“None of it was real, Finn. You married a girl who is hungry for attention and totally incapable of taking care of herself at this point. It was an imaginary love affair that was never going to survive the week. It wasn’t real,” she repeated, adamant.
“You never got the money you asked for. But we’ll give it to you—all of it. You’re going to need it to defend yourself. And who knows? I just got word that Bear’s regained consciousness. So maybe you’ll get off. And maybe you’ll have some money left to start over. And in exchange for $500,000, you will never speak to Bonnie again. You won’t give interviews, you won’t write a tell-all book, and you’ll take off that wedding ring.”
Finn laid the phone down abruptly and stood from his chair. He signaled to the guard, who motioned him forward, and without another look at Raena Shelby, he walked away.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
WE HAVE BREAKING news that Hank Shelby, the brother of singing sensation Bonnie Rae Shelby, has just been arrested in Nashville for the attempted murder of Malcolm “Bear” Johnson. Hank Shelby has been in and out of rehab, and has most recently been living in his grandmother’s home in Nashville.
It is believed that Shelby followed Bear Johnson from Nashville to St. Louis on February 28 and reportedly shot Malcolm Johnson at a St. Louis gas station. Police have issued a statement that Hank Shelby was behind a $500,000 ransom demand, and that all charges against Infinity James Clyde have been dropped, and he will be released from the LA County Jail within the hour.
Bonnie Rae Shelby, arrested alongside her husband, Infinity Clyde, was released from LA County Jail Monday evening, and there has been no statement from her or from her lawyers regarding the arrest, her release, or her involvement in the ongoing investigation which, again, is now being focused on Hank Shelby, Bonnie Rae Shelby’s older brother.
HE WAS FREE. At eight am Wednesday morning, he was called into interview and Detective Kelly informed him, with very little apology, that the entire case against him had fallen apart. The DA in Missouri had contacted them and told them all charges had been dropped against him. According to the detective, Finn’s numbers had added up to a whole lot of reasonable doubt, but most importantly, Bear Johnson had been cogent enough to talk to police, and he had corroborated Finn’s story.
It had taken a few hours for the paperwork to be processed. Then they’d given Finn his property—his suit and his wallet, along with his shiny black shoes—and he’d signed a bunch of forms. To his surprise, his dad had come and was waiting for him in the reception area. Apparently he’d been waiting inside for hours. Neither of them were prepared for the crowd outside.
“Mr. Clyde, have you talked to your wife?”
“Is Bonnie Rae here, Finn?”
“How does it feel to be cleared of all charges?”
“Are you going to press charges of your own?”
“What do you think about reports that Bonnie’s brother was behind the attempted murder?”
“Does your wife have a drug habit like her brother?”
“We’ve heard rumors of an annulment—can you comment on that?”
“Why isn’t Bonnie here, Mr. Clyde?”
Rapid-fire questions came from every direction, and there were microphones in Finn’s face and cameras surrounding him.
It was like the Academy Awards on crack. He was jostled and bumped, and the questions became more persistent as his dad took his arm, and they made their way to a grey sedan in the parking lot.
“I have nothing to say,” Finn kept repeating, shaking his head and plowing through the assembled reporters and onlookers, moving with determination until he reached the car.
“What happens next for Bonnie and Clyde?” someone shouted right in his ear.
Finn halted, the question reverberating in his head, ricocheting off blank walls and bare floors like he was alone in an empty room, instead of in the middle of an impromptu press conference. He lifted his face to the midday sun, sun that was too bright for early March. It was the kind of day that made people keep coming back to California. You couldn’t help but forgive her for the fog and the rain when she stood in all her glory, sunshine pouring down on you, making you forget you were ever cold or alone. Like Bonnie. Bonnie was just like that.
Finn took a deep breath and closed his eyes against the rays. And he stood, hands over his eyes, waiting for the grief to ebb.
“Mr. Clyde? Are you all right?” someone asked.
“What happens next for Bonnie and Clyde?” the same reporter repeated, clearly aware that her question had affected him.
“Bonnie and Clyde died a long time ago,” Finn said, and pulled the door of his father’s rental car open, managing to create just enough space to wedge himself through the opening. His dad did the same, started the car, and they inched their way out of the parking lot, until they were finally clear of the media circus.
“IS THAT ALL you have?” his dad asked after they’d been driving aimlessly for a while. His dad was sure they were being followed, and he was probably right. So they just drove.
“What?”
“Your clothes. You’re wearing a tux. Is that all you have?” Jason Clyde pointed to his suit.
Finn pulled at the hanging curl of his bowtie, still wrapped around his neck and held in place by the collar. It came free easily, and he wadded it up and stuck it in his pocket with his wallet. He had his wallet. That was something, he supposed.
“Yeah. This is it.” Everything else he owned was either in the Blazer or scattered across several states. Everything except the stuff in room 704 at the Bordeaux Hotel—his leather jacket along with the boots Shayna had given him, his jeans and the T-shirt Bonnie had purchased for him in Oklahoma. His shaving kit and toothbrush were there too. And Bonnie’s things—her red boots and her puffy pink coat. He was sure all of it had been gathered up by housekeeping. Maybe the maid had kept it, and maybe it was all being auctioned on eBay at that very moment.