Chapter 39
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
JULIE
The address to the house Ryan sent us in West Seattle is a modest two-story craftsman on a tree-lined street where the houses are close together and the cars parked along the curb are Hondas and Subarus, not Audis and Teslas.
The kind of neighborhood where people actually know their neighbors.
Where kids ride bikes on the sidewalk and someone's always mowing their lawn on a Saturday morning.
It’s the kind of neighborhood Asher would never, ever set foot in. Which makes it perfect. Ryan opens the door before we can knock. "Hey," he says, and his smile is warm and reassuring and exactly what I need right now. "Come in."
The inside of the house is just as unassuming as the outside.
Hardwood floors, white walls, furniture that looks like it came from IKEA.
There's a couch and a coffee table in the living room, a small dining table near the kitchen, stairs leading up to what I assume are bedrooms. It's clean and functional and completely anonymous.
"I know it's not much," Ryan says, closing the door behind us. "But it's a brand new acquisition which means it's not traceable back to me yet. Even if he looked, he wouldn’t know about this place.”
"It's perfect. Thank you," I say, and my voice cracks a little. "Ryan, I don't know how to?—"
"Don't," he says gently. "You don't have to thank me. This is what friends do."
I swallow hard and nod.
"So," Jamie says, breaking the moment. "What's the plan?"
Ryan gestures toward the dining table, where a laptop is open and a stack of papers is spread out.
"The investigator is meeting us here in about twenty minutes.
He'll go over the surveillance plan, show you the equipment, and answer any questions. He’ll start working right away.
Marcus is good. He's done work for my dad before.
Nothing like this, but he knows how to handle sensitive situations. "
I walk over to the table and look at the papers. There are maps, schedules, notes in Ryan's handwriting. He's thought of everything.
"You really did this," I say quietly. "You really planned all of this."
Ryan comes to stand beside me. "I told you. I'm not letting him get away with what he's done to you."
Our eyes meet, and for a second I forget how to breathe. There's something in his expression—something fierce and protective and so different from the way Asher looks at me. Like I matter. Like I'm worth fighting for. But for real.
It makes me wonder how the hell I ever fell for Asher’s bullshit. Because looking back, all the signs were there.
Jamie clears her throat. "I'm gonna go check out the upstairs. See which room I'm claiming."
She disappears up the stairs, leaving Ryan and me alone.
"You okay?" he asks.
"I don't know," I admit. "Yesterday I was just trying to survive. And now I'm here planning to gather evidence against my husband. It doesn't feel real."
"It's real," Ryan says. "And you're doing the right thing."
"What if we can't find anything to bring him down?”
Ryan shakes his head. “The man I talked to yesterday doesn’t have it all together. He’s cocky. And cocky makes mistakes. There is no doubt in my mind that Marcus is going to find things.”
We’re interrupted by a knock at the door, which Ryan goes to answer. A man in his forties steps inside—average height, average build, the kind of face you'd forget five minutes after meeting him. Which, I realize, is probably the point.
"Marcus," Ryan says. "This is Julie.”
Marcus extends his hand. "I'm sorry we're meeting under these circumstances."
His handshake is firm and professional. He's carrying a black duffel bag that he sets on the coffee table.
"Thank you for doing this," I say.
"Of course." He unzips the bag and starts pulling out equipment—cameras, a tablet, what looks like a GPS tracker. "Let me walk you through how this is going to work."
For the next hour, Marcus explains everything. He’s going to be running a deep background check into Asher, very discreetly.
“Chances are better than good that someone who works in the cyber security field will have silent alarms tripped to warn him if anyone starts looking. It’s better for you not to know what I can do, but suffice it to say, my people and I can get around any counter-measures he’s taken.
It’ll just take time. If there’s anything wrong in his digital footprint, I’ll find it. ”
He goes on to explain that he’ll be following Asher any time he leaves the house. He'll document everywhere he goes, everyone he meets with, everything he does. He'll take photos, video if possible. He'll track his movements via GPS. And he'll report back to us every evening with updates.
"What about Devon?" I ask. "Are you following her too?"
"If she's with him, yes," Marcus says. "But my primary focus is on your husband. If they split up, I stay with him. Big picture, she can’t know enough to be worth tailing. She’s a problem right now, but he didn’t know her before you got married, so she has no bearing on anything he did before she moved into the house.”
I nod. That makes sense.
"One more thing," Marcus says, looking at me seriously. "If this goes the way we believe it will and I find evidence of infidelity, I'll document it. I need you to be prepared for what that might look like. Photos can be explicit. Are you ready for that?"
My stomach turns, but I am ten toes down on this. I fell for his lies. Now, I’m scraping him off with surgical precision, no anesthesia. I think the pain and the shock are necessary. "Yes. I need to know the truth."
"Understood." He hands me a burner phone. "This is how I'll contact you. Keep it on you at all times. Ryan was right to assume your husband has access to your phone records, your location, everything."
I take the phone. It's a cheap flip phone, the kind you buy at a gas station. It feels like a prop from a spy movie. How the fuck is this my life?
"Any questions?" Marcus asks.
I have a thousand questions. But the only one that matters is: "When will you know something?"
"Depends on how quickly he lets his guard down and what kind of trail he's left.” Marcus zips up his bag. "But if there's something to find, I'll find it."
After he leaves, Jamie comes back downstairs. "So. What do we do now?"
"Now," Ryan says, "we wait."
My least favorite thing to do.