Abide With Me

by Shellie Arnold

  As he was led out, Nick thought he heard the prosecutor say “Angelina Rousseau.”

  ***

  Two trips to the state prison in two days was bad enough. Being escorted both times by an officer to an interview room, even worse.

  Angelina took a fortifying breath as she heard masculine voices murmur outside the dingy space. She feigned her default, non-committal smile, the one she’d learned to use in beauty competitions. She turned away from the wall of glass, pretended to search for something in her purse, and prepared to see her husband.

  Simon and others would undoubtedly be watching, listening. To the State Prosecutor, their interaction would be like a reality show episode, to be enjoyed or picked apart.

  On her right, the door to the interview room stayed closed, and she realized Simon might keep her waiting for a while to mess with her. Just because he could. Nicholas might join her in two minutes or two hours.

  She turned to see Darrin Simon enter the room and close the door behind him. Once again, she met his icy gray eyes.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Rousseau. Thanks for coming in again so quickly.” His half-grin mocked her, and his eyes scanned her face and torso above the tabletop.

  He sat, while asking the same questions he’d asked her yesterday. She even thought they might have come in the same order as if he were reading a script.

  Now he stood again. “The last time you saw your husband, what was he wearing?”

  Angelina startled. “Wearing?” She had to think. What difference did it make?

  “A tailored black suit, a plum-colored silk dress shirt, and a black silk tie. He called it his Uniform for Success and often wore it to important meetings.”

  “That was over three months ago, correct?”

  “Yes.” He’d given her a quick peck on the cheek, mentioned Gavin and the airport.

  “So, this important meeting—did he tell you where he was going? Who he was going to see?”

  Now she understood this line of questioning. “Our attorney, Gavin Hawk.”

  “Did he tell you why he was meeting with Gavin?”

  “No. I assumed to discuss his investments, properties, and business.”

  His phone beeped, an incoming text he read silently, then repocketed his phone. “Your husband requested a shower before seeing you. Of course, I granted his request.”

  The door opened. Nick entered wearing orange scrubs and rubber flip-flops. His curly hair was wet, in need of a trim. He wore handcuffs, and on his face were several specks of blood as if he’d cut himself shaving.

  At that moment, she despised Simon for enjoying Nick’s humiliation. Her love for Nicholas was all but dead, but she could never be that cruel to him.

  Simon nodded. “I’ll leave you two alone to talk.”

  “Thank you for this, Mr. Simon,” Nick said.

  “Sorry, but the cuffs stay on.”

  The State Prosecutor wasn’t sorry, but at least he left. Although she was certain he would soon be watching from behind the glass.

  Nicholas looked at her as a man might a rare treasure. She wished she believed he felt that way even when he wasn’t looking at her.

  Finally, he spoke. “Angie, I did what I did for us, for our future.”

  She remembered early moments in their marriage, the two of them dreaming together of what their life might be like in five, ten, fifteen years. All the plans and promises he’d pushed back time and again. In Nick’s mind, the future was always, well, in the future. It meant nothing to her now.

  “What exactly did you do?”

  He hung his head. “I mortgaged the house.”

  “What?”

  “And I sold my business and properties.”

  “When?”

  “And I invested all the money in PGI—along with other investors— because it was going to set us up for life without me having to leave you to work ever again.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “I was going to surprise you.”

  She wanted to slam her fists on the table. She wanted to scream.

  She wanted to smack his face.

  But she knew they were being watched.

  Nick inched his bound hands toward hers. She pulled back, clasped hers in her lap, and steadied her breathing. If she didn’t rein in her emotions, these minutes would be a live freak show, which would no doubt be talked about for years here in the state prison.

  “Is what you did legal?”

  “Yes. Although I see now I should have told you about the house so you wouldn’t be upset.”

  “About the house?”

  “You love it. You decorated it and filled it with everything you love.”

  “I don’t love the house. I loved …” You she almost said and pressed her fingertips to her lips.

  Stay on task. This isn’t about how I feel. It’s too late for that, too late for us. And he has no idea.

  “So,” she said. “You invested all your money with and through Gavin.”

  “Our money. Not my money, ours.”

  “I don’t know how much time they’ll give us,” she said. “Quit picking apart the details and look at the big picture here. I need to know how the money was invested with Gavin.”

  “Why are we talking about this instead of talking about us? Angelina, how are you? You must have been so scared when I called. When you flew home and then came here for questioning. I’m so sorry for that. I begged them to leave you alone. Did they mistreat you?”

  “Nicholas. Were you in business with Gavin and I didn’t know it?”

  “I don’t understand.” His brow furrowed. “You never cared about my business. Never cared about our investments for the future. Why all these questions now?”

  “Because you were arrested. Because they’re asking me about the business arrangement between you and Gavin.”

  He sat back. She saw the light bulb go on in his mind.

  “I have to prove to them you knew nothing about what I did with Gavin.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So my first priority is keeping you out of here.”

  “I’ve never been your first priority.” The words escaped before she could stop them.

  “Angie?”

  She didn’t want to talk about this now. She wouldn’t.

  “Look, let’s set aside the part about us,” she said. “Can you prove you didn’t steal millions through PGI?”

  She saw the shock hit him as it always did when the weight of a moment finally caught up with him. Hurt followed.

  “You don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m guilty.”

  “What I think doesn’t matter. Does Julius believe he can prove your innocence?”

  “He’s taking my case, even though I’m not sure how we’ll pay him. Unless you still have money in your account. We could use that. We could live on that while this gets straightened out.

  “What am I saying? If you don’t believe me, I don’t have a chance.”

  She swallowed as she realized she might indeed be starting over, and starting over with nothing. Nick, however, didn’t know she’d spent almost every cent he’d ever given her. Her most recent expenditure? Renovating the carriage house.

  Should she tell him about the money, that most of it was gone?

  Grief bubbled in her stomach like acid. Nick’s freedom, and very likely their marriage, were about to end.

  And neither of them would have anything to show for the last ten years of their lives.

  Still, even if divorce meant starting over on her own, going back to living in a one-room apartment and more often than not, dining on boxed macaroni and cheese—she’d rather live single and alone than married and lonely. She’d rather live single and alone than live in a mansion constantly reminded of what could have been, swimming in bitterness toward the one she’d once loved the most. She could support herself with her art if she had to.

  “I need to go.” She braced her hands on the table and stood.

  Nick stood, too. “Angie. Angelina,”
he whispered. “You’re leaving?”

  She turned away. Pressed her lips together in an effort to keep the accusations and questions inside.

  Then she figured, Why not ask? If Nicholas went to jail for the rest of his life, if this was the last time she saw him or spoke to him in person, didn’t she deserve a real answer?

  “Why didn’t you ever take me with you?”

  “I can prove you had nothing to do with the business. Don’t worry about that.”

  “No. No. No!”

  She turned back and looked into those deep brown eyes with lashes only a girl should have. Into the face of the only man she’d ever slept with, ever loved.

  “I gave you the best ten years of my life. I gave you my youth, my love, my time, everything. Why didn’t you want to spend time with me? Why didn’t you ever give me you?”

  “Please say you didn’t stop loving me. Don’t leave me now, Angie.”

  She scanned his face, this man whom she’d once loved as deeply as a woman could love a man. She didn’t have the energy to hate him and certainly wouldn’t waste the time.

  Still, the grief over what could have been—and wasn’t—weakened her knees. So this was what the death of a marriage felt like.

  Cold. And dark. And sad in your very bones.

  “When this blows over, I’ll be different,” Nick said. “Even if we have to start over financially. I promise I’ll be different.”

  She thought back to when he’d quit their jobs at Denny’s without telling her. To when he’d talked her into moving to Rowe City, only to change that to Birmingham after the job offer at Jenkinsons. To all the new strategies and plans he’d suggested to address their marriage problems.

  “Nicholas,” she said. “Stop making promises you never intend to keep.”

  ***

  He’d lost her.

  Nicholas watched Angelina leave the interview room, quietly clicking the door closed, and he knew—he’d lost her. He felt the severing as he imagined one would with the death of a spouse. The life that had pulsed from the nearby mate, their essence, their spirit had been removed.

  Hollow, he thought. This Angelina was hollow and empty and looked at him without expectancy, anticipation, or connection.

  How had that happened?

  One of his skills was viewing a task or problem from multiple angles. He could assess a company’s inner-workings from both macro and micro perspectives, find the glitches, the breakdowns, the minute yet influential details others missed.

  What had he missed in his relationship with Angelina?

  Stop making promises you never intend to keep.

  He thought back over their marriage. He had to concentrate to forget who she was, how he felt about her. He had to work to separate how he felt when she walked into a room, the memory of the first time he saw her, touched her, from the Angelina he’d just spoken with.

  After sifting through the emotions and external circumstances of each memory, he looked deeper. He replayed conversations and conflict. Her expressions. The way her tendency to reach for him at every opportunity had changed to crossed arms, then to clenched fists, and finally, to the clasped hands of today.

  She’d gone from rebuttal.

  To rage.

  To resignation and retreat.

  The truth stared him in the face: Angelina had never been happy in their marriage, at least, not for long.

  Her smile—her killer, knock-your-feet-out-from-under-you smile—had only appeared at random intervals. Was always quickly replaced by worry, fear, frustration, or even disappointment. And each instance had been farther and farther removed from its predecessor.

  Why didn’t you ever take me with you?

  His mind convulsed with insight. She hadn’t asked the question in relation to the possible charges he now faced, or the fact she’d been questioned, as well.

  She’d asked because she’d needed to know how he could leave her so easily.

  He doubled over in his seat. His stunningly beautiful, insecure Angelina had indeed stopped loving him because she no longer believed he had ever loved her.

  To her, he’d told one lie after another. How could she think otherwise when his intentions, though good, never resulted in her getting what she asked for, even if he promised it?

  If he could go back in time and talk to his younger self, he’d say, “Keep your word to her or one day she won’t believe you.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “Nick?”

  He raised his head as Julius entered.

  “Are you all right?” Julius asked.

  “I just realized what I’ve done to my wife.”

  His attorney handed him bottled water. “I’m sorry. Drink. Try to relax. I’ve got good news.”

  “Tell me. I need you to explain everything.” Although right then he almost didn’t care what happened to him.

  “I will. What’s the whole story about why those particular gifts were at the bank? Why hide them in a safe deposit box?”

  “I wasn’t hiding them. I told you. I was saving them for Angie. The last several years, she didn’t want gifts from me, especially expensive ones. She left one unopened, remember? We often fought about them, so I didn’t want them in my home. I figured I’d keep them in a secure place, and maybe one day, she’d change her mind.”

  Julius stared at him, then sat back and shook his head. “You’re serious.”

  “Completely.”

  “Why not use a bank here in Rowe City rather than People’s in Mobile?”

  “Gavin suggested People’s for the mortgage. I figured if I needed more investment capital, I could use some of the jewelry as collateral. I had enough after mortgaging our home, so the jewelry sat there, and I forgot about it until now.”

  “You worked with Reuben Marx at People’s. He processed the loan, correct?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did Gavin suggest that bank and Reuben?”

  “Not directly. Although I think I called People’s from Gavin’s office. Funny, now that I think of it. The call went straight to Reuben’s direct line. He said to come on down, so I did. Could Reuben be involved?”

  “Possibly. Frances Sweeney used People’s Bank to refinance her home and borrow against several of her assets. Reuben helped her as well, but so far all of the related documents look credible.”

  “I should have known something was up,” Nick said. “Getting the money was too easy.”

  “Because your home is in your name only. Why wasn’t Angelina on it, too?”

  “She had no income when we bought the place, so she wasn’t named on the purchase contract or the original loan.”

  Nick had neglected to add her name on the county records. If he had, he would never have been able to borrow against their property without her signature.

  Again, he kicked himself for all he’d failed to do for her over the years. Angelina probably would have refused to sign, or at least made him think twice about it. Then none of this would have happened to either of them.

  “So far, the FBI is unable to locate Gavin Hawk. To them, that could mean several things. One, he’s hiding in fear of you, having discovered what you were doing. Or two, you and he were in this together, and he was smart enough to skip town. You get the idea—FBI agents get paid to be suspicious, and they are. Based on the information you provided them this morning, they’re open to postponing the initial hearing to allow us time to prepare a defense. That is if you’re in agreement. It means another night here, but it might help my efforts to get you out on bail.”

  “You think it’s best?”

  “I do.”

  “All right. I trust you, Julius.”

  “Great. Tuesday morning, you’ll appear before a judge in a courtroom here on property. I’ll be with you. The charges will be read. I’m going to push the judge to declare there’s not enough evidence to hold you for trial. Brace yourself. I’m going to portray you as a clueless guy who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.�
��

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Julius smiled. “I’ll commit our full cooperation and agree to them keeping your passport, in good faith. And I’ll ask for bail to be set.”

  “Even if they release me, it won’t be over, will it?”

  “I’m afraid not. I think the investigation is going to take several months and hundreds of man-hours. Unless you know where we can find Gavin Hawk, and he confesses.”

  “We always met at one of his offices. Sometimes here, sometimes in Mobile.” He didn’t want to believe his long-time attorney, a man he’d thought a friend, would do this to him. But no one else could have. “Have they searched his house and offices?”

  “No. And they probably won’t any time soon. It’s up to us to raise suspicion about Gavin. The more evidence we gather, the better. Let me know if you think of anything, any detail. Okay? Day or night.”

  “What am I up against here?” Nick asked.

  “A long-term battle. I need to hire a private investigator.”

  “When will my wife’s gifts be returned to me?”

  “Slow down. I don’t know about the gifts, but I’ll ask. First, we deal with the hearing and bail to get you home.”

  “Where I’ll live not knowing if I’ll be arrested again, as until we find Gavin or more evidence, I’m still a suspect.”

  “Sorry, Nick. Right now, you’re the only suspect. We have to prove your innocence.”

  “And in the meantime, I have no company, no income, a huge mortgage due, and probably no hope of recovering the money I invested with Gavin.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “If I’m released, can I liquidate our personal possessions? Antiques? Collectibles?”

  “Possibly. If you can prove they were purchased before the scam and prove you use the money to fund your defense and to pay living expenses.”

  By this time Tuesday night, he might be back at home with his wife. Unless a miracle happened between now and then, she’d look at him with the same disconnected expression he’d seen earlier today.

  And he thought being in prison was hard. That look on her face, knowing she didn’t love him anymore—he’d die inside every time she looked at him.

  “Even if all goes well at the hearing, how am I supposed to pay bail?”