Revealed (Book 4, the Redemption Series)

Chapter 1

Jake snapped a second picture and checked the image on the display. The man's features were clearly recognizable in the frame, even with his lips parted in a moan. The woman's face wasn't visible— not with her performing oral sex on Jake's target. But the man's identity was the only one that mattered.

Dick hadn't spotted Jake the whole time he'd tailed him around South-east Michigan. Which sucked for Dick because, in the next few days, he'd be served with divorce papers. Jake didn't feel bad for Richard Bachman. The man had brought it on himself. Jake hoped the wild sex was worth tearing his life in half.

Richard's wife knew he had a mistress, and now armed with Jake's money shot, Mrs. Bachman would hit the settlement jackpot. It had taken Jake less than a week to get it. Why did people keep their blinds open? Was exhibitionism part of the excitement? Shouldn't having an affair be exhilarating enough? Thank God they didn't because it would make Jake's job a whole lot harder.

His report was already written. It included dates and times for all of Richard's illicit rendezvous along with the credit card transactions. In the addendum were images of the pair eating dinner and holding hands, but none had the same punch as the image of Dick receiving fellatio. Parts of this job repulsed Jake, but he still enjoyed life as a private investigator. Somedays, he even got to do real detective work. Unfortunately, most days were like tonight— playing the part of a voyeur to end another unfaithful marriage.

Jake turned off the digital camera and gently placed it in the passenger seat before turning his attention back to the mistress's bungalow. The pair had switched things up. Richard had his girlfriend bent over the back of the sofa as he thrust wildly. His flabby backside jiggled like a jello mold in an earthquake. Jake feared the sight would be burnt into his retinas if he didn't leave quickly, so he started the car with the lights off, put it into drive, and idled slowly down the street. It was almost ten. He'd go into the office in the morning to complete the report. Tonight, he just wanted to go home and catch a good night's sleep.

The office was a two-room affair in a strip mall. It was all Jake could afford until he got his business off the ground. It consisted of a small receptionist area with no receptionist and a slightly bigger office filled with a second-hand desk and file cabinets. Mary's gift of a potted plant did little to liven up the sterile space. It was pathetic, actually. In hopes of impressing potential clients, Jake spent all of his income on his meager office, which left nothing for housing. So at forty years old, he'd reluctantly moved back in with his mother.

Really. It had been his only option. Bobby had a one-bedroom place. And things were going exceptionally well with Mary, but neither one of them was ready for the next step. Maybe next year, as long as the kids were alright with their relationship. They seemed to be. Hopefully, enough time had passed since Tom's death, there'd be no problem with Jake vying for Mary's heart, but family dynamics can be sticky.

Thirty minutes later, Jake stopped his car in front of his childhood home. A television flickered in the front window. His mother would be asleep in her easy chair, a cup of decaf cooling on the side table. No hanky-panky going on in his mother's house. She'd sworn off men after Jake's dad; he didn't blame her. Ted Bryant was a real son of a bitch. Jake hadn't spoken to him in almost twenty years.

As expected, Jake found the nightly news watching Nancy instead of the other way around. She was wrapped in a quilt, wearing her terrycloth robe and pink house slippers. Her breathing was loud and raspy from years of smoking. She'd deny it, but he knew Nancy was waiting up for him. Jake moving back home five months ago had given her a new sense of purpose. The house had always been kept immaculate, but now she cooked a full meal every night instead of microwaving a Lean Cuisine for herself. She even insisted on washing and folding all his clothes which made him feel guilty, but the attention was nice after years of fending for himself.

Jake placed a hand on her shoulder. It was frailer than he remembered, and there was more grey than brown in her hair. He didn't like it. Nancy showing her age meant Jake was getting old too. Shaking her gently, he said, "Mom. I'm home."

Her eyes fluttered open. "Hi, honey. I was just watching the news."

"You were asleep. I could hear you snoring on the sidewalk."

"I was not." She playfully swatted at him. "I made your favorite, spaghetti. There's a plate in the fridge."

It had been his favorite when he was a kid. He didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise. "Thanks. I'll go nuke it."

"Good. I'm just going to finish the news and then go to bed."

He removed the aluminum foil from the cold plate, covered it with a paper towel before microwaving his meal. His stomach growled in anticipation. His mother had packed him a sack lunch, but that had been hours ago. When he finished his late dinner, he washed the plate and put it in the dishwasher to not dirty the sink.

In the living room, Nancy had fallen back asleep and was snoring louder than ever. He didn't bother stirring her again. She'd wake up soon enough and take herself to bed. Carefully removing the remote control from her lap, Jake turned off the television, and the room went dark. The sudden lack of sound didn't wake her, so he felt his way down the hall to his bedroom.

Closing the door behind him, he switched on the light and stripped off his shirt. He stretched, working out the kinks of a long day sitting in a cramped vehicle. Pivoting about his hips, he twisted from side to side. Vertebrae cracked, and the crick in his neck gave way with a loud pop. Maybe, he should consider signing up for a yoga class if he didn't want to be crippled by this line of work.

With the tension released, his weariness set in. Jake undid the button on his pants to crawl into bed when he heard a tapping sound. He ignored it. The old house made lots of sounds that he hadn't got used to yet. However, the noise came again. He didn't think it was a tree branch in the wind. It had been a still night. No. It was someone knocking on his window.

Troubled, Jake ran to the pane to find an all too familiar face in its corner.