by Holly Jaymes
“The day after we were here?” I said to her.
She frowned. “The day after?” She looked at Bigalow.
“I checked with my clients that all of a sudden got antsy about working with me,” I said. “They told me an alert went out. They didn’t look me up and see the investigation. They got a notice about it.”
“It’s well within my duties to warn agencies,” Mr. Bigalow said. He glared at me. Clearly, he didn’t like having to defend his actions in front of his supervisor.
“Warn them of what? That I’m sleeping with a Canadian?”
“Who could be easily compromised. Her father is in the Middle East,” he said by way of explanation. “He could be used to get her to share information on top secret projects.”
While that was true theoretically, in my mind it was a stretch. I leaned forward, pressing the palms of my hands in the table, as if that would make my statements stronger. “Do you know that the work Adalyn just finished will help keep foreign agents from hacking banks, utilities or computerized systems?”
“No one questions Mrs. Sloane’s work.”
“Maybe you should. Do you know how much of our world runs on computers? Everything. And if someone hacked it, they’d have all your information. Or they could shut it down. They could turn off the power and you wouldn’t be able to buy water or food, because those use electronic computerized payment systems and most people don’t carry cash. You’d have trouble getting health care, because your doctor wouldn’t be able to access your health files to know the drugs you’re allergic to. How much of your job here requires a computer? So, don’t you dare dismiss her work and somehow suggest she’s a danger. You’re the danger, Mr. Bigalow. You’re the one that puts us all in danger if you’re sending smart, talented, hard working people packing because you don’t like them.”
“There’s no need to get personal, Mr. Sloane,” Mr. Bigalow said.
“Personal?” I threw up my hands. “What’s more personal than deporting my wife?”
“It’s voluntary —”
“Bullshit. She doesn’t want to go. She’s only doing this because she wants to save my company, which she wouldn’t have to do if Bigalow here hadn’t sent out his alert.”
Ms. Slater sighed, and I thought maybe I was reaching her.
“It doesn’t change the facts,” Mr. Bigalow said.
“Intentions matter. You said so. Well, her intention was to keep Bigalow off my back. In fact, did you record her interview? I would bet every dollar I had that there’s something in there in which he’s telling her how if she confesses, he’ll lay off me.”
Mr. Bigalow stiffened. “That’s not illegal.”
“It goes to intention, though. Do you want to know why we married? Because we had a magical night fueled by a little too much alcohol. It was best fucking night of my life.”
“There’s no need to be vulgar,” Mr. Bigalow shook his head like he thought I was low class.
“Guess what else? It was my idea that we stay married. Me. Mine. You gonna arrest me, or can I voluntarily leave the country too?” I knew I was going a bit off the rails, but I couldn’t let them take Adalyn from me.
“Did you go to Vegas to marry?” Ms. Slater asked.
I sighed and sat back. “I’ll tell you everything. But I have to start three years ago, when I first met and fell in love with Adalyn.”
“That all doesn’t matter.” Mr. Bigalow said.
“It should.” I leaned forward toward Ms. Slater, hoping she would see the desperation in my eyes. “If intention is important, then your knowing that I fell in love with Adalyn three years ago is important. I wanted to be with her then. I want to be with her now. How can it possibly be a crime?”
“Do we have any of the witness interviews?” She reached for Bigalow’s file.
“She confessed.” His voice pitched up in annoyance.
“I’d like to review that interview, as well.” She reviewed a few pages of his file. “All of these say they didn’t know you and Adalyn were an item.”
I shrugged. I wasn’t going to give them ammunition by confessing we hadn’t been together prior to the wedding.
“But they all believe you’re in love.” She frowned, as she read something in the file. In the F.B.I., I learned to read upside down, so I could see she was reading a statement from my secretary who told them about meeting with my lawyer. “Did you put her in your will as your secretary says here?”
“Of course. She’s my wife,” I said with a glare to Bigalow. I turned my attention back to Ms. Slater. “If something happens to me, Adalyn will share the company with my brothers, plus get the penthouse and the rest of my assets.”
She looked at Bigalow. “A billion dollars is a lot to risk on a fraud.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “She confessed.”
“I want to see her. Please.”
Ms. Slater stood. “I want to review the interview and read more of this paperwork.”
“But —” Mr. Bigalow jerked.
“In the meantime, please take Mr. Sloane to see his wife. We’re not releasing her, but you can see her. Be mindful that you’ll be watched and recorded.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
Ms. Slater blocked my exit from the room for a moment. “Mr. Sloane. You’re not going to walk out of here tonight with your wife. You can see her, but it might be a good time to say goodbye.”
“What?” Oh God, oh God. The hope that had built completely faded into oblivion. “You said you’d review everything.”
“I will, but in the end, she did turn herself in and request voluntary departure. She’s even booked a flight out tonight.”
“What about her stuff? Surely she’ll be able to come home and pack.” What the fuck was wrong with these people.
“We’ll make those arrangements later. Would you like to see your wife now?”
I followed Bigalow down the hall, feeling like I was walking to the guillotine. Instead of my head though, I was about to have my heart cut out of my chest.
Book 4: Chapter 31—Losing the Fight
Losing the Fight
Adalyn
I felt like I’d been sitting alone in the little room forever. Checking my watch, it was after five, and soon, if not already, Will would notice I wasn’t home. I’d been told I’d be able to go home and put my affairs in order, but I decided it would be better to leave right away. Like a Band-Aid, it would be easier to rip away from Will, than to spend time with him knowing I was going to have to leave. Every moment anticipating the moment I had to leave would be agonizing. I didn’t have much stuff, and immigration could send my car to auction for all I cared.
I didn’t want to leave, but Mr. Bigalow explained that if I volunteered to go on my own accord, I’d be able to visit the States, although it would be for visits only. I would have trouble getting any sort of extended visa.
But who was I kidding? Love or not, there was no way Will and my love would survive a long-distance international relationship. That was assuming he loved me. I knew he cared, but was it love?
I heard movement outside the door, and straightened in my seat. I still had a couple of hours before my flight, but I was hoping they wouldn’t be spent alone in this room.
“You have a few minutes,” I heard Mr. Bigalow say. The door opened, and Will stepped in.
My heart stopped in my chest. He looked broken and confused.
“Will!” I leapt from my chair and flung myself into his arms.
“What did you do, baby?” His arms wrapped around me, pulling me tight to him. I couldn’t help but weep at what I was going to lose. For a moment we just held each other.
He released me, pressing his palms to my cheeks. “Adalyn.” His voice broke. “What were you thinking?”
“I never wanted to hurt you, Will. I heard that you were losing business. Not just a little, but a lot. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Why not? I wasn’t complaining.”
I bit my lip. “Because I love you and, I didn’t want you to lose something you cared out. Something that was so important.”
“Don’t you know, Adalyn? Don’t you know that you’re the most important thing to me? I love you.” He released my face and wrapped me in his arms again. “I love you so damn much.”
“I’m sorry, Will … I just didn’t see a way —”
“Don’t give up, baby.” He held my face again. “You and I are going to be together. Some way, somehow. Do you want that?”
I nodded. “More than anything.”
He shook his head at me. “Why did you tell them we married for the green card?”
“I didn’t. I told them the truth. We stayed married for it.”
He wiped my tears with his thumb. “Did you tell them it was my idea to stay married?”
“No. I did tell them we made love this morning, though.”
He laughed even as he cried. Just like me. “You and I are going to have breakfast in Paris and then spend an evening on a gondola in Venice. It’ll be better than Vegas.”
“But your business —”
“I’ll sell it or telecommute. Don’t you understand Adalyn? You’re my life now.”
I wanted to believe his words. That somehow, we’d find a way to be together. Right now, I’d believe them, because I needed that hope to help me stay upright. But it was a dream. His family was here. He was the head of it now that his father was gone. He couldn’t leave them for any extended amount of time.
Mr. Bigalow showed up in the door again. “Okay, Mr. Sloane, we need to finish processing —”
“Isn’t she still allowed to stay under her visa?” He kept a protective arm around me.
“She’s admitted to fraud. She’s already made plans to leave.”
“What if she recants? Technically she didn’t admit to fraud,” Will said.
“Then we’ll probably detain her and send to an ICE detention center until a court date.”
“What the fuck! Why can’t we just proceed as we were going to? Her interview today and mine tomorrow?”
“Will.” I turned him to me. “I’ve booked a flight out tonight.”
“No, Adalyn. This is wrong. Marrying you wasn’t a fraud. Staying married to you has been the greatest gift in my life. We need to fight this. I know a lawyer. I should have brought him in sooner.”
“This is the only way for now. Otherwise I’ll be detained, and maybe not allowed back in if I’m deported.”
“God.” He rested his head against mine. “I can’t let you go.”
“Mr. Sloane. Please, we need to get her processed.”
“What about her stuff?” Will asked.
“I don’t have much. I have more at my dad’s place in Canada.”
He stared at me for a moment. “Why didn’t you trust me? Why didn’t you give me a chance to make this work?”
I closed my eyes, because it was so difficult to hear his pain. “Why didn’t you tell me about losing your contracts?”
“Because I was afraid that you’d so something stupid, like turn yourself in just to protect me.” He had an expression of “duh” since he was proven right.
“We’re fucked, Adalyn.”
I nodded. “I think we always were. But I wouldn’t have changed anything, Will. Not one moment.”
“Come on, we’ve got to finish up.” Mr. Bigalow turned to Will. “It’s time to go.”
He took my face one more time. “I love you. Don’t forget it.”
“I love you too, Will. I always have. I always will”
Mr. Bigalow finally had enough, and he took Will’s arm to let him out.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” Will growled as he tugged his arm away.
I sank in the chair and wept. He loved me. If I’d known that sooner, would I have done anything different? No. I was here because I loved him and didn’t want him to lose more than he’d already had.
Several minutes later, Mr. Bigalow returned. “You must think we’re terrible people, but we have laws and procedures.”
“I don’t think you’re terrible. I think your laws and procedures lack compassion. Do you want to know the colors of Will’s curtains? The brand of coffee he prefers? All these are questions on your test which suggest your fraudsters aren’t living together. Since Will and I married, we haven’t been apart until now.”
He wrote on a piece of paper. “I don’t make the rules.”
“But they’re subjective, aren’t they?”
“No. You marry to cheat immigration, it’s a crime.”
“But I told you we didn’t marry to cheat the system. In an objective system, you’d let me go. Technically, I didn’t commit a crime. And yet, here I am.”
“You said you stayed married —”
“Yes, but you said the law is that if you marry to cheat the system it’s a crime. I didn’t do that. You’re deciding that this objective law of yours extends to my situation, which is a subjective interpretation.”
He pursed his lips. “You can try to use semantics all you want. Your marriage is about getting a green card, which is against the law.”
“You already decided you weren’t going to approve my visa, and when I got married, you’d already decided you wouldn’t approve that either.” My tears fell again. “I never had any hope of being able to stay, did I?”
“I wouldn’t say that, but it does make your whole scheme a waste of time, doesn’t it?”
I shook my head. “Every moment with Will has been a gift. You can make me leave, but you’ll never take my love away.” I shrugged. “You don’t care about that, though.”
“I know it must seem like that to you, but I’m just doing my job.”
“Does it ever bother you?”
He sighed. “Do I like breaking up families? No. But more often than not, the visa and green card process, while long, goes pretty smoothly. Most people we have to deport have broken the law, and I don’t have a problem with that.”
“I can see that.” I sat in my chair as he continued to do his paperwork. “I can also see that you don’t know the first thing about real love and marriage.”
He glared at me and shoved some paper work toward me. “Read this, and if it’s accurate to the statement you gave, sign it.”
I read the papers which gave an account of my statement. I wondered what Will had said to them. Whatever it was, it clearly hadn’t changed their mind. Thinking of Will broke my heart. I hoped he was going to his mom’s house or to one of his brothers. He’d need his family now. I was so glad that they were close.
“I’d like to call my brother,” I said before finishing going over the statement. “I’d let to let him know I’m coming back to Canada.” I didn’t say I was coming home, because I wasn’t. My home was with Will.
“Let’s deal with this first.”
I went back to reading the statement. “It doesn’t have the part where you told me I could make all Will’s problems go away by leaving on my own.”
He shrugged. “It’s not important.”
It seemed important to me. I felt like there needed to be a record that showed my decision was based on my love for Will.
Ms. Slater entered the room.
“She’s reading over the statement now,” Mr. Bigalow said.
She seemed to be the good cop in this scenario so I asked her, “Can I amend it to include the part where Mr. Bigalow suggested that I could help Will’s business if I confessed and left on my own?”
Ms. Slater pursed her lips and gave him a sideways glance. “If that’s what happened.”
“It’s not important,” he grumbled.
“I know this will be filed away and never read by anyone, but if it is read, I want that person to know that I left because I love Will. It’s important to me.”
Ms. Slater nodded. “The record should be accurate. Mr. Sloane indicated he might have a lawyer, and we wouldn’t want to get caught looking like we were hiding something.” Again, she looke
d at Mr. Bigalow.
He pulled the paper from me. “I’ll fix it.”
“You can check the recording,” Ms. Slater said as Mr. Bigalow left the room. “It’s all in there.” She sat across from me.
Her eyes softened a bit. “In a perfect world or maybe in a romance novel, this would end better.”
I nodded.
“I know you’ve been interviewed by Mr. Bigalow, and it’s thorough. I’ve gone through much of the interview and reviewed the other interviews by friends and family, but I have a few questions of my own.”
“You want to know the color of Will’s curtains or the number of windows in his house?” I quipped. I felt so tired. Too tired to try and be civil anymore.
“No. I want to hear about when you fell in love with your husband.”
Book 4: Chapter 32—Going After Adalyn
Going After Adalyn
Will
I stood outside the immigration building feeling like a fucking failure. What sort of husband was I that I was allowing my own government to take my wife away from me without a fight? My brain wasn’t working right. I couldn’t figure out what to do. I was so fucking helpless and inept.
Somehow, I got my feet moving toward my car. It was still there. Once I was in it, I sat like a zombie, not sure what to do.
“Think, God dammit!” I hit my steering wheel with my hand.
Lawyer. I needed to call a lawyer. She might be leaving tonight, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t fight to have her return. I called the number of the lawyer I’d called a couple of weeks ago. Why hadn’t I brought him in then? Jesus, I’d let Adalyn down.
It was after five, so I got a voice mail machine. I left a crazy, desperate message. I had to hope he understood what I was saying.
What next … fuck … come on, Will. Go to Canada. If she couldn’t be here, I’d go there. I wasn’t sure how long I could be in Canada before I’d need a special visa, but surely, I could go as a visitor for a short time. I wondered if I needed a travel visa?
But before I could do that, I had other steps to take. I turned on my car and headed out of the immigration building toward the river. My first stop, Mitch’s house.
