Chapter 2 - The Judas Kiss
I needed a vantage point. Our house backed up to a densely wooded park. I hiked through the wet brush, the morning fog providing the perfect cover, until I had a clear view of my own driveway.
There were three police cruisers parked on the street. Yellow crime scene tape was already being spooled around the perimeter of my garage.
Through my binoculars, I watched Sarah standing on the back patio. She was wrapped in my oversized flannel shirt, clutching a mug, playing the part of the distraught, bewildered wife to absolute perfection. Detective Miller, a veteran cop I recognized from the neighborhood, was taking her statement.
Suddenly, a forensic technician shouted from the side of the garage. He was holding a shovel.
I watched through the magnified lenses as the tech pulled the black canvas duffel bag from the dirt. Detective Miller unzipped it. Even from fifty yards away, I saw the glint of Mr. Henderson's gold pocket watch, and the heavy, blood-stained steel of a framing hammer.
Sarah covered her mouth with both hands, her shoulders shaking as if she were sobbing. She collapsed against Detective Miller, who gently patted her back, looking grimly at the evidence.
She was selling me out. My wife of six years was sending me to death row.
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A black Ford truck pulled up to the curb. My brother, Thomas, jumped out. He rushed past the yellow tape, flashing his ID to an officer, and wrapped his arms around Sarah. To the cops, it looked like a supportive brother comforting his devastated sister-in-law. But through the binoculars, I saw Thomas press his face to her neck and kiss her.
It wasn't a familial kiss. It was the kiss of two lovers who had just won the lottery.
