Chapter 3 - The Visage in OrangeThere is no sound quite as deafening as the slam of a jail cell door behind a man who thought he was untouchable.
The Lew Sterrett Justice Center smelled of floor wax, industrial bleach, and iron.
I sat on the wooden chair on my side of the reinforced glass divider in the attorney-client visitation room. I wore my dark coat, my mother’s pearl necklace resting against my collarbone, and my hands rested calmly on my lap.
The heavy steel door groaned open.
Two armed guards escorted Adrian inside.
He was stripped of his Italian suit, dressed in a baggy, fluorescent-orange jumpsuit. His hands were bound at his waist with belly chains, his ankles shackled together, making him waddle awkwardly with every step. His immaculate hair was wild and unwashed, his face pale, sunken, and covered in nervous sweat.
He sat down heavily across from me, his breath coming in jagged, ragged gasps. He grabbed the plastic black phone receiver with trembling, handcuffed hands.
I lifted mine, holding it smoothly to my ear.
"Elena..." Adrian rasped into the microphone, his voice cracking instantly as tears filled his bloodshot eyes. "Elena, please! You have to talk to the prosecutor! Tell them it was all a misunderstanding! Tell them it was a corporate dispute!"
"It isn't a misunderstanding, Adrian," I said, my voice completely devoid of anger or bitterness. "It is grand larceny, wire fraud, and criminal conspiracy. The evidence is absolute."
"She tricked me!" Adrian wept, pressing his forehead against the cold glass separator. "Vanessa tricked me, Elena! She made me do it! She seduced me, she came up with the idea for the shell company! I love you, Elena! I was confused! I was out of my mind!"
I looked at him through the glass. A year ago, a word like that might have broken my heart. Today, it felt like listening to a stranger reciting lines from a bad script.
"You slipped drugs into my tea, Adrian," I reminded him softly. "You stood beside my bed while I pretended to be unconscious, called me useless, and walked out with my mother's diamond bracelet."
Adrian flinched violently, as if I had struck him across the face.
"Where is the bracelet, Adrian?" I asked quietly.
"The police... the police took it as evidence when they arrested Vanessa," he whimpered, his fingers twitching against the metal counter. "Elena, please... my mother... my father... they can't pay my five million dollar bail! My lawyer says I'm facing fifteen to twenty years in federal prison! You can't let them do this to me!"
"Your parents called me four hours ago, Adrian," I told him calmly. "Do you know what your mother said?"
Adrian blinked through his tears. "What?"
"She apologized," I said. "She told me she was deeply ashamed to have raised a son who could act with such cruelty and deceit. She told me she wouldn't spend a single dollar of her retirement savings to bail you out."
"No... no!" Adrian screamed, slamming his handcuffed fists against the glass divider. "They're my parents! You turned them against me!"
A guard stepped forward, slamming his nightstick against the metal table. "Keep your hands down, inmate!"
Adrian shrank back, trembling, sobbing hysterically like a child lost in the dark.
"I didn't turn anyone against you, Adrian," I said, standing up and smoothing down my coat. "You did this all by yourself. You traded twelve years of trust, love, and loyalty for a woman who gave up your financial passwords to the police five minutes after her arrest."
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"Elena! Don't leave me!" Adrian screamed into the microphone, his voice echoing frantically through the sterile room. "ELENA! PLEASE!"
I set the receiver back down on its cradle, turned my back on him, and walked out into the cold, clean air of the Dallas afternoon without looking back once.
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