Chapter 7: What Patricia Found
I met with Patricia again the following Tuesday.
She had a small office above a dry-cleaning shop on Clement Street, which I had always thought was an odd location for a family law attorney, but the office itself was orderly and serious and smelled like good coffee, and Patricia Holt was the kind of woman who made you feel that wherever she was working was exactly the right place to be.
I brought the notebook.
She already had copies of everything I'd photographed.
"He admitted the name," she said.
It wasn't a question.
"Laura.
He called her a colleague."
"She is a colleague," Patricia said.
"She works in his company's Chicago office.
She's been in the city periodically over the past eight months for a long-term project." She slid a printed page across the desk.
"I had a researcher pull the basics.
LinkedIn, public records, nothing invasive.
Her name is Laura Voss.
Thirty-four."
I looked at the page.
A professional headshot.
Dark hair.
A confident smile.
"Eight months," I said.
"At minimum.
That's how far back the pattern is visible in public records — conference registrations, the same events, the same dates." Patricia folded her hands on the desk.
"I want to be straightforward with you.
What I have is circumstantial.
It's consistent and it's damning, but in a divorce proceeding, what matters more than proving the affair is protecting your financial position."
"The finances," I said.
"Eric has been the primary account manager on nearly everything you own jointly.
The mortgage, the investment account, the business account from his consulting work." She paused.
"Three weeks ago, he moved forty thousand dollars from the joint investment account into a personal account in his name only."
The room was very quiet.
"He can do that?" I asked.
"He did do that.
Whether he should have is a different question, and it's one we'll be asking a judge." She leaned forward slightly.
"This is why I wanted to move quickly.
He may be preparing."
"Preparing for what?"
"For you to find out.
For a separation.
For a filing." She looked at me steadily.
"Has he said anything about money recently?
Mentioned any financial concerns, any changes at work?"
I thought about it.
"He said his job was stressful.
That he'd been under pressure."
"Did he mention anything specific?"
"No.
He said he hadn't wanted to bring it home."
Patricia wrote something in her notepad.
"I want to freeze the joint accounts before anything else moves.
To do that, I need you to be ready to file.
Not necessarily to serve him immediately — but to have the paperwork in place so we can act the moment we need to."
I looked at the photo of Laura Voss on the printed page.
"He told me she was just a colleague," I said.
"He said it wasn't what I was making it into."
"He also told you the jars were just about keeping food fresh," Patricia said.
I looked up at her.
"You mentioned that in our first meeting," she said.
"I wrote it down.
Because it matters.
Not legally — but it matters to understanding who you're dealing with.
A man who will gaslight you about something as small as a jar lid will gaslight you about forty thousand dollars." She closed her notepad.
"Are you ready to move forward?"
I thought about my daughter's drawing on the refrigerator.
The crayon family.
The big smile.
"Yes," I said.
Patricia picked up her pen.
"Then let's make sure he doesn't move anything else," she said.
My phone buzzed on the desk between us.
A text from Eric.
*Thinking of you.
Want to take you to dinner this weekend.
Just us.*
May you like
I turned the phone face-down.
"How soon can we file?" I asked.
