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“Thanks for doing this. I know it’s been a while,” I murmur. I wring my hands, watching out the window of John’s home office as if we’re going to get caught any moment. I don’t know what John would do if he saw us here. Especially Chuck. But I had to take the risk.
The last time Chuck and I saw each other, when the almost affair happened, he talked on and on about his special skills with technology. In high school, he was always a tech nerd. Now, I’m glad he’s here to help. I didn’t know who else to call. I didn’t even know if he could do anything.
“It’s fine. This is my specialty.” He’s tapping on John’s computer. He’s assured me he can get me what I want, and he’s promised there is no fee. No expectations. A rendezvous with Chuck is literally the last thing I need now. My life is such a conundrum on its own. I sit across from him, sweat pouring down my face. It feels like I’m being unfaithful, which seems like the smallest of my problems now. I’m terrified of what we might find. I’m concerned John will figure out I was in here again and horrified by the prospect of what he might do if he finds out.
Time ticks by. I tap my foot. Chuck’s tongue dangles from his lips as he works, and his eyes are laser-focused on the computer. I study him, thinking about how life might’ve been different if things with us had been different. It’s laughable in some ways to think life would’ve been better with him. He’s a basement dweller who hacks into computers. Still, would life have been simpler? Easier? I don’t know. It’s possible, I suppose. Maybe Chuck was more in my league after all, and maybe I should have stuck with that.
I decide to busy my hands in the filing cabinet. I flip through, but it’s all just case stuff or utility bills. Nothing sticks out. I open the bottom drawer. The gun is still there. Nothing’s been added to the box, though.
“Okay, we’re in,” Chuck says, his face lighting up. I felt foolish calling him. I worried he would laugh me off and say no. But Chuck was all about it; I’m not sure if it was because he has some hope we can pick up where we left off, or if it’s because he truly does love his “work.” Regardless, the news that he’s accomplished what I never could causes my heart to flutter. I smooth out my shirt and take a deep breath. Ready or not, here I come, John. Here I come.
“Thank you so much. Thank you,” I laud, looking at him. He gets up from John’s seat and holds out a hand, ushering me forward.
“I’ll stay. I can tell you some places to look, some secret hiding tricks he might use if he’s up on all of this. Plus, I’m assuming you’re going to want to lock the door so he doesn’t know you were in here?”
“You can do that?” I ask, surprised.
“I’m a man of many skills. It’s crazy what you learn in prison,” he adds.
“You’ve been to prison?” My heart leaps. Margot. She’s in the other room. I’m bringing strangers, dangerous ones, into our home. I’m worried about John, my husband, and I’ve let a convict in. Shit, what’s wrong with me?
“Yeah. Where do you think I learned so much? But relax. I didn’t kill anyone. Just some white-collar crime. I did my time and all.” He plops down into the chair I was seated in, leaning back and kicking his feet on the desk. His hands are crossed behind his head as if he’s settled on the beach in Florida and not helping an ex-girlfriend spy on her husband through illegal and immoral means.
“I see,” I add. You don’t know what people are hiding. I don’t have time to assess Chuck’s criminal record, though. I’m into the laptop. I need to make the most of this opportunity.
We comb through files and transactions. He shows me some ways to search for secret folders. Nothing stands out. Chuck shows me a few other tricks, but John either didn’t know about them or didn’t use them for fear of getting caught. I try a different tactic. I look through social media after Chuck gets me in. There are a few messages between Olivia and John. My heart sinks.
Olivia: You need to be careful, John. This could ruin everything.
John: I have to do this.
Olivia: You’re playing with fire. I don’t want to see you get caught. Your life would be ruined.
John: And so will yours if you don’t cooperate. But we shouldn’t talk about this here. It’s dangerous. I’ll call you.
The conversation ended. Tears well. I try to hold it back. I continue searching. Obviously, it’s an affair. But is it something more? And why was Olivia so pissed at him? The messages are from a few weeks ago. What changed in that short period?
We peruse his computer again, combing through to be sure we didn’t miss anything, but things are relatively clean other than the stuff with Olivia. Chuck pulls out all the stops, but we come up mostly empty-handed. He’s getting ready to close up shop when a thought strikes me.
“Chuck, can I ask you to look at one more thing?”
“Yeah, what is it?”
I pause. Should I leave him alone in here? What’s the worst he could do, though? Ruin my cheating bastard of a husband? I head upstairs to find the book.
I show him the number, the one I found in the filing cabinet.
BR1812450305100020009795473D1
“It’s an international bank account number. From Brazil,” he says as soon as he sees it. I feel foolish for not knowing. But of course, Chuck would be knowledgeable about this if he’s been to jail for financial crimes.
“Really? Why would John have that? Something for work?” I don’t know what I thought the number was, but not this. Definitely not this.
Chuck smirks. “So innocent. Listen, Ev, someone like John doesn’t get an overseas bank account to buy things on eBay or to save up for vacation. Something’s going on. Something below the board. For sure.”
“What could it be?” I ask, my mind whirling. He’s a cheater—and a criminal.
“Something illegal, most definitely. The sky is the limit. Until it isn’t. Just ask me. I’m sorry. These things don’t end well typically unless you’re really good at what you’re doing or have friends in really high places.”
Tears well as I look around the office. Life used to be so straightforward. When did that change?
“I should probably go before he gets home. Are you going to be okay?” His hands are shoved in his cargo pants. He stares at me with those soulful eyes.
“I’ll be okay. I can handle it.” I say the words assuredly, but it’s a confidence I’ve learned to fake. I am not okay with any of this.
“I know you can, Ev. But if you need help...”
“Thank you. Thanks for everything. You should go.”
Chuck helps me tidy up and lock the room, and then he finishes a few more tasks to help me out. He explains a few of the devices. My blood chills because it is as if I’m in some terrible investigative movie. I’m standing in the remnants of the reality that is left and the tornado of confusion I’m stuck in. I’m left to pick up the wreckage.