He wasn't sure how Angel and Anne were connected. He wasn't even really sure that they were. For all he knew, Anne had gotten wise to things she shouldn't have and gone to Angel for help. What was more mystifying, though, was that she didn't exist.
He had signed the papers, assuming he'd be able to find her tonight or tomorrow and talk some sense into her. He hadn't realized Angel had a judge in his pocket to sign off on the papers while the ink was still wet. The thought of begging had even entered his mind briefly.
He poured himself a shot of whisky, not bothering to add water or soda to the glass. How could he have been such a fool? He'd actually loved her. Never until he'd met Annie had he believed in marriage. Hell, he'd even given some thought to leaving Wolfram & Hart.
So, where had he gone wrong? He went over the months of their marriage looking for some signs. He couldn't find any. She'd been somewhat distant after losing the baby. That was understandable. Or so he'd thought. No, there was more to it than that. If he didn't know better, he'd say it started when Angel came to visit at their house.
She'd been different since about that time. He didn't keep notes or write down specific dates or times. He didn't claim to understand women, and he knew some were more emotional than others. Especially during their different times of the month. But it seemed to coincide.
Were they having an affair? Had he been so blinded by her that he'd missed something so blatant? No. He had surveillance in the house. He would have known if Angel had set foot in the house. And he had a caller ID unit Annie didn't know about. Other than calls from him and friends she'd made through Wolfram & Hart, his wife got no phone calls.
She didn't make any either. He'd checked the bills and it was like she had nobody outside of the small circle of friends she'd made through him. It saddened him in a way.
She didn't go anywhere either. She did some shopping, but otherwise she was here at the house. He knew she went to a gym to work out. Maybe he could start there.
One thing he knew, Angel would regret the day he interfered with Lindsey's personal life. It was one thing to take him on through work, but poking his nose in his marriage was another story.
Damn it, a failed marriage would not look good to the Senior Partners. He was getting vibes that he was on the right path, a successful one at that. He should have known better than to marry someone so young, so inexperienced at life.
But, no, really, he couldn't complain about her in that regard. She'd never embarrassed him, she'd never said anything in front of anyone that could have been construed as non-supportive. She was, when it got down to it, the ideal wife. Maybe too ideal.
"Just who are you Anne Williams? And where are you now?"
A call to Angel's office got him a voice mail message. Not surprising since it was after hours. Just what kind of hours did a vampire keep anyway? If Angel had a private line, Lindsey didn't know about it. There was no record of one, but that didn't mean anything. Angel was over a couple centuries old, Lindsey was sure he'd learned to cut corners and fly under the radar during that time.
"So close," he hissed, taking a sip of the whiskey.
He'd been so close to having it all. To coming full circle from what he'd grown up with. He'd thought a time or two of going back home with Annie by his side. Showing them what he could do, what he'd done, rub their faces in what he had and they'd never get a piece of.
Instead, he was divorced. She didn't even have the courtesy to do it herself. She left him. As if she was afraid of him. He'd never hurt her, he'd never raised a hand to her. He thought he'd never been anything but nice to her. It was what made him realize she must have found out something disturbing. It was the only explanation he could come up with.
If he'd had the time and opportunity he could have refuted whatever she'd uncovered. No one believed in vampires anyway. Because they didn't want to. What would she think if she knew Angel was a vampire? The stuff myths were based on?
He ran a hand through his hair, emptying the glass of its contents. He lifted the bottle, prepared to pour another shot but stopped. He didn't need to get drunk. Really, she'd done him a favor. He no longer had to worry about splitting his time between home and the office. He didn't have to worry about not getting a case assigned to him because he wanted to be done earlier than Lilah Morgan did.
His days of living for a woman were over. He was his own man. He'd tried it, found out they weren't worth the trouble. She'd been handy to have around and he'd probably take her back if she asked the right way. He suspected that she wouldn't. He wondered what he really knew about her. Nothing. She'd told him nothing about herself. He had filled in some blanks on his own, but he wasn't sure how much of that was true or just his wishful thinking.
He'd been so sure he'd found a kindred soul. Someone like him. He'd embraced that. He'd thought fate had brought them together. Such rubbish. There was no such thing as fate. Love was for people who had nothing better to do. Revenge. There was something he could get his mind wrapped around. He'd get his, too. He'd make Angel pay for interfering with his life if it was the last thing he did.
Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com