Page 36 of Bad Situation

What an investigator cannot do is get tunnel vision. That will fuck you up the ass and leave you spinning in circles. Or, apparently, it can also suck you into a kaleidoscope, hypnotizing you into justifying the means where there were no means to be vindicated in the first place.

That is exactly what has happened to Bree Newman and, dammit all to hell, she’s sucking me into her cyclone.

Yesterday, after the trash run, I followed her home to a neighborhood where the houses were smashed together like a pack of Juicy Fruit with cars lined up just as tight. Even so, it was still ten times nicer than the hood I grew up in.

Everyone seemed to be minding their own business so I had no trouble blending in when I crawled under Bree’s car to install a tracker. I need to know what she’s up to.

Then I went home to take a shower before interrupting Jen’s workout with fucking Jase. When I saw that Bree was on the move and where she was headed, I had to leave Jen and climb back into the damn dumpster so I had reason to be there.

I was never so damned pissed to be right.

When she asked what I was doing, I explained I was afraid we weren’t thorough enough and, if she found one set of documents, there could be more. Bree tried to hide her surprise before offering to help, but I told her I’d dug to the bottom and there was no need for her to wade through shit again.

Bree showing back up at Jen’s building was too much of a coincidence. A niggling at the back of my neck had me curious so, after she left, I crawled under my car to find I was right—the bitch was tracking me.

Seems I’m not the only inquisitive one about my new coworkers. How long has she been tracking me? I just don’t know why. Unless could she have seen me dance with Jen at the club when I was positive no one was close and we were swallowed by the crowd? Maybe she found out I was at Jen’s when I shouldn’t have been.

Regardless, she’s fucking with the wrong agent.

Back I went to my shitty apartment to shower a-fucking-gain.

And, while Bree’s tracker sits in my kitchen, I know every move she makes. For most of Sunday, she’s been at the office, conjuring up who-knows-what and, when she was on the move again, so was I. Jen isn’t supposed to be back for over an hour and, even though it might be late, I’m bringing her dinner.

I don’t plan on leaving early.

Or at all, depending on how the night goes.

But first, I didn’t expect to find myself here, at White Rock Lake, northeast of downtown. The area is huge and heavily wooded with no one in sight. I got here just in time to see Bree get out of her car and I almost throw up a little as she sways her ass into the passenger seat of another.

In the dusky evening sunset, she disappears and goes to town on the driver before his head falls back against his head rest. I pick up my telescope-lensed camera to get a closer look.

Well, fuck me.

It’s our boss. Larry Flemming.

I start snapping away before I switch it over to video. My memory is sharp. When he ripped me off Jen’s case like a dirty Band-Aid, I saw a family portrait of him and who I assumed were his wife and three kids sitting front and center on his desk like a trophy. There was even a fucking dog in the picture. The portrayal of a happy family.

So, Bree Newman, home-wrecker, is having an affair with our married boss, the cheating, motherfucking asshole.

I watch him squeeze his eyes shut as his face tenses and record the whole thing as my stomach churns. It’s fair to say I’ve seen some sick shit in my day but having to watch my co-worker give my boss a blowjob pretty much kills my appetite.

I guess Jensen Montgomery is fighting more than just someone trying to frame her from inside her own company.

And I need to figure out what to do about it.

*****

Jen

I shouldn’t be surprised to hear raps at my door before security calls up to announce I have a guest.

How does he do that every time?

I’ve been home for thirty minutes. Long enough to get a load of laundry started and answer a few emails.

I go to open the door, knowing it’ll be him and wondering what the night will bring.

No—anxious for what the night will bring.

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