Take Me Home for Christmas

6

Agent Freeman knocked at Sophia’s door two days after the funeral. She was impressed he’d waited that long. She figured she was lucky he hadn’t followed her home the day they’d laid Skip to rest, hoping he’d get her to reveal something she might not have had she been emotionally stable.

“Do you have a few minutes?” he asked.

A knot of anxiety formed instantly in her stomach, or maybe it had been there since Skip first disappeared. Lately, she seemed to flinch at the slightest provocation. She didn’t know when the next blow would hit or where it would come from, but almost every day held another nasty surprise, from news of the FBI probe, to the discovery of Skip’s body, to the large number of people who’d been cheated, especially here in Whiskey Creek, to the unexpected coldness of his family.

Knowing it wouldn’t do her any good to put off this interview, Sophia stepped back. “Come in.”

He didn’t react to her invitation right away. He angled his head up, as if he was taking in the size and grandeur of her home. Skip had spared no expense when he’d had the mansion built. He’d wanted to inspire jealousy and admiration, and he’d succeeded—which was coming back to bite her now that there was nothing to be admired.

“Is your daughter here?” Agent Freeman asked when he finally moved past her.

“No.” That provided Sophia with a small measure of relief. She’d been careful to say nothing disparaging about Skip; she couldn’t see how depriving Alexa of her father on a completely different level—destroying all the good memories she still had—would make anyone’s life easier. But in the past week her daughter had heard plenty. Still, there was no need for Lexi to get another earful, especially in her own home. “She’s back in school.”

“So soon?”

“Because of the trip, she was off for over a week before Skip went missing. She brought her homework and was keeping up, but she and I both thought it might be better for her to jump into her usual routine as soon as possible. Circulating in town is...hard, with the way people are feeling toward us, but there’s nothing for her to do here all day except remember her father and be sad.” She motioned to the soft leather couch Skip had purchased in Belgium and had shipped over. “Would you like to sit down?”

She perched on the edge of a nearby chair while he took the couch, which afforded her less space than she’d anticipated when he rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “Are you sad, Mrs. DeBussi?”

She didn’t want to be called by Skip’s last name anymore. She wasn’t about to say so quite yet, but she wasn’t a DeBussi and, in her heart, she hadn’t been one for a long time. The way his family had behaved during the past couple of weeks convinced her that she’d never had anything in common with them, never shared anything, least of all love. “I look so unaffected that you can’t tell?” she responded glibly.

He didn’t smile at the joke. “You seem...disengaged, if you want the truth.”

Because she had to be disengaged and stay disengaged or she’d never be able to tolerate the fear and uncertainty of the future. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

“I would have to agree with that.”

“Considering what my husband did, how would you expect me to feel?”

He rubbed his chin. “Betrayed, for one.”

“There is that.”

“What about brokenhearted?”

She was tempted to be honest and say she wasn’t brokenhearted in the way he meant, but decided to keep that information to herself. She preferred to be sensitive to the fact that her daughter and Skip’s family still loved him. Publicly breaking ranks with them would only leave her more isolated. She already felt like she was living on her own island. Besides, she’d rather be hated by the citizens of Whiskey Creek than pitied by them. If they knew how Skip had treated her, how unhappy she’d been since marrying him, her humiliation would be complete.

“Does this have any bearing on my guilt or innocence, Mr. Freeman?” she asked. “How sincerely I mourn the death of my husband? Don’t tell me you think I strapped that money to his back and pushed him off the side of the boat.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. She was putting up a fight and he hadn’t expected it. “I’m merely trying to get to know you better. Opinions of you here in your hometown vary...greatly.”

“You’re saying I’m not well-liked. Your sympathy for my situation overwhelms me.”

He shrugged off her sarcasm. “I’m not your friend, either. I have a job to do.”

“And that includes making this week even worse by speaking to everyone I know about me on the heels of my husband’s death?”

“You mean on the heels of your husband’s fraudulent activities. He stole over $60 million from innocent investors, Mrs. DeBussi. These interviews help me build an accurate picture.”

“How do you know it’s accurate?”

He studied her. “The secret is not to rely too much on any one opinion.”

But no one knew the whole truth. She couldn’t see how the people of Whiskey Creek would have anything of value to contribute. She was no longer the girl she used to be, and they didn’t know the woman she’d become. She’d been active in various charities and other community events, yes. But she’d been playing a role, fulfilling her duties as the wife of the richest man in town. She couldn’t let anyone get close to her, despite Skip’s absences, for fear of his jealous reaction once he got home. There’d even been a brief period when he’d hired a private investigator to keep an eye on her.

“What is it you’re really after?” She wished she didn’t have to suffer this intrusion. She felt as if she’d been violated—not physically but emotionally.

“How much did you know about Skip’s business dealings?”

“Absolutely nothing,” she replied without hesitation.

“Yet you told the Brazilian police you two were close.”

She stared at him without blinking. “There are different kinds of close.”

He cocked his head to one side. “The two of you never fought?”

She never fought back. She couldn’t, or it would make things that much worse. “Our arguments weren’t serious.”

“Even the ones where he was upset about your drinking?”

When she stiffened but didn’t attempt to explain, he continued, “Your mother-in-law told me you recently spent a month in rehab.”

Her mother-in-law? Skip’s family had acted so strange since his death. As if she was somehow to blame for what he’d done. As if she’d driven him to it. And now they were creating suspicion and undermining her credibility with the FBI? “I guess they need someone to blame besides their beloved son.”

“What Sharon said isn’t true?”

She sighed. “It is true. In case you haven’t verified it, I completed a program at a clinic in Los Angeles right before our trip.”

“Why so far from home?”

To minimize the embarrassment to the family, of course. But Agent Freeman didn’t understand the dynamics of the DeBussis like she did. “Skip chose the facility. He always chose everything.”

He paused when she said that but didn’t follow up on it. “And have you remained sober since then?”

She remembered the long days of rehab, the hours spent in group therapy, the journaling, the reading. She’d missed Lexi terribly during those weeks, and yet she’d felt protected at New Beginnings. Skip was unlikely to bother her there for fear she wouldn’t complete her stay. “I haven’t had a drink since.”

He seemed disappointed by her answer. “Are you sure?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I spoke to a checker at Nature’s Way.”

Agent Freeman was nothing if not thorough. “And she told you that I came in the other night and bought several bottles of wine.”

“Yes.”

She’d almost broken down so many times. It was hard to walk the floors at night, worrying about what she was going to do without a drink to ease the anxiety. But every time she’d been about to uncork that first bottle, she’d thought of Lexi. “I dumped them out this morning. You can check the cupboards in the kitchen if you don’t believe me.”

He slid toward her until their knees almost touched, as if he wanted to make sure he had her full attention. “I hope that’s true. I have no respect for a liar.”

“I’m not lying,” she said. “I wanted to drink them, but...”

“But?” he echoed.

“My daughter needs me.”

“Yes, she does.”

She wiped the sweat beading on her upper lip. Skip would’ve found that so unattractive. She was supposed to be perfect at all times. “If you think I had anything to do with Skip’s business, you should talk to his employees instead of the townspeople,” she said.

“I’ve done that, too.”

“And?”

“I’ve taken notes.”

“They told you I was rarely at the offices, didn’t they? That I never gave an opinion or helped make a decision? I am exactly what I appear to be, Agent Freeman.”

“And that is...”

She spread her arms with a dramatic flourish. “A trophy wife.”

“Yet you claim you were happy.”

“It doesn’t matter now that he’s gone.”

He glanced around once again. “Mrs. DeBussi, would you be willing to allow me to search the house?”

Her mind flitted through what he might come across. She couldn’t think of a single thing that would be incriminating. But she didn’t know how he might interpret what he found. What if Skip had planted some papers in his home office designed to implicate her? He wouldn’t like the idea of her moving on without him regardless of whether he was sunning himself on a beach halfway around the world with someone else.

“Do you have a warrant?” she asked.

“Do you have something to hide?” he replied.

“No, but since you could misconstrue what you find, I’m not taking that risk unless I have to. As I said, my daughter needs me. I can’t go to prison.”

“I see.” He stood. “That will be all, then.”

She hadn’t expected him to accept her answer quite so easily. “Will you be coming back with a warrant?”

“Not unless there’s some indication I need to go that far. For now, my business here is finished.”

“You’re leaving?” she asked in surprise.

“I am.”

“Just my house or...Whiskey Creek?”

“I believe I’ve learned all I can in this town.”

Could she finally be catching a break? She wasn’t sure whether she could rely on that as she followed him to the door. “May I ask you one more question?”

He nodded.

“Is it reasonable to suppose I’m in the clear?”

“That’ll depend on what turns up,” he said. “But if you’re as innocent as you say, you can relax. So far, I’ve seen nothing that leads me to think you played a significant role in your husband’s illegal activities.”

She sagged in relief. “I’ve made my share of mistakes in life, Agent Freeman. But I had nothing to do with what Skip did. I swear it. I was as blindsided as anyone.”

“I hope that’s true.” He gave her another long, assessing look. “Thank you for giving me a few minutes of your time.”

She held the door while he stepped outside, but then he turned back.

“Mrs. DeBussi?”

Her heart beat a little faster. Was this when the blow would come? “Yes?”

“Although it’s none of my business, you need to be aware of a certain reality.”

She tensed. “What is it?”

He softened his voice when he saw that she’d clenched her hands, bracing for the worst. “You have to stay off the booze.”

Drawing a deep breath, she nodded rigorously to show she understood that. “Yes, yes, of course. I will. I came close a couple of times, like I said, but...I made it. I poured it all out.”

“You can’t buy more. You can’t slip up even once.”

Why was he making such a point of this? What concern was it of his? Whether or not she had a drink now, after the fact, couldn’t relate to the case. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“That daughter you love so much?”

“Alexa.”

“If you end up back in rehab, your in-laws will sue for custody.”

The air rushed out of her. “They—they told you that?”

“They tried to convince me you weren’t a good wife, and you’re no better as a mother.”

She felt her jaw drop open.

“Be careful of them.”

“But...I do have a drinking problem. I told you as much. So...why...” She choked up, finding it impossible to finish.

“Why did I warn you? From what I’ve seen, you’re the one who loves Alexa best.”

She blinked rapidly to stem the tears. “How can you tell?”

“I have a kid of my own,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Just hang in there. If you really didn’t know what your husband was doing, you’re the biggest victim of all. What happened isn’t fair, but you have to stay sober or you’ll lose the only thing you’ve got left and the one thing that matters most to you.”

“Thanks.” She watched him stride to his car, feeling shocked that he’d try to help her—and hurt that a complete stranger would show more compassion than her in-laws.