. I take a few more steps into the bedroom, standing right before the bed.

Sheriff Stevens stands behind me. I can feel his breath on my neck. “Are you okay?”

I nod. It’s not convincing, because I’m not okay. None of this is okay. How could Adam do this to me? What the fuck was he thinking? Did he plan on leaving me? Would he have left me if she was still alive? The anger takes ahold of me and comes out in the form of tears. I don’t cry when I’m sad. I cry when I’m angry. I turn toward Sheriff Stevens. He sees the tears and immediately wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a comforting embrace. He rubs my back with one hand, while the other strokes the back of my head. We stand there for a few minutes. He makes me feel less angry. He makes me feel like everything is going to be all right at this moment. He makes me feel like things can get better. I’m grateful that I forgot my place, even if only for a moment.

“Let’s go.” He escorts me out of the bedroom.

Once in the living room, I glance around again, and my eyes stop at Adam’s writing desk. It’s disorganized, the drawers are pulled out, and his chair is flipped over. I run my hands over the cherry wood. I remember the day I surprised Adam with it. It was right after he got his first book deal. I was incredibly proud of him and I had never seen him happier. The memory makes me smile, makes me remember the us we were before all of this. And then I remember what I liked about this desk, what swayed me to pick this one out. My hand grazes over the top of it, sliding to the panel on the right side—I push against it. It clicks in, and then a concealment compartment opens. Inside is a handgun and a manila envelope. I don’t flinch at the gun. I knew it was there. Adam had purchased it shortly after we bought the lake house. It was meant for protection—a job it failed to do. It’s the manila envelope that makes me feel uneasy.

“Well, shit. Can’t say we would have found that,” Sheriff Stevens remarks from beside me.

I reach for the envelope.