by Brenda Novak
After eyeing it for several minutes—as though it was a snake ready to strike—she picked it up and dialed. She’d tried calling Skip earlier, on the captain’s phone. Then, when the police were here, they’d called together. Skip hadn’t answered, of course, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.
“This is Skip DeBussi of DeBussi Worldwide Investments. I’ll be unavailable until October 23rd. My assistant, Kelly Petruzzi, will handle any work-related matters in my absence—”
She hung up before he could recite Kelly’s contact information. She’d checked in with Skip’s assistant several times today. He hadn’t heard from her husband, either, which made no sense. Kelly always knew where to reach him in case there was an emergency.
If Skip was alive, he had to pick up at some point. He never went anywhere without his phone, and it certainly hadn’t been left on the boat.
Determined to put an end to what felt like a bizarre dream, Sophia tried him again. And again and again. If the police checked his phone records, it’d look like she was frantic to speak to him. But, in her heart of her hearts, she knew she was merely trying to confirm that he wasn’t going to answer.
The calls went directly to voice mail. Although she listened to his greeting every time, she left only one message. “Skip? Where are you?”
“Mrs. DeBussi?”
The voice didn’t belong to her husband. Startled in spite of that, she jumped and hit the end button. “Yes, Captain Armstrong?”
The Legacy’s captain came closer, his tall body momentarily blocking the lights of the city behind him. “You didn’t eat much dinner. Can I bring you a plate of cheese and crackers? Or a glass of wine?”
She definitely wanted a drink. Some chardonnay would relax her, help her get through what promised to be a rough night of wondering and waiting. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop at one glass. And she needed a clear head. Her daughter was depending on her for emotional strength and direction. The last thing she wanted to do was let Alexa down or prove Skip right—that she was nothing but a lazy drunk.
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
He seemed disappointed that she’d refused. He didn’t know she’d recently come out of rehab, or he would never have offered her wine. Skip, embarrassed by her addiction, had kept her stint at New Beginnings in Los Angeles a secret from everyone except his parents, who’d watched Alexa so he could work while she was gone.
“You should have some food to keep up your strength,” the captain coaxed.
Sophia wanted to eat for that reason but couldn’t swallow a bite. “I’m okay, really.”
With a nod, he moved toward the stairs. “I’m going to turn in, then.”
It was only nine o’clock, but why shouldn’t he enjoy some private time? There wasn’t much anyone could do to change the situation, except wait and see if Skip returned. Although the police had tried to find him by tracking his cell phone, there’d been no signal. According to them, he hadn’t placed a single call since early last night, when he’d talked to his office.
“Good night, Mr. Armstrong,” she said, “and rest easy. There’s nothing a ship’s captain needs to worry about while we’re docked at the marina.”
“This ship’s captain is worried about you,” he told her.
She glanced up. The light of the moon let her see the sympathy on his ruddy face.
“I’m sorry, you remind me of my daughter,” he said. “I can’t help feeling protective of you.”
Sophia might’ve been surprised, except she had that effect on most men, not just the fatherly types. Her mother used to laugh about it. You’re like a china doll, she’d say. Flawless but fragile. There isn’t a more potent combination for attracting the opposite sex.
Skip, of course, had put a darker spin on it. You’re like Marilyn Monroe. You have the kind of sex appeal that drives men crazy. You’ve constantly got them sniffing around, like dogs after a bitch in heat.
The first time Skip had ever hit her was following a chili cook-off sponsored by his wealthy parents. His own cousin, visiting from Denver, had pulled out a chair for her, and that was all it had taken to set him off—once they got home, of course. He’d accused her of flirting, of making his cousin believe she found him attractive.
“I appreciate your concern,” she said to Armstrong, “but...I—I’ll get through this somehow.”
“And if your husband doesn’t come back? Will you be able to get through that?”
Her life would be far easier than if he did. But she couldn’t admit it. “I’ll do my best for my daughter’s sake.”
“I hope it won’t come to that.”
She didn’t say anything, merely smiled as he left. Then she called Kelly to see if there’d been any news.
“Mrs. DeBussi?”
Her husband’s thirtysomething assistant sounded impatient, upset. At first, Sophia felt guilty, assuming she’d bothered him after hours. It was dark where she was—but then she remembered that Rio was five hours ahead of California. Back home, it was three in the afternoon.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you again,” she began, slightly put off, but he broke in before she could go any further.
“No, I’m glad to hear from you. Relieved. As a matter of fact, I was about to call.”
A tight ball of nerves formed in her belly. He’d never been excited to hear from her before. During their brief encounters, even the ones earlier today, he’d treated her with professional courtesy but that was it. Skip kept his business completely separate from his personal life. He hardly ever talked about what he worked on from day to day, or the places he went—unless it was to brag about some multi-million-dollar deal he’d closed.
“You’ve heard from my husband,” she said.
“Not a peep. But I really need to talk to him. He’s not back yet?”
She might’ve been glad there was still no sign of the man she’d grown to hate, but the anxiety in Kelly’s voice kept her on edge. “No. What’s going on?”
“The FBI is here. They’re looking for him.”
So soon? She’d had no idea the Brazilian police were going to contact the FBI. They hadn’t mentioned it. Did the FBI get involved in every case involving a missing American? Maybe if that American disappeared while out of the country. “That was fast. He’s only been gone fifteen hours or so.”
The tension in his voice rose a notch. “They’re not here for the reason you think. They have a search warrant.”
Sophia got to her feet. “What does that mean?”
“They’re demanding access to the offices, the files, everything.” Kelly’s emotions were obviously escalating toward panic. But other than an occasional speeding ticket—usually when he was driving his Ferrari since he had a chauffeur take him to and from the company offices in San Francisco—Skip had never been in trouble with the law.
“Why?”
He seemed to make an effort to keep his voice down. “I guess...I guess he’s the target of a probe. They plan to bring him up on criminal charges.”
Sophia was so stunned she couldn’t speak.
“Mrs. DeBussi?”
After clearing her throat, she managed to find her voice. “I’m here. What—what kind of criminal charges?”
“There’s a whole list. Just a sec, they gave me something—” She heard a flustered sigh, then sheets of paper rattling in the background before he came back on the line. “Here it is. He’s looking at several counts of conspiracy to commit mail and wire fraud, securities fraud and engaging in monetary transactions in property derived from specified unlawful activity.”
After such a windy day, the night was, by contrast, calm. But Sophia hardly felt calm inside. Conspiracy. Fraud. Unlawful...whatever that was. Those charges sounded like a jumble of very bad words. “And that adds up to...”
“From what I understand, he could go to prison for the rest of his life.”
Knees weak, Sophia felt behind her for a chair and sank into it. “It can’t be as bad as that.”
“They claim to have proof,” he said, “and they think they’re going to uncover more in their search.”
“They claim?” she echoed. “Is it true? Could it be true? Wouldn’t you know if he was doing something that...terrible?”
“How would I? He only tells me what he wants me to hear, and he’s never said anything about fraud. But—” he lowered his voice “—he has been acting strange lately.”
Somehow she’d missed every sign of that. But she’d been in rehab for a month, during which he could’ve done almost anything. During the first two weeks, she wasn’t even allowed to talk to him. And she’d been absolutely focused on maintaining her sobriety ever since. “In what way?”
“Distracted. Worried.”
“Why didn’t you say so earlier?” she asked, appalled. “When we called, you claimed everything was fine.” Kelly hadn’t seemed concerned in the least. He’d said that maybe Skip had arranged for a boat to pick him up and take him to Rio or somewhere else in Brazil.
“I was trying to keep the business running here and I wanted to handle the call the way he’d expect me to. What if I’d gotten everyone worked up and then he returned by nightfall? I never thought...I mean, I guessed a particular deal might not be going well, but there are always ups and downs when you’re managing investments. I had no idea his problems were this serious.”
Kelly had referred to prison. In a town the size of Whiskey Creek, the humiliation of criminal prosecution would be devastating—not just for her and Skip and his parents, who were so proud of him, but for Alexa, who’d had everything money could buy and was used to feeling important and admired.
“Those charges you mentioned—mail fraud and...and securities fraud. They’re not murder. They’re not anything...violent. If he gets a good attorney, he’ll be able to stay out of prison, won’t he?”
“It’s white-collar crime, but those are serious charges.”
She rubbed her temples. She had such a headache. She needed a drink but refused to succumb to the pressure. How could she handle all this if she was drunk? Lexi needs me.
“They’re not coming after you, too....”
“They haven’t said, but I can’t imagine they are. All they have to do is follow the money to know I haven’t been involved.” But his job was in jeopardy. That couldn’t be easy to hear, especially out of the blue.
“I’m still not clear on what he’s done,” she said. “Or what they say he’s done.”
“He’s stolen money, Mrs. DeBussi.”
But he always had so much. Why would he need to steal? “From who?”
“From his investors.”
Oh, God... “Then what’s the mail fraud?”
“I can’t say how that figures in, exactly. It’s one of the charges. According to a special agent by the name of Freeman, your husband’s been taking investors’ funds and funneling them into private accounts and privately held companies instead of putting them into the SLD Growth Fund. Maybe they mailed him the payments. The FBI is asking a lot of questions but they’re not giving a lot of answers.”
Funneling money into personal accounts? Why would Skip be so dishonest? “He wouldn’t cheat anyone. He must’ve been borrowing the money. He’ll pay it back.”
“Impossible.”
“Excuse me?”
Kelly’s whisper grew louder. “Do you have any idea how much we’re talking about?”
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She wanted to be home where she could find solace in the familiar. “No. How much?”
“Sixty million dollars.”
Sophia felt faint. “That’s a huge amount of money.” Even to her, and she was used to hearing Skip talk in big figures.
“More than he’ll ever be able to come up with.”
“So...who’s been hurt? Which investors?”
“Anyone who gave him money for the SLD Fund.”
“And the SLD Fund is...”
“The money that was supposed to be invested in a diverse array of assets and publicly traded equities.”
Wait. The “publicly traded equities” reference jogged her memory. She’d heard Skip talking about the SLD Fund with various people around town. That was the big moneymaking opportunity he’d been pushing for the past year. “You’re saying these investors have lost their money? There’s no way to get it back?”
“Now you’re catching on,” Kelly retorted. “I’m guessing he wouldn’t have taken it if he didn’t need it, but that doesn’t make this right. He’s been struggling to cover our overhead here for months. I thought he’d get the finances straightened out when he closed the next deal. That’s what he told me. He said he had a big one coming down the pike. But now...I’m wondering if he’s been saying that just to buy time, so I’d stick around until the end and help him keep up appearances.”
“You’re making it sound like...like DeBussi Investments is defunct. Broke!”
“It should sound that way. Because unless he’s sitting on a secret stash somewhere, it’s true.”
“That can’t be possible.” Skip always had money. Although he’d entered the business world right out of high school and hadn’t attended a day of college, he’d been independently wealthy by the time she married him, when they were twenty-two. And he’d grown richer as the years passed. Not long ago, California Business, a respected magazine, had touted him the best investment consultant in the state.
“But if there’s no money in DeBussi Investments, what about our personal finances?” she asked. “Maybe I can pay some of it back.” At least to the people she knew.
“I have no idea how things stand on the personal side,” Kelly said.
That gave Sophia some hope, but she found out soon enough that she wouldn’t be able to right Skip’s wrongs. When she tried to buy fuel for the Legacy the next morning, she learned that the FBI had frozen all of their bank and credit accounts.
3
Sophia squinted against the bright afternoon sun. She’d never been fond of her in-laws, especially Skip’s mother. Generally, they treated her with a sort of mild neglect, and she pretended not to notice, but occasionally she detected real disdain. She could only assume that her husband had complained about her to them the way he did to Lexi. She’d never said or done anything that should put her out of favor—but there was her drinking problem. Their disapproval and their coolness toward her made it difficult to turn to them, even in her hour of need. She’d called them today because they deserved to know that their son was missing. He was fairly close to them, as close as he was to anybody, and she needed money to fly Alexa and her home. It wasn’t as if she could go to her parents for help. It’d been twelve years since her father had died of prostate cancer, fourteen since her mother had been hospitalized for good.
“What are you talking about?” Sharon snapped. “This can’t be true.”
Sophia had just told her that Skip hadn’t been on the boat when she woke up yesterday and she hadn’t seen him since. She’d decided not to mention the FBI. She figured hearing that their son had disappeared and was likely dead would be hard enough; they could deal with the rest once she got home and had more information. Despite the harsh reality of her current financial situation, or perhaps because of it, Sophia kept hoping that there was a logical explanation—other than what the facts seemed to suggest.
“Sharon, it’s true,” she said. “I have no idea where he could be. I contacted the Brazilian police, of course, and they’ve been searching ever since. But it’s been thirty-two hours and there’s no sign of him.”
“Have you called his cell?”
“Over and over.”
“He must’ve had business in Rio,” his mother said in her usual brusque manner. She always acted as if she had all the answers. “You know how he is. He works nonstop.”
“Are you saying he swam to his appointment? Because that’s the only way he could’ve gotten there—unless we all missed the fact that a boat came alongside us in the night.”
&n
bsp; Silence met this response. Sharon had heard the sarcasm, but at this particular moment Sophia couldn’t tolerate her mother-in-law’s supercilious attitude. She was having trouble holding herself together. Although she’d made it through the entire night without a drop of alcohol, she hadn’t slept. Her eyes felt like sandpaper, her head and her stomach ached, and she had some terrible truths to face—truths that would change her whole life. If Skip didn’t come back, if he didn’t straighten out the mess he’d made, she’d have no way to survive, let alone take care of their daughter.
She stared at her naked ring finger. On their tenth anniversary, Skip had replaced her wedding ring with a five-carat diamond that was worth over two hundred thousand dollars. But when she entered rehab, he’d taken it back, saying he wanted to have it appraised for insurance purposes....
In light of what she’d been told during the past two days, she suspected it hadn’t gone to an appraiser.
“I’m sorry.” She hid her hand from view, so she wouldn’t have to be reminded of the ring, and struggled to gain control of her emotions. “I—I’m upset, as you can imagine. Like I said, I have no idea what happened, why Skip isn’t here or where he might be. I hope he’s okay, that everything will end well. But I desperately want to come home. I have to come home. I can wait for him there.”
“It’s been a day—one day. Surely you wouldn’t give up hope and leave your husband so quickly.”
Flinching, she grappled for an explanation that wouldn’t include admitting that the FBI had accused Skip of being a criminal. She knew what that would do to his parents. They thought he walked on water. They’d always preferred him to his brother, who worked as a plumber and had five kids with four different women. “I can’t stay here. There’s been a...a mix-up with our accounts, and I’m not able to cover food and supplies or pay the crew.”