by Violet Paige
The agent was now wearing a T-shirt. I had soiled his suit and the red tie. I had never vomited on anyone. A part of me believed he was responsible. It was his fault he was down to an undershirt. I didn’t owe him an apology after he mangled my happiness just as severely as if his hands were clasped around my throat, squeezing the breath from my body.
My fingers trembled as I fastened the lid to the bottle.
“Are you ready to continue?” He wasn’t harsh, but I didn’t detect sympathy.
My stomach hurt. My clothes smelled despite my effort to wash them in the bathroom sink. I was reeling from being hauled into this stale interrogation room with no windows to the outside world. No. I didn’t want to continue. But the only way out was to comply. I knew that much.
“I-I guess.”
“Look, Mr. West has been on our radar for a number of years. We haven’t been able to bring him in. Any information you can provide will help us do that.”
“I don’t know anything.” I swallowed. The hollowness filled me. I didn’t. I didn’t know who Vaughn was or Jeremy. He wasn’t a Jeremy.
“What seems like insignificant details to you can add up to complete the puzzle we have. You might have the missing piece, Miss Charles. You just don’t realize it. Together, we can figure out what that is. If you agree to help us, I believe I can have all charges against you dropped.”
“I don’t care about the charges.” I gritted my teeth. My eyes lifted to his. The tears slipped from my eyes in heavy droplets. “You just told me the man I’ve spent the last few months with is a criminal. That everything he told me was a lie. That he used me to steal from my best friend.” I clenched my jaw. “I will fight the charges against me. We both know I didn’t help him.”
“Good. It sounds like you’re willing to cooperate.”
“I didn’t say that,” I snapped. “I need more than five minutes to process this.” I glared at him.
“How about I wait outside. I could use a cup of coffee. You?”
“I’ll pass.”
“Another bottled water?” he offered.
“No.” Did he think hospitality mattered in here?
“I’ll give you some time to think about the offer. But, it’s not open-ended. Realize you need to make a decision.”
He walked out of the room. I stared at the mirrored glass. My mascara was smudged beyond recognition. I wondered who was on the other side. Who was witnessing my heartbreak. Who was watching me fall apart. Who saw the moment my life was shattered.
What were they thinking now? That I was a pathetic mess? That I had let a man ruin me? That I had been conned? I should have been smarter. I should have been suspicious. I should have been anything but weak.
I spilled out of the chair and onto the floor, pulling my legs under me.
It wasn’t a con. It couldn’t be.
Everything was real. He was the reason I breathed. He was the man who stirred my blood. The man who brought me back to life. Who kissed me. Held me. Loved me. Worshipped my body. Tested my sexual limits and explored the deepest part of my sensuality. I had given him everything. Opened everything to him.
It was not a con.
I squeezed my eyes together. My head hurt. I pulled my palms to my lips as one sob escaped after another.
It was not a con.
He said he loved me. That last day before he went out of town. He said it.
It was not a con.
I heard the whimpers as I cried on the floor. They didn’t sound like me. They sounded like a small child, missing its mother. Like a lost toddler frantic that it had been left behind.
No one had looked at me the way he did. As if we were connected from just one glance. One smile. Like all the kisses were the first and the last wrapped up in each other. Our bodies fit in a seamless rhythm.
He listened. We talked all night. I laid in his arms and talked about law. I talked about home. He challenged me to stick with the clinic on the worst days. He wanted me to apply for the faculty position.
It was not a con.
The notes. The texts. The places he took me. He shared his favorite memorial. He took me to the winery. We spent an incredible night together. And when I didn’t think I could find Lana, he helped me. That was the man I knew.
Who in the hell was Jeremy West?
I rubbed the tears against my wet cheeks. I didn’t know how much longer until Agent Kenneth came back.
The door opened and he walked in.
I knew I looked like a wreck, but I was past caring at this point. The agent had been the entire demolition crew.
“Have you had some time to think about my offer?”
I cleared my throat. “I have.” I struggled to my feet and took a seat across from him.
“And?” He looked genuinely interested.
“I want proof,” I demanded.
“What else do you need to know? West is dangerous. I’ve explained our case against him.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe you. The man I know is not Jeremy West. If you can convince me he is a criminal, then I’ll comply. I won’t impede a federal investigation. But I’m not just going to take your word for it. I want proof, agent. I deserve that much.”
“All right. I’ve got plenty.”
He slapped the files on the table again. I jumped.
“We can start with Sarah Jamison.” He showed me her picture. “Twenty-five years old. Her father was a senator on the oil and gas committee. Mr. West had a relationship with her that lasted three weeks before he helped clean out her father’s assets in Qatar.”
He pulled out another picture. “This is Hannah Pauley. Also twenty-five. Her mother is the ambassador to Saudi Arabia. One month after she and West dated, the ambassador discovered a data breach in the classified files of oil reserves that were going into auction in her territory.”
I held my breath when he slapped another picture in front of me. “Here is Kathryn Jergen. Twenty-seven. Miss Jergen was the aide to the pharmaceutical committee. She and Mr. West were involved only two weeks when there was a huge buy out from two companies that were under potential investigation by the government. All charges in question by the feds were dissolved with the merger. Not a coincidence,” he added. “I can keep going.”
“I don’t fit any of those categories. I’m not privy to classified information or lucrative international financial deals. I’m not like these women.”
He held up a picture of Greer. My chest tightened. “Meet Greer Britt. Twenty-eight. Aide to the Senate Arms Committee. In charge of land and air weapons contracts vetting and research.”
I stared in disbelief.
“But—”
“She was the intended target, Miss Charles. But Miss Britt’s relationship with her boyfriend Preston proved problematic for West. So you were the next best option to retrieve the contract data. Second choice I guess, but it worked.”
I was done being sick. I couldn’t throw up again if I wanted. All I had in my stomach was water.
“Second choice?” I seethed.
I looked at all of the pictures. Beautiful women. Successful women. Some powerful on their own. Some within an arm’s reach of power and wealth.
I glanced at my reflection. And then there was me. The latest woman in the file.
What would the agents say about me? How would I be classified?
“Do we have a deal?” he nudged. “Can the bureau count on you?”
“I need a second to think.” My hands went to my head.
“He’s not your boyfriend, Miss Charles. He never was. He was paid millions of dollars for those contracts. You were a pawn. A target. It was not a relationship.” He closed the folder. “I’ve sat here like this before. With the other women: Sarah, Hannah, Kathryn. And they had the same look on their faces. They did.”
“And what did they decide?” I asked.
“They decided to make the bastard pay, Miss Charles. They wanted him to pay.”
I took a few breaths befo
re standing on my feet. I walked over to the glass window and tapped on it.
“What are you doing?” Agent Kenneth asked.
“I need a pad of paper and a pen.” I knocked again and repeated myself.
I didn’t know what chance I had of getting it. Someone was watching me. Listening to the pain. They owed me.
A few seconds later the agent who had escorted me to the bathroom walked in with a yellow notepad and a ball-point pen. She placed them on the desk and left.
I pulled out the chair and sat.
There had to be a timeline. There had to be a plan. A methodical way he targeted me. I started with a chain of bullet points on the left side.
Agent Kenneth sipped his coffee. He didn’t interrupt while I made my columns. He seemed to accept I had to do this.
I wrote down our first series of dates. Under each one I jotted down the things we discussed: my career, his family, how often my roommate was home. The column continued with how dates turned into routine nights and weekends together. Our vacation at the winery. And then I saw it.
I saw Vaughn in the apartment. Always looking over the threshold of Greer’s bedroom door. I heard his voice in my ear: no roommate tonight? We have the place to ourselves?
And each morning he would ask if she had returned. Should we make more coffee in case she came home.
I scribbled every mention of Greer on the sheet of paper until I had to flip to the second page.
It had been there. Laced in all our conversations. His nonchalant way of drawing her into a conversation. His quick way of immediately pivoting to another topic. Until one day it all collided into a crossroads of perfect timing.
Greer returned to the apartment with everything from her office. Vaughn was on the deck. And we left him. Alone.
I gripped the pen, bearing down onto the paper. I almost scratched through it, I wrote with such force.
Agent Kenneth leaned forward. He must have detected I had discovered something.
It had seemed abrupt that afternoon, but I brushed it off as Vaughn’s usual unexpected work hazards. The minute Greer and I had returned from the grocery store he announced he had to travel.
I could see it play out. The way he swept me into the shower. The pain in his words when we admitted how much we loved each other. The good-bye. And then several days when I couldn’t reach him when I was in the middle of a family emergency.
It was as if I had been knocked flat on my back again. It had been obvious. Good-bye sex. It had been over the minute he walked out the door. He had the files. His job was done.
“Miss Charles?” Agent Kenneth interrupted the horror movie playing in my head.
“Yes?” I rested the pen on the ink-stained pages.
“Have you made a decision.”
I stared into his eyes. “I have.”
24
I gripped the railing with every step I took. I couldn’t look up, only down at my Keds. The sides were scuffed. The fabric worn. I reached the landing. I had to have the strength to go inside, but I wasn’t sure where to find it. I had been drained of emotion. What was left was a shell.
I turned the handle. Greer waited inside for me.
“Thank God they let you go. Are you ok?” she asked.
I nodded, but I was numb. I looked down. My suitcase was still in the middle of the floor. I didn’t know where to move. Sit down? Hide in my room? I was frozen.
“How did this happen, Emily?” she snarled.
My head snapped when I heard the accusation in her voice. Our eyes locked. I did have an emotion left—defensive anger.
“You think I knew? That I had something to do with this?”
She rose to meet me. “You had no idea your boyfriend was a hired criminal? None whatsoever?”
My eyes pierced together in defiance. “You actually believe I knew about Vaughn?”
“I don’t know.” She groaned, spinning toward the glass doors to the balcony. “That’s not even his name. His name is Jeremy West. Jeremy Fucking West.”
“You’re mad at me? You blame me for bringing him here? Why don’t you blame yourself for bringing classified documents home in a cardboard box?” I fired back.
“That’s the protocol. I followed the protocol.”
“And I didn’t? That’s what you’re implying. That I dated and slept with a guy who wasn’t properly vetted. Is that what I was supposed to do? Get you to run a background check on him before our first kiss? Would that have made you happy?” I wasn’t finished. “You should have protected those documents, Greer. Not me. That wasn’t my job. It was yours.”
“You let him in,” she whispered.
I pulled the suitcase handle into my grasp and began to wheel it toward my room.
“You’re not going to stay and talk about it?” she called. “That’s it?”
I yanked an open bottle of wine off the counter on my way.
“No. It’s not it. But I’ve been stripped down to nothing by the bureau and I’m not going to let me best friend do the same thing.” I slammed the door and locked it secure.
I twisted the cork from the bottle and pressed the glass rim to my lips. I almost couldn’t swallow. The sob was stuck in my throat.
I forced it down. Along with the next gulp. And another.
When the bottle was empty I moved to the shower, peeled the vomit-stained clothes from my body, and stepped in under the water.
I stood in the center of the tub, waiting for relief. Waiting to wake up from this nightmare. Waiting for the haze in front of my eyes to ebb enough for me to see. I turned the handle under the water to scalding. My feet turned red.
I didn’t care. I couldn’t feel it.
I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around my chest. I wanted another drink, but I didn’t want to face Greer.
I walked to my bed and slid between the sheets. I turned my phone off. I didn’t know if Agent Kenneth would dare call. And after today I knew I had spoken my last words to Vaughn. He was gone. I closed my eyes. I knew there wouldn’t be peace in my sleep, but it was better than being awake where I could think and remember.
I counted backward. And eventually I fell asleep.
There was a knock on my door.
“Emily, are you up?”
The sunlight peered through the blinds. I turned toward the wall. I wasn’t ready to talk to Greer. After last night, I knew we had both done permanent damage to each other. Something friends weren’t supposed to do.
“Emily? Can I come in?”
She twisted the knob, but was blocked by the flimsy lock. It wouldn’t take much for her to push through it, but she stopped.
“Emily? Just tell me you’re in there and I’ll leave you alone.”
I picked up a book next to the bed and threw it at the door.
“Ok. I guess that means you’re in there. I have to leave for a few hours.”
I didn’t know what that meant. She should be going to work. I looked at the clock. She should have been gone by now.
I didn’t respond. I pulled the quilt to my head and let the tears fall on my pillow. The cocoon silenced my grief. I didn’t know when I’d come out. I didn’t know if I ever would. In here everything was gray and shaded. Doused with pain and sadness. Betrayal had sunk its claws into my pores like open wounds and tore at me, ripping and stretching gaping holes in what was left of me. The murkiness was cold. I shivered uncontrollably, no matter how tightly I pulled the blanket to my body.
My eyes drifted open and I spotted the crossword lying on the bedside table. It was Vaughn’s.
I threw off the cover, snatched the book in my hand, and began shredding the pages from the seams. I screamed as the tattered pieces gathered at my knees and hips. I’d never felt such rage. Such anger. A venom that poisoned me with hate.
I couldn’t make the scraps small enough. I couldn’t make them any smaller. I couldn’t make the traces of him disappear.
I collapsed on the bed.
“It wasn’t a
con.” I breathed. “It wasn’t a con.” The whisper didn’t sound like my own voice.
My heart beat was erratic. I had to get out of this bed. I needed air.
I pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, sliding my arms through a zip-up hoodie and headed onto the balcony. It was cold.
It was here on the roof I’d first felt it. Undeniable love. Unquestionable sexual chemistry. An inexplicable connection. I sat on the chaise lounge.
Why? Why did he do it? Why get in so deep?
My head hurt. My whole body hurt.
I couldn’t see anything ahead. All I could picture was what was behind me. What I wanted was in the rearview mirror. Even if that included a man who had lied to me. I knew I was supposed to hate him. I shouldn’t want to turn around and find him. To hear his voice. To feel his touch. Why couldn’t I have him? Even if he wasn’t the man I thought he was. Because right now he was who I needed most to survive. How did I get through it without him?
I heard the door slide open and I turned, desperate that I was wrong and Vaughn had come back. He would stroll onto the balcony and swear we’d make it through the nightmare.
My heart plummeted to my stomach when I saw Greer.
“It’s cold out here.”
“It is,” I agreed, abhorred I was holding on to some kind of hope for him. I didn’t want her to see it on my face.
She walked toward me with an extra blanket and a cup of coffee. She had a checkered one draped over her shoulders.
“I’m sorry about yesterday.” She sat close to my feet at the end of the chaise. “I was angry and I was scared.”
I took the coffee from her.
She continued, “And I should have thought about what you had just gone through with Garrett and the shock of the information.”
“We’re both in shock,” I whispered.
“But I shouldn’t have been so angry. I said some horrible things.”
“I did too,” I admitted.
“I’ve been suspended indefinitely.”
“What?” My voice had volume to it for the first time since yesterday.
She pressed her lips together. “While the investigation is on-going I can’t go back to the senate committee.”
