Ghosted

Chapter 2

--LUKE--

The woman removed her over-sized sunglasses and revealed a pair of red-rimmed, tired eyes. "Do you have the photos?"

I hesitated. This was my least favorite part. It was one thing to provide closure for a family who'd been through a trauma. That was one of the reasons I'd become a private investigator in the first place. It was another to provide evidence that the life you'd been leading had been a lie. Where one outcome attempted to mend a broken family, the other tore it apart. Today, inside a dark town car with tinted windows and a driver who'd stepped outside, and was currently leaning against the hood, I would break a family apart.

"Luke, I need to know." The woman's lips trembled. She already knew. It was in her eyes. She just needed confirmation.

"I'm sorry, Deliah. He's having an affair." I pulled the thumb drive from my pocket and placed it in her slender hand. Her fingers closed over the device, swallowing it up as if her cherry painted nails could make the evidence disappear forever.

"Are you sure?"

They always asked that question. It was a reflex, a coping mechanism. Maybe I hadn't done my job right or maybe there was an innocent explanation. Maybe one day there would be. That day wasn't today.

"Give the drive to your lawyer along with the receipts you found in his office. They'll put together a case against your husband. Don't let on that you know about the affair. Pack up the kids and go visit your mother for a while."

She nodded as tears welled in her eyes. The sunglasses came back on. "Thank you, Luke. I've already transferred the money into your account. It's from my trust so Richard won't see the bill."

"Take care of yourself, Deliah. Call if you need anything." I reached for the door handle, but Deliah placed her hand over mine.

"Wait." She paused, gathering the confidence to continue. "In your line of work, do you think it can ever work out between two people? I mean are we all destined to fall apart?"

I didn't get that question often. The truth? I was cynical. I'd seen too much. The ways in which people hurt each other were endless and yet, they tried again and again, hoping the next relationship would be different. Blind fools. Too much optimism and not enough reality.

Deliah laughed softly at my silence. "Don't answer that. I don't need to be a PI to solve that one. But, you know what? Even though I'm holding a fist full of photos to the contrary, I think it can work out for some people. Maybe even for me someday." Another laugh, this one closer to my ear. Her breath skated down my neck. "Maybe even for someone as disbelieving as you."

Her thumb traced the skin along my wrist, delving beneath the cuff of my sleeve. I grimaced. See, too much optimism and not enough reality. She'd figured I'd solved one problem, and now, maybe I could solve another. I didn't work like that though. My clients were often raw, emotional, even traumatized. They acted in ways they wouldn't normally. Sometimes they wanted to take revenge, and I was the closest option. I didn't take advantage, not with a client, ever.

"See you around, Dee."

She nodded, unsurprised by my refusal. She knew the rules. The driver took his place in the front seat and I exited the vehicle. I watched it pull into the heavy city traffic and disappear around a corner. Another job completed. I made a mental note to tell my scheduler to pass on the next few cases involving cheating spouses. I needed a break from snapping photos in seedy bars and darkened parking lots.

I walked the block and a half to my building and entered the sparse lobby, noticing instantly the missing doorman. The owner was going to have to get his act together and make sure the desk was manned at all times. This neighborhood might have a safe reputation, but crime was everywhere, and a half-empty building of rich tenants was ripe for the pickings.