The agent nodded grimly and said, “You’ve had a long run.” In seconds, they had my husband of forty years in handcuffs, guiding him out the door in his pajamas.
I grabbed his arm as they dragged him past me, tears streaming down my face. “Bobby, tell them they have the wrong person!” He looked at me with eyes full of sorrow, not fear.
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“This goes way back, Cheryl,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “Back before I ever met you.” And just like that, he was gone.
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