Chapter 4
"David, can you print out those bank records and keep them for me?" I asked.
"Already did. Anything else you need?" he asked.
"Do you know any private investigators? Someone reliable?" I asked.
There was another pause on the other end.
"Michael, what are you planning to do?" David asked.
"I need evidence," I said.
"What kind of evidence?" he asked.
"Proof she's cheating. I want the dates, places, and people, something solid enough to stand up in court," I said.
David took a deep breath.
"Alright. I know someone. I'll send you his contact info later. Michael, " David said.
"Yeah?" I asked.
"Don't rush. The more cards you have, the more leverage you'll have when it's time to lay them on the table," David said.
"I know," I said.
After hanging up, I stood in the hallway for a while, collecting myself.
I erased the call history from my phone.
I walked back into the conference room, keeping my face completely neutral.
One of my coworkers asked, "Michael, you okay?"
"Just my wife reminding me to pick up groceries," I replied.
Everyone chuckled and the meeting went on.
No one had a clue what kind of news I'd just gotten.
And no one knew that the Michael sitting among them was already weaving a web in his mind.
*****
When I got home from work, Linda was busy in the kitchen.
The sizzle of the pan and the aroma of cooking oil filled the air.
She wore a floral apron, her face gentle and calm, just like any devoted wife.
"You're back? Go wash your hands, dinner's almost ready," Linda called out.
"Alright," I said.
I stood in the doorway, watching her for a couple of seconds.
Her acting was so convincing, she could fool anyone.
If I didn't have memories from my past life, I never would've suspected a thing.
At dinner, Henry was shoveling food into his mouth so fast that Linda smacked his hand.
"Slow down, no one's going to steal your food," she said.
"Mom, " Henry whined.
Emily fussed a little in her bassinet.
Everything looked so normal.
Just a regular family of four, living the good life.
I picked up a piece of braised pork, chewed it, but I couldn't taste a thing.
"Linda," I said.
"Yeah?" she replied.
"Is that overtime next week for Peter's event?" I asked.
"Yeah, it's the mid-year review. We need to go over the accounts," she said.
"How many days?" I asked.
"Probably two or three days," Linda said, not looking up as she scooped some greens into Henry's bowl. "What's up?"
"It's nothing. We're almost out of formula, can you pick some up before you head out?" I said.
"Sure," she replied.
She just smiled.
Everything was as calm as ever.
After dinner, I spent some time alone in my study.
I opened the drawer and grabbed a notebook.
I scribbled down some notes:
"Peter. Legal representative of Grantwell Trading. Address: 88 Riverside Road. Linda's 'overtime' dates: next Wednesday to Friday."
Then I added another line:
"Hire a private investigator to follow them. Take photos. Record audio."
I closed the notebook and locked it in the drawer.
I kept the key on me at all times.
David was right, the more cards I had, the steadier I'd be when it was time to show my hand.
I wasn't in a hurry.
In my previous life, I didn't uncover the truth until I was fifty-five, by then, it was far too late.
This time around, I had it all in my hands at thirty-three.
I had all the time in the world.
Take your time, Linda. Keep playing your part.
The more you throw yourself into your act, the harder you'll crash when it all comes crashing down.
My phone buzzed with a text from David:
[I've sent the PI's contact info to your email. His last name is Woods, and he has a solid reputation. Fee to be discussed in person.]
I replied: [Got it.]
The streetlights outside flickered on.
The game was just getting started.
On the day Linda was supposed to be working overtime, I took half a day off.
Detective Woods was a lean man in his forties, wearing a dark gray jacket. Nothing about him stood out; he looked like just another face in the crowd.
We met at a coffee shop right across from Riverside Road.
"Mr. Carter, I've already got the basic info on the targets from Attorney Foster," Detective said, flipping open a small notebook. "Linda, thirty-one, your wife. Peter, thirty-five, legal representative of Grantwell Trading. How long do you want me to tail them?"
"Three days, starting today. Get photos whenever they're together, especially if things look cozy," I said.
"Do you want me to record audio?" he asked.
"If you can get audio, do it," I replied.
"Understood," he said, snapping his notebook shut. "I'll hand everything over in three days."
"The fee, " I began.
"Attorney Foster already took care of it. Don't worry," he replied.
He stood up, nodded, and walked out.
He was all business, no small talk, no wasted motion.
I sat in the coffee shop for another ten minutes.
From my seat, I could see the office building across the street, 88 Riverside Road. The sixth floor was still lit up. That was Grantwell Trading's office.
Linda was probably already "clocked in" upstairs.
I drained the rest of my coffee and stood up to leave.
*****
Three days later.
Detective handed me a manila envelope.
I opened it in my car.
Inside was a stack of photos and a USB drive.