Chapter 28
Caden
The non-US citizen's line in the immigration hall coiled around the barriers and moved at a snail's pace. Lizzie had gone ahead to the US citizen's line. The last time I saw her, was over an hour ago but then I'd lost sight of her.
When I reached the booth, the scowling officer didn't smile or acknowledge me. She took my passport, swiped it, looked at me and then looked at the passport. Crap. Something must have flagged me on her system.
"Sir, you need to come with me," she said, matter of factly.
"Is there a problem, Officer?"
"Follow me please." There was no emotion in her words or on her face.
"Can I let my wife know?" I pulled out my phone to call Lizzie.
"Put your phone away, Sir."
I slid my phone into my back pocket and followed the officer to a set of desks at the back of the packed hall. This wasn't good. I'd never had any trouble getting through immigration before.
"Take a seat, please," she said pointing toward a row of wooden seats behind a series of blue screens. An exotic looking woman with brass blonde hair and huge red lips sat a few seats from me, looking pissed off at the world.
"What did you do?" she asked in a thick eastern European accent.
I shrugged my shoulders. "Beats me. You?"
"They think I'm a mail order bride. I've been here for six hours."
"And are you?"
"Do I look like a mail order bride? Please. My fiancé is waiting for me at arrivals. We met online. It's true love."
I nodded. Her story sounded like mine and just as implausible.
"Mr. Gallagher," called a man's voice.
Giving my immigration companion a smile, I stood and strode to the desk.
"What's the purpose of your visit here?" The heavy-set officer who wouldn't look out of place in a Godfather movie, flicked through my passport as if he was looking for something.
"I work here. My wife and I were visiting my family in Ireland."
He nodded. "Yes, we've been talking to her."
My heart thudded, and I desperately needed some water. "Where is she? Can I see her? Speak to her?"
I had to get to Lizzie not because I feared what she would say; it was because I didn't want her in an interrogation room, being asked the same question a million different ways. Her anxiety levels would be through the roof.
"Take a seat, someone will come get you soon. There are some questions we need to ask before we can decide if you can enter the country."
I wanted to demand to see my wife, but riling the immigration officer or showing any aggression would create more trouble for both of us and I didn't want to antagonize anyone.
"Thank you, Officer."
"They're bastards, the lot of them," whispered the blonde when I sat down.
"They're just doing their job."
Ten hellish hours had passed, and serval flights had come and gone, and I still sat on the hardwood chair. There were no magazines to pass the time, and a sign said I couldn't use my phone or laptop.
What was taking so fucking long? The blonde had been denied entry a few hours ago and was on her way back to Slovenia. By the looks of things, I'd soon suffer the same fate and would be on my way back to Ireland before too long.
"Mr. Gallagher." The same officer as before stood in front of me with a manila file tucked under his arm. "Come with me."
I grabbed my laptop bag and followed him to a room behind the immigration booths.
Once we were inside, he shut the door and sat down and placed the file in front of him.
"Can I see my wife now?" I asked. "I want to make sure she's okay."
He pointed to a camera on the wall. "My name's Officer Purcell, and everything is being recorded."
I sat and did my best to disguise the irritation tickling my throat. "Can I talk to my wife?"
He raised his eyebrow. "You'll be able to speak to Ms. Beaufort soon."
"It's Mrs. Gallagher," I said correcting him.
Officer Purcell leaned back in his chair and flicked open the file. Inside were copies of my passport, expired visa, marriage license, and Lizzie 's passport.
"Would you mind telling me what this is about?" I asked.
"We received a phone call saying your marriage is a sham. And all evidence points that way. You married Ms. Beaufort a few days ago, and you agreed to pay her money in exchange for a green card."
He slid a copy of a bank statement toward me, which showed the deposit of one-hundred thousand into Lizzie's account.
In the ten hours they'd left me sitting, they'd done their homework.
"Lizzie's father was in an accident," I explained, "and they have no insurance. I put the money in her account so she wouldn't have to worry."
The officer nodded, but he didn't seem convinced. "How long have you known Ms. Beaufort?"
"Not long but long enough to know I love her. " The words didn't sound as alien to me or as frightening as they once did.
"Love her?"
To keep my body language to a minimum, I clasped my hands in front of me, and I kept steady eye contact with Officer Purcell. "Yes, love her."
"Explain how you met."
"Her father needed an investor for his club, and I wanted to be that investor. At first, our relationship was purely business, but it grew."
"And do you have proof of that? Phone bills, emails, etc."
"Everything's at home. We weren't expecting to get interrogated, so we don't have anything with us."
The officer smiled, but there was no warmth behind it. "If need be, we can get your phone records. We've looked into your background. Your visa expired. You applied for a new one and didn't get it. An easy fix would be to find a wife. Someone who needed money. Someone who was desperate."
Despite wanting to reach across the table and rip the officer's throat, I kept my cool. "I love my wife. There's nothing desperate about her. She's the woman I'm going to spend the rest of my life with."
For the next three hours, he asked me the same questions in several different ways, taking notes and then reading them back. He would occasionally leave the office to verify my answers and then come back only to ask me the same questions again.
At the end of our third hour, he regarded me coolly and rocked back on his chair. "Do you know what today is?"
"The tenth?" I wasn't sure where his line of questioning was headed.
"It's my twentieth wedding anniversary and my wife is waiting for me at home."
"Congratulations."
"Your paperwork is telling me one thing. You and your wife are telling me another. You're both either pathological liars, or you're telling the truth." He tapped his pen to his lips and blew out a breath. He stopped rocking and flipped the file closed. "As soon as you can, you and your wife go to the nearest immigration office. Your fate lies in their hands. Today is not the day I split anyone up."
"You mean I can go."
He gestured toward the door. "It's open. For your sake, I hope you're not lying to me. If you are and this is a scam, you are your wife and in more trouble than you can ever imagine."
"Thank you, officer." Relief, the size of Niagara Falls, washed over me.
That was close. Too close. Who the hell had tipped off immigration? Only one other person knew about the reason behind our wedding, and that was Beaufort. What was the old bastard up to? He was set to lose a lot if we were found out, but I would deal with him and his game playing later. The only thing I wanted to do now was to make sure Lizzie was okay.