Forget not leaving Bradley sooner. Gigi’s biggest regret now was lying to Holden.
“Mrs. Hawthorne,” Detective Ball’s voice boomed as he entered the room. He let the door slam shut behind him, and Gigi flinched as the noise echoed through the small room. He sat down across from her, resting a set of file folders on the table.
“Detective,” she replied, trying to be polite.
“You said you left Atlanta on the tenth of October. Can you tell me about that?”
"Do I need a lawyer?” she asked, trying to recall just how things went down in all those Law and Order episodes.
“Do you want a lawyer?”
“I’m just wondering if I need one.”
“You’re not under arrest. We’re just talking right now,” he told her. But wasn’t that what cops always told people?
“So I don’t need one?”
“You are welcome to one at any time. But like I said, you’re not under arrest.”
Gigi was silent for a moment, trying to wrap her mind around it all. She had no idea what to do in this situation. Part of her thought she needed a lawyer, but she wouldn’t even know where to begin in finding one. And if she wasn’t under arrest, she was fine, right?
“So, the tenth of October. That’s your wedding anniversary, right?” Detective Ball continued.
“Yes.”
“And you and Mr. Hawthorne had a vow renewal planned?”
“Yes.”
“But you were never actually planning on attending said renewal, now were you?”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Why not?”
Gigi swallowed hard. It shouldn’t be hard to admit that she had left her abusive husband, but somehow, she was still ashamed. Maybe it was shame that she hadn’t left earlier, or that she’d even gotten herself into that situation to begin with. But either way, it clung to her like a wet blanket.
“Bradley was not always the nicest man. He…” She paused, swallowing again. “He was abusive. Both physically and verbally. So I made a plan to leave.”
“Did you ever tell anyone he was abusive?” the older man asked, disbelief in his tone. “I wasn’t able to find where you ever reported any kind of incident. So, maybe a friend? Family? A counselor?”
“No. No one would have believed me. So I kept it to myself.” Gigi shuddered at the thought, the feeling of isolation returning. To everyone else she and Bradley were the picture-perfect couple. They had everything—the house, the wealth, the connections. Too bad it was all a well-crafted façade.
“And made a plan to leave.”
“Yes. I knew I would have a chance the night before the ceremony, since Bradley was all about tradition. So I bought a cheap car, and I left.”
“And that was the last time you saw Mr. Hawthorne? The night before the renewal? You’ve had no contact since?”
“I left him! Why would I be in contact with him?”
He opened the top file and pulled out a piece of paper, sliding it toward her.
“Do you know what this is?”
“It looks like a death certificate,” she said, reading the lettering at the top. He nodded at her to continue reading. Glancing back down she skimmed the page, her blood running cold as she processed what she was looking at. “This is…this is my death certificate! But I’m not dead!”
“Clearly,” he answered, deadpan.
“It’s dated October fifteenth. How? Why? I don’t understand.” Her pulse sped up, and her mind was racing. How could this be? What did this mean?
“This was submitted to your insurance company on October sixteenth. Less than one week after you disappeared. It was submitted with a request to pay out your life insurance to an account in the Cayman Islands.”
“The Cayman Islands?”
“Yes, ma’am. The account was in the names of Bradley Preston Hawthorne and Ayla Nancy Hatche.”
“Who is Ayla Hatche?”
“You tell me.” The look he gave her made her uneasy, like he knew something she didn’t and he was just waiting to pull the rug out from under her.
“How am I supposed to know? I’ve never heard that name in my life.”
“So, that’s not a new identity for you?”
“New identity?” she exclaimed. Just what did he think she was trying to do here? The thought had never occurred to her to use a fake name when she recreated herself, just an old nickname. If she’d been trying to be discreet, why would she have chosen such an odd name? Wait one second…
"Wait…the name on the account. Was it eye-la? Or A-la? Is it spell A-y-l-a?” she asked, suddenly connecting the dots.
“Yes, A-y-l-a. So you admit it’s yours?”
“It’s not mine,” she said softly. “And it’s pronounced A-la, like Kayla without the K. Ayla Hachette is Bradley’s secretary.” Her stomach sank as she said the words out loud. His secretary? She’d never liked that tall, leggy brunette but had told herself that she was just being insecure. Just because she reminded her of the trampy secretary in Love Actually who seduced Alan Rickman didn’t mean that was actually what was going on. Or maybe it did.
Bradley had sworn up and down to her so many times that he’d never been unfaithful. And all those times he’d turned it back on her, accusing her of only coming up with the idea because she was the one fooling around behind his back. She’d always known her gut was right, yet she’d let him convince her she was seeing things. I should have left him sooner…
“Mrs. Hawthorne, how did your husband end up in Lake Lanier?” the detective asked, bringing her back to the moment.
“How am I supposed to know? I was here, in Vermont!”
“And the account that was in only your name? That is now mostly empty?”
“My trust fund? It’s always been in just my name. That’s Shaw family money. My father set it up as an irrevocable account or something, so that whoever I married couldn’t touch it. In the event of my death, the money reverts back to the family trust, I think.” She’d never paid a whole lot of attention when investments and money were being discussed—numbers were boring. Although she was starting to regret that choice right about now. But she knew that money was hers and hers alone. Even that death certificate wouldn’t have changed that.
“So where’s the money?” he asked.
“I cashed it out shortly before I left. It’s how I paid for the car and everything since I got here,” she told him. She’d been so careful to only pay for things in cash so that she could stay off the grid. She hadn’t wanted anyone to be able to find her. Even her Busy Bean paychecks were still sitting in a drawer in her room, uncashed. Opening a bank account would have been too risky, and she hadn’t taken the time to try and find some place that might cash them without one. “How did y’all even find me? I’ve paid in cash for everything since then.”
"You used your social security number on your employment paperwork at the uhhh…Busy Bean Café,” he said, reading from another piece of paper. “We were able to track you through that.”
Oh for heaven’s sake! Why didn’t I think of that? Nice job, Gigi…
“I didn’t kill my husband, Detective.” Gigi could hear the warble in her voice and said a little prayer that it showed her honesty, rather than made her seem guilty. Detective Ball wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he was wholly convinced that she had murdered Bradley. Gigi just didn’t know how to change that.
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.” Gigi slumped back in her chair. She was exhausted and feeling more than just a little defeated. The news that Bradley was dead should have made her happy. But the only thing it did was turn her stomach. All this time she’d been living in fear of him, and he was out living it up with his secretary. Just great. Thanks to him, she’d not only left behind everything she knew, but now she was about to lose the whole new life she’d come to love. And more than that, the only man she’d ever really loved.
Even in death Bradley was ruining her life.
&nbs
p; “Want to know what I think?” The smug look on his face told Gigi that no, she did not want to know what he thought. But then she reconsidered, wondering if she just played his game, she’d be out of here soon.
“What?” she answered, trying to sound sweet and interested.
“I believe you killed him. I think you planned this whole thing out. Fake your death, collect the insurance money, and then kill him. Maybe not in that order, since I’m sure it’s not as simple as just that. The autopsy shows he was poisoned prior to ending up in the lake. I’m thinking you had to put quite a bit of thought and effort into this to know what to give him that wouldn’t be obvious. Or maybe that didn’t matter since he was going in the lake and you figured it would be months before he was found,” he said. Gigi felt the scrutiny of his gaze as he spoke, his eyes searching for any kind of indication from her that he’d struck a nerve. “I think you slipped him something before you left, and then paid someone to dump the body. Am I getting warmer? If we search your belongings, will we find papers with Ayla Hatche on them?”
“I didn’t kill him. I promise.”
“Then why have you been telling everyone he’s dead?”
“Because I didn’t want anyone to ask any questions about him and why I left. I figured if I told people he was dead, they would just accept that.”
“But why admit to being married at all? Why not just be a single woman?”
Gigi was caught off guard by the question. Why had she told that story? She could have just as easily pretended to not have a husband, as he suggested. The thought had never occurred to Gigi. Lying had never been a skill she’d possessed, and it wasn’t something she’d wanted to get into the habit of.
“I don’t know,” she said softly, looking away from him.
“Because you knew he was dead, or at least would be soon. Didn’t you?”
“No! I didn’t kill Bradley!”
“Not so sure I believe that, Mrs. Hawthorne.”
“No! Why would I use my real name and social security number if I had a fake ID?” she exclaimed.
“Only you can answer that, Mrs. Hawthorne.”
“I didn’t kill him. I promise.”
Detective Ball stood up from the table and walked over to the door, opening it and nodding to someone standing just outside it. Gigi watched as Officer Nelligan stepped into the room, his face long and his eyes conflicted. A sense of dread washed over her. Whatever happened next was not going to be good.
“Miss Gigi, I need you to please stand and place your hands behind your back,” Officer Nelligan said quietly.
Doing as she was told, she looked between the two men. She felt as if she were sliding off the side of the earth with nothing to grab on to and no way to stop it. This was not happening. No. She was not being arrested.
“You said I didn’t need a lawyer!” she cried, tears appearing out of nowhere.
“You weren’t under arrest then,” he informed her, his face still as straight and uncaring as it had been this entire time. “GeorgiaGrace Hawthorne, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit insurance fraud and for the murder of Bradley Preston Hawthorne.”
27
Holden
Holden knew he needed to get up off the couch. Sitting there, staring at the mess of blanket and pillows crumpled up on the mattress that was still on the floor was not helping anything. Then again, the run he’d forced himself to go on hadn’t helped either.
The hollow feeling that was inside him seemed to grow with every passing moment. This morning had been surreal. His plan had been to lazily wake Gigi up using his tongue and to spend most of the day wrapped up in each other, laughing and cuddling, until neither of them could take it anymore. But that stupid knock on the door had changed everything.
He’d run back the conversation with the cops and then his fight with Gigi over and over in his head. She’d been lying to him this whole time. Everything between them had been based on some fabricated story. It was hard to reconcile, since the Gigi he knew was as bright as sunshine, easygoing, and wouldn’t hurt a fly. Except, that was just who she wanted him to see, wasn’t it? That wasn’t the real her. The real her was apparently a lot more deceiving.
You don’t really believe that. You know her. You know she didn’t kill anyone. And if she lied about something, she had a reason.
He shook his head, trying to stop his warring thoughts from getting the better of him. He needed a distraction. The only problem was everything seemed to remind him of her.
The buzzing of his phone was just enough to jar him out of his head, at least for the split second it took to reach for it. Looking down at the screen, the name flashing there told him this was not the distraction he needed right now. But he answered anyway.
“Hi,” he said, his voice clipped.
“Did we interrupt something?” Caulfield replied.
“No.”
“Well, aren’t you a sparking ray of delight! Put Gigi on. If you’re just going to be grumpy, then I don’t want to have to be on the receiving end. I’d rather listen to her sweet southern voice anyway.”
“She’s not here.”
“Where is she?”
“In jail,” he ground out, his jaw clenched. Just saying the words out loud sent a whole new stab of pain straight to his heart. The thought of her sitting down at the Colebury police station, in what he was sure was an itty-bitty cell, broke his heart. It was no small part of him that wanted to run down there and pull her out, hold her in his arms, and tell her it would all be okay. But the other part of him knew better—she had lied to him. There was also the part of maybe killing her husband.
“Jail?” his mother’s voice cried out from a distance. Holden sighed, realizing he must be on speaker phone with the whole family. Great, just great.
“Son, what happened?” his father asked.
“Cops came knocking on our door this morning to let us know that Gigi’s husband is dead. Which was news to her," he said, before launching into the whole story. Explaining everything the cops had told them and the fight he and Gigi had afterwards made it seem like they’d been starring in an episode of some soap opera. But no, this was his real life. “After all that, they hauled her down to the police station for questioning.”
“Why aren’t you down there with her?” Caulfield asked.
“Which part of the story do I need to go over again, old man? The part where she lied to me about her husband being dead? Or the part where she’s a murder suspect?” he bit out. His family didn’t deserve his rage, but by this point in the day it’d been boiling up in him for too long, and he needed to let it out.
“Holden, we all know that sweet girl didn’t kill anyone,” his father said.
“No, Dad, we don’t know anything. Just because she said she didn’t do it means nothing. She’s been lying to me from day one, so how can I believe anything? If she lied about that, what else has she been lying about?”
“Do you for one second think she killed him? That the Gigi you know would have done that?” Caulfield countered.
“No,” he resigned. “But how do I know that the Gigi I know is the real one?”
“Other than him being dead, or not dead…everything else she told you was true, was it not?”
Holden thought back to everything she’d told him. About her childhood, her parents, college. About the things Bradley had done to her, said to her. Her fear. He thought about how skittish she was when she first arrived. How she had shied away from his touch, even if it was just to help her on the stairs. She’d been so lost and afraid. He’d taken it for face value then, a newly widowed woman trying to get back on her feet. But now that he thought about it, those actions made just as much sense for a woman trying to escape an abusive situation.
“So she claims.”
“Holden, I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to be really honest here. With us and yourself,” Caulfield said. “What are you really upset about here? That she lied to you? Or that you co
uldn’t protect her?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he snapped back, pushing up off the couch and starting to pace the room. He had no idea what his godfather was getting at, but he could already tell he didn’t like it.
“You have let the guilt over not being there for Hannah and the baby eat away at you for years. Like it was somehow your fault for not being there to protect them. It wasn’t your fault then, and it’s not now either, but I can’t help but wonder if what you’re really upset about is not the lie, but that once again the woman you love was in danger, and you didn’t know.”
Holden stopped dead in his tracks. His heart split open even more at the thought of his late wife. How dare Caulfield bring up Hannah. That wasn’t what this was about. This was about Gigi lying to him. As if the pain from this morning wasn’t enough, now he had that extra layer thrown on.
“She fucking lied to me!” he shouted.
“Of course she did!” Caulfield hollered back. “She was on the run and scared out of her mind. She had no idea whom she could trust, and then she moved in with you, who went all caveman on her. I think even you can admit you were not the best of company when you two first met. And I won’t bring up your actions at Thanksgiving.”
A wave of guilt hit Holden as he recalled that moment. He had not been on his best behavior, and there would never be a time he didn’t hate himself for it. Especially after that night he and Gigi had bared their souls to each other and he’d found out the truth about her past life. Or what she claimed was the truth. Why hadn’t she just told him then that she’d left her husband and was hiding from him. Could she really not trust him?
"Tell me you never once wished the bastard was alive so you could kill him yourself,” Caulfield said, breaking through his thoughts.
Holden sighed. He’d thought that exact thing so many times he’d lost count. Every time Gigi would tell him about something Bradley had said or done, he’d wanted to pound the guy. How could he be married to someone as amazing as her and do nothing but cut her down? He knew full well that if he’d ever witnessed such a thing, he wouldn’t have hesitated to beat the shit out of him.
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