intolerance incomprehensible in the West.
So Blake had decided it was time
for a course correction. And even though spying on unfaithful spouses wasn’t
exactly what he had in mind, it was probably good for him, just as cold turkey,
painful though it was, was necessary for a junkie to cleanse his system.
Aaron Blake breathed a deep sigh
and brushed these thoughts to the side, returning to the task of learning how
to run a business. But just as he did so, Myla, his personal digital assistant,
alerted him in a pleasant, feminine voice that a woman was approaching his door.
He checked the time. It was a
little before eight in the morning.
Interesting.
As he watched the woman approach
on his monitor he realized this wouldn’t be just another cheating spouse
assignment. More like a beating spouse assignment. Judging from this young woman’s appearance, her husband had
done quite a number on her.
Sad, and tragic, but he
suspected there was little he could do in such a situation. This was a case
probably best left to cops, although he cautioned himself from jumping to
conclusions.
Perhaps there was more to this
than met the eye.
He watched as the woman on the monitor
took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell.
9
“Thank God you’re here,” said
the visitor when Blake answered the door. “I’m sorry to bother you before
regular hours.”
“Don’t be,” he replied with a
warm smile as he gestured her inside. “I’m an early riser. And in this line of
work regular hours don’t exist. Besides,” he said, making a show of looking her
up and down, “you don’t look to be in any condition to be patient.”
He motioned her to take a chair
before his all-glass desk, chosen because glass tended to make the room look
bigger, which he sorely needed. He had done everything possible to make his
living room office-like, rather than apartment-like, and there were no couches
or other furniture, and no television. The main room led to a kitchen and
bedroom, and this was the extent of it.
“I’m Jenna,” said the woman,
extending her hand. “Jenna Morrison.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said,
shaking her hand. “Aaron Blake.”
She had short brown hair and
matching eyes, and while she was more plain than pretty, she was fit and had a
perfect complexion. He judged her to be in her twenties, and despite wearing
jeans and a T-shirt and looking far worse for wear, there was something
attractive about her. He judged her to be about five foot five, only two inches
shorter than his own underwhelming height.
“What can I do for you, Ms.
Morrison?” he asked.
“Jenna.”
“Jenna,” he amended.
She took a deep breath, and he
could tell she was searching for a place to begin. “I’m in a hurry, but it’s critical
that you believe me and don’t think I’m crazy. So I’m going to take this one
step at a time.”
He nodded. “Go right ahead.”
“I am engaged to, and living
with, one of the most brilliant minds of our time. A physicist at UCSD named
Nathan Wexler, who has already contributed some major work to the field.”
She paused. “Before I go on any
further, I want you to verify what I’ve just said. Look up Nathan. Go on the
UCSD website. Go on his Facebook page, where you can see us together, see that
we’re engaged and living together.”
Blake smiled warmly. “No need.
I’m prepared to take your word for it.”
She shook her head. “No. I need
you to do this. My story is going to sound crazy, and I want to establish my
credentials, so to speak, before I go any further.”
Blake stared into her eyes,
intrigued.
She waited in silence as he
surfed the Web and confirmed her information.
“Okay,” he said after several
minutes had passed. “I accept that you’re Jenna Morrison and the truth of your
relationship with Nathan Wexler. Also, it’s clear that Dr. Wexler is quite the
genius. So why don’t you tell me what this is all about.”
His visitor began, explaining
she had been
So Blake had decided it was time
for a course correction. And even though spying on unfaithful spouses wasn’t
exactly what he had in mind, it was probably good for him, just as cold turkey,
painful though it was, was necessary for a junkie to cleanse his system.
Aaron Blake breathed a deep sigh
and brushed these thoughts to the side, returning to the task of learning how
to run a business. But just as he did so, Myla, his personal digital assistant,
alerted him in a pleasant, feminine voice that a woman was approaching his door.
He checked the time. It was a
little before eight in the morning.
Interesting.
As he watched the woman approach
on his monitor he realized this wouldn’t be just another cheating spouse
assignment. More like a beating spouse assignment. Judging from this young woman’s appearance, her husband had
done quite a number on her.
Sad, and tragic, but he
suspected there was little he could do in such a situation. This was a case
probably best left to cops, although he cautioned himself from jumping to
conclusions.
Perhaps there was more to this
than met the eye.
He watched as the woman on the monitor
took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell.
9
“Thank God you’re here,” said
the visitor when Blake answered the door. “I’m sorry to bother you before
regular hours.”
“Don’t be,” he replied with a
warm smile as he gestured her inside. “I’m an early riser. And in this line of
work regular hours don’t exist. Besides,” he said, making a show of looking her
up and down, “you don’t look to be in any condition to be patient.”
He motioned her to take a chair
before his all-glass desk, chosen because glass tended to make the room look
bigger, which he sorely needed. He had done everything possible to make his
living room office-like, rather than apartment-like, and there were no couches
or other furniture, and no television. The main room led to a kitchen and
bedroom, and this was the extent of it.
“I’m Jenna,” said the woman,
extending her hand. “Jenna Morrison.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said,
shaking her hand. “Aaron Blake.”
She had short brown hair and
matching eyes, and while she was more plain than pretty, she was fit and had a
perfect complexion. He judged her to be in her twenties, and despite wearing
jeans and a T-shirt and looking far worse for wear, there was something
attractive about her. He judged her to be about five foot five, only two inches
shorter than his own underwhelming height.
“What can I do for you, Ms.
Morrison?” he asked.
“Jenna.”
“Jenna,” he amended.
She took a deep breath, and he
could tell she was searching for a place to begin. “I’m in a hurry, but it’s critical
that you believe me and don’t think I’m crazy. So I’m going to take this one
step at a time.”
He nodded. “Go right ahead.”
“I am engaged to, and living
with, one of the most brilliant minds of our time. A physicist at UCSD named
Nathan Wexler, who has already contributed some major work to the field.”
She paused. “Before I go on any
further, I want you to verify what I’ve just said. Look up Nathan. Go on the
UCSD website. Go on his Facebook page, where you can see us together, see that
we’re engaged and living together.”
Blake smiled warmly. “No need.
I’m prepared to take your word for it.”
She shook her head. “No. I need
you to do this. My story is going to sound crazy, and I want to establish my
credentials, so to speak, before I go any further.”
Blake stared into her eyes,
intrigued.
She waited in silence as he
surfed the Web and confirmed her information.
“Okay,” he said after several
minutes had passed. “I accept that you’re Jenna Morrison and the truth of your
relationship with Nathan Wexler. Also, it’s clear that Dr. Wexler is quite the
genius. So why don’t you tell me what this is all about.”
His visitor began, explaining
she had been
Similar Books
