Chapter 6: What Carol Had Kept to Herself
"What do you mean you've been waiting?" I said.
Carol was quiet for a moment.
I could hear her moving to another room, a door closing softly.
"Two years ago," she said.
"Do you remember when I came to visit for Thanksgiving?
Brad drove me to the airport on the Sunday."
"I remember."
"He got a call in the car.
He didn't know I could hear it clearly from the back seat.
He answered it like—" She stopped.
"Like it was someone he was very comfortable with.
Not a colleague.
Not a friend from work.
The way you talk to someone when you've forgotten to be careful."
My hand tightened on the phone.
"I didn't hear a name," Carol said.
"I only heard his side.
But Sophie, the way he laughed.
The things he said.
I've thought about it a hundred times since then and I keep arriving at the same place."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I wasn't certain.
Because I didn't want to be the one who broke your marriage on a feeling.
Because every time I almost said something, I thought about what you'd have to go through and I—" Her voice caught.
"I'm sorry.
I should have told you."
I sat on the edge of the bed.
"How long ago was Thanksgiving?"
"Two years and three months."
Two years.
"Okay," I said.
"Okay."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know yet.
But I'm not going to do nothing." I stood up.
"Carol, I need you to not say anything to anyone.
Not yet."
"Of course."
"And I need you to know that I'm all right.
I'm not falling apart."
"I know you're not," she said.
"You never do.
That's always been your problem."
I almost laughed.
"I'll call you soon."
I hung up and sat with the silence for a moment.
Then I opened my laptop and searched for a private investigator in our city.
I found three with strong reviews.
I wrote down the number for the one whose website mentioned workplace investigations specifically.
I called Monday morning from my car, parked two streets from the house.
His name was Frank Okafor.
He was straightforward and unhurried.
He asked me to describe what I knew.
I described it.
He told me what a basic two-week observation would involve and what it would cost.
I told him to start immediately.
That same week, I went to the bank and opened my personal account.
I transferred enough to cover Frank's fee and three months of expenses.
The teller asked if I needed anything else.
I said no and thanked her and walked out into the pale morning sun feeling like I had just signed something important.
I went home and made dinner.
Brad came home at seven.
He kissed me on the cheek, asked what smelled good, and sat at the table with his phone.
"How was work?" I asked.
"Fine," he said.
"Busy.
The Renata project is taking longer than expected."
He said her name so easily.
I set a plate in front of him and went back to the stove.
"That's a shame," I said.
He didn't look up from his phone.
Friday of that week, Frank sent me a message: *First observation complete.
May you like
I have photographs.
When can we meet?*
