"Fine," she said, not meeting my eyes. "Just dinner and conversation." "Good. I'm glad you had fun." She looked at me suspiciously, like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it didn't, she shrugged and turned off her bedside lamp. Good night, Jack.
Good night, sweetheart. I lay awake for a long time after her breathing evened out, staring at the ceiling and thinking about that text message. L. Who did we know with a name that started with L? Lisa, Megan's best friend from work.
But why would she be warning me about anything? As far as I knew, Lisa thought I was a boring loser who wasn't good enough for her brilliant friend. Unless that was exactly the point. The next morning brought fresh developments. Nathan called Megan around 10:00 and I could hear his voice through her phone from across the kitchen.
He sounded agitated. "Someone vandalized my car last night," he was saying. Keyed the door and left some kind of threatening note. "Oh no," Megan said, shooting me a glance. "That's terrible.
Do you think it was random?" "I don't know. The note was weird. Said something about parking where I belong. I kept my face neutral, focused on my coffee and the morning paper. Just a regular husband reading about local politics and high school sports.
Maybe you should call the police, Megan suggested. Yeah, maybe. It's just the timing is weird, you know. Right after our date. Megan's eyes found mine across the kitchen table.
I looked up from the sports section and smiled. Everything okay, honey? Nathan's car got vandalized last night, she said, watching my reaction carefully. That's awful. This neighborhood's really going downhill.
I shook my head in mock sympathy. You can't leave anything nice alone anymore. Emily wandered into the kitchen wearing pajama pants and a college sweatshirt, her hair sticking up at odd angles. What's going on? Nothing, sweetheart, I said.
Just some vandalism downtown. Want some coffee? God, yes. She collapsed into a chair and immediately started scrolling through her phone. Oh, speaking of drama, did you guys see what happened at the Hendersons last night?
The Hendersons lived three houses down, a middle-aged couple with two teenage sons, and a tendency toward loud arguments. "What happened?" Megan asked, still holding her phone. Mrs. Henderson caught Mr. Henderson cheating, Emily said without looking up from her screen. Threw all his clothes out on the front lawn. It's all over the neighborhood Facebook group.
Megan went very still. How did she find out? Someone sent her screenshots of his dating profile. Anonymous tip, apparently. Emily finally looked up.
Can you imagine being married for like 20 years and then finding out your husband's been lying to you the whole time? Terrible. I said, refilling my coffee mug. Just terrible. I spent that day at work researching Nathan Coleman, his social media profiles, his employment history, his apartment lease.
Amazing what you can find about someone with just a little digging and the right search tools. Nathan was an open book, the kind of guy who posted his entire life online for validation. He had a girlfriend, had been dating Jessica Martinez for 8 months. According to her Instagram, she was a nurse at Milbrook General, pretty in a wholesome way that was completely different from Megan's polished corporate look. Her recent posts were full of couple photos.
Nathan's arm around her at restaurants, beach trips, even what looked like a romantic weekend getaway just two weeks ago. Poor Jessica had no idea she was sharing her boyfriend with my wife. That gave me an idea. I created a fake email account and sent Jessica a simple message. Thought you should know your boyfriend Nathan is cheating on you with a married woman named Megan Walsh.
Check Shayon's Facebook page. They posted photos from last night's dinner service. I hit send before I could second guess myself. My phone buzzed 20 minutes later. Another text from L.
You're playing with fire, Jack. Some games have consequences you can't control. This time I texted back, "Who is this?" The response came immediately. Someone who knows more than you think. I stared at the phone, my mind racing.
Whoever this was, they knew my name. They knew what I was doing. But instead of feeling threatened, I felt energized. Let them watch. Let them try to stop me.
I was just getting started. That evening, Megan announced she was going out with Lisa for drinks. "Girls night," she said. "But I noticed she was dressed awfully nice for hanging out with a female friend." The black dress was back along with heels and enough perfume to stop traffic. "Tell Lisa I said hi," I told her.
"I will." But she wouldn't because she wasn't going to see Lisa. She was meeting Nathan again, probably at some hotel this time since his car situation had made him paranoid about public places. I didn't bother following her. I had other plans. I drove to Jimmy's boxing gym on the south side of town, a converted warehouse where I'd been working out since college.
Jimmy Torino was pushing 70, but could still drop men half his age with a single punch. He'd been like a father to me when my own dad had taken off teaching me how to fight and more importantly when not to fight. "You look like someone pissed in your cornflakes," Jimmy said when I walked in. The gym was mostly empty, just a couple of regulars working the heavy bags and an old-timer doing sit-ups in the corner. Something like that.