Secret Betrayal

There is no wild and crazy sex in this story. It is the story of a man trying to deal with tragic circumstances, loss and the search for answers.

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If you have ever tried to guess someone's password for a phone, tablet or computer, then you know the frustration that I am experiencing.

Am I snooping? I would plead guilty with an explanation.

My wife was found dead several months ago. The circumstances surrounding the death were not normal. She appeared to have had a heart attack, at least that's what the autopsy determined. She was found in the Lake District, in a wooded area, a good one hour drive from the town. It would likely have been determined to be death by misadventure or a heart attack while hiking except that her body was stark naked.

Naturally I was a prime suspect because I was her husband. The scenarios that would end with me taking her life could be endless. If it weren't for the fact that I had an ironclad alibi I am sure I'd have been charged.

Another piece of information that the autopsy exposed was that she had had vigorous sexual intercourse within 24 hours of being found. It was embarrassing for me to admit that she and I hadn't had sex in about six months.

Let me state for the record that I was deeply in love with my wife. In our youth we were very sexually satisfied with each other. After menopause her libido diminished dramatically. She claimed that sex was simply not possible or enjoyable anymore and it was taken off the table. That made the coroner's report even stranger.

The case was still open but they aren't looking at me anymore. I grieved the loss of my mate, my wife, my love. We had no children and I was now alone.

While cleaning out her things and boxing them up to take to the Salvation Army, I found a mobile phone at the back of her underwear drawer. It was a couple of models old. It had battery life but when I attempted to open it I was met with a request for a password. I tried all the passwords she usually used. None would open the phone.

I've spent a month trying different passwords every night. It is frustrating as hell, I can't help thinking that there were answers on that phone. We never kept secrets from each other, this was maddening.

I realized that I was becoming obsessive about that damn phone. My stress levels were climbing through the roof and I recognized some symptoms of anxiety disorder. I spoke to my doctor and was referred to a psychologist.

The doctor was young, when did they start giving children a license to practice? He looked like was all of eighteen.

"I'm Dr. Evan Smith, it's nice to meet you Mr. Stone, can I call you Gregg?"

"If I can call you Evan."

"Sure, so what brings you to my office?"

I explained my situation and the symptoms that I was experiencing.

"My condolences on your wife's death. You obviously know a bit about anxiety disorder, have you been diagnosed before?"

"Long ago, at school."

"You say you are fixated on finding out what is on the phone. What do you think is on there?"

"The coroner said she had had sex before dying. We haven't had sex in half a year. This phone was hidden from me. Naturally I'm suspicious that she was having an affair. I can't crack her password and it's driving me mad."

"Tell me Gregg, what do you have to gain by digging into this? Your wife is dead. Unearthing salacious details would only bring you more misery and grief."

"You're right Evan, but if it was your wife maybe you'd want to know the truth, as unsettling as it may be."

"I'm just thinking about your mental wellbeing. Anxiety can be treated with medication, but I fear you're opening a door on something more serious. You've just experienced one of the greatest stressors there is, the loss of a spouse."

"I'll agree with you there. I'm swimming in deep water, against the current. But I can't stop swimming or I'll drown in my sorrow and my doubt. The only thing that will save me is getting into that damn phone."

"I will send my advice to you doctor, they can prescribe some meds to help you. On a personal level, get professional help to try to get past the password. Doing it alone will drive you nuts."

"I will." I promised, lying through my teeth.

The meds did help. I tried to crack the password using the names of parents, birthdays, anniversaries, pet names, old boyfriend names. I set the phone aside for a day or two.

The bedroom used to be a quiet and peaceful sanctuary for me. Now it was a place full of ghosts. I sat at the stool in front of her vanity. It was the one piece in the bedroom that I hadn't cleared out. I held the phone in my hand as I gazed over the lotions, potions And makeup. My eyes were drawn to the bottle of Chanel No. 5, her favourite scent. On a whim I entered the password Chanel5$ and the damn thing opened!

I spent that night going through the phone, contacts, texts, emails. There was only one contact, someone named T T. She had set up her identity as AR. AR made no sense to me. A could stand for Andrea but the R made no sense. The email history went back nearly a year.

It began with Andrea commenting that she felt awkward keeping a secret phone. It made her feel guilty. Of course he claimed it was just a bit of fun.

The back and forth gradually built and soon sexual innuendo was included in every communication.

About three months prior to her death she was begged for candid photos, risqué photos. At first with lingerie and then nudes. Andrea was very reluctant but sent some very tame photos but as his asks got bigger so did her bravery.

One month prior to her death she sent her first fully nude mirror shot.

The result was a demand that they meet for sex. She balked at that and refused. He then threatened to tell me, her husband what she had sent to him. She knew that I would have freaked out. She knew she had been trapped, played by a predator but she knew there was only one way out that kept our happy marriage intact.

At this point I had to take a break. I couldn't go further without fresh air. I felt suffocated.

TT said he would be in touch later, not on this phone to give her instructions for their meeting.

She said she understood and she looked forward to seeing him.

That was the last communication. The photos were all there, I felt sick to my stomach. How could my Andrea have done that, and why?

I also realized that what I had in my hand was evidence and that the authorities needed to see this. I contacted the detective that I'd been in touch with earlier.

Detective Stevens was not amused that I had had the extra phone for as long as I had. I explained that I didn't believe it to be relevant but once I cracked the password it became obvious and I called him.

I was told to let it slide. They would look after it. They kept the phone of course but I had saved the contents to my laptop.

The initials TT meant nothing to me. I checked our contacts and we had no friends with those initials. There was no company we dealt with that had those initials. Neither could I make sense out of her alias AR.

The Lake District near us is a lovely natural area with lots of woodland and lakes. Given what I knew, I believe that TT had taken AR to a cottage in the area where they had their illicit sex. Somehow after that she was left in the wood naked and dead.

The police said they were actively investigating but there was little evidence to go on. Forensics didn't help answer why she died of a heart attack.

My life was on hold, I had trouble sleeping. My meds were not helping any more. The sleep I did get was filled with nightmarish visions.

I took to driving out to the Lake District to aimlessly follow the winding roads. I had no idea what I was looking for, somehow it just made me feel closer to Andrea, closer to where she lost her life.

My fishing gear was in the tiny trunk of the car. I thought maybe fishing would help me to relax a little. I tried lures, spinners and plastic worms but didn't get a nibble. I remembered seeing a bait and tackle shop on the main road in. I drove back there and bought some minnows. The sales clerk was a friendly sort, he asked what I was fishing for.

"Anything that swims." I answered.

"Lots of large mouth bass, perch and pickerel around here."

"Yes, I really just need to relax in nature. I'm stressed out."

"It's a tough life, isn't it? But we only get the one."

"Too true,"

I heard a car pull up outside the store. The driveway gravel crunched under the tires, a nice car, a silver Audi. Andrea and I were both car aficionados, also known as car snobs. I drove a Saab 9-3 convertible. Andrea loved her Alpha Romeo Spider.

The fish loved the minnows. I caught a few but mostly I just relaxed for the rest of the day. Instead of going home I decided to stay overnight at a small inn. It was a nice quiet place and fell asleep by the fire. I had dreams that night, vivid dreams. I rarely dreamed about cars but I did that night. I kept seeing the Audi logo, the rings. I dreamed about the successful race cars that Audi built many years back, their success at Lemans with the outrageous diesel engine.

When I awoke I couldn't help wonder why I would dream about the brand. The only connection I could make was the Audi that was at the bait shop. Why would that make me dream?

I had used up my minnows so I drove to the bait shop for some night crawlers. The same store clerk was there and so was the Audi.

"Who owns the Audi?"

"The store owner. He's had it for a few years now. Nice car but I'd hate to see the service costs."

"They are nice cars, good heritage and racing pedigree."

"Here's your night crawlers. Good luck!"

Back at the lake I sat on a rock and baited my hook. Just that simple action calmed my frayed nerves. That was when everything started to add up. The car at the bait shop was an Audi TT, a two seater convertible.

Maybe that was the TT on Andrea's phone. That made me think about Andrea's car, AR, Alpha Romeo Spider, another two seater convertible.

I called my detective and told him my thoughts.

The shop owner was a man named Gordon Warner. He owned the bait shop and a number of Convenience stores in the area. Gordon Warner was also a member of the Greater Grantham Auto Club, an automobile enthusiast's organization. Andrea was a member as well. I had never joined the organization myself. It was entirely believable that they could have met through the club.

The detective told me to stay out of it and let him investigate. I agreed, however I would do a little background research on my own.

Warner was a well known member of the auto club, as was Andrea. The current secretary confirmed that Warner and my wife were friends, in fact they had served last year on the executive council. That meant spending time together, enough time together to establish a relationship.

The police had interviewed the auto club members but there had been no indication that they were anything other than friends. With the thin evidence that I gave the police they decided to ask Warner for a DNA sample. He gave a sample but then lawyered up. The DNA matched the deposit inside Andrea.

Warner made a confession. He had been having an emotional affair with Andrea. After sharing intimate photos they decided to get together at his residence in the Lake District. They drank a lot that night. He said that Andrea was reluctant, she said she loved her husband and this was wrong. They were in too far to stop so they made love. Afterwords she started crying. She became hysterical. She ran out of the house and into the woodlot. Warner went after her but couldn't find her. He called her name many times but she never replied. He returned to the house in case she came back. She never did. He said he was afraid to come forward. He knew it would look like he killed her but he didn't.

The confession didn't help me much. I now knew what happened. I still don't understand why she had a heart attack. Maybe it was the combination of alcohol and shame, or she ran naked through the woods and got lost in the dark. She may have panicked. I may never know. I'll always believe it was because of her heartbreak over her infidelity.

There was no evidence of foul play, so a murder or manslaughter charge would be impossible to prove. Adultery is not a crime so Warner wouldn't do time. In fact he received no punishment at all.

I wanted to get some sort of satisfaction. Warner could see the writing on the wall. He knew I would want my pound of flesh. He pleaded with me to let him go about his life. He even offered to sell me his bait shop, his home on the lake, and move away from town. His reputation was already shot to hell anyway. His auto club membership was revoked. I made an insanely low bid for his bait shop and he accepted it as penance for his sin. I asked if the Audi TT came with the store.

"If you want it, it's yours."

Hell yeah! I might just sell it and Saab and get something I'd really like, maybe something impractical as hell.

He was as good as his word. He left the town for parts unknown. I settled into the Lake District and took a regular shift at the store. I kept the store clerk on and gave him a raise. Warner's old house on the lake mysteriously burned to the ground. Making renovations would have required endless bureaucratic nonsense, a burned down structure would be something else entirely. I would rebuild it to suit my tastes. A glorified log home, something dignified that looked natural, like it belonged.

April Cowal was the architect I hired to design it. She was a very serious woman, in her fifties with all kinds of experience in this type of construction. We worked together to plan it. She also stayed to advise the contractor that she recommended. It wasn't an overnight job. It took months and then a break for winter. It took the next Spring and Summer to finish. During that time April and I would discuss and revise plans. Sometimes we agreed, other times we butted heads but she was all in on making this place the best it could be. We spent many nights making plans and discussing materials over bottles of wine.

It was a full year since the project began. April and I had grown close. I never thought I would recover from Andrea's death but April helped me to see light at the end of the tunnel. I questioned her about her insistence on an extra room on the top floor. She would never tell me what it was for until the project was complete.

"It's for my office."

"Your office? Whose house is this anyway?"

"With any luck it will be our house. What do you think Gregg?"

"I like the idea. We make a good couple."

"We do. Have you given any thought to giving the house a name?"

"I have, I'd like it to memorialize my wife. What do you think of 'Andrea's Haven or Andrea's Folly."

"That's a hard choice. Cheating on you was true folly but do you want the world to remember that or would you rather they see it as a memorial to the woman you loved?"

"Depends on the day I'm asked. Maybe I should call it "April's Keep." For the woman I love now."

She leapt into my arms and kissed me. I love you too Greg but name it for Andrea.

I think Warner always feared that I still might come after him. I counted that fear as punishment for what he had to Andrea and what he had done to me. He started up a single convenience store in a new town and soon declared bankruptcy. I never heard from him again.

My life with April was wonderful she used her office as her place of business. We slept together and spent many wonderful years together in our log home by the lake.

For those who want to know what I did with the cars, I sold the Saab and the Audi. I also added the proceeds from the sale of Andrea's Alpha Romeo. I purchased two Honda S2000 convertibles, giving one to April. I always thought the S2000 was the best sports car dollar for dollar.

In the dark of the night I still mourn for my Andrea but April eases the pain and helps bear my burden.

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