Page 20

NINETEEN

SARAH MORGAN

Anne places two mugs of coffee on the purple table and takes a seat across from me. We’re at a quaint coffee shop just a few blocks from the office. The café has an eclectic style, featuring a hodgepodge of mismatched chairs and tables, but it somehow works. It reminds me of Bob and me until he showed his true colors and made me realize he couldn’t be trusted. But I don’t think I ever really trusted him... at least deep down.

“What was up with Bob at the board meeting? Was he intentionally voting the opposite of you on every issue?” Anne takes a cautious sip of hot coffee. The steam is still wafting from it, but she’s never been a patient person. Only with me, she is. When the liquid touches her lips, she winces and sets the mug back on the table.

“You noticed that too?” I say, raising a brow.

“It was impossible not to.”

“He’s acting out because of the divorce. Must be in the anger phase of his separation grief, which was a quick progression from groveling and denial.” I bring the mug of coffee to my lips, sipping slowly. It burns, but I have a high pain tolerance, so I don’t mind it.

Anne furrows her brow. “And was his hand bleeding at one point too?”

“Pretty sure that was red ink from the pen he snapped in half,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Bob has always refused to use blue or black ink on anything, even signing his name or adding a tip to a receipt. It has to be red. It’s a stupid little power move that I’ve always thought made him look like a jackass, rather than an alpha male as he intended.

“Odd behavior for a board meeting.”

“Very,” I say with a nod.

“What’s the plan after the divorce? Is he going to stay on the board?”

“My hope is that he’ll agree to step down as part of the divorce settlement, but he hasn’t agreed to anything, not even the divorce.”

“That’s ridiculous. He should be making things easier on you, especially after what he’s done, and with the case... that reminds me. I got a call from Sheriff Hudson today asking if I would come in for questioning in regard to the Summers case. Is that normal?” Anne raises an eyebrow over her mug as she drinks.

“Yes, it is. With the investigation reopened, they have to reinterview everyone connected to the initial one.”

“But it was over a decade ago. How do they expect me to remember anything?”

“They don’t, really. It’s just protocol,” I say.

She bobs her head. “Are you at all worried about the Summers case?”

My eyes tighten, but I relax them before she notices. “What do you mean?”

“Like if they discover Adam wasn’t the one that killed Kelly Summers?” She pauses and peers down at her mug of coffee before meeting my gaze. “I don’t know how you would be able to live with that, especially since it’s too late to make things right now. I would be so angry and devastated. I don’t know what I would do.”

I let out a small sigh. “I’m just trying not to think about it.”

She reaches her hand across the table and rests it on mine, gently squeezing. “I’m always here for you. No matter what, Sarah.”

“I know, Anne.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull my hand away to retrieve it. A text from Bob lights up the screen.

I know exactly what you’re up to, Sarah, and you’re not going to get away with it. Stop all of this now or I will stop it... permanently.

“What is it?” Anne asks, noticing my eyes are glued to the phone.

I lift my head and quickly repocket my cell.

“Nothing. Just one of those spam texts,” I lie.

As much as I’d like to think Bob’s threats are empty, I know they’re not.