Chapter 12 - The Photograph
For one sick instant I couldn't breathe. The photograph was recent. Ethan wore the gray jacket I'd bought him for his birthday. His hand hovered near the woman's back as they stepped through a revolving door.
Brooke watched my face with greedy attention. "Ask him who she is."
I looked again. The woman's expression was serious, not affectionate. She carried a document case. A brass plaque on the wall behind them read MERIDIAN CONFERENCE CENTER.
"That's Leah Park," I said. "The detective."
Brooke blinked.
"Ethan met her there to give her documents after work. I knew about it."
It was only half true: he'd told me he was dropping off records, but I hadn't known the location. Still, I recognized the detective from our meeting and knew what Brooke was trying to do.
"You think a picture of my husband doing the right thing will make me turn on him?"
Brooke's smile vanished. "You don't know him the way you think."
Rachel took the box and asked security to escort Brooke out. My friends returned to their conversations quietly, giving me room to decide how much of the afternoon she'd stolen.
Ethan arrived after his shift and saw the photograph. "I'm sorry she did this. I should have told you where we met."
"We need to stop making decisions about what the other person can handle," I replied.
"Agreed."
He took my hand beneath the table, where nobody else could see.
That night, Detective Park called. "We identified the sender of the message to your phone. The number was registered with a prepaid service, but the device connected near an address linked to Dylan."
"Does that mean you can arrest him?"
I kept the photograph, not because I believed its accusation, but because it documented another attempt to frighten me. That difference mattered. The old version of me would have replayed it until doubt poisoned an ordinary conversation with my husband. The new version asked him what happened and accepted that a person could have an explanation without having a secret. We were both learning how to be transparent without having to account for every breath.
"Not by itself," she said. "But we have something else. Someone has agreed to give a recorded statement."
May you like
I knew who it was before she spoke.
"Your mother," Park said.
