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Chapter 2
One Year Later
Caleb
"How do we get these boring cases?” asks Clay as he huffs and takes a drink of his coffee.
"Someone's got to do it. We can't pass all the shitty cases onto the other guys. Take one for the team, bro."
I look through the binoculars and try to see any movement from the office block in front of us. We're following a fifty-three-year-old man, because his wife of thirty years thinks he's cheating. This is our fourth day following him, and tonight's the only night he's been late out of the office. We’ve watched him go to dinner with a young blonde, but it’s not enough to agree with his wife.
Clay's right. These private investigation cases are boring, but they're more common than we ever anticipated when we started this business eight years ago. They keep our business floating by nicely. They pay the bills and let us lead a comfortable life.
"He's probably in there fucking his secretary."
I roll my eyes at my brother. Out of the three of us, he's the only one that doesn't watch his mouth. His language can be very colorful, which I blame the army for. I wish I had a dollar for every time my mom tells him off for it when we’re all together. He’s the brother that hits out first and asks questions after. I’m the reasonable one. And then there’s Chris; he’s the silent one. He doesn’t pass judgement or offer his opinion until he’s sure. I think we work well, because together we can see every side of an argument.
"We need proof. His wife hasn't paid us to go on a gut feeling. I sometimes worry about your attitude."
"No need. I just need a little bit of excitement."
"Bingo!" I say rather too loudly. It's a good job we’re not in earshot.
Clay picks up his camera and starts snapping pictures of the man with his tongue down a young blonde’s throat. It's kind of gross, because he looks old enough to be her father. I would castrate any man for touching a daughter of mine like that. The man pushes the woman against the wall and slides his hand up her skirt. I think we can all imagine what he’s been up to. The horny old dog.
"That's all the proof we need. Let's get out of here and we can pass all of this onto the wife tomorrow. Case closed."
“We can show the wife these photos. She might want more proof,” I say to Clay.
“Seriously? Does she want us to catch him dipping his wick? That wasn’t a friendly goodbye kiss, bro. Trust me, tonsil tennis like that is a kiss to say, ‘I’ve just fucked your brains out. This is until the next time.’”
“Coming from the expert.” I roll my eyes and shake my head at my brother.
I wait until the man and woman drive away separately. I start the truck and drive off. The case might be boring, but there is something very satisfying about saying ‘case closed.’ In eight years, we've never failed one case. We've found out cheating husbands/wives. Found missing persons. Kept people safe. Helped the police with cases and grown our business into something we never thought possible. Maybe it's the fact that Clay and I had made a name for ourselves in our previous careers. Maybe we've just worked extra hard to do well. Or maybe we've just had a lot of luck on our side. Who knows? All I do know is this is where we're meant to be.
This job was made for us.
***
Clay throws the file down on my desk and I sit back in my seat. "You're more sympathetic to these cases. Do you want to tell Mrs. Jamieson what we found out about her darling husband last night?"
I nod and throw my pen down on the table. "You okay? You've been in a bad mood for days. You've got no empathy for anything, and you're really getting on my last nerve."
I love my family with everything I have. I'd do anything for them, anytime, but Clay is just on a different planet lately. He can shut me out all he wants, but I won’t give up. He should know better than that.
I know he can be a moody fucker, but something’s off with him. I won’t rest until I know what it is.
He sits down on the seat in front of my desk and crosses his leg over his knee. He looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, but his smart tongue gets him through everything.
"I'm fine."
"And I'm Mother fucking Theresa," I snap.
Clay shakes his head and runs his hands over his face. "Can you remember Shay?"
"Of course I can. She came home with you a few times when you weren't deployed. We all really liked her."
If I'm being honest, all of us saw how Clay was with her. She was the only woman we could see Clay loved. He was different with her. We all placed bets on how long it would take him to realize he loved her. It never happened. He left the army and Shay remained there. End of their story. This is the first I’ve heard her name mentioned in years.
