Page 145 of Angel

The news anchors dubbed him the Bernie Madoff of Horses, flashing his arrogant mugshot beside graphs of his bankrupt assets.

His angry investors were apparently threatening to file massive lawsuits against him and the three primary banks, accusing the financial institutions of enabling a multi-million-dollar Ponzi scheme.

The broadcast switched to a snippet of Elsa slipping into a dark tinted car belonging to Ed, her brother, pausing to drop a swift statement.

‘I was not aware of my husband’s dealings and his businesses,’ she declared, her face pale, her lips pursed before the sedan door slammed shut.

I turned off the TV and slumped with a sigh into my armchair.

‘Where’s Evangeline in all this?’ Reign asked, leaning back into his seat with a toothpick in his teeth.

‘She’s probably in some rehab,’ I growled, my arms crossed tight over my chest. ‘Don’t know, don’t care.’

Deacon narrowed his eyes, studying my face. ‘How about Roxy?’

I took an inhale, rubbing a hand over my face.

‘Amos is still working on hunting her down. Elsa swears she’s safe, but I need to see her and confirm it myself.’

Reese’s downfall seemed hollow and anticlimactic.

I experienced no joy, only a profound sadness at the sheer number of lives he destroyed with his greed.

His arrest fractured his leverage over me, releasing my parents, my band, and my own name from his corporate threats.

His ruin also freed me from my marriage if I wanted to leave.

However, I made no move to file any papers.

Thinking of her, longing for her smile, yearning for her voice was how I survived each grueling day.

I refused to let go of Roxy.

I just needed to find my wife.

Roxy still wasn’t taking my calls, and Amos hit brick walls for weeks; he couldn’t find her anywhere.

The Six Sinners were right in the middle of a seven-city US Stadium Tour, but I struggled to stay focused on each show, worrying about my wife.

My relief came when Amos called one evening to tell me he’d managed to access her credit statements.

‘I’ve a friend in the Sheriff’s department who owes me.’

‘I’ll ask Roxy for forgiveness when I find her,’ I rasped. ‘What do you have for me?’

‘She used her Visa card several times at a 7-Eleven gas station close to Leiper’s Fork. I cross-referenced the vicinity with old deeds under her maternal family tree and found an acreage in her and her mother’s name.’

My soul leaped.

‘Damn. Where is it?’

He texted me with the location pin.

‘I cased the place and found her at the property,’ he added, attaching photos of the farm and images of Roxy on the vast estate.

My heart rate kicked up a notch when I gazed at her image for the first time in weeks.

The shots were distant, and I couldn’t make out details, but I still made out her beautiful grace and silhouette, exhaling in relief.