“What the fuck? He said...” I pause again, unable to spit out the words. My mind’s a mess, turned into one of those bingo machines and all the balls are being spun around while someone turns the crank, and then one ball comes out, only for myself, it’s one word. “He... where... I...” And then I finally get a full sentence out. “He knew what my wife bought when she went shopping the afternoon of David’s death.”

“What time was that?” my father asks.

“Maybe two, or three,” I say.

“Yes, that’s possible. He left the airport at one.” The Detective wipes the front window free of fog with the sleeve of his coat as he speaks. “The Scarlett’s humid tonight and the cold air moving in can make ya feel down in the dumps, don’t you think? I mean, it’s gloomy weather again, isn’t it?”

What an ass, and I can tell by the expression on his face that he knows if he doesn’t put a lid on it, I’ll do it for him. Luckily, his cell saves him from making an even bigger fool out of himself. He walks over to the bar to take the call while the last witness finishes her statement and walks out of the Scarlett.

“She’ll be okay, Cove.” My father delivers one last squeeze before releasing his grip. “If anything, Marcus better watch himself. Sophia’s not going to take being pushed around, and when she takes a swing he’s not going to know what hit him.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Detective Ferguson snaps his fingers to get the attention of the officers in the room. They gather around the bar and wait for him to end his call. He says, “no shit,” a number of times before placing the cell on his shoulder and telling everyone, “They found ‘em. Pack up. Sarge will send out an update with the information in a sec.”

“My wife?” I stand. “Is she alright? Where is she?” My father holds me back until the Detective’s off the line. “What the hell’s going on?” I demand an answer.

The officers disappear one by one out the door and into the steady rain. I start to panic. My heart pumps with wild force as I look at my watch with irritation. It’s been close to an hour and anything could’ve happened in that time. Please, God, let her be okay.

My father puts his hand on my shoulder as the Detective approaches, and my mother stands to the side with her hand over her mouth... waiting... waiting... fuck, I can’t breathe.

“Your wife is fine, Mr. Everton.”

“Thank you,” I exhale in relief, then look to the ceiling and repeat those words. “Thank you.” I’m not religious, but when my brain processes news like this, I’ll thank whoever’s up above, and I notice my parents do the same. Their shoulders relax and my mother wipes the tears off her cheeks.

“Is she on her way?” I ask.

“No, I’m afraid not,” he shakes his head. “Mr. Everton, I have some difficult news to tell you.”

“What? You said she was alright.”

“She is.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Well,” he sighs. “According to the officers who questioned them, your wife went with him willingly and she’s still with him now.”

“No,” I whisper and shake my head.

“They were stopped at the hotel he’s registered at, and your wife had a suitcase with her.”

“No,” I continue shaking my head in disbelief as I think of David Rosen’s words about my wife. “She won’t be in that big penthouse of yours for long, now that the money’s finally flowing in from her father’s estate. She’s been using you, dumbass. Waiting for her daddy’s money.”

“Cove, it’s okay. There must be an explanation for all of this. It’s all going to be fine,” my mother says.

And then I recall Marcus’s words. “Does little Sophie Jameson have plans for that fat check? I heard she didn’t have much growing up, was a poor kid living in a dilapidated house with a nutcase of a mother. I wouldn’t be surprised if that check makes her feel powerful and finally in control of her life.”

“No,” I repeat in a louder voice and look toward my office. The check.

“Your wife said she was going to call you as soon as...”

I race past him, up the stairs, and pull her purse out from under my desk, dumping the contents out and emptying the pockets; she has it. She has the check. It’s gone. She’s gone.

“Sophia!” I shout with a stopped heart. I feel dead, like my life just ended and I was the one shot in the head, not Paul or David. I kick my desk and my foot goes through the wood, making a hole and trapping my leg inside. My father walks in and helps me step out of the splintered opening and then grips my shoulders and forces me to look him in the eye.

“Damn her and Marcus, whoever the fuck he is.” My fist’s a bomb that’s been dropped from a plane, on its way down to crash into the earth, taking out everyone in its path. When I find him he’ll be reduced to nothing.

“Cove. Look at me, come back to me,” my father says while holding my shoulders still. “Control yourself before you do something stupid.”

“What? Like marry Paul’s daughter? That was stupid.”

“Don’t think that way. We have no idea what’s going on. Talk to her before you jump to conclusions.”

The Detective joins us in my office and my mother’s sobs can be heard down below.

“Listen to her,” I say with a nod of my head toward the balcony railing. “Even Mom can sense that I got fucked over.”

“Mr. Everton,” Detective Ferguson steps forward. “Your father’s right, you need to speak to Sophia. She left of her own accord and there’s nothing more that we can do, but you also don’t have the full story. My advice is to call her. I’m not getting involved in a family feud, however, I believe you’ll have a different take on the incident once you speak to your wife.”

“Well, Detective, doesn’t that just sound easy as pie? You have no idea what’s going on either,” I seethe. “If you had the full story, you’d know why I feel this way.” I break away from my father in need to kick or punch another object. My foot makes contact with the heavy bag as I groan in anger.

“After questioning Marcus, I have inside information about him that I can tell you’re unaware of. It would be best for you to call them,” he responds before my father cuts in.

“I know what you’re thinking, but you have to trust her, son. Don’t jump ahead of yourself without any evidence.”

“She has the inheritance check, Dad, and took off with some guy. Suitcase in hand, for fuck’s sake.” Turning quickly, I look at Detective Ferguson. “What hotel are they in?”

“We can’t give out exact information. Your wife’s an adult and it’s her decision whether or not she wants to disclose her location to you.”

“I’m her goddamn husband!” I respond in frustration as I search for my phone, checking all my pockets and then the office. It must have fallen when I ran downstairs to catch Marcus.

“It’s there, Cove,” my father points, “next to the chair.”

I slide the screen and see two messages, both from Marcus’s cell.

“Did she call?” my father asks.

“Maybe,” I say.

“Mr. Everton,” the Detective extends a hand. “I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure and to take care, but with your track record, it seems more appropriate to say see you tomorrow.”

I shake his hand with a straight face. “I don’t appreciate your sense of humor. And you won’t be back. We won’t be seeing one another ever again.” My father leads him out and I finally have a moment alone.

I look at the screen of my cell and tap my message box, hoping Sophia called and not Marcus. I’m sick to my stomach. What inside information does the detective have? Is Marcus, Evan? Evan was coming to the Scarlett tonight; it’s him. Has to be...

The first message starts, and it’s not the voice I wanted to hear.

“Cove, Marcus here,” he laughs. “Just checking in, wanted to know if you’re worried about anything. Like, perhaps, your wife?”

“You fucker, don’t be mean to him.” I hear Sophia in the background.