Trying to find Paul’s house would not be easy. He hoped Agent Morris was having better luck. Once he landed, he checked his phone. The photo of Gillian and Paul was in his email, but there was no word from the FBI agent.
He wasn’t about to let that deter him. He had a list of every small bank on the outskirts of the city and some of the surrounding bedroom communities. It was two hours until they closed. He would show Paul’s picture to as many bankers as he could and hope someone would recognize him.
* * *
The soundof the doorbell ringing echoed through the house.
Gillian stared at the door in shock. Other than Melanie and the occasional food delivery, no one had come to the house. She started moving as fast as her crutches would carry her toward the front door. Unfortunately, Paul’s office door opened down the hall.Damn.
They reached the door at the same time.
“I got it,” she said, smiling up at him.
“I got it,” he insisted and pulled open the door. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him.
Agent Morris stood at the door with another agent at his side. Gillian’s heart soared and her eyes widened. “I got a call,” the agent said. “Are you all right, Ms. Barnes?”
Paul’s fingers dug into her shoulder. Years of training taught her that she’d better say and do what Paul wanted. He’d spent the better part of seven years conditioning her to do so, but then again, this might be her only chance to escape. “I am now, Agent Morris. Thank you for coming.”
“If you could come with us, we have some questions we’d like to ask both of you.”
“What is this about?” Paul asked.
“It’s okay, honey. I’m sure it’s all a giant misunderstanding.” Gillian grasped for a reason they could be there, anything that would warrant her having to go with them. “There was some money missing from my neighbor’s church. They asked me to come in and talk about the tote bag of cash they found in my mom’s kitchen. I tried to tell my mom it was yours, and not the churches, but I didn’t get the chance to explain before we left. Don’t worry, I want to help.”
She started to move toward them, but Paul pulled her back.
“How did you find us?” Paul asked. “You said you got a call?”
“Yes,” Agent Morris said. “We’d also like to talk to you about your business here in California.”
“My lawyer has advised me not to say anything to you without his presence, and that includes any questions you have for my wife, also.” He stepped back, pulling her with him, and slammed shut the door.
“What are you doing?” she asked, horrified.
The facade gone, he yanked her down the hall, not caring when her crutches fell to the floor, and pushed her against the granite counter.
“Stop!”
He leaned back and hit her hard across the face. She fell to the hardwood floor, looking back at her crutches lying in the foyer in front of the door, knowing her safety, her escape, was right on the other side.
She couldn’t reach it.
“You’re not going anywhere. Don’t you dare move. I’m going to go call my lawyer.” He stormed down the hall toward his office.
Tears sprang to her eyes. She pushed to her feet and hobbled around the counter, pulled open a drawer, and took out a knife.
Paul came back into the kitchen, looking surprised to see her standing, facing him with a knife in her hand.
“You hit me again, and I’ll kill you.”
His eyes widened, then he started to laugh. “Where’s my wilting flower?”
“I’m leaving with Agent Morris, and you’re not going to stop me.”
“Really?” He took a step toward her. He set a bottle of pills on the counter.
“What are those?”