Chapter 3 - THE FACE OF THE ENEMY
Wednesday morning,
I told Thomas I had a late meeting at the office.
Instead,
I drove to a coffee shop three blocks away from the address listed on Patricia Vance’s business card.
It was a high-end office building in downtown Spokane,
all glass and steel.
I sat by the window,
watching the entrance,
waiting for a voice to match a face.
At ten forty-five,
a woman stepped out of a black SUV.
She was tall,
wearing a camel-colored coat and carrying a leather briefcase.
Her hair was blonde,
cut into a sharp bob that screamed efficiency.
She walked with the confidence of someone who owned the sidewalk.
I followed her inside,
keeping a safe distance.
She took the elevator to the fourth floor.
I took the stairs,
my heart hammering as I reached the landing.
I waited by the door of suite 402.
I heard a muffled conversation through the wood.
Then,
the door opened.
A man stepped out,
shaking her hand.
“Thanks again, Patricia,”
he said.
“You’ve made this very easy.”
She smiled,
and it was the same soft,
casual laugh I had heard in my bedroom.
“That’s what I do,”
she replied.
“Transitions should be painless.”
I turned away,
walking down the hall,
feeling the bile rise in my throat.
She was beautiful in a cold,
hard way.
She was the woman who had laughed at my trust.
She was the woman who was helping my husband steal my life.
I went back to my car and sat there for a long time.
I thought about Thomas,
wondering when he had decided I was no longer worth the truth.
Was it a year ago?
Two?
Or had he always been this man,
and I had just been too blind to see it?
I looked at the spreadsheet on my phone.
Twelve days until Belize.
I needed more than just a spreadsheet,
I needed a trap.
I called an old friend,
Mark,
who worked as a forensic accountant for the state.
“Mark, it’s Susan Clark,”
I said.
“I need a favor.”
“A big one.”
“I need you to look at some documents,
May you like
and I need you to do it off the record.”
“Something is very wrong at Clark Climate Solutions.”
