Family Ties (Flesh & Blood Trilogy Book 2) (4 page)

I watched as Brad opened the trunk of his Altima, threw in his golf clubs, and shut it back. He held up his finger at Shelly and then put his phone to his ear. I couldn’t hear anything other than mumbling from inside my car but I knew it was Harper he was calling when he put his finger to his lips so Shelly wouldn’t say anything and blow their cover. Shelly’s hand flew to her pouty lips and covered them. When he hung up the phone and slid it back into his pocket, he brushed Shelly’s hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. I snapped a couple more pictures.

Brad walked around and opened the passenger-side door. Shelly followed him and slithered onto the passenger seat. From my angle, I could still see her, even once she was completely inside the car. Then Brad leaned in with his arm propped up on the door frame and kissed Shelly full on the mouth. It was a quick peck on the lips, but it was all I needed. I took a picture just in time. Brad closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in. He leaned over and kissed Shelly again, this time lingering a bit longer, and I snapped again. The Altima backed out of the parking spot and started to leave the lot.

I waited until his car was turning left out onto the long driveway before I began to follow. This was my first real investigation and I wasn’t about to blow it by following too closely. When I felt the coast was clear, I pulled my Sorento out onto the driveway and followed at a safe distance.

Brad took a left out of the golf course, which told me he was not headed to Lexington, where I knew Shelly lived. I wondered where they could be going. I tried to keep no more than one or two cars between us as I followed them down Union Mill Road and then right onto Main Street. We passed the police-fire station, which brought back too many unpleasant memories from earlier this year. I had been interrogated a number of times about the summer’s events, including Ryan’s murder, his girlfriend’s murder, and my killing of Merle Jackson. I prayed to God I’d never have to set foot in that building again.

Brad’s car turned left off of Main Street and into a hotel. One of only three in Nicholasville. Of the three, it was the nicest, a Howard Johnson built sometime in the last ten years or so. When Brad pulled the Altima up into the breezeway and parked, I parked my car in a spot which would give me the best view without being noticed. I snapped a couple more pictures as Brad got out and walked into the lobby.

I watched as Shelly pulled down the visor and applied another layer of what I knew would be shiny pink lip gloss.
What a whore
, I thought. Didn’t she know Brad was married? Of course she did, because they worked together. I felt protective of Harper, even though I had only talked to her twice on the phone. Perhaps it was because of what I had been through with Ryan’s affair—some sort of twisted sorority for wives with good-for-nothing cheating husbands. In this sorority, we all know that the other woman is nothing but a husband-stealing whore. Nothing else about them mattered. Maybe once upon a time they were nice, respectable women, but the moment they decided to spread their legs for a married man, they were reduced to the worst kind of cheap slut with no remorse or consideration for the woman whose heart she was breaking. The least I could do for Harper was to reveal Brad for the scoundrel he was, so hopefully she could get on with her life.

Brad returned to the car with a hotel keycard in his hand, which he handed to Sherry as soon as he sat back behind the wheel. He pulled his car out of the breezeway and I watched as he drove around the side of the building. Slowly, I crept forward in my own car until I spotted his pulling into a spot in the back of the building. The cheaters got out of Brad’s car and walked hand-in-hand into the back door after swiping the keycard. I took three final pictures before the door shut behind them and they disappeared from my view.

Relieved I had completed my first stealth mission without being detected, I leaned my head back against the headrest and breathed a sigh of relief. After I got my heart rate back down to a normal rhythm again, I flipped through the pictures I had taken just to make sure they came out clearly. There was no mistaking the story the pictures told. Harper had been right. It was very cliché. Her husband was cheating on her with his secretary. Now came the hard part.

I phoned Harper and she answered again on the first ring.

“Did you find him?”

I was more nervous than I thought I’d be. Sure, I didn’t know Harper from Adam, but we were sorority sisters now and I knew I was about to break her heart.

“Yes,” I said finally. “Can you meet me somewhere and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Sure. But just tell me first. Was I right?”

I hesitated. As if somehow I could delay the inevitable heartbreak for her, even if it was just for a few more seconds. But then I remembered what my mom had always told me. Like a Band-Aid. Just rip it right off.

“Yes, unfortunately, you were.”

There was silence on the other line. I guess I expected her to lose her shit right then and there but she didn’t. She just sighed and said, “Copper River. Give me fifteen minutes.”

Chapter 4

Copper River was one of only a handful of places to eat in the small town of Nicholasville. The chain restaurant nestled on the bypass had opened when they built a new shopping center about three years back. Finally, residents of Nicholasville had somewhere nice to sit and eat. Everyone was burned out on Applebee’s.

I arrived before Harper, since I had been only a few minutes away at the Howard Johnson, so I went ahead and had the hostess take me to a booth in the back. I remembered my note to check Shelly Turner’s Instagram account on my phone. I searched her name on the app and found her account, but it was marked private, so I couldn’t see any of her posts without sending her a request, which I obviously didn’t want to do. Then I checked my personal Facebook page and saw that I had three new friend requests, none of whom I knew. I declined them all. I didn’t Facebook very much and preferred to limit the number of “friends” I maintained.

Harper arrived about ten minutes after me. She threw her large knock-off red Chanel bag into the seat and scooted onto the booth directly across from me.

“Thanks for coming,” I said. “Are you hungry?”

“No, I don’t think I could eat a bite.”

“A drink then?”

“Sweet tea?”

“My favorite too.”

I motioned for the waitress and when I finally got her attention, she walked over, apologizing for taking so long.

“It’s fine. Can we have two sweet teas?”

“Nothing to eat today?” She looked offended. Probably because she knew it meant little to no tip.

“Not today. Just the teas.”

“I’ll be right back.” She turned on the heel of her black clogs and headed toward the kitchen, her long black ponytail swinging from side to side.

I turned my attention back to Harper. She looked even more demure in real life than in the pictures I had seen on Facebook. I resisted the urge to offer her some lipstick. Her hair was pulled up into a loose, messy bun on the top of her head and her black, probably fake, Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses were resting on top of her head.

“So what did you find out?” Harper asked with wet eyes.

“Unfortunately, your instincts were dead on. He is definitely having an affair. I’m so sorry, Harper. I wish we were wrong.”

“I figured. Who is it?”

I sighed. This was going to be the worst part. If she knew what Shelly looked like, it was going to be a kick in the gut. “Shelly Turner. His secretary. Just like you thought.”

Harper let out a deep sigh and fell back against the booth. “Yep. I knew it.” I watched as she tried to maintain her composure. She was biting her thin bottom lip and tears were threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.

“Listen, Harper…” I knew telling her about my personal experience was probably a bad idea, but I felt compelled to let her know she wasn’t alone. Plus, I hadn’t had a friend in years (besides Dani), so there was that. “I know exactly how you feel. My husband died earlier this year. And I found out shortly after his death that he’d been having an affair.”

“You? I can’t believe any man would cheat on you! I mean, look at you!” It was the nicest compliment I had received in a long time and my heart melted.

“I appreciate that. But yes, it was very painful. So I know exactly how you feel right now, believe it or not.”

She looked out the window, clearly contemplating something serious. “He just called me about half an hour ago. Told me he got called in to work. Said he wasn’t sure when he’d be home.” She turned her gaze on me. “So where is he really?”

“At the Howard Johnson. With Shelly.”

“Here in town?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, my God. So my husband is literally right down the road fucking some bimbo?” she shouted, louder than I’m sure she meant to.

She grabbed the handles of her purse and started to slide out of her seat.

“Wait, Harper. I wouldn’t do that.”

She slumped back down into the maroon leather booth. “Why not?”

“You don’t really want to see him right now, do you?”

She shrugged half-heartedly. “I dunno. I guess not. I just want to confront him, though.”

“And you will. But you have to be smart about it. You can’t go charging over there and bang on the door without planning ahead. Do you even know what you’d say to him?”

“I’ll think of something. Did you take pictures?”

I pulled my phone out of my purse, opened the first picture and slid it across the table. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for him,” she said as she grabbed my phone and stared down at the photographic evidence of her husband’s infidelity.

She swiped through the pictures I had taken without saying a word. When she got to the last picture, she slid my phone back across the table. “How much do I owe you?”

I thought on this for a second or two. Technically, I had told her my rate was fifty dollars an hour. With travel, my research and the time I’d spent surveilling Brad, I should have charged her about three hundred dollars. But looking at Harper and knowing exactly how she felt in that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “It’s on me.”

“Really? I can’t let you do that. Let me pay you something, at least, for your time.” She reached into her oversized knock-off and produced a red leather wallet.

“No, seriously. I’ve been where you are. Every investigator does pro bono work from time to time. It really didn’t take me long.” I didn’t want to mention the fact that
all
of my work so far had been pro bono.

“Well, there must be something I can do.”

“Just keep me in mind if anyone else you know needs an investigator. There’s no better advertising than a satisfied client.”

“Thank you, Libby. And I will definitely send people your way. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a cheating husband to confront.”

“Do you really want to go confront him all by yourself? I could go with you.”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“Absolutely. I never got to confront my husband. It would be my sincere pleasure to see the look on his face. Not to mention that bimbo Shelly.”

“Whore.”

“Yep.”

I left a ten-dollar bill on the table to cover our sweet teas, plus a little for the waitress we saw only twice, and followed Harper out of Copper River.

“I’m parked over here,” I told her. “You can follow me.”

Harper got into a late-model, white Toyota Camry and followed behind me as I exited the lot. We made it to the hotel in less than five minutes. Harper parked right next to Brad’s Altima and I parked next to her.

She motioned for me to join her in her car and I did.

“They’ve been in there for almost two hours,” I informed her. “They should be out any time now.”

“Or, they could be screwing for hours and we’ll be here all day,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be. I’ll wait with you.”

“What happened to your husband, if you don’t mind me asking? You said he died?”

I drew in a deep breath, let it go, and told Harper everything. I don’t know why. Maybe I was trying to fill the time while we waited to confront her husband. Or maybe I was so desperate for a friend to confide in. The only true friend I had, Dani, was living in Cincinnati with her husband and toddler son and we rarely had time to talk. Harper sat listening quietly until I finished by explaining about Randy and how he’d hired me to investigate his case.

“Wow,” was all she said at first. After a few seconds of silence, she spoke up again. “Do you think you would have forgiven him? Your husband? If he hadn’t died, that is.”

I had thought about this many times before she asked me that, so by that time, I knew the answer. “It depends. If he was truly sorry, yeah, probably. Ryan and I had been together for nearly eight years. We’d been through so much together. Even if he wasn’t sorry, I still would have forgiven him, but I would have left him in a heartbeat.”

Harper seemed to contemplate this momentarily. “You’re a better woman than I am. I’m going to castrate Brad.”

Only because I knew she was being dramatic did I join her in her laughter.

Just then, the back door to the hotel opened and out walked Brad with Shelly under his arm. They were smiling as they walked down the sidewalk toward Brad’s waiting car. He opened the door for her as he had at the golf course and she slid into the passenger seat.

“Bastard,” Harper said under her breath as she opened the car door. Before I could react, Harper was storming around her car toward Brad’s and screaming his name.

Brad’s head jerked up in shock and he froze like a statue when he saw Harper standing three feet away.

“Harper?” he asked incredulously.

“That’s right, asshole. It’s me. Your
wife
. Remember me?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What am
I
doing here? Are you
seriously
asking me that question?”

Brad’s face was red as a beet and his hands were trembling. I looked over at Shelly, who was ducking low in the passenger seat, trying in vain to hide herself.

When Brad didn’t say anything else, Harper took an angry step forward. “Really, Brad? Your
secretary
?” She turned her attention to Shelly. “I see you, by the way…whore.”

“Harper, I’m sorry. It doesn’t mean anything. Can we go somewhere a little less public and talk about this?”

“I don’t mean anything to you?” Now Shelly was in on the conversation, leaning out of Brad’s car with a wounded look on her face. I debated whether I should get out and help defuse the situation, but thought I’d best leave Harper alone and let her do this her way.

“Not now, Shelly,” Brad said, waving her off.

“No, now is exactly the time to talk about this. You’ve been promising to tell her about us for months. Well, now she knows. Now you can get rid of her lousy ass and we can be together.”

“You bitch!” Harper screamed as she lunged toward where Shelly was sitting with her legs hanging out of the car.

I jumped out of Harper’s Camry and grabbed her by both arms, pulling her back just as Brad stepped between the two women. “You don’t want to do this. Trust me.”

I recalled the day I had punched Ryan’s mistress and the assault charges I narrowly escaped. I didn’t want Harper to risk going to jail over some good-for-nothing homewrecker.

“Who the hell are you?” Brad asked, shocked at my appearance out of the blue.

“She’s my friend,” Harper answered before I could say anything.

“Harper,” I said calmly. “I think we should leave. You and Brad can talk about this when you get home. Someone’s bound to call the cops if we stay here much longer.”

“Listen to your friend,” Brad said. “Let’s go home and talk about this.”

“So that’s it?” Shelly asked, getting out of Brad’s car. “You told me we’d be together. You said you’d leave her!”

Brad turned to face Shelly. He had only a second to decide who he was choosing. The weight of his decision played plainly on his face. I prayed for Harper’s sake it would be her. He looked like a truly tormented man, but I didn’t feel one bit sorry for him.

“Shelly, I love my wife. I’m sorry if I led you on, but I want to save my marriage if at all possible.”

“Asshole!” Shelly shouted at him before she stormed off. God only knew where she was going or how she was getting there, since Brad had driven her to the hotel.

Brad turned to face Harper again. “Baby, I’m so sorry. Can we please go home and talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Harper said with her arms folded across her chest. “I’m going to hang out with Libby for a while. You have two hours to go home and get all your shit out of the house. I want you gone by the time I get home.”

“Baby…”

“Don’t
baby
me, Brad. You’ve been fucking your secretary behind my back for how long now?” She looked at him, waiting for a response.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, Harper. Maybe six months.”

“Six months?”

“Yes, but it didn’t mean anything. It’s you I love. I don’t know, I guess I just got caught up in the excitement of it all.” He threw a glance my way. “Can we not do this in front of your friend? Please. Let’s go home.”

Harper turned and started walking back toward my car. “I’m done, Brad. Go home, get your shit, and get the hell out of my life.” She jumped into the passenger seat of my Sorento and slammed the door.

I gave Brad a “fuck you, buddy” look and got back in the driver’s side.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” I asked her.

“Yes,” she said resolutely. “I’ll get my car and drive around a while. Give him time to get his things from the house before I go back there.”