If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(103)
“Coming.” She appeared with a fourth large suitcase in tow. “This is everything that matters.”
Clearly, one benefit of boat dwelling is that you don’t need many clothes or other things.
“Lovely doing business with you both.” The agents were only one boat away now. “Good luck to you. You’re gonna need it.”
Lyle noticed the men rushing the boat. By the time his confused gaze snapped to mine, I’d pulled out my phone to snap his picture. “Oh, that’s a keeper. Might have to blow it up for when I need a good laugh.”
Agent Reyes asked, “Lyle Foster?”
“Who wants to know?” Lyle scowled.
“I’m Agent Reyes of the FBI, and you’re under arrest.”
Ebba’s eyes widened as she sank onto an empty chair.
Lyle growled at me, “We made a deal, Erin.”
I could’ve burst into a little dance right there but didn’t want to annoy the officers. Instead, I shrugged. “Oops. Guess you’re not the only one who can lie. Sucks to trust the wrong person, doesn’t it? I’ll let these gentlemen handle it from here. Think I’ll check out my accommodations for the night.” I handed Reyes the recording device, gave a little wave to Lyle and Ebba, and brushed past everyone while the officers read them both their rights.
I did it! The adrenaline rush made my hands shake while I grasped the title. My dad would be proud. Smiling through relieved tears, I texted Amanda the picture of Lyle with a note that read Woot! Print this with a note, and drop it in the memory jar for me.
Hot damn, this would be an absolutely perfect afternoon—if only it hadn’t cost me a chance with Eli.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
AMANDA
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come for moral support?” Erin helped me wrestle my way into a maternity maxidress with short sleeves that complied with the strict dress code requirements of the Chesapeake Detention Facility in Baltimore. No exposed shoulders, knees, backs, or bellies. I hadn’t paid this much attention to my appearance since my wedding day—a day I couldn’t think about without bitterness. “He’s going to be pissed as hell and probably try to strike back at you. I think you need backup.”
Lyle would be enraged after he got over his shell shock that I’d willingly faced public humiliation in order to bring him down. It hadn’t been easy. News of his arrest had hit our local paper when he landed in Baltimore in handcuffs five days ago. Suddenly all the lookie-loos who typically ignored me were “checking in” to see if I needed anything.
When I’d wished to be on friendlier terms with women like Barb and Sandy, I hadn’t wanted to field comments like “Oh, you poor thing. It must be awful—aw-ful—to have to deal with this when you’re about to give birth.” Worse was imagining the things they said behind my back. But Erin had been right. The satisfaction of having done right kept me from shriveling into a ball.
Mom couldn’t stand her “well-intentioned” neighbors, so she’d fled town for a while—to Aunt Dodo’s, of all places. I supposed, when the chips were down, your best refuge was family. A sister. Mine had been by my side nonstop since returning from Puerto Rico.
“No, thanks. I need to do this by myself, for myself.” I toyed with my hair. Lyle hadn’t seen my new hairstyle. I wanted to look fantastic to make him eat his heart out, so I fluffed its layers. I knew it to be silly and vain—hardly something that would undo how much of a fool he’d made of me—but it was better than nothing.
Then again, his new home—the former supermax prison that now functioned as a pretrial detainment center for federal criminals—probably preoccupied him with bigger concerns than my appearance. Frankly, I was surprised he’d approved my visitation application.
“Are you nervous?” Erin flicked her wrists.
“What do you think? Willa’s future depends on me convincing him to give up custodial rights.” I’d hardly slept from practicing my speech over and over. Even now, my pulse kicked an extra beat while thinking about it.
“I’m sure his lawyer told him that being cooperative will help with his plea bargain.”
Kevin had also offered to meet me, but today wasn’t only about legalities. I needed personal closure.
“That doesn’t mean Lyle will do the right thing or be mature about this.” I closed my eyes momentarily. “We loved each other—or I loved him—for a long time. I need to make peace so I can move on.”
Erin’s expression told me that peace was the last thing she wanted. Emotional catharsis and resolution didn’t mean much to her. But trading insults with Lyle wouldn’t bring me to a place where I could be a happy mother, and that was now my number-one goal.
“If I were you, I’d be dancing the jig at what’s happening to him.”
“I’m not made that way.” I wouldn’t waste my breath with too much explanation. “I’m proud of how we worked together to get justice, but take no joy in his suffering.” Ebba’s? Yeah, maybe a little.
Erin thrust her arms upward, head shaking. “He hurt you so much—how can you not rejoice in seeing him get what he deserves?”
I stared at her, uncertain I would ever be capable of putting my feelings into words. “I stood before God and swore to love him, for better or worse. Many nights I lay in his arms, feeling the happiest and most loved I’ve ever felt.” I rubbed my stomach. “Together we created this amazing little life that I’ll cherish until my last breath. So while I hope this experience keeps him from hurting others down the road, it’ll be hard to see him in a jumpsuit, surrounded by guards and razor wire and inmates. To know that, at some point, when he gets out, he’ll be a harder, changed version of the man who had, for a few years, been my world . . .”