” WAIT I forgot to tell you I was so nervous”, I said to Sheriff Matson. The grifter was sleeping with all the Band members. She was borrowing large amounts of money and had a routine moving into their houses and then convincing them to go bankrupt.
And today I got this: I reached for my laptop on the kitchen table and open it to the treatening email. It said: Email me the following: All credit card accounts, house bills-every bill we have with account balances, ID’S and passwords, Social Security numbers and any secret codes like ‘Mother’s maiden names.”
I took a deep breath and said to the officer, “As if my husband doesn’t know my Mother’s maiden name.” There’s faint bitterness in my voice. And I regret it instantly.
“Ma’am,” he said, frowning, looking right into my eyes as he closed the lid to the laptop. “Your husband is an adult. He can give his email address to anyone he wants. If his new girlfriend wrote this message, and…”
“But…I interrupted. ”This new group of people that Nick hangs with now. For all I know they could have him tied up in the basement. It, uh, it….could be a meth lab.”
I wanted to drop through the kitchen floor. I was as articulate as a prettified log. But, unfortunately, my tongue is stumbling on words. I’m too ashamed to say our loud and now forced too. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t stop the tears.
“He is in a bad part of town. He is living in her ex-husband’s house the three!! of them together. They drink. I worry there are bad drugs there.”
Sheriff Matson cleared his throat. “I can send an Officer over to their address. However, we have no reason to go to the door. The best thing will be if they get caught drinking. Then, we could take him in custody. The problem here is even if you got him in re-hab, his new crowd of buddies would be standing at the exit door waiting for his release with beers and joints in both hands.”
The Sheriff shruggd his shoulders and gestured with both hands palms up as if saying, “What can you do?” “Ma’am you are in trouble! He is playing dirty. You need a lawyer. I suggest you change the locks. But realize that he is still the owner of this house. If he brakes a window to get in, he can do as he pleases because he owns the house too.
“Thank you.” I lean back against the kitchen chair. I appreciate that so much.” For a moment, the Sheriff hesitated, and then he continued. “And, well, I would consider moving fast in getting a lawyer and a restraining and financia order. As you said, you told me your husband has a gun. Also, because my thought is the girlfriend would much more like to live here. It is a beautiful place.”
“One more thing,” he said as he leaped to his feet. “I suggest you find a Divorce Recovery group. They are in Churches mostly. He nods his head. ‘Right. Well, I’ll leave you then.” I walked him to the front door. He let himself out then turned around. He took a step back and looked at me, smiling. Then, he said, heavily with much feeling. “It’s a shame that you will foreclose.
Have a good day, Ma’am. As calm a voice as possible, I answered. “You too sir.”
Numb. I closed the door. I walked into the living room, looking at the floor-to-celiling windows that bring in abundant natural light. I watched as Sheriff Matson’s police car went down the driveway and out of my sight.
I couldn’t move. I stood still, staring out the living room window.
House eerily quiet.