“And is that consistent with your sister’s prior relationships? For example, in the past, did she… share details?”
“All the time. We had no secrets.”
“Back to my earlier question, if I may. Regarding your sister’s husband, what is it you want me to do?”
Her mouth purses, like she’s listing things in her head she can’t say. It’s a moment before she speaks. “I would like to know who he is. If he’s safe for her.”
“I understand.” Another few keystrokes, the page on the screen before me half-full with questions. But I already know Lucy won’t have the answers to them. “Do you think he’s harmed her?”
“Physically, do you mean?”
That response is telling. “Yes, let’s start there.”
“I’m not certain, but I’d lean no.”
“And in other ways?”
“Psychologically?”
“If you like.”
Lucy’s gaze is steady as she meets my eyes. “I think he’s completely dominated her, crushed her, to the point where there’s almost nothing of her left.”
I nod, focusing on my screen to avoid showing encouragement. But my gut tells me Lucy’s read is spot on.
“From what you’ve told me,” I say carefully, “it seems you’re after someone to ascertain if your sister is acting of her own free will. To determine if she’s being coerced in any way.”
“Yes.”
“And to run a background check on her husband, to understand him better as a minimum.”
“Yes,” Lucy repeats, hope in that single word. “Can you do it?”
CanI? Possibly. Some of it. But not without getting close to Northbridge… and Alex.
ShouldI? No.
This isn’t my area, not one little bit. It wouldn’t be fair to me, or to Lucy. I’m not sure whose it would be. A therapist, certainly, but the help would be limited. A family lawyer, perhaps.
“I imagine you’ve had a difficult time finding a willing investigator,” I say instead, knowing that statement is reductionist at best.
Lucy scoffs. “I thought it would be easy when Istarted this. I figured I could pay someone to find out, but… well, you’re the first person to even help me understand what I’m asking for. Thank you for that, if nothing else.”
I take the opportunity she’s provided to close this down. “You’re very welcome, Lucy. I’m glad I was able to help. If you leave me your details, I’ll be in touch when I’ve had a chance to reflect.”
Her face falls. “Yes… yes, I understand.” She sets down her largely untouched coffee and reaches for her bag, rummages around, and pulls out a business card. “Here. My number… email…”
“Thank you.” I stand up as I take it, setting my laptop back on the table.
Lucy rises too, sensing the dismissal, picking her bag up, holding it close. “Well, you haven’t already said no, I suppose. So that’s a step forward.”
I was about to show her out, but I pause. “Do you understand why you’re being rejected?”
“Um… not really.”
My ‘esteemed’ peers. Most of them probably men, seeing only a distraught woman and thinking only in terms of reputational risk. They haven’t even been open. It makes me angry enough to take it on for that reason alone.
But I can’t. Just because those PIs are callous doesn’t mean they’re wrong.
