Just My Luck, page 24
“Mr. Hansen has been reported missing. Recently his vehicle was found abandoned. You and the men you were with were the last known interaction shortly before his disappearance. We’d like to talk to you about that. We would like you to come with us right now.”
I didn’t miss the way the officer’s fingertips brushed his handcuffs. The gesture spoke volumes.
“No!” I shouted. Panic zipped through me.
Abel shook his head. “Sloane, it’s fine. I’ll go with them.” He looked between the officers. “They just want to talk.”
The second officer stepped forward. “This way.”
I watched in horror as shame consumed the man I loved. Before my own eyes, he was transformed.
My eyes bounced between his, desperately trying to understand what was happening.
From behind, Ben pushed past me, clinging to Abel’s leg. “Stop! Please. Please don’t go!”
Abel’s eyes pleaded with me. “Ben. This is just a misunderstanding. I’m going to talk with them. It’s going to be okay.”
Ben cried out and tightened his grip.
I carefully pried my wailing son from Abel’s leg. “I’m calling the lawyer. Just don’t say anything. We’ll figure this out.”
Abel only nodded.
In his truck, he followed behind the squad car, and I watched in horror as they drove away.
THIRTY-FOUR
ABEL
The interrogation room of the Remington County Sheriff’s Office was cramped and cold. The air hung heavy with the acrid smell of stale coffee and lemon-scented cleaner. The harsh, fluorescent lighting cast a murky pallor over the worn-out linoleum floor, where I counted the scuff marks beneath the table. The cold bite of handcuffs against my wrists was the only distraction from the unforgiving metal chair.
After walking me to the interrogation room at the back of the police station, they’d deposited me into the chair and started asking questions. I offered a half-truth that Jared had been punched, and I allowed them to believe it was me who’d done it.
They determined that that made me a threat, and I was unceremoniously handcuffed and left while they figured out their next move.
I assumed making me wait was only part of their interrogation tactics.
The muted whir of a distant air conditioner provided a feeble attempt at comfort, but the oppressive atmosphere clung to the room like a heavy fog. My every breath seemed amplified in the small space, each inhale bringing with it the musky odor of anxiety. The oppressive weight of the room pressed on me as I waited, handcuffed and vulnerable.
The look on Ben’s face as they walked me away from my home played on a loop in my mind. I shifted in the uncomfortable chair, an ache settling between my ribs.
Sloane didn’t deserve this. None of them do.
Shame coursed through me as the metal hinges of the door groaned and a detective in an ill-fitting, shit-colored suit walked in.
“Mr. King.” He nodded once and looked down at the file folder in his hands.
My jaw clenched. “Am I a suspect? Am I being charged?”
His eyebrows popped up. “A suspect?” His head tilted. “For which crime, exactly?”
Fuck.
Sloane’s plea to keep my mouth shut echoed through my mind. I had the sinking feeling that something bad had happened, and I was public enemy number one. Only, this time I hadn’t actually done anything, yet it didn’t seem to make any difference at all.
I gathered my breath. “I would like to speak with my lawyer.”
The detective chuffed. “I’m sure you would.”
My brows scrunched down as I raised my head to look at him. My stomach pitched as his gaze communicated that, to him, I was nothing more than a common criminal breathing his air and taking up his space.
The room’s cold beige walls seemed to close in on me, suffocating, as if they held secrets whispered between the peeling paint and the microscopic cracks. The one-way mirror mocked my every move, a silent spectator to the tension that electrified the room. The taste of dread clung to my senses like the damp chill that permeated the air.
I had fucked up by willingly walking into the station and running my mouth. Now I was no longer able to leave on my own accord.
The electric click of the door lock drew our attention as a second officer entered. She leaned in and whispered something to the detective as he stared at me. Annoyance flickered over his features, and his gaze swept me up and down.
“You’re sure?” he asked the officer. She nodded before silently exiting. The detective slapped the folder onto the table in frustration. “Well, Mr. King . . .” The detective rounded my seat, towering over me. He reached down, slipped his hand under my biceps and yanked upward. A pinch in my shoulder screamed as I stood, my arms still locked behind my back.
At my full height, I looked down at him over my shoulder. He shook his head and reached into his pocket to pull out a set of keys. “Looks like today is your lucky day.”
Without tenderness, he jostled my arm and yanked on my handcuffs to release me. Once I was freed, I rubbed my raw wrist with my other hand.
“You’re free to go.” He gestured toward the door, but paused. “For now.”
Unease rolled through me, but I was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He led me down the hall toward the precinct’s lobby.
My steps faltered when it was not Sloane standing by the reception desk, but rather my father.
Without a hair out of place, Russell King stood eerily still, his hands clasped in front of him.
I blinked. “You’re here.”
“Of course I’m here.” He turned to the detective. “Thank you, sir—for your duty and care of my son.”
I watched in shock as my father shook hands and charmed everyone in the office of the police station.
He turned to me. “Let’s get you home, son.” His hand landed in a hard thump on my shoulder as he pulled me toward the door.
I moved with wooden steps, and we walked into the sunlight. Dad’s car and driver were waiting for us. Russell King climbed in and I followed, sitting next to him in the back seat of the luxury car.
The mood shifted as soon as the door to the outside world slammed shut. “These messes of yours, Abel . . . they’re really getting to be an inconvenience.”
“I’m sorry.” My apology was so automatic it made me sick. I swallowed past the pebbles in my throat. “It was a misunderstanding. Sloane’s ex-husband was giving her and the kids some trouble. I only had a conversation with him, but—I’m working it out.”
My father laughed. “Harassing a man in a public place with the help of Sullivans? You’re better than that and you know it. We have to be smart about this, son.”
I lifted a noncommittal shoulder. I didn’t trust my father and wasn’t about to divulge my suspicions that Jared was behind the fire at the Robinson place. I was already looking into it, and knew it was going to take some time. My father was undeterred by my stony silence.
The car wove down county roads in the direction of our hometown. The closer we got, the more a hot ball of tension pinched behind my shoulder blades.
“No more outsiders, son.” It was clear from his tone that my father’s words were a warning.
I stared at my calloused hands.
His disappointed, long-suffering sigh was so familiar I could recall it in my sleep. “Did you really think a half-rate criminal like Oliver Pendergrass was going to take care of things for us?” Disdain rolled off his tongue as he scoffed. “Please.”
How the fuck did he know about Oliver?
I struggled to maintain my composure. “I am doing what I can to figure it out. But now her ex is missing, and they’re looking at me, apparently.”
He waved a hand in the air. “He won’t be an issue anymore.”
I stared at the side of my father’s face as the car rolled down the street. “What did you do?”
My father adjusted his shirtsleeves beneath his suit jacket. “What I always do. I took care of the problem. Stop asking questions, Abel.”
Ice ran through my veins.
Like you took care of my mother?
I opened my mouth to ask—to accuse—when he stopped me.
His heavy sigh dripped with parental disappointment. “I assumed you would have learned your lesson the first time.”
My blood ran cold. “My lesson?”
Dad shifted against the leather seat. “My children don’t seem to appreciate all I do for them—the lessons I have taught. That’s my cross to bear, I suppose.” A chilling smile spread across his face. “But you learned, didn’t you? I knew a little time away would prove to you where you belong. This new, unfortunate development was just a blip, and it’s taken care of. Tell me you’ve finally learned your lesson, Abel.”
Dread and sweat prickled my hairline as realization settled over me. “It was you. You were the reason the judge was so harsh at my sentencing?”
“Harsh?” he chuffed. “You killed a child. Do you know how bad that looks?”
I blinked, unwilling to accept the truth scratching at my brain. “I fell asleep. It was an accident.”
The words felt foreign, and I waited for the inevitable shame to seep in, reminding me that I was truly a monster. Only . . . there was nothing. The pain and guilt never really subsided, but for the first time, I was starting to accept that what happened was truly an accident.
“True. It was very unfortunate.” He swallowed the word as if holding back his disgust. With a sigh, he spread his hands. “But look at you now. You’re home, running a successful business.” His shoulder bumped into mine. “You’re a King and finally acting like it—thanks to me. Though we still have to talk about your little stunt with Sloane’s trust fund. If it were anyone else who’d done that to me, things would have gone very differently, but you are my son.”
My nostrils flared. “Leave my wife out of this.”
Russell tsked his tongue. “Wife.” The word spat from his mouth like venom. “Are you still putting on that charade?” He shook his head and sighed. “As an unlikely couple, you two are pretty convincing, I’ll give you that. You’ve fully seduced Bug into thinking the marriage is real.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “It is real. My feelings for Sloane are very real.”
My father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear, when will my children learn to stop moving through life tethered by their heartstrings?”
I barely recognized the man sitting next to me. His navy bespoke suit was a stark contrast to my simple jeans and scuffed work boots.
He sucked in a deep breath through his nose and exhaled. “To be honest, I’m quite proud. You found a way to pull the brewery out from under me.” His wink sent an oily shiver down my back. “Maybe there’s hope for you to live up to my name yet.”
Reeling, I sat against the black leather interior with closed eyes and let painful realization wash over me.
Everything in my life was made of tinder, and Russell King had lit a match.
THIRTY-FIVE
SLOANE
Abel returned home a fractured man.
He painted a small smile on his face and reassured the kids that his conversation with the police was not a big deal. The red marks around his wrists told me differently.
I knew deep down that his brave face was a facade to not scare my children, and while I deeply appreciated that, I couldn’t help but feel discouraged that he’d shut me out too.
If he looked at me one more time with sad eyes and said I’m fine, I was going to scream.
Over the next few days, Abel buried himself in work, leaving to check or recheck temperatures, filters, and pumps. We were living in his house without him, and his absence left my emotions feeling raw.
Frazzled, I jolted when my phone rang. Clutching my throat, I let out a relieved laugh at how jumpy I’d been lately. Recognizing my lawyer’s number, I painted a smile on my face and attempted to sound cheery. “Hello?”
“Sloane? Laura Michaels. Is now a good time?” I had learned to appreciate my lawyer’s directness. She had come highly recommended and was a respected family law attorney.
“Hey, Laura. Thanks.” I checked my watch. “It’s fine. What’s up?”
“A small update. We’ve submitted a statement disagreeing to each point in your ex-husband’s complaint on your behalf. We have also filed a counterclaim. The next step is a meeting with the friends of the court case manager. Given the past domestic nature of your relationship, those meetings will be held separately. Although it seems the plaintiff’s attorney has had some difficulty contacting their client.”
My mind raced back to finding the shower curtain open. I knew that just because Jared was quiet, it didn’t mean he was gone.
“I know Jared. He will put up a fight.” I hated knowing the truth in my words.
“I would assume so based on the aggressive nature of his complaint.” Her words were harsh, but honest. “I do have to tell you . . .”
My heart hammered. “What is it?”
“The complaint was well drafted and brings to light some very difficult issues, particularly the short nature of your relationship and the criminal history of your current spouse.”
The air swirled around me, and I was stunned into silence. This was supposed to be a slam dunk.
“If you stay with him,” she continued, “there is a very real possibility that your ex-husband will gain custody of the children, depending on the judge.”
The truth stabbed like a driven nail. My hands shook. “I can’t lose my children.” My voice cracked, and I was barely holding it together.
“We are doing everything we can to ensure that doesn’t happen. However, if we cannot mediate a custody and visitation agreement with the FOC, it will go in front of a judge, who will be forced to make a final ruling in what he or she believes is in the best interest of the children.”
My knees shook, and I sank to the floor. My voice was barely a whisper. “I understand.”
My attorney politely ended the call, and I stared into nothingness. I couldn’t seem to wrap my brain around the fact that I could accept a custody agreement that allowed my dangerous ex-husband access to our children or fight and risk losing them altogether.
It wasn’t only Jared using Abel’s conviction against him, just as he’d feared. It was a heartbreaking realization that his past was a brand that he would always wear. So few were willing to look past it to see the man he was—the man he had worked so hard to become.
Despair seeped into my bones until I was left with two impossible outcomes—I could end my marriage to the man I had fallen in love with, or risk the safety of my children.
“You’re quiet.” Sylvie’s voice was soft and concerned.
I pressed my lips together in a strained smile. “I’m sorry.”
My best friend’s arm wrapped around me as we sat on a blanket by the beach and watched our children play—hers on a towel in front of us and mine splashing in Lake Michigan with Abel and Duke. The men took turns growling and chasing the squealing twins and propping them on their shoulders for a game of chicken.
Sylvie’s head rested on my shoulder. She was so good at holding space for me. I could tell her everything or nothing, and she would understand. I looked across the sandy beach at her brother.
But how could I tell her this?
Sylvie had asked me to be careful with Abel’s heart. I’d learned just what she meant about the sensitive nature he tried so hard to keep hidden. It was one of the many reasons I’d fallen madly and completely in love with him.
Abel had been transformed from a sullen grump on the fringes of our town to frolicking on the beach with a Sullivan, playing a game of tag with my kids. He scooped Ben into his arms and swung him in a circle as his laugh rang out above the rolling waves.
Our love did that.
And one decision could completely destroy him.
“Any more news from the lawyers?” Sylvie’s attention was on Gus, so she didn’t see me swallow back the bile that had risen in my throat.
“Not much. I had my appointment with the friends of the court and gave them the rocky history of my relationship with Jared. We talked about how Abel and I met and fell for each other. I highlighted how well the kids are doing here—Tillie with her clubs and artwork and Ben making new friends and having less incidents with his anxiety. I told the woman how the children are in therapy and really bonding with Abel.” I shrugged. “She took a lot of notes.”
“You’ve changed him, Sloane.” She gestured toward her brother. “I mean look at him. He’s a dad.”
Unshed tears stung my nose as I planted my tongue on the roof of my mouth and watched Abel be silly and play with the twins. I nodded and let out a watery laugh. “Yeah . . .” I swiped under my eyes. “Yeah, I guess he is.”
Duke walked up and plopped onto the blanket next to Sylvie, kicking up sand. “Sorry,” he offered before scooping Gus up and bouncing him on his lap. “Pretty soon I’ll be chasing you across the beach, huh, big guy?”
Gus babbled at his dad as I watched the scene unfold. Behind him, a group of women gestured toward our group with curious eyes and hushed whispers.
I jutted out my chin. “Looks like you and Abel have caused quite a stir.”
Duke didn’t bother looking behind him, but Sylvie laughed when she saw the group of women tittering and shielding hushed words behind their hands.
“If they think Duke and I getting together caused a stir”—she giggled—“you can imagine the gossip now that people think we’re all friends.”
Duke scoffed as though it was still an insult to be considered the friend of a King, and I smiled at him. “Aren’t you?”
He rolled his eyes and looked at Abel. “I guess.”
The tension fizzled as Sylvie and I laughed.
“Men are so dumb,” Sylvie joked. “Don’t think I don’t know about the text thread.”
