Chapter 25
twenty-five
DANE
It’s my opinion that Saturdays are the best days to get business done at the bank in town. For one, there are fewer employees around to eavesdrop. The lobby is almost empty, with only two customers and as many open windows being served by tellers in neat button down blouses.
I was biting at the bit while Folgers figured out what exactly happened to Darcy’s money. As much as I wanted to charge in, it’s best in a situation like this that when you ask a question, you should already know the answer.
Strutting past the lobby, I duck into the glassed off area where the private offices are organized down a narrow corridor I know well. Robert Hudson, the bank manager, prefers to deal with transactions for the club and farm personally.
After making my way to Robert’s empty office, I claim one of the chairs, propping my feet up on the mahogany desk while I wait for him to appear. Good ole’ Robbie is a deacon or some shit at the church Darcy’s parents attend. He is undeniably the one who helped rob Darcy.
Despite the fact she was barely nineteen, the original deposit was already over ten thousand dollars. It must have been her life savings—an impressive one at such a young age. Fury rolls down my back, bitter when I think of the younger version of my woman working so hard yet not allowed to enjoy the fruits of her labor by her father.
Others certainly benefited from Darcy’s sweat. Like clockwork, ten percent was taken from each paycheck and wired to the church her parents attend. There was one more monthly withdrawal every month. Darcy wasn’t being forced to pay rent—she was paying the entire mortgage. Much of the remainder was saved, only to be pulled into her father's very generous accounts right after she disappeared. It was one of the first things Darcy’s father must have done when Darcy left…make sure she couldn’t withdraw funds. It’s not like Darcy could have tried to take it before she left either. There are no other branches of the bank, and Robbie would have called her father.
She must have been living off of scraps to save money, only for it to be yanked away on a whim.
Her father certainly doesn’t need it. Despite tithing a solid five percent (only half of what Darcy said you’re supposed to) he’s still more than comfortable. It’ll be a little while before he notices the money removed from the account. It was set up separately from all of his others.
Robert’s lazy steps come to a stop once he notices me inside his office. He pulls his hands out of his khakis and says, “Mr. Bordelon. I’m glad you came to see me. I was a little concerned when I got an email that you’d closed your investment accounts.”
Wait till you see what comes next.
Pulling my boots off of the desk, I give the fucker a cold smile, “There’s some confusion with my old lady’s account. Darcy Richards.”
Clearing his throat as he moves to sit, Robert smoothes down the front of his suit, and looks down at his desk twiddling his thumbs. He won’t look me in the eye. He knows what he did was wrong. “I’m afraid I can’t disclose any private business with anyone other than Ms. Richards.”
“Funny thing. Darcy says that when she tried to handle this, you told her to stop causing problems. Seeing as you only want to talk to men, I thought I’d come along and help clear things up.”
He flicks his pen distractedly against the desk. In an uninterested voice, he remarks, “Yes, I’ve heard something about you and Ms. Richards keeping company.”
“Keeping company? No. Darcy is my old lady and while I know that is lost on you, to me it means that when someone does her wrong, they do me wrong. Over thirty thousand dollars was moved without her consent and you’re going to fix that.”
After making a disgruntled clearing of the throat, he adjusts himself in his chair, and makes some clicks with the mouse, not bothering to ask for Darcy’s birth date or other information. Either he’s bullshitting or he has it memorized.
“I’m showing Ms. Richards authorized those charges in person on March eleventh of last year. A driver's license would have been required.” The lie slips from his tongue with ease, as if he hadn’t helped ruin a young woman.
With an ironic laugh, I lean in. “See, that's where we’re having issues. On March eleventh, you and I both know Darcy wasn’t anywhere in the area.”
“Darcy is a real confused girl,” he condescends.
“Can I ask what the Richards told you about Darcy leaving?”
“Darcy was struggling with her relationship with God and left without as much of a word to them.”
Reaching over, I turn the swivel mounted monitor around. Robert has the grace to look embarrassed when I scowl at the institution’s home page. He hasn’t bothered to log in. Not that it matters. I’ve seen it all for myself, every lie, every stolen dollar this man made with a few strokes of the keyboard. “See, I think you’re the one who’s confused. Those funds are still in Gerald Richard’s account. You are going to reverse them now, while I’m here, and I’m going to leave with as much of it in cash as you can wrangle up. The rest I’ll take in a money order.”
“That's not possible,” he blusters, face turning from its normal ruddy to chartreuse.
“You need to make it possible, real quick. You see, the personal accounts that have been closed are the first step. My father’s taken a liking to Darcy, too. On Monday, you’re going to find the accounts from the farm are being pulled away. Same with all of the ones from the club. Then the ones from all the businesses we own. Then, when the president of the bank inevitably runs into my father and asks what’s going on, he’s going to be told precisely why this happened.”
“This is preposterous!”
Looking at the clock on the wall, my patience grows thinner. Darcy and my little buddy are already at the Easter egg hunt, and I still have to get the cash before I leave.
With a pained sigh, I shake my head slowly. “You know Otto at the pawn shop across the street? He saves all the security footage for eighteen months. I watched it with my own eyes. Three hours Darcy’s father spent bullshitting in here alone while you robbed her of every dime she had. Yet all your documentation says she was here and authorized it all.”
Robert goes into an angry rant. How he was trying to help a friend with a messed up kid, my illegal activities hacking into the database, blah blah blah. He doesn’t grab my attention again until he says, “The girl was just gonna spend it all whoring around anyway. Her father did what was best.”
I grit my teeth so hard my jaw starts to hurt as I remind myself of the deal we made with the sheriff. Nothing in public. Nothing that can’t be denied.
I lift an eyebrow in his direction, mentally ticking off all the ways I’m going to make him pay.
His position as deacon to the church.
The shiny BMW he has parked right outside.
His job.
And then dollar by dollar, I’m going to take every penny the man has until he’s left as destitute as he left Darcy. He’s still getting a very unexpected, private visit from us.
Cooly I answer, “I changed my mind. I want cash, today.”
“That's not possible. It’ll take a few days for a wire of that size to go through. Plus we’re a small bank. That’s almost all our reserves!”
“And that too, you can explain.”
* * *
It’s not the weekend before Easter if my grandmother isn’t in the center of town, directing people on where to set up food booths and the potato sack race. When Presh is in charge, no one gets out of helping. Even the seniors in the retirement community are put to work stuffing plastic eggs with candy and toys for the kids to hunt.
After stashing the duffel bag full of large bills, I make my way on foot to the park where the event is held, anxious to get to my family. The official start time isn’t for another twenty minutes, but frazzled looking parents are already unloading fussy toddlers from minivans into strollers. A family follows me through an arch covered with plastic flowers, the mom with an infant wrapped around her chest. As their dad lets go of tiny hands, two little girls in frilly pastel dresses squeal with delight as they make a beeline for the first booth. LaShawna and Sutton are already at work, painting butterflies and dinosaurs onto tiny cheeks, but stop to greet the newcomers excitedly.
The trick to making it through one of Presh’s events? Volunteer for a job before you get assigned one you don’t want. I thought, given that I’m the president of the club, that I’d get out of it this year. I was wrong, and unceremoniously told I’ll be working as a barback on the stand that sells bottles of beer, sodas, and lemonade they make from scratch. I’m going to smell like citrus for weeks.
It’s Couyon’s turn for the worst job of the lot. The sudden disappearance of the costume didn’t save him from reigning on the carrot throne as The Worst Easter Bunny Ever.
With last minute options limited, Presh has him in a pink fuzzy onesie with floppy bunny ears. He looks like the kid from “A Christmas Story.” The whiskers and button nose LaShawna drew on with eyeliner do nothing to camouflage his awkward smile as he poses with a squirming toddler. At least he’s clean shaven. My grandfather was stuck with the job one year, and the kids kept asking why the Easter Bunny had a beard.
Heading over to the jambalaya stand, I find Darcy behind the tarp that makes up the back of the food tent. Standing next to the freestanding metal pot, Darcy fiddles with the knob on a propane tank and starts pouring in water from a plastic jug. Her black cut off shorts make her legs look longer, the pink gingham button down knotted at the waist, showing off a hint of skin as she stirs the rice deep in thought.
Coming up behind her, I swat her bottom with the palm of my hand. She jerks in surprise then twirls around to confront. Her anger turns to annoyance when she sees me. “There are children present!”
She is trying to stay angry at the birth control going for a dip in the bayou, but is slowly getting over it. In large part, because she’s convinced it’s highly improbable she’s pregnant.
Only time can determine that one.
I lean down and place a soft kiss on her neck, not sorry at all. I loop my arms around her waist and pull her closer to me. “Speaking of children, where’s ours?”
“He woke up fussy so Solomon took him for a walk.”
She gestures with her head toward my father, standing nearby in a small group of men. With a crowd dressed in seersucker and lace, Dad sticks out like a sore thumb in his cut and long ponytail. With a proud smile, Dad props Owen up in the crook of his arm to better show the baby off to Mayor Monroe. Sometimes I wonder if he’s the real reason Dad didn’t want a shot at being Prez. Dad and the mayor go back to elementary school in Parran. While the politician doesn’t attend any of our private get-togethers, and Dad doesn’t receive invitations to any of the mayor's fancy ones, the pair still get together once a month for a long lazy dinner.
It would be awkward bringing business into such a long-standing friendship, especially when the industry isn’t always legal.
It’s the benefit and the downfall of living in such a small community. Everybody’s got a history with almost everyone else.
At his feet, Gris-Gris stands alert, tail still as he watches the hands holding Owen with suspicion.
He spent the wee hours of the morning demolishing a couch. It’s like he has a sixth sense when humans plan on leaving for the day. Baby gates are merely a suggestion to the dog, so into the kennels he went. Couyon said he wasn’t halfway back to the clubhouse before Gris-Gris escaped and ran laps around him all the way back up the path.
Brat.
After a car ride he didn’t deserve, Gris-Gris was brought to me in the hope he’d consider behaving. Instead of shadowing me as he normally would, he’s not left Owen’s side once.
With a half-hearted sigh, Darcy snuggles deeper into my arms. “I need to finish the jambalaya.”
“Got a surprise for you first…”
“Oh, and what is that?” She laughs.
“Went to the bank. Got the stuff with your old account straightened.”
Her body turns rigid in my arms, her breath stilled. “What do you mean?”
“I left with cash. Thought it best.”
Tentatively she asks, “How much is it?”
She didn’t know how much was saved? “Thirty grand. I stored it in the safe at the house for now.”
“You carried that much money around,” she hisses.
“Sugar, you can’t think that’s the first time I’ve walked around with a duffel bag in town,” I admit.
She starts fidgeting in my arms without turning around, picking at her cuticles and biting her lips. “Was that everything my father took?”
“Plus the interest. I couldn’t get back the tithing money since you signed the form for that yourself.”
“Dad made me do it.” Her shoulders drop as she lets out a long breath. “My father’s going to be furious when he finds out.”
In a soothing voice, I assure, “He won’t be an issue.”
Funny enough, the same people who work hard to keep us out of jail are just as effective at helping put Gerald Richards away. He’s certainly given us enough evidence to turn over. No wonder he was so comfortable stealing from his daughter. He did the same back in Arizona but to business partners. Forging documents, loan fraud, tax evasion. Folgers dug it all up while looking into things for Darcy. I turned it all over to the police, knowing just what form of justice will suit.
For nineteen years Darcy lived in a prison made by her parents until she was brave enough to run away. Darcy’s father has no clue yet, but his fate’s already been decided. Nineteen years, an equal sentence to Darcy’s. When you add on his plethora of other misdeeds, it’s clear Gerald is going to go away for quite some time.
I can practically hear the wheels in her head turning as she watches Dad and Owen floating together through the herd of locals, a new nervous energy surrounding her.
“I do need you to sign some documents so I can wrap this up. They’re not ready yet, but I’ll pick them up on Monday for you.”
“Oh, yes of course, whatever you need. I wish I could get a hold of the banking records. There had to have been deductions I don’t know about.”
“He made you pay the mortgage. All of it, every month," I inform her.
Her eyes shutter closed painfully and she pulls her top lip down with her teeth. “Meanwhile I was supposed to be living there on their generosity. He finally told me at one point he was charging rent, not to pay for the whole house.”
And there’s another crime to add to the list.
Giving her a reassuring squeeze I remark half jokingly, “We’ll try to get that back. If you don’t trust the banks, I can help you bury it in the swamp.”
With a relieved sigh, she confesses, “I was thinking about the attic.”
After everything she’s been through, I wouldn’t have kept it in an account either. We both laugh. “Whatever you want to do.”
“I can keep some in the safe at the house.”
Smart girl. “It’s a digital keypad. I just changed the combination to Owen’s birthday.”
Darcy turns to hug me, drawing in a long deep breath and slowly exhaling through her mouth. She clears her throat, and then looks down at the ground, “I don’t even know how to begin to tell you…”
The front of my shirt starts to feel damp from her tears. “You don’t need to tell me anything baby. That money never should have been taken away from you.”
There’s an uncharacteristic resentment in her voice when she lifts her head from my chest and remarks, “You know, you’re the first person to acknowledge that money is mine. Dad said it was for my husband to secure our future, and then Seth went on these rampages about how my father stole it from him .”
There must be a lot of pent-up anger after everything you’ve worked for is taken from you by those you should have trusted the most. I wipe away tears from her pretty face, and assure her, “It’s all yours now to do with what you want.”
Darcy buries her face back into my chest, taking long healing breaths. When she’s ready, she looks at me with soft eyes that tell me what she’s not ready to say yet. She stands on tippy toes and places a gentle kiss on my lips. Her dreamy eyes tell me she’s in this forever. “You’ve given me everything, you know that?”
“Well, I want one tiny thing. A date. A real one that starts with you on the back of my bike, and ends with you on my…”
She gasps, and lifts her hand to cover my mouth. “Dane!”
I can’t help it, I laugh, a full belly one that earns me a reprimanding look. My miffed little kitten. Grabbing her hand, I lace our fingers together. “I’m going to steal our son back. Dad’s kept him to himself far too long.” I leave Darcy with a kiss on the lips and a pat on the ass, happier than I’ve ever been because Darcy’s given me exactly what I want. Twice, I’ve referred to Owen as our son, and neither time did she correct it.