Chapter 13 #2
The Seattle trip would give me more evidence, more documentation of his affair, more proof that my husband preferred the company of his girlfriend to the woman who'd supported his career and raised his children and organized his life for twenty-three years.
All I needed was someone professional to gather that evidence without arousing suspicion or compromising my legal position.
I opened my laptop and searched for "private investigator Hartford Connecticut," looking for someone who specialized in matrimonial cases and had experience documenting adultery for divorce proceedings.
The first few results looked generic, corporate websites that could have been advertising pest control services or tax preparation.
But one name kept appearing in multiple searches with reviews that suggested real expertise in exactly what I needed.
Randy Parker, Parker Investigations. Twenty five years of experience in matrimonial surveillance, former police detective with specialized training in digital forensics and evidence gathering.
His website included testimonials from divorce attorneys who praised his professionalism and thoroughness, his ability to document extramarital affairs without alerting the subjects under investigation.
I filled out his contact form, providing basic information about my situation and requesting a consultation to discuss surveillance options for my husband's upcoming business trip.
Brief and professional, communication that suggested I was serious about gathering evidence rather than just a suspicious wife hoping to be proven wrong.
The form submitted with a digital chime that sounded like the starting bell for a race I'd never wanted to run but was apparently going to win.
At two o'clock, I drove to Dr. Jones's office for my weekly therapy session, feeling like I was carrying explosive devices in my purse.
The evidence on my phone could destroy my marriage and rebuild my life simultaneously, proof that the emotional distance I'd been trying to bridge for months was actually an unbridgeable canyon that Brett had been widening every day with choices that prioritized someone else's happiness over mine.
I settled into my usual chair with coffee and the strange calm that came from finally having concrete answers to questions I'd been afraid to ask directly.
"How has your week been?" she asked, settling across from me with her leather journal and patient attention that made paying someone to listen to your problems feel like money well spent.
"Complicated," I said, which was accurate without being complete. "I've been thinking a lot about anger lately. Whether it's a healthy emotion or just something that makes bad situations worse."
"Tell me more about that."
I thought about watching Brett scroll through messages from his girlfriend while making small talk about his day, about listening to him lie about business trips while I documented evidence of his betrayal, about the way he'd kissed my cheek this morning with routine affection of someone who'd forgotten that actions had consequences.
"I think I've been avoiding anger because it feels destructive," I said.
"Like if I let myself get really angry about things that are bothering me, I might say or do something I can't take back.
So I've been trying to stay calm and rational and understanding, even when situations probably deserve stronger reactions. "
Dr. Jones made notes in her journal, and I wondered if she could sense that I was talking around something larger than general frustration with life's disappointments.
"Anger can be a very healthy emotion when it's proportional to the situation and motivates positive change," she said. "It becomes problematic when it's suppressed for so long that it explodes inappropriately, or when it's used to avoid dealing with underlying hurt or fear."
"What if the situation really does deserve anger? What if someone has been lying to you or betraying your trust, and you've been making excuses for their behavior because getting angry feels too risky?"
"Then anger might be exactly the appropriate response.
It can be a signal that your boundaries have been violated, that you deserve better treatment than you're receiving.
" She leaned forward slightly, and I could see real concern in her expression.
"Are you dealing with a situation where someone is treating you badly, Lauren? "
I wanted to tell her everything. About the emails and photographs and credit card statements and eighteen months of lies that I'd been collecting like evidence for a trial I hadn't known I was preparing for.
About Brett kissing Alison Crawford in VIP boxes while I organized charity fundraisers and pretended our marriage was just going through a rough patch that would resolve with better communication and increased patience.
But something held me back. Maybe I wanted to get further down the road of gathering evidence and planning my exit strategy before involving more people in the destruction of my family, or just needed to protect this small rebellion until it was strong enough to survive exposure to advice I might not be ready to hear.
"I'm working through some relationship issues," I said finally. "Trying to figure out what I deserve and what I'm willing to accept. Anger feels like it might be a useful tool for making those distinctions clearer."
"It can be. Anger often tells us when something important is being threatened or violated. The key is learning to listen to what it's telling you and then deciding how to respond constructively."
We spent the rest of the session talking about healthy expressions of anger, about the difference between righteous indignation and destructive rage, about how suppressed emotions eventually demanded attention in ways that were harder to control than acknowledging them early and responding appropriately.
I left her office feeling like I had permission to be furious about what Brett had done to our marriage, what he was continuing to do every day with his lies and his romantic getaways and his complete disregard for the woman who'd built her entire adult life around supporting his success.
The drive home took twenty-five minutes.
I sat down at the kitchen island with my laptop and a glass of wine, watching my inbox refresh with the obsessive attention of someone waiting for news that would change everything.
At 6:47, a new message appeared from Parker Investigations.
Mrs. Holmes,
Thank you for contacting our office regarding matrimonial surveillance services. Based on the information provided in your intake form, I believe we can assist you with documenting the activities you're concerned about.
I have availability for a consultation tomorrow (Wednesday) at 2:00 PM at our Hartford office. This initial meeting will allow us to discuss your specific needs, review our service options, and address any questions about the investigation process.
Please reply to confirm this appointment time, or suggest an alternative if Wednesday afternoon doesn't work with your schedule.
Best regards,
Randy Parker Parker Investigations
I stared at the email for several minutes, reading it three times before the reality settled in my bones like truth I'd been avoiding.
Tomorrow afternoon I would sit in a private investigator's office and hire someone to follow my husband around Seattle while he conducted his affair with the woman who was helping him build his career and apparently planning to leave her fiancé for him.
The situation would have been funny if it weren't my actual life imploding in real time.
I typed back quickly before I could change my mind: "Wednesday at 2:00 PM works well. I'll see you then."
The response was sent with another digital chime that sounded like the closing bell for a marriage that had been over longer than I'd been willing to admit.