“I need to be there,” I said.

I drove down to the county courthouse in the early afternoon.

The brick building was surrounded by bare maple trees.

Inside, the hallway smelled of floor wax and wet wool.

I saw Marcus walking down the hall in handcuffs, escorted by two deputies.

His hair was messy, and his expensive suit was rumpled.

He looked at me with a cold, sharp glare.

“You ruined everything,” Marcus hissed as he passed me.

“You did this to yourself, Marcus,” I said.

He did not reply, and the deputies pushed him through the double doors of the courtroom.

Warren Bellamy sat at the defense table, his head bowed.

He looked much older than he had the night before.

The hearing was brief.

The judge set a high bail for both of them, citing the risk of flight due to the offshore accounts.

Neither of them could post the bond immediately.

As they were led away, Lydia walked over to me.

“The state has frozen the Cayman accounts,” Lydia said.

“How much was in there?” I asked.

“Over two million dollars,” Lydia said.