CHAPTER FOUR: NORA’S KITCHEN
Nora opened the door wearing sweatpants and an old Northwestern sweatshirt.
She saw my face and wrapped both arms around me.
I hated how badly I needed that hug.
Her husband Marcus was out of town with their children, so the apartment was quiet except for the refrigerator.
Nora set a glass of water in front of me.
“Tell me the part you can say,” she offered.
I told her about Jessica and Richard.
Then I told her about Caroline at the pharmacy.
Nora listened without interrupting until I reached the reference to the documents.
“Do you have any copies?” she asked.
“No.”
“Good.”
I stared at her.
“Why is that good?”
“Because you don’t need to become an investigator of a company you don’t work for,”
she said.
“Right now, your responsibility is to protect yourself and avoid destroying evidence that someone else may need.”
I explained that Jessica had once asked to use my home computer because her work laptop had stopped connecting to the company network.
Nora asked whether any company files were still on it.
“I don’t know.”
“Then don’t open them,” she said.
“Preserve the device as it is and get advice before anyone touches it.”
She slid a legal pad across the table.
“Start with the things you know from your own experience.”
We listed the date I had come home, Richard’s words, Caroline’s conversation, and the fact that Jessica had disclosed an affair.
Nora refused to let me write allegations as facts.
When I wrote that Richard had stolen company money,
she crossed out the line and replaced it with Caroline alleged improper payments.
“When people are hurt, they naturally want one explanation for every bad thing,” she said.
“Evidence doesn’t work that way.”
I slept on her couch after midnight.
At four in the morning, I woke with the ridiculous urge to send Jessica a photograph of our wedding day.
I thought she might remember who we had been and feel the same shock I felt.
Instead, I opened our message history and saw the notes she had sent me while sitting beside Richard at company dinners.
She had thanked me for being patient when she worked late.
I turned off the screen and stared at the ceiling.
In the morning, Jessica called seven times.
I answered the eighth.
“I’m going to my mother’s for a few days,” she said.
“I’ll give you space.”
“Thank you.”
“Richard says Caroline is threatening legal action against him.”
I sat upright.
“Are you still talking to Richard?”
“He called because he thinks you could cause problems at the company.”
“He called you after I found him in our bed?”
Jessica began to cry.
“I don’t know what you want me to do.”
“I want you to make your own decisions without asking Richard for permission,” I said.
There was a long pause.
Then she spoke so quietly that I almost missed it.
“He has a folder with my name on it.”
My throat tightened.
“What kind of folder?”
“He says it’s evidence that I approved the investor releases,” she said.
“He told me he would make sure I lost my career if I ever contradicted him.”
I understood then that Caroline’s warning had not been a vague attempt to break up a relationship.
It had been about leverage.
“Jessica, you need your own lawyer,” I said.
“Not Richard’s lawyer and not mine.”
“Will you help me?”
“I can give you the number Caroline provided,” I replied.
“But I cannot be the person who decides what you say.”
She thanked me, and I ended the call.
I wanted to believe her fear meant she regretted the affair.
Then I remembered fear and remorse were different things.
