When the touch of betrayal comes in the form of adultery, it can feel like steel fingertips, clutched at the warmth of a gentle heart.
It creates freeze-frame images that allow the development of anguish to flourish.
Johnathan Weatherby sat at his desk, lost in thought.
A photograph of his deceased wife, smiling with the radiance of happiness and life, stared back at him.
Even from beyond the grave, she had the power to arouse his jealousy.
He felt imprisoned by the past.
A man absorbed in bitterness, and too stubborn to relinquish the flame of his hatred, Weatherby had not gotten over the guilt of having had his wife killed.
He had gotten so entrenched in the schisms set in motion by Swaylo, that there was no way to disengage himself from the avalanche of crimes; used to establish the structure of his organization.
For ten years he had nursed an urge to destroy lieutenant governor Anthony Miller after he had violated the sanctity of his marriage.
Staring at the photograph, Weatherby felt satisfied that an opportunity had arisen for him to destroy Anthony Miller's life.
"I've got that bastard by the balls," he muttered, with a touch of his finger against the picture frame.
After searching for ways to avenge the violation that he felt, when his wife had betrayed their marriage with Anthony Miller, Swaylo had delivered him vengeance on a silver platter.
The reverie of their discussion is still fresh in his mind...
"Do you remember when we discussed that plan to make a run at the governor's office?" Swaylo had asked him.
"That's not the way that I remember it," he had replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "You were trying to convince me that political office was the way to go, to take down Anthony Miller."
"Okay, be that as it may..." Swaylo conceded. "But, what if I told you that I've gotten ahold of some valuable information, that can get him impeached from office?"
Weatherby shook his head in frustration, his heart was devoid of hope that they could pull off any of his farfetched schemes.
"Stop acting like an asshole, John... You know damn well that you want to do something." he had argued. "And I have a plan to help you..."
"What are talking about?"
"After I lost that interstate restoration contract, it occurred to me that those bastards were blackballing me."
They sat in the dining area of Swaylo's restaurant, having lunch.
No one cast an errant glance into their direction.
Swaylo produced a stack of documents and passed them to Weatherby; for observation.
"Take a look at this," he suggested, tapping the documents with his finger as if they held a plethora of vital information.
He went on to explain that the documents were of financial accounts, from a Georgia-based company called Holland and Hughes.
A financial investment firm.
"What does this have to do with Anthony Miller?"
Swaylo points a finger at the list of board members.
"This is your key to the governor's office, my friend."
Weatherby perused over the top of the stack of documents, his eating utensils suspended above his plate.
He saw a list of owners, managers, and department heads.
"Notice the name of the president and founder of the company..." Swaylo encouraged, eager to see the expression on Weatherby's face; once he comprehended what he was trying to show him.
Weatherby caught sight of a name that aroused a tingle of recollection.
William Brock.
William Brock.
He knew that name from somewhere, but the fuse of remembrance was not sparking.
"This dude is the actual founder of Holland and Hughes." Swaylo volunteered.
"According to these documents here, though..." he continued, flipping to another page within the stack of documents.
"Holland and Hughes were established as a subsidiary of a company, called Skylar Incorporated; based out of Florida," he explained, reaching across the table as they ate.
"When I tried to track down the founders of this company, it turns out that Skylar Incorporated does not exist. It's a dummy company..."
Swaylo began skimming through the pages of the documents.
"Now, check this out..."
He had the excited look of a man who had found a treasure, in his attic.
"Georgia Mental Health Center's business manager is, none other than..."
"William Brock," Weatherby concluded, but still not grasping the full scope of what Swaylo was attempting to show him.
His look of confusion only made Swaylo chuck with amusement.
"Exactly."
He took a quick sip from his glass of lemonade and cut off a bite of his steak.
"But, this is where it gets interesting," he stated, between bites.
Swaylo showed him a list of financial bank statements, dating back to 1999.
There was a description of a diagram, with a charting highlight; to estimate currency transactions to, and from the account.
There were eight separate accounts.
Twice a week checks were sent to the accounts.
Eight accounts, two checks a week, sixty-four total transfers a month.
Every check had the same amount.
Nine thousand dollars.
After a quick calculation, Weatherby estimated an average sum of four hundred, thirty-two thousand being transferred to accounts linked to Anthony Miller.
"Where did you get this?"
"Don't worry about that," Swaylo chuckled as if nothing was hidden from the king in his kingdom. "Just know that it's official."
"What this shows is, there is a connection between Anthony Miller and William Brock."
Weatherby took an absent-minded sip of his wine.
"This guy Brock," Swaylo continued to explain. "He used to work as a CPA for North Augusta's department of public safety; some type of financial fraud specialist."
Weatherby snapped his fingers, in sudden recognition of the name William Brock.
"I just remembered where I knew that came from," he exclaimed.
"I presided over a few cases that he was a part of when I was on the bench in Augusta."
Swaylo had the excited look of a cat that had cornered a goldfish.
"Then, maybe you might remember something about this..." he stated, tapping a finger against the stack of documents.
"William Brock was also the lead investigator back in '97 when Anthony Miller filed for an insurance claim of over a million dollars. It's the only tangible link between the two, before these documents."
A brief knock at his door disrupted his reverie.
Placing the photograph of his wife in its original alignment, Weatherby cleared his throat.
"Come in."
The door eased open to reveal his secretary, Linda Milton.
"I'm sorry to bother you, Sir... But, you asked that I inform you when Mr. Livingston arrived?"
"Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Milton...Send him in."
A moment after her departure, Edward Livingston was escorted into his chamber.
Weatherby stood to accept a handshake.
Edward Livingston was the assistant director for the Georgia Bureau of Investigations.
Dressed in a rumpled blue suit, Livingston had the look of a man who had not had a wink of sleep in days.
There was a growing patch of beard defining his jawline.
"Have a seat, Ed..." Weatherby offered. "You look beat."
"Thank you. I'm fine." Livingston replied, taking a seat across from Weatherby.
"I did a thorough investigation on the information that you gave me, and I must admit...I was blown away."
Livingston pulled his briefcase across his lap, opened it, and passed a stack of documents to Weatherby.
"I covered every angle, and still could not find a single thread of illegal activity, that links back to governor Miller. Unethical, maybe... But, without Brock to implicate him in the conspiracy, governor Miller has no other ties to the money; except those eight accounts."
Weatherby gave a thoughtful nod of contemplation.
"However, what is shown here from these documents, is that William Brock is knee-deep in this fraud," Livingston added, wagging a finger at the documents.
"Is there enough to press Brock to give up governor Miller?"
"Absolutely. No question about it." Livingston insisted.
Weatherby looked down at the documents, with an amused smile on his face.
"I'll have the grand jury convened this afternoon. I want you to move on Brock before the close of business."
Edward Livingston stood to get everything set in motion, to execute an arrest on William Brock.
"Oh, and before you make your arrest, get word to the media, and have the connection between Anthony Miller and William Brock made known."
When Livingston walked out of judge Weatherby's office, it occurred to him that he was about to embark upon the biggest bust of his career.
To take down a governor, with ties to illicit activities did not roll around too often, he thought; too amped to bother being distracted with sleep.
He already had a team of agents prepared to converge on Holland and Hughes.