by Beth Ehemann
“Morning, everyone. What time is it?” She looked over at the clock, and her eyes bugged out. “Oh my God. We have to leave in like fifteen minutes.” Then as quick as she came, she was gone. She turned and disappeared up the stairs while I spent a few more minutes with the kids.
Twenty-five minutes later we were ready to walk out the door. I was ready in time to get us to the police station on time, but Dani insisted we take the extra couple of minutes and walk the kids to the bus stop, not so much for a safety concern, but she wanted to spend time with them. We rode in silence to the police station, both of us no doubt thinking about that little blue card that sat between us in a plastic bag.
When we walked through the door, Detective Larson happened to be walking near the vestibule. He waved to us and buzzed the security door open. We followed him down a long hallway, past several small conference rooms.
“Here, let’s take this one at the end.” He pushed the door open and flipped the light on but didn’t go in. “I have to grab something. I’ll be right back.”
We barely had time to sit, and he was already back with a blue folder in his hand.
He sat down and took a deep breath, looking back and forth between the two of us. “First of all, it’s good to see both of you again, I’m just sorry about the occasion. You”—he directed his attention to Dani—“look fantastic considering the week you’ve had, and I’m not sure any other woman I’ve ever met would be handling this with as much grace as you are.”
I slid my hand onto her knee as she pressed her lips together, nodding at Detective Larson. “Thank you for that.”
“Now, I don’t know about you two, but I could hardly sleep last night. I racked my brain over and over, trying to figure this out. I left my house at four o’clock this morning to sniff out what I could before you got here. First of all . . . the flowers. I’m assuming you brought the card?”
I reached into the breast pocket of my jacket, pulled out the bag, and set on the table in front of me.
“Thanks.” Detective Larson slid it off to the side. “I’ll have my team analyze it, but it won’t give us anything because he never touched it. The order was called in and paid for using a prepaid Visa card.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Flower shops open early. On a whim, I swung by there on the way in, and there were two employees already there, one of whom remembered taking this order.”
Dani put her hand on mine and squeezed gently.
“She didn’t remember if it was a man or a woman, unfortunately, because they get so many orders each day. This individual ordered the flowers, and when the flower shop employee asked what they wanted written on the card, she was uncomfortable with the answer. That answer,” he said, pointing toward the bag.
“So why did they even fill the order?” I growled, annoyed with the flower shop’s incompetence.
“Let me finish. Because she was a little taken aback by the answer, she asked the person ordering to provide their address, something they never do, but as soon as she did, they hung up.”
I sighed, worried that our lead just flew out the window.
“She filled the order because she was afraid she’d lose her job if she didn’t, but . . . it just so happens that this employee is a young girl in college, majoring in criminal justice, so she made a note of the exact date and time the call came in.”
“You’re shitting me,” Dani said incredulously.
“No, I’m not.” He shook his head with a crooked grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It took all of my self-control not to offer that kid a job on the spot. Anyway, with her information I was able to go to the jail and pull the phone records, which is how I found out that not only did Javier not make the call, he hasn’t used the phone one time. Literally. He’s never even been in the same room with the phone.”
I inhaled sharply, flaring my nostrils on purpose. “So we’re back to square one?”
“Not really,” he said excitedly. “Because of that flower order, I was able to obtain a warrant for his financial records, and due to a judge who owes me a couple of favors, I have them already. In this blue folder.” He slid the folder in front of him and rested his hands on it. “So this guy lives in a pretty slummy area on the outskirts of Minneapolis. Lots of crime and drugs there. He’s a construction worker without a steady job, and his apartment is modest at best, with run-down furniture and secondhand dishes. He definitely doesn’t live like a rock star.”
My neck felt hot, and the walls felt like they were closing in on us. I didn’t give a flying fuck what was on his dishes or if his couch was comfortable. “What’s your point?”
“Well, when I was going over his records, one thing jumped out at me. One big, fifteen-thousand-dollar thing.” He opened the file and turned it around.
Dani and I both leaned forward so we could read it. Several months back, about a week after Dani started working for me, a deposit was made into his account in the amount of fifteen thousand dollars.
“What’s a guy like that doing with that much money?” I asked as I sat back.
“Exactly,” Detective Larson exclaimed as he slammed his hand down hard on the table, causing Dani to nearly jump out of her seat. “So we did a little more digging and found the originator of the deposit came from an offshore account in Europe.”
“It is Cole!” Dani blurted out as she uncrossed her legs and sat up straight at the front of her seat.
Detective Larson and I both flinched at her outburst and stared at her, totally confused.
She ignored him and looked straight at me. “Andy, I was right. It’s Cole. It has to be. All of the athletes have offshore accounts that they hide money in . . . from the government, from their spouses, whatever. You know that.”
I pinched my top lip in between my teeth and nodded, thinking about what she’d just said. I looked up at Larson. “She’s right. A lot of them have these accounts. Can someone find a name for us?”
“The problem with these accounts is that they’re easier to fake than accounts in the US. We’ve already looked up where it came from, and I have to say, while it’s not impossible, it doesn’t seem like an account that a professional football player would have.” He flipped two or three pages over until he came to a sheet with a yellow-highlighted line on it. “Ah, here it is.”
Once again he turned it to face us, and as soon as I saw the name, all air left my lungs. My chest ached, and I struggled to breathe. I sat back and placed my palms firmly on the arm of the chair, pushing myself up. I was trying to elongate my torso to take a deep breath, but it wasn’t working.
Dani drew her brows in together and frowned at me. “Andy? Are you okay?”
“Mr. Shaw?” Larson said as I stood and paced along the back wall of the suddenly very small room.
Dani rushed over, placing her hands on my chest to stop me. “You’re scaring the crap out of me. What is it?”
I walked over to the paper and pointed to the highlighted line without saying a word.
Storybook Productions, LLC.
“Yeah?” She shrugged and looked at me again.
“That’s it. That’s the restaurant. Remember the one I told you Blaire and I used to go to in college?” I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of my mouth. “There’s no way this is a fucking coincidence.”
Dani’s breath hitched, and as all emotion left her face, the blood went right along with it. She turned white as I’d ever seen her, and I was worried she was going to pass out. “Here. Sit.” I took her hand and guided her to the chair, which she sat in, completely stunned and staring straight ahead.
“Who’s Blaire?” Larson asked, grabbing a pen and notepad from his pocket.
I put one hand on my hip and ran the other through my hair, not ready to say the words out loud. How could it be possible that she would stoop that low? She’d been a manipulative, money-hungry bitch throughout most of our marriage, but she’d never been a criminal.
“Mr
. Shaw?” he repeated.
“Uh . . . ex-wife. My psycho ex-wife, who’s obviously way crazier than I ever realized. She did this. I don’t know how, but she did this.” I sank down into my chair, rested my elbows on my knees, and leaned forward, staring deadpan at the black carpet as a tear dripped from the end of my nose.
CHAPTER 38
Danicka
As Andy filled Detective Larson in on the history behind Storybook Productions and the important facts of his past with Blaire, I recoiled into myself. I heard the sound of their voices but couldn’t make out their words as my eyes fixated on the laminated wood tabletop. My mind started to wander over to the realm of what-if.
What if I’d never stood up to Cole?
What if I’d never quit my job with the Leighton brothers?
What if I’d never sent that résumé in to Shaw Management?
What if I’d never gone into The Penalty Box that night with Sadie?
Questions played over and over in my mind, but with each question, the answer was always the same . . . then I never would have met Andy.
“Okay.” Detective Larson sighed loudly, bringing me back down to earth. “I have to go make a few calls and get the ball rolling on this. With any luck we can bring her in for questioning today.”
“I’d like to be there when you question her,” Andy said sternly.
“Absolutely not.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
Larson sighed, resting his forearms on the edge of the table as he stared at Andy. “Mr. Shaw, while I completely sympathize with your situation and what this appears to be turning out to be, I have protocol to follow, and having you in the room would jeopardize everything. I’m assuming you want any charges we’re able to bring against her to stick, right?”
Andy’s jaw clenched as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of him. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. The anger radiated off of him.
“I will make you one concession, though,” Detective Larson continued. “I’ll let you watch our conversation from a one-way mirror.”
Andy rolled his tongue in between his top teeth and lip, mulling over the detective’s offer. “Fine. I appreciate that.”
“Well, you’re going to be doing me a favor, too. You know her better than anyone, so if she says something that’s untrue or that I need to know more about, I’m going to need your input.”
Suddenly I felt like a spectator to my own life, like I was watching a crazy episode of Law & Order that just kept getting weirder and weirder. I wanted to change the channel desperately but there was no remote in sight. The thought of being in the room with Andy as he watched his ex-wife, Logan and Becca’s mother, be questioned by the police about her involvement in my attacks was beyond overwhelming.
“All right.” Detective Larson stood. “You guys can leave or hang tight here, it’s entirely up to you. No guarantees we’ll be able to get her in here today, if at all. The minute I make contact with her, I’ll call you.”
Andy nodded and extended his hand to Larson, who shook it back with a tight smile. “If she doesn’t come in, we’ll just have to do it the hard way, but most people are curious, so when I ask them to come in, they do. We’ll be in touch.”
We made our way down the hall and through the police station quietly. There was a weird tension between Andy and me that made me uncomfortable and scared at the same time. As soon as we stepped outside, he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.
He shoved his hands in his pockets as we walked to the parking lot. “Dani, I don’t even know how to say this or where to begin.”
Oh God. I’m under your wing. Don’t do this. Please, no no no.
“But I’m so, so sorry about this. I feel helpless, like it’s all my fault.”
I stopped walking and followed him with my eyes as he took a few more steps. When he realized I’d stopped and spun to face me, I frowned at him. “Your fault?” I exclaimed. “How is this your fault?”
“I’m the one that gives her alimony. It’s my money she used to pay that asshole to do this to you.” His eyes dropped to the ground, and he shook his head.
I took a couple of steps forward and rested my hand on his chest. “Andy, is that really what you think?”
He nodded subtly, and for the first time I could see the toll all this was taking on him. Dark circles hung under his normally sparkling blue eyes, his whole body was tense, and I hadn’t seen one of his big, famous Andy grins in a while.
“How were you supposed to know? Seriously. Think about that. When you two divorced years ago, how were you to have any idea that one day, way in the future, she was going to use some of her alimony to do bad things to your girlfriend?”
His eyes lifted to mine but he didn’t say anything.
“Sounds ridiculous when I say it like that, doesn’t it?”
He cleared his throat, and his cheeks reddened. “Kinda. But I just feel so—”
“Stop it,” I interrupted, shaking my head. “This is not your fault. It never was, and it never will be, so just agree never to discuss it again, okay?”
A small chuckle left his mouth as he stepped forward and wrapped me up in his arms.
“And never scare me like that again!” I mumbled into his jacket, giving his ribs a jab with my good hand.
He flinched backward and covered his ribs defensively. “Scare you?”
“Yeah!” I frowned as I landed another punch on his arm. “I thought you were breaking up with me!”
“What?!”
“You never start a sentence I don’t know how to say this! Women hear that sentence and immediately think you’re breaking up with us. I almost pushed you out into traffic!”
He was doubled over, holding his stomach because he was laughing so hard. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to.”
“Jerk!” I smacked him again playfully.
“Wait, wait.” He stood up and tried to stop laughing as he pulled his ringing phone from his pocket. He arched a brow when he looked at the screen and turned it on. “Shaw.”
“Who is it?” I mouthed quietly.
He stuck out his thumb and motioned back toward the police station. “Mm-hmm . . . okay . . . yeah, we’ll be right in.” He clicked the phone off and put it back in his pocket. “That was Larson. He made contact with Blaire already.”
“What? No way.”
“Yep. They called her and said they were conducting an investigation and had some questions, would she come in and talk to them. Apparently she said she had an appointment later, but she could come in right now. She’s on her way.”
“Holy crap! That was fast!”
My heart started pounding, each beat fueled by a different emotion.
Nervousness.
Hope.
Rage.
Fear.
Excitement.
Worry.
“Let’s head back in and wait.” Andy held his hand out, and I grabbed it.
“Do you think we’ll finally get some answers today?” I asked eagerly.
He shrugged and stepped back, holding the door open for me. “Based on how everything seems to go for us, I’d say no, but let’s be hopeful for once and say maybe . . .”
Detective Larson led us down a different hallway and into a room with a large window taking up one whole side. A table and four chairs were pushed off to the side, along with various empty boxes. I walked over to the window and took a shaky breath. “She’ll be in there?”
“Yep.” He nodded, pointing to a door next to the window. “That door leads in there, but we’ll be bringing her in through the door on the other side of the room. She’ll have no idea that you are here, and she is not under arrest, so just remember that. We can’t use anything she says against her until we’ve read her her rights. And we may not be able to do that today.”
I rubbed my chin and narrowed my eyes at him. “Why not?”
He shrugged. “If she denies everything, which she most likely wil
l, we’ll have to go talk to Javier and build our case from that angle, which would suck because he hasn’t been the most talkative guy. And unfortunately an offshore account and an ex-husband’s suspicion aren’t enough to compel a judge to give us a warrant for her financial records.”
“I see.”
“Now, there are some ground rules for being allowed in this room. Really just one. Whatever you do, do not bang on, hit, tap, knock, or even touch this window. Matter of fact, don’t even breathe on it, understand?”
Andy and I nodded, both taking a step back just as a female police officer knocked twice and opened the door. “Sorry to interrupt. Detective Larson, your interview is here.”
“Okay, show her in there, please. Through the other door.”
“Yes, sir.” She nodded once and shut the door.
My heart started thumping so loudly I was sure that both Andy and Detective Larson could hear it. The door on the other side of the room opened, and the female officer stepped inside, motioning Blaire toward the table just as Detective Larson reached around me and flipped a light switch next to the window.
“Can they hear us?” I asked as quietly as I could.
“No, you can hear them, but they can’t hear you,” he answered as he put his hand on the doorknob and turned back to us, holding one finger up.
“Remember . . . do not touch this window,” he warned one more time before entering the room.
Andy took a step behind me, rested his head on my shoulder, and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Ready?”
“I guess.” My hands shook as I raised them to my chest and nervously played with a button on my shirt.
“I love you.”
I turned my head slightly, brushing my cheek against his lips. “I love you.”
“Hi, Mrs. Shaw. I’m Detective Larson, the one you spoke with on the phone. Thank you for coming in so quickly.”
My stomach turned when he called her Mrs. Shaw. I knew that was her name, and I didn’t blame her for wanting to keep the same last name as her kids, but I was feeling petty, and it pissed me off.