Sycamore Hill Pt. 01

Virgil was someone who wouldn't stand out in crowd. He was an unassuming guy with an average build and an average face with average brown hair and who wore average clothes . He was, in fact, average in nearly every way except that, like a true nerd, he had an uncanny ability to hack into computers.

Now, everyone knows someone like this, a guy who somehow intuitively understands computers the way most people understand their friends, who know how to get even the most obstinate computer to give up its secrets. In college he honed his skill and sharpened his inclination to break into nearly any system at school at work or on anybody's personal computer, and he did it routinely, to gather information, to get the answers to tests, to pull off elaborate practical jokes or just for the hell of it. His skill eventually turned out well for him and he landed a job in IT security with a local bank, but I knew he still hacked around on the side, just for fun.

So, I was pretty sure that Virgil would be able to get anything incriminating that Lara left on her computer. I called him as I was driving and he sounded like he'd just gotten up from a nap or something and was a little surprised to hear from me, but when I told him I needed some help and implied it had to do with breaking into a computer, he perked up considerably and invited me over.

Virgil lived alone, in an apartment that looked a little like a laundry dump for dirty clothes onto which the garbage from multiple fast food meals and some beer bottles had been scattered. Really, just the classic bachelor housekeeping stereotype.

He had me sit at the kitchen table and, offered me a beer, which I declined. He got one himself, though, and plopped into the chair across from me, took a swig and asked what the problem was.

I described, vaguely at first, and then with progressively more detail, what was happening in my marriage and what I was suspicious of. Virgil listened attentively, nodding or grimacing at the right times, making it clear that he sympathized with my plight. When I finished, he pursed his lips, and thought for a second before pointing to the laptop and speaking.

"So, I take it you want me to break into her laptop and see what the shitty details are, is that it?"

I nodded. "Yeah, pretty much, that's it."

"And if I find some really nasty stuff, what then? I mean, it sounds like you and Lara are through either way. What's the point of digging into this stuff if it won't change the end game?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I guess I just want to know what exactly she's up to and I don't think she'll ever give me the straight story. Plus, if she's fucking the guy I think she is, then I might be able to use the information to make this a little painful for the asshole."

Virgil nodded in understanding. "OK, fair enough." He said, spinning the laptop around and opening it up with a single smooth move of his right hand.

"This will probably take a while, so you might want to make yourself comfortable."

I grunted in agreement and started making my way to his clothes covered couch, thinking to watch some TV or take a nap, but Virgil held me up with one more question.

"Hey...just for grins, you don't happen to know any of Lara's passwords or anything do you?"

"Uh...well, she used Skinnygirl97 in the past, but I really don't think..."

"What happened when you tried to get into her e-mail with that?" He asked tapping away at the keyboard.

"I didn't try, I mean, I figured I wouldn't be able to find anything myself."

"Yeah, well it might have saved you a trip over here," he said as he pivoted the laptop toward me. "Take a look."

I moved back to the table and saw that he'd opened her e-mail account.

"I'm sure she's deleted all of the incriminating stuff." I wasn't particularly confident of my words, suddenly feeling more than a little foolish as I moved back to the kitchen table.

"Yeah, well, take a closer look. There are a whole bunch of undeleted e-mails between her and this 'Chicagoman' dude."

I sat down at the table and looked again at the computer, seeing that Lara's inbox was open, displaying maybe 30 or so e-mail threads, at least twenty of which were messages to and from 'Chicagoman'. I shrugged my shoulders sheepishly and shook my head to indicate my surprise and embarrassment that they had been there for me to read all along and then took a deep breath, pulled the computer closer and began to read.

It was clear, from the first message, that 'Chicagoman' is/was, in fact, John Williamson and that the affair had been going on for at least 3 or 4 months, mostly consummated during daytime hours when she was supposed to be working at the charity. The messages themselves consisted of anything from a quick note of thanks or an invitation for another afternoon together to tremendously explicit recapitulations of their most recent tryst. I was, on occasion, mentioned in the e-mails, but only in passing, essentially a subject to be avoided while they planned for their next get together. Danielle Williamson was hardly mentioned at all.

By the time I'd finished reading, the anger that had dissipated somewhat over the last few hours was back, I'd bit my lower lip bloody and I felt myself opening and closing my fists, spasmodically, hot acid rising in my throat. The recollection of her drunkenly sitting in Williamson's lap, thinking that she was making him uncomfortable when they were simply flaunting their affair in my face was particularly galling. That and her general recent behavior toward me, the fact that she had so casually given herself to him and treated me and our relationship like inconsequential lint completed my outrage and I felt any residual inclination to allow for a quiet, uncomplicated closure of our relationship melt away. I wasn't sure what I'd do, but I knew I wanted both Williamson and my wife to feel my heat and I wanted them to feel it in the most uncomfortable way possible.

Virgil gave me a half smile and spoke like he was reading my mind.

"You know, Kevin, thinking back on some of the shit you've rained down on people that have crossed you, I'd have to say that you're probably not going to take this lying down. Am I right?"

I flared my nostrils and nodded my head.

"Well, I don't know what, exactly you're going to do, but if it ends up being something fun, count me in, OK?"

I gave a bitter little smile back. "Ok, Virg, OK."

I sat there for a few minutes more, starring at nothing, tapping my fingers while I fumed and thought. Recognizing that waiting for some sort of malevolent inspiration in how to exact my revenge wasn't presently coming to me, I got up and reached for the laptop.

"You going now?"

"Yep."

"You know what you're going to do?"

"Not yet."

"Hey, then, mind if I keep the laptop, to poke around some more? Maybe I'll find something...usable."

I briefly thought about how mad Lara might be if she knew I'd absconded with her computer, but that realized I didn't really give a shit.

"Yea, please keep it. Look for pictures, videos, anything that I can embarrass that prick Williamson."

Virgil smiled and nodded.

@@@@@@@

Lara was waiting for me when I got home, evidently off work from the charity earlier than she expected. I found her in the living room and, not surprisingly, she was steaming about her missing laptop, hands on her hips, her face already slightly crimson with anger. She addressed me with a sort of snarl, her voice a tight, shrill whistle.

"Where the hell is my computer?"

I ignored the question, walked by her as casually as possible, flopped down onto the couch and put my feet up on the coffee table, a habit that I know annoyed Lara to no end. I made no attempt to look back at Lara but could hear a strain of incredulousness enter her voice as she entered the room after me.

"Kevin, did you fucking hear me? Where is my computer?"

On the drive home I'd thought about playing my cards close to my vest and not let on that I knew about her affair before I had a plan in place to get even, but I knew I didn't have the discipline or patience to pull off some sort of an elaborate surprise that required days, or even weeks, of subterfuge. So, now, faced with another of Lara's hostile outbursts, I decided to go for immediate confrontation and save revenge for later. I elected to open my attack with brutal, unvarnished honesty, partly for the shock value and partly because I was in the mood for a fight and I knew this would get one going. I flicked the TV on and without looking at her, answered as neutrally as possible, taking great care to clear all the emotion from my voice.

"I took your computer to Virgil's as a matter of fact. He's snooping around right now, turning up all the dirt he can on your cheating ass."

She didn't say anything, and I couldn't resist glancing back to observe her reaction. Her teeth were clenched, her eyebrows raised and her face had now turned beet red. I guess I'd hoped for a little surprise and maybe some sort of contrition, some kind of an apology, but instead I was getting pure, unadulterated, anger. After taking several deep breaths that I could actually hear her drawing through flared nostrils, Lara began to spit venom back at me, her voice loud and dripping with contempt.

"My cheating ass? Really, is that what your excuse is?" She began, taking several aggressive steps toward me. "You think that you have a right to go through all my personal stuff just because you imagine I'm with another man? You're fucking delusional..."

I abruptly raised my hand to stop her, more than matching the decibel level of her voice with mine.

"Save it Lara. Just...fucking...save it. I know about it all. The signs were all there, the bitchiness, the Ice Princess treatment, the lame excuses. You're cheating and we both know it, so spare me the denials. Virgil has just been getting the nasty little details for me, that's all."

She stood there for a moment, her hands opening and closing into tight fists, her face a contorted mixture of anger and frustration, breathing so heavily and hotly, I half expected her to spit fire. I maintained my silence, trying to look as smug and unconcerned as possible, afraid, really, to let on that I was feeling any pain at all.

Finally, she abruptly pivoted and started toward our bedroom, stomping away with enough force that I could feel the vibrations through the floor. Halfway down the hall, she turned and shouted over her shoulder.

"I don't have to listen to this ridiculous shit."

"Well, then, by all means, don't. Just get your ass the hell out of here." I answered back as non-chalantly as possible.

For fifteen or twenty minutes, she noisily opened closets and drawers, pulled down a bag from an upper shelf and cleaned out her stuff from the bathroom to supplement the things she'd already taken the week before. When she was done, she came back down the hallway, pulling a suitcase with squeaky wheels behind her. She stopped in the living room and took a couple of deep breaths while I gave her a look that I hoped reflected unconcern and maybe a little bit of boredom.

"Sorry Kevin, I thought we could maybe talk about our issues, but your attitude sucks. I need my laptop for work, so I expect it back within 24 hours. Just put it on the dining room table. I'm going to stay with some...friends. Don't try and follow me." Her voice was measured but melodramatic and she spit out the last few words resentfully as she turned toward the front door to leave. I decided to fire one last shot.

"Well, be sure to tell John Williamson thanks for putting you up. I'm sure you'll be saving a lot of money rooming with him in his big ass house."

That little declaration halted her in her tracks and she slowly turned around and gave me a narrow eyed look of suspicious contempt.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Wait." I laughed. "You can't possibly think I haven't figured out that you've been fucking John Williamson? Come on, Lara, you haven't exactly been discrete and I'm not nearly as clueless as you seem to think I am."

"So that's your game? You plan to fuck up John Williamson because of your suspicions? Something like that?" Her tone stayed contemptuous.

"I don't know, maybe I'll do nothing, maybe I'll show up and make some problems, maybe I'll rain Holy Hell down on all of you. Right now I'm just wondering how his wife or his charities and businesses would view a messy divorce involving John Williamson's name linked to a lot of salacious behavior with a married woman."

Her look of contempt deepened and her tone took on an element of disgusted anger. "You wouldn't dare try anything like that. You don't have the balls to confront a man like Williamson. You'll just cower here on the couch and, as soon as I'm gone, cry yourself to sleep. God you really are pitiful. John is a real man, Kevin, an accomplished man, not some little boy who flails away at life, trying to make his mark in a world that finds him totally and utterly irrelevant. You wouldn't be able to hurt him or his life any more than a little bug can make a difference in yours. Good luck trying."

She'd spit out the last words, one by one, emphasizing the disrespect she'd developed for me. II could feel my heart begin to pound as she screamed on, struggling to keep from overreacting, from exploding out of my chair and slapping her like the bitch she was being. In the end, I managed to simply smile at her blandly and, in a gesture mirroring the one she'd given me a week before, showed her the middle finger of my right hand as she turned to leave.

After I heard the front door slam, I sat on the edge of the couch, rocking back and forth with a growing sense of unmitigated outrage while I thought about our latest, most important, and probably final fight as a married couple. In addition to the anger, I couldn't help a faint feeling of disappointment and surprise. Lara was nothing if not proud and so I didn't expect her to grovel and beg for forgiveness, but I did think she might be at least a little embarrassed if not apologetic.

But even more puzzling were her final comments as she left, essentially taunting me with the idea that I'd resign myself to play a passive role in the demise of our marriage and that I wasn't man enough to stand up to a guy like John Williamson. Although I wouldn't consider myself an out-of-control hothead, I had a long history of accepting and maybe even relishing confrontation, a trait I'd inherited from my father , who encouraged me to make sure anyone who crossed me understood their mistake. In fact, at times, my over-the-top reactions to a variety of relatively minor insults, from inconsiderate slights and improprieties had been an occasional bone of contention between Lara and me. Anyone that knew me, maybe especially Lara, knew that I was a guy who was more than happy to wade into conflict.

I couldn't decide if this was just the only insult she could wave at me in a pinch or she just wasn't thinking at all. She had to know that I wasn't a shrinking violet and that a challenge like that would only peak my interest in a clash. I began to wonder if she somehow wanted me to follow her and find her with another man, that she wanted to show me how thoroughly I'd been replaced.

I stewed on this question for a good hour, trying to talk myself into being cool and letting her go. No need to do something that might land me in jail. In the end though, my aggressive nature won out and I opted for more confrontation. I thought maybe I could put a little scare into the loving couple, or maybe, if I got lucky, get some pictures or other information that might supplement whatever Virgil could find; something that would make them both squirm a little.

@@@@@@@

I pulled into John Williamson's immense driveway about an hour later, looked around for Lara's car and spotted it parked in a guest space by the garage. I thought about sneaking about, maybe going around to the back of the house and looking through a few windows first, but opted for the direct approach, marched up the driveway and knocked loudly and obnoxiously long on the massive front door. I guess I expected some servant to answer, but was surprised when I heard a feminine voice calling out just prior to the door opening to reveal Danielle Williamson, barefoot, wearing a sundress, her hair in thick French braids and with tear streaks running down her pale, otherwise flawless face.

"Oh...Kevin...uh...what can I do for you?" She sniffled and rubbed her reddened nose and eyes as she spoke.

"I'm...I'm looking for Lara. Is she here?" I didn't want to take my anger out on Danielle so I tried to be neutral, but I know my tone was sharp, even a little pushy.

Danielle shook her head. "No. No she's not here." Her face clouded over and then she abruptly burst into tears. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'm trying to keep things under control, but it's just so..."

I stepped toward her, put my hand on her shoulder and, as gently as possible, asked what, exactly was going on.

"Oh...I think you know. I think you know that Lara and John are..."

"Having an affair?"

She nodded, evidently unable to speak for a moment. As it occurred to me that Lara's affair was coldly ruining two marriages, causing heartache not just for me, but also for Danielle, my anger peaked again and I became hardened to the idea that she and John should pay some sort of a price for the way they'd betrayed their spouses.

Danielle had been looking at the ground and sniffling, sobbing gently to herself, but when she finally looked up, I caught her eye and asked, more forcefully than I intended. "Where are they?"

She grimaced and covered her mouth and trembling chin for a moment and then began to choke out an answer.

"I'm pretty sure they've gone to Sycamore Hill. She got here an hour ago and they both left in his car."

"Sycamore Hill?"

"It's...it's a getaway for us...sort of a lakeside retreat."

"How do I find it? Is 'Sycamore Hill' all I need to know?"

Danielle shook her head slowly. "I don't know Kevin, maybe you'd better not go there. You seem pretty angry and you don't want to..."

"I'm not going to be violent Danielle. I just want to give them a piece of my mind. That's all." The truth is, I wasn't sure if I'd be violent or not and I definitely wanted more than to give a piece of my mind. I wanted pictures and video and anything at all that could embarrass Lara and John. I wanted some sort of revenge and I wanted it as soon as possible. I spread my hands in a conciliatory, pleading gesture and waited for her to respond. She sniffled a few more times and then looked me in the eye.

"It's an hour or so north of here." She stretched her hand out, palm up towards me. "Let me see your cell phone, I'll put in the put it in your GPS."

@@@@@@

45 minutes later, I was carefully driving my car up a private one lane road flanked on either side by thick stands of Oaks and Maples and maybe even a Sycamore or two. The sun was just setting and in the gloaming I could barely make out the lights of what appeared to be a ridiculously oversized log cabin half a mile or so away.

I made a snap decision to preserve the element of surprise, so I pulled my car off the road and began making my way toward the cottage through the trees. The forest opened up on a broad lawn centered in front of the cottage and I paused when movement near a low security wall 30 or so feet in front of the house caught my eye. In the dim light, I could barely make out the form of a large man crouching behind the wall, evidently trying not to be seen from the driveway. I could only assume that he was some sort of a security detail that had been alerted by my approaching car and was waiting to detain me. Staying in the woods I circled around the lawn toward the lake shore at the back of the house and then, as quickly and quietly as possible, made my way to a porch overlooking the lake, mounted the steps and quietly opened an unlocked screen door.