I wasn’t looking to catch him anymore — I already had.
I was looking to understand the size of what I was dealing with, because a man who lies about where he sleeps is one problem, and a man who lies about everything is another.
What I found told me it was the second kind: hidden hotel reservations going back a year, receipts for diamond jewelry I had never seen, and — folded into a side pocket — the corner of a wire-transfer confirmation with a routing number that did not belong to any account I recognized at our company.
I did not tamper with anything.
I photographed everything, put it back exactly as I’d found it, and closed the briefcase.
Then I called my investigator and told him I needed the last six months compiled and certified by the end of the week.
The affair was the smallest thing in that briefcase.
I could feel it.
Chapter 4 — The Folder
I let three days pass.