Page 11

TEN

BOB MILLER

“Damn!” Brad says.

I take a seat in the chair in front of his oversized desk. I know he bought this thing to make himself look bigger, but it has the opposite effect as he appears minuscule sitting behind it. He’s spared no expense decorating his office. The lighting is dim, producing more of a warm glow. His degrees are in gold frames hung prominently behind him, UW–Madison undergrad and University of Chicago Law School. A bar cart in the shape of a globe is within his reach. It sits open, revealing an assortment of expensive scotches and a set of crystal glasses. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves fill an entire wall, lined with leather-bound spines twinkling with gold foil lettering, all the legal texts one could ever need.

Brad looks up from his phone screen. “This is going to be messy, and it could result in a huge settlement. Is that why you’re telling me? Are you trying to delay the divorce to collect on a potential wrongful death suit?”

I give him an incredulous look and lean forward in my chair.

“No, Brad. You know I don’t want a divorce at all, so it isn’t about money. But this”—I gesture to the news article detailing Ryan Stevens’s connection to the Kelly Summers case pulled up on his phone—“is a problem.”

He notices the bandage wrapped around my hand and eyes it suspiciously. “What happened there?”

“It was an accident. I cut myself,” I lie, letting my arm fall to my side. I don’t even know why I’m lying or why I’m still protecting Sarah. I mean, after the news broke, she practically threw me out. She seemed scared—no, terrified. Her brain was working overtime like cogs in a machine being pushed to their limits. I tried to tell her that we’d be stronger as a team. But Sarah didn’t want to hear it. She said she needed time to think and told me to leave, so I did.

“Okay...” Brad says. “But how is the Kelly Summers case a problem?”

I blink several times, trying to decide how much I can reveal to him. I’m not sure how to play this because I don’t know what Sarah is going to do or if she’ll do anything at all. Will she wise up and be a unified front with me, like we always said we’d be? Or will it be every person for themselves? Together, we’d be unstoppable, but apart, I don’t know what we’d be.

“It’s just... the timing of all of this is a problem. Sarah and I going through a divorce, and then this leaks. Plus, at one point, I was a suspect.”

“But you were obviously cleared,” he says.

“Yeah, in that investigation, which was led by a sheriff who was screwing the victim. Kelly and I had history too, and I’m sure that’s going to get brought up again.” I rub my brow.

“What do you mean you two ‘had history’?” Brad careens his head, confused at this new information.

Brad’s in the dark about that time in my life. He was living in another state when this all happened, and we’d lost touch. When he moved to the DC area around five years ago, we reconnected, but I never mentioned any of it to him. Why would I? It was in the past and it was supposed to stay there.

“Her real name wasn’t Kelly Summers.” I pause, knowing the impact this is going to have once it leaves my mouth. “It was Jenna Way.”

His eyes go wide. “Get the fuck outta here!”

“I’m serious.”

“Jenna Way? That bitch that killed your brother?” Brad shakes his head, leaning back in his chair. “Talk about karma.”

I nod, even though I know karma had nothing to do with her demise. It’s not always the universe that ensures what goes around comes around.

“Your history with Kelly—or Jenna—is circumstantial at best. It’s not enough to pin anything on you, especially if there’s no other evidence tying you to her murder.”

“I know, and I was in Wisconsin, nine hundred miles away, when she was killed, so it’d be hard for them to tie me to it because I can’t be in two places at once.”

He raises a brow and taps his pointer finger against his chin. “Unless, of course, you hired someone to kill her?”

I tighten my eyes and rise from my seat. “Are you working for me, Brad, or trying to build a case against me?”

He leans forward, propping his elbows on the desk, while I pace across his lush Persian rug.

“I’m trying to work with you, Bob. You asked me to represent you in your divorce, but you’ve been dragging your heels this whole time. You’re not letting me do my job as it is, and now you’re bringing up a case that has nothing to do with your separation... So you tell me, what is it that you want?” Brad’s friendly demeanor has faded, replaced with the abrasive, no-nonsense persona he’s known for.

I let out a heavy sigh and continue pacing, mulling it over. I don’t know what to do. In my heart, I want to fight for Sarah. I want to win her back. But in my gut, I feel like shit’s about to hit the fan, and if I don’t start thinking clearly, I’m going to get plastered with it. I know I’ve lost my focus. I’ve got tunnel vision. Sarah and I have been together for over a decade, and that’s not something I can just walk away from unless I know I have no other choice. I do have eyes on her, so I know she’s not up to anything nefarious, at least not yet. Well, aside from slicing my hand open. I look down at the white bandage, rubbing my thumb over the soft cotton. It was more like a love tap, though, because I know what she can really do with a knife.

“Bob,” Brad snaps, indicating his patience has worn thin. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I need a little more time to figure that out.”

“Fine, but you also need to decide what you want in the divorce.”

I shoot him a glare.

“ In case you’re not able to convince Sarah to stay with you,” he adds. “And in the last meeting, she said she wants full custody of Summer. That’s clearly going to be a battle, so you’ll need ammo if you want to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

“She wasn’t being serious,” I say.

“She seemed pretty serious to me. Is Sarah one to bluff?”

I stare back at Brad, pondering, thinking of my beloved wife—with her blond hair, green eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and slender frame, she could be confused for an angel. But that’s only if you don’t know her.

I shake my head. “No, she’s not one to bluff.”

“Then you’ll need ammo.”

“I already have it.”

He smiles at me, pleased with this information.

I knew from the very beginning I had to have an insurance policy with Sarah, something to guarantee she could never do to me what she did to her first husband, Adam. Right now, I’m glad I have it, but I still hope I don’t have to use it. There’s no going back if I do.