The next few days passed in a strange, almost surreal mode. Andrew continued to live as usual, and all this time, he was living a double life inside. On the outside, he was a calm husband and father. Inside, he was a man who knew his wife was planning murder and was collecting evidence.
Melford worked precisely and professionally. Every evening he sent reports, photographs, video recordings, and dry facts. Christine met with Glenn Brennan three times in a week—always at the same cafe, then a trip to the cottage or to a hotel. The detective recorded the time, routes, even the taxi numbers she sometimes used.
Andrew looked at these photographs and didn’t recognize his wife. In the pictures, Christine smiled, laughed, and hugged this Glenn. She looked happy. The way she hadn’t looked next to him in a long time. It hurt. He remembered how they met. Christine had worked as an administrator in a beauty salon then; she was bright, energetic, and cheerful. Andrew fell in love immediately. He courted her for six months, gave flowers, and took her to theaters and restaurants. She agreed to marry him if he built a house, saying she wanted stability and certainty about tomorrow.
He gave her all that: a house, prosperity, and the opportunity not to work. Liz was born, and Christine completely devoted herself to her daughter—at least for the first few years. Then the child grew up, went to school, and Christine got bored. A year ago, when she talked about divorce, Andrew attributed it to a midlife crisis. He thought it would pass. But now he understood. That was the beginning. She was already seeing Glenn then.
Melford sent him a dossier on Brennan. Forty years old, unmarried, owner of a chain of five fitness clubs and two spa salons. Good income, business connections, reputation as a ladies’ man. Married three times, divorced three times. No children. Lives alone in a large cottage outside the city. A typical predator, Andrew thought. Hunts other people’s wives, promises golden mountains, then strips them bare and leaves.
But Christine didn’t see this. Or didn’t want to see. She fell in love. Really fell in love. The way she once, perhaps, loved Andrew. Or maybe even more. And for the sake of this love, she was ready for anything.
On Friday evening, Andrew met with Melford again. This time the detective brought a whole folder of materials: printouts of photographs, meeting schedules, and metadata from phone conversations without content.
“The picture is coming together,” Melford said, spreading documents on the table. “Your wife meets with Brennan regularly, at least three times a week. The relationship is clearly not platonic. Judging by the time they spend together, this is a serious connection, not just an affair.”
“And what about the plans?” Andrew asked. “Did they discuss me?”
“I didn’t hear directly. For wiretapping, we need a court order, and we don’t have one yet. But there are indirect signs. Yesterday, for example, they met at the cottage. I couldn’t get close, but I saw through the window. They were arguing about something. Christine was agitated, waving her arms. Brennan was calming her. Probably because the business trip fell through. Most likely, they clearly expected a different development of events.”
Andrew nodded. He already knew this. But hearing confirmation was hard.
“What next?” he asked.
“Next, the police. We have enough material to file a complaint. The fact of brake damage, the fact of infidelity, circumstantial evidence of planning a crime. That’s enough to start an official investigation.”
“And if they refuse to open a case?”
“They won’t refuse. Attempted murder is serious, especially with physical evidence. Your car is direct confirmation of intent.”
Andrew thought. Police. Investigation. This meant publicity. This meant Liz would learn the truth that everyone would know. But there was no choice.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go to the police. When?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll arrange a meeting with an investigator I trust. Anna Walters, Captain, Major Crimes Division. Smart, principled, doesn’t fall for tears and manipulation. She’ll figure it out.”
The next day, Andrew went to the district police station. Melford was already waiting for him at the entrance.
“Ready?” the detective asked.
“Yes.”
They went up to the third floor, walked down the corridor, and entered an office with a sign: Captain A. Walters. Behind the desk sat a woman about thirty-five, in a strict suit, with short dark hair and an attentive gaze. She stood up and greeted them.
“Andrew Mitchell?”
“Yes.”
“Have a seat. Stephen briefed me on the situation, but I want to hear from you personally.”
Andrew sat and began to tell the story again, from the beginning. He spoke about Mrs. Barnes’s warning, Christine’s night conversation, the damaged brakes, Glenn Brennan, and the meetings and plans. Walters listened attentively. When Andrew finished, she asked questions.
“I see. Are you absolutely sure that you heard a conversation about an attempt on your life? You couldn’t have misunderstood or been mistaken?”
“No,” Andrew answered firmly. “She mentioned my name. Said I was going on a business trip. Mentioned the house and insurance. It was a conversation about me.”
“All right. Second. Your car’s brake system. Was it examined by a specialist?”
Melford laid a folder with photographs and an expert opinion on the table. “Yes. Here are the documents. The lines were cut intentionally. The damage is fresh.”
Walters carefully studied the papers. Then she nodded. “This is serious evidence. Third. Does your wife know that you’re aware of her plans?”
“No. I’m acting as usual.”
“Excellent. That will give us time. Now I’ll process the complaint and start the investigation. We’ll establish official surveillance on your wife and her lover. Try to record their conversations. For this, I need court permission for wiretapping. It’ll take a few days.”
“What should I do?”
“Nothing. Live as usual. Don’t provoke your wife. Don’t give her reason to suspect you know something. Your task is to give her the opportunity to lose vigilance and act. And mine is to record everything.”
“And if she tries again?”
“She will try. So be careful. Don’t drive the car. Don’t eat or drink anything that only she prepares. Don’t be alone with her in dangerous situations. No need to be paranoid. But vigilance is mandatory.”
Andrew nodded. This was the same advice Melford had given.
“One more thing,” Walters added. “Your daughter. She’ll have to testify if the case goes to trial.”
“She doesn’t know anything.”
“Then don’t tell her for now, but be prepared that sooner or later she’ll find out. And it will be hard.”
Andrew knew. He feared this moment most of all. They spent another hour in the office, processing documents, giving testimony, and signing papers. When everything was done, Walters walked them to the door.
“I’ll contact you as soon as there’s progress. And for now, hang in there.”
Andrew went outside and took a deep breath. The first step was taken. Now this was an official investigation. Now Christine and Glenn were under surveillance. He returned home in the evening. Christine was sitting in the living room, leafing through a magazine. Seeing him, she smiled.
“How are things?”
“Fine. Tired.”
“Go rest. Dinner will be ready in half an hour.”
Andrew went up to the bedroom and lay on the bed. He closed his eyes. Thoughts spun in his head. How long would the investigation last? What would happen when Christine was arrested? How would Liz survive this? He imagined the moment when his daughter would learn the truth. He imagined her face—shock, pain, incomprehension. She loved her mother. Despite everything, despite Christine’s coldness recently, Liz loved her. And that love would shatter.
Dinner passed quietly. Liz was thoughtful, Christine cheerful, Mrs. Barnes silent. Andrew hardly ate, just pretended. After dinner, Christine went to the bedroom, Liz to her room. Andrew stayed in the kitchen. Mrs. Barnes washed dishes.
“Mr. Mitchell,” the old woman said quietly, “were you at the police station?”
He looked at her in surprise. “How do you know?”
“I saw you leave with that man, and everything’s clear from your face.”
Andrew sighed. “Yes, I was. Filed a complaint. Now they’ll watch Christine, collect evidence.”
“And then what? Arrest, trial, prison?”
Mrs. Barnes shook her head. “Poor little Liz. How hard it will be for her.”
“I know. But I can’t do it any other way. If I stay silent, Christine will try again. And next time I might not be lucky.”
“You’re right,” the old woman agreed. “You’re doing the right thing. It’s just… just sorry for the girl.”
Andrew nodded. He felt sorry too. But there was no choice.
On Monday morning the detective called. “Mitchell, we have news. Yesterday evening your wife met with Brennan. I found out that the investigation installed a wiretap. The court gave permission. They recorded the conversation.”
“And what’s there?” Andrew felt his pulse quicken.
“They discussed you. Specifically, what to do next, since the business trip fell through. Brennan suggested arranging an accident at home. Your wife hesitated at first, then agreed.”
Andrew felt cold inside. “So they’re planning a new attempt?”
“Yes. But now the police know about it. We’ll be ready. The main thing is don’t panic. You’ll be under protection.”
“When are they planning to act?”
“They didn’t name an exact date. But judging by the conversation, in the next few days. So be as careful as possible. Don’t eat anything that only your wife prepares. Don’t be alone with her. And keep your phone with you. If something happens, call the investigator immediately.”
Andrew promised and hung up. His hands were shaking. So this was continuing. Christine hadn’t backed down. She was just looking for another way. He looked at the calendar. Monday, the 23rd. In a week, the end of the month. How much time did he have? A day? Two?
In the evening, Christine left again for the gym. Andrew knew it was a lie. She went to Glenn to discuss details. He sat at home, tried to read, but couldn’t concentrate. Liz did homework. Mrs. Barnes knitted in the living room. An ordinary evening. But Andrew felt this was the calm before the storm.
On Wednesday, the detective called again. “Mitchell, they’re meeting tomorrow. In Brennan’s car, in a shopping center parking lot. The police will be nearby, will make a recording. If they discuss specific plans, they’ll arrest them immediately.”
“All right.” Andrew exhaled. “I’ll wait.”
Thursday dragged on endlessly. At six in the evening, Christine said she was going to the store, took her bag, and left. Andrew sat at home, clutching his phone, waiting for a call. At half past seven, the phone rang. It was the detective.
“Mitchell, there’s news. We recorded the conversation. They discussed how to arrange an accident for you—push you down the stairs or arrange a gas leak. This is direct intent to murder. They’re being detained now.”
Andrew closed his eyes. That’s it. This is the end.
“Thank you,” was all he could say.
“Hang in there. It’ll all be over soon.”
Andrew sank onto the couch. Liz came out of her room.
“Dad, why are you so pale?”
“Liz, sit down,” he said quietly. “We need to talk.”
His daughter became alert. “What happened?”
“The police are coming now. They’re arresting Mom.”
Liz’s face contorted. “What? For what?”
Andrew took a deep breath. “Your mother… She wanted to kill me. Together with her lover. She was planning an accident. The police recorded everything.”
Liz was silent. She looked at her father with wide eyes. Then slowly shook her head.
“No, that’s not true. You’re lying.”
“Liz…”
“You’re lying!” she screamed. “Mom couldn’t. She’s not like that.”
She ran to her room. Andrew sat, unable to move. Mrs. Barnes came up and put her hand on his shoulder.
“She’ll understand. She just needs time.”
An hour later, the police arrested Christine along with her lover at the scene of their crime planning. The hunt was over.
The first night after Christine’s arrest was the hardest in Andrew’s life. He didn’t sleep; he sat in the kitchen and looked out the window. The house was dead silent. Liz locked herself in her room and didn’t respond to knocking. Mrs. Barnes went to her room, unable to help with anything.
Andrew replayed the events of recent weeks in his head. How quickly everything had changed. How his life had collapsed. He thought he knew Christine. He thought they had a family, albeit not perfect. But it turned out everything was a lie. Years of lies.
Friday morning he was summoned by Walters. When he entered the investigator’s office, she asked, “How are you?”
“Bad,” Andrew answered honestly. “My daughter won’t talk to me. She thinks I betrayed her mother.”
“She’ll learn the truth. When the case goes to trial, all the evidence will be presented. Recordings of conversations, brake examination, witness testimony—she’ll understand.”
“I hope so,” Andrew replied.
“I need to take additional testimony from you. Detailed. Everything you remember. All the events after the first conversation with me. Every detail is important.”
Andrew nodded and began to tell his story for the record, for the court, for the case that was supposed to lock Christine and Glenn Brennan in prison. Walters recorded without interrupting, sometimes clarifying details like time, place, and intonation.
