Page 105 of Start With A Slap

With a sidelong glance at Huey, who had moved on to cleaning the pads of his feet, she touched it.

It said:

I’m not the only one with a dirty secret.

There was more to the message. A photograph. Of Kara Bennett?

Yes, it was Kara, in a photo dated last week, kissing a man’s cheek in a parking garage.

Ivy had a sinking feeling that the next photo would show her exactly who that man was. It didn’t let her down.

Wind knocked out of her, she sat on the couch.

More photos followed, from different nights over the past three weeks. All variations on the same theme.

Obviously, Sever had a P.I. tailing Jason since Paris, but had been waiting for the right moment to spring the evidence on her. Now, in a transparent last-ditch attempt to win her back, he played his only card.

Classy.

He saved the best for last, though. The final photo set, thecoup de grâce, was of Jason letting Kara into their office building at 8:29pm tonight.

Ivy looked at the door and, seconds later, found herself rushing through it.

Panting,ears ringing, she caught her breath and used her cardkey to enter the darkened office. As quietly as she could, shecrept to Jason’s door, which was slightly ajar. The air smelled of Thai food. Jason groaned, and a woman murmured.

Ivy pushed the door open.

Jason was sitting at his desk. Kara was beside him, arms crossed. They were both fully dressed. And looking at her.

Jason wore the guilt face this time. “Ivy.”

She opened her mouth, but had nothing to say.

“Well,” Kara said, taking in Ivy’s sloppy, mismatched, just-ran-six-blocks appearance with amusement. “You look nice.”

He shut his eyes. “Kara...”

Getting the message, Kara took her briefcase off the desk, got her coat, and said, “We’ll finish this later,” and passed Ivy to leave. “Night, Ivy.”

Jason ran a frustrated hand down his face. “I swear to you, this is not what it looks like.”

Whoa. Like father, like son.

He began, “I was gonna tell you...”

“You... You were?” People tell when they want the other person more... Oh God, was he ending this?

“No. Ivy. I’m not having an affair. I needed her help.”

“What kind of help,” she said, finally able to articulate a thought, “involves a secret rendezvous with your opposing council who you incidentally used to fuck?”

He exhaled, closed two folders on his desk and slid them her way. “This kind.”

She approached his desk to get a look at their labels.

MARK, STÉPHANE “SEVER”

SHANE, ROXANNE / CORONER’S REPORT

---