Free Glass Houses by Terri Nolan Page B

will cost twenty-two hundred up front. He’ll call you with payment details. Afterward, he’ll call again and deliver his verdict and business terms. They are nonnegotiable.”
    â€œSounds like you’ve been a customer.”
    Ron delivered one last round of explosive punches then stopped to regard Thom. “Yeah, I’ve used him before.” He shut down further inquiries with a steely glare.
    â€œIt’s drastic,” Thom said. “And so freakin’ invasive. Maybe I should just ask her.”
    Ron trapped a wrist strap in his teeth and pulled it free. Took off the gloves and flexed his fingers. “You think she’d tell you the truth? Affairs are selfish.” He threw the gloves into the basket. “Look, Thom, it’s a bad business to consider hiring someone for spy work. But what if it’s true? What if the lover is some nut case? You have five children. Is it worth the ten or twenty grand to protect your family?”
    â€œWait,” Thom coughed. “Ten or twenty grand?”
    â€œThe best is the most expensive.”
    â€œI can’t believe I’m actually considering this.”
    Ron shrugged. “Money can buy you peace of mind.”
    â€œOr destroy your world.”
    â€œHe’s fast and has special resources.”
    â€œWhat’s his fulltime job?”
    â€œHe works for a government agency that requires God-like security clearance. Beyond that, I don’t need to know.”
    â€œHe’s discreet?”
    â€œConfidentiality is rule numero uno . I provide the referral. What you guys do beyond that is your business.”
    Thom thought about all the moral hazards that could be discovered during an investigation. Deep in the brain where denial resides he knew this wasn’t just about Anne. What would this Noa guy find out about Thom himself ? There was serious shit to consider. But Thom felt jagged, his pride spent long ago. He had to know. And this was a safe—albeit expensive—way of finding out.
    Thom couldn’t believe what he heard himself saying. “Okay. Give me his number.”

fifteen
    A current of discomfort pulsed through Birdie. She hated fighting with Ron. It always left her with agonizing self-doubt and twittering hands. She felt whittled afterward. Like the words carved a bit more flesh. She threw a cotton-covered pillow against the door he’d slammed a few moments ago.
    Ron’d probably go downstairs and work off the stress with some crazy Marine-stud calisthenics. Maybe he’d punch the bag with Matt’s face on it and get some satisfaction considering he was the only topic they ever fought about. It’d be hours before Ron would return to her bedroom. If at all. He might just spark out in the spare room across the hall. Last time they fought—about a month ago—he didn’t return her calls for two days. At the time, she thought him immature.
    Truth be told, she understood, couldn’t blame him.
    Birdie thought she had learned her lesson after the Big Kahuna fight a month ago. She flinched with the remembrance when—in the effort of good-girlfriend behavior, that open, get-it-all-out-there honesty—she told Ron that she was compiling data and running computer searches. Gathering intel in her quest to find Matt.
    Ron’s response was swift.
    He got quiet.
    Ron’s quiet expelled out into the air in wavelengths of rage like a dangerous animal. Crouched, watchful, ready to pounce with deadly results.
    Ron and Matt had been great friends once. The like of which gave Ron leave to willingly help his friend fake his own death. Not an illegal act of itself. It only became a felony when Ron—in his role as sheriff deputy—knowingly filed a false death-investigation report. Matt committed fraud when he started the process to obtain new identification documents. Birdie committed fraud when she collected Matt’s estate and life insurance as his