Free His Secrets - Episode 1 by GL Corbin

Episode 1
     
     
    Chris Munroe was tired. Nothing new there – it came with the job. Boredom could be much more exhausting than manual labour. She should know; she'd been on enough surveillances.
     
    Since her father had died, most of her work had involved warring couples. The client, sometimes the husband, more often the wife, suspected their spouse was playing away. They paid Chris to find out the truth, but as the saying goes – most of them couldn't handle the truth. They wanted to be told they were mistaken; they wanted to hear that their spouse was faithful. That did happen occasionally (twice in three years), but most of the time Chris was forced to confirm what deep down they already knew.
     
    Her target tonight was one Alan Drake – husband of Celia. Celia was a typical client: late forties, married to the same man for twenty plus years, and mother to two kids who had now left home. Celia was not unattractive, and certainly had not 'let herself go'. Her only crime was no longer being twenty years of age - a crime which her husband apparently could neither overlook nor forgive. Chris had heard the same story a thousand times or so it seemed. Celia had said it was probably only her imagination, and that she was probably worrying about nothing. Five minutes from now, Chris would have evidence which proved conclusively Celia had neither been imagining things nor worrying about nothing. Chris would have photographs of Alan Drake and Sue Anderson. As is often the case, Alan and Sue were co-workers. Sue was twenty two.
     
    The rain was relentless. It was difficult to see through the windscreen, but she didn't want to risk the wipers. A parked car with its wipers switched on might attract attention; that's what her father would have said. He had been on thousands of surveillances, and had never once let his guard down - the ultimate professional. Chris still missed him.
     
    The telescopic lens was the PI's best friend. There was no need to risk life or limb by getting too close when perfectly good photos could be taken from a safe distance without the subject ever knowing they had been caught on camera. That wasn't going to work today; the house was surrounded by trees and high hedges. Chris had tried to find a vantage point from where she would be able to get a shot, but had drawn a blank. Her only option was to get closer. She had hoped the rain might ease up before she had to make a move. Some chance – it was heavier than ever. Drake had been in the house for ten minutes. That should be long enough. Chris grabbed her camera, pulled the hood up over her head, and stepped out into the rain.
     
    *********
     
    It was on nights like this that she wished she had listened to her father. He had tried everything to get her to go to university: reason, threats and even bribery. She hadn't wanted to know. School had never suited Chris. It's not that she was thick – she'd been much smarter than most of the other kids, but she had never seen the point in it. Who cared if the square of the hypotenuse was equal to whatever the hell it was equal to? Not Chris Munroe – that was for sure. Maybe if her mother had been around, she would have found a way to convince Chris of the importance of qualifications. She had walked out when Chris was two years old. The note had said 'I can't do this – sorry’ - nothing else. Her father had never talked about her mother; it was as though she had never existed. Chris sometimes wondered if she was still alive.
     
    The road was quiet. One of the street lights was out. Chris had the camera case slung over her shoulder. From a distance, it would pass as a handbag. A dog began to bark, but it was half-hearted, and it soon gave up. The lights were on in the front room, but there was no sign of life. Chris walked up the driveway as though she owned the place. One of the first things her father had taught her was that if you acted as though you had every right to be somewhere, you were much