Obsessed

by Devon Scott

  Robin’s eyes soften.

  “Ken—you’re my best friend. I’m just speaking from my heart. I apologize if I offended you. But best friends have to look out for one another. That’s all I’m doing.”

  She reaches out and grasps Kennedy’s hand. Robin squeezes it briefly.

  “My husband is not cheating on me,” Kennedy says, more firmly than before. “I’m sorry if you can no longer trust any man.” She is about to say more but shuts down instead.

  Thankfully, the waiter reappears. Salmon, asparagus salad, and Maryland crab cakes with avocado and tomato. Another round of sweetened ice teas for the two of them.

  They eat their food and make small talk.

  Both stay away from further discussion of Kennedy’s problem.

  But it is not far from either of their minds.

  Chapter 30

  Michael is enjoying a hot bath in the oversized Jacuzzi tub when there is a knock at the door. He has his head back against the tile, eyes closed, soapsuds filling the tub and caressing his brown skin. His iPod Touch is on the edge of the Jacuzzi, cranking out Herbie Hancock’s River: The Joni Letters—the album that earned him a 2008 Grammy—as he unwinds from a long day.

  A second knock, this one louder than the first. Michael opens his eyes, pulls out the earbuds as he asks, “Who is it?”

  “Me.”

  “Come in.”

  Kennedy enters wearing a T-shirt and panties. “Hey,” she says.

  “Hey.” Michael stretches, soapy limbs rising out of the water like a breaching whale. “What time is it? I must have dozed off.”

  “A little after eleven. Can I join you?”

  “Sure.”

  Kennedy slips out of her clothes as Michael eyes her. She steps in cautiously and slides down beneath the bubbles, letting the hot water engulf her as Michael opens his legs so she can fit between them. They face each other as Kennedy leans back, closing her eyes.

  “This feels good.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Michael’s foot rubs against Kennedy’s waist. “Zack get to sleep okay?”

  “Yep. I read him a story, and he was knocked out before I reached the end.”

  “Oh, good. He’s such a trip,” Michael exclaims.

  “Yes, he is. That boy keeps me sane.” She opens her eyes to glance at her husband. “You and him—my two favorite men.”

  Michael smiles.

  They are silent for a while, enjoying each other’s company without the need to communicate. It’s enough to just be near one another. Sometimes a light touch can signal more than words ever could.

  Kennedy breaks the stillness first.

  “Robin said some things today that got me thinking.”

  Michael opens his eyes again and stares at Kennedy, waiting for her to continue.

  “Just wondering why this person is targeting me. Why the photos didn’t go to your job.”

  “I don’t know,” Michael responds quietly.

  “Any theories?”

  “None that we haven’t discussed already.”

  Kennedy processes what’s been said. She drips water onto her chest, playing with the bubbles while forming the next set of questions in her mind.

  “You and I have always been truthful with one another. That’s one thing that I feel separates us from other couples. The way we are honest and truthful with each other. I trust you. You trust me. That’s why we can lead the lifestyle that we do. Because we are honest with each other.”

  “I agree,” Michael answers, not sure where this is heading.

  “When we first began talking about acting out our fantasies, I was hesitant because I wasn’t sure I could totally trust you. It wasn’t anything you did, but I just never had trusted a man so completely. You showed me that I could—and you took me to this place where our trust was absolute. And thus I felt, for the first time in my life, that I could be myself, completely free, with you. And so, we’ve done things that other people only dream of.”

  “I know, baby. Nothing’s changed.”

  Kennedy nods.

  “When we began this lifestyle, we agreed to certain rules. Such as, neither one of us would ever have a sexual liaison without the other’s permission. We agreed that we would always tell each other if we’ve met someone we want to sleep with, before we slept with that person.”

  “Right.”

  “We made this promise to each other to be truthful. To let each other know if our feelings ever changed.”

  “Kennedy—what are you trying to say to me?” Michael asks, sitting up.

  “I’m not trying to say anything to you. I guess I’m wondering if you’ve been truthful with me. What I’m asking is, have you kept your promise to me?”

  Michael stares at her.

  “Where is this coming from? You have lunch with your best friend and suddenly you question my commitment to you?”

  “Michael, I’m just asking.”

  “If I’ve been faithful to you? You know the answer to that.”

  “I guess I need to know whether I can still trust you,” she says.

  Michael shakes his head.

  “Unbelievable.” Michael glares at her for a moment. “What did Robin say to you, exactly? Oh, let me guess. She doesn’t trust me, because she can’t trust any man after hers fucked her over so badly she thinks every last one of us is a dog. Right?”

  Kennedy remains silent.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Her man was dogging her out for years, fucking anything with tits and an ass while Robin remained oblivious, thinking she had this charmed life. But then one day her whole world crashed and burned. She learned the truth, found out her entire universe was one big fat lie. Now she is a bitter woman, and every man is a dog. Every man, including the one you’re married to.

  “Let me tell you about my world,” Michael continues, his stare drilling itself into Kennedy. “I have a beautiful wife who adores me. I am a father to an incredible little boy. My job is great. We’ve got this really nice home. My sex life is to die for. I consider myself one of the luckiest men in the world. Our lifestyle is incredible. So why would I go behind your back? There is no need. I’ve always been upfront about what I want. I’ve always been honest about my desires. Why? Because there is no need to lie. No reason to be deceitful. I know plenty of men who do it, running around, lying to the ones they love, creating these elaborate schemes so that they can creep on the side. But I don’t have to do that. I tell you what I want. What I’m thinking. I’ve always done that. Those are the rules—the rules you and I agreed to.

  “I remember.”

  “Your friend, Robin? Sorry to say, but she’s fucked up. You? You’re going through a really hard time, and I understand you don’t trust anyone. But don’t stop trusting me. Don’t question what we have. Because that’s the absolute wrong thing to do. You know me. I’m your husband. I’m Michael. I’m one of the good guys.”

  Michael stands, letting the soapsuds cascade down his body. Kennedy reaches out for his hand, but he grabs a towel instead, wrapping it around his waist.

  “Where are you going?” she asks. “I want to finish this.”

  “I think we’re done,” he replies, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Chapter 31

  The next morning, Joe Goodman is at it bright and early.

  His first order of business is to call one of his colleagues, Chandran Nadar.

  Chandran answers on the second ring.

  “Nadar here.”

  “Chan the man! It’s Joe Goodman from the Fifth District.”

  “Hey, Joe. Long time no hear.”

  “I know. Busy and shit, you know how it is.”

  “Yes, I do. What can I do for you?”

  “Chan, I need your expertise. Got this case I’m working on and was wondering if you could spare a little time.”

  Chandran also works for the Metropolitan Police Department: The Investigative Services Bureau, Office of the Superintendent of Detectives, Operations Section, which handl
es financial and computer crimes, among other things. Simply put, Chandran is a computer geek, except he doesn’t wear a pocket protector, dresses conservatively when not in uniform, and has little to no facial hair.

  “What do you have for me, Joe?”

  Joe explains. “E-mail sent from unknown sources, incriminating photographs attached, which were accessed from an external drive of a desktop computer. No forced entry to the house. Trying to figure how they did it, and if there are any forensic clues on the computer, hard drives, or wireless network that we can use to catch the bad guy.”

  “How do you know it’s a guy?” Nadar responds.

  Joe laughs.

  “You got time today if I can arrange a site visit?”

  “For you, Joe? Yes,” Chandran says.

  “Chan, my man!”

  “Kennedy, it’s Joe.”

  “Hi, Joe.”

  “How are you? Anything new?”

  Kennedy is at the kitchen table, on her second cup of coffee of the morning. Her laptop is open as she works on something for Jackson Blair and the association. She was readying to check in with Daniel when her cell rang.

  “Nothing new. No new e-mail messages or phone calls, if that’s what you mean,” she says.

  “Good. That’s good news,” Joe says.

  “I guess.”

  “It is. Listen. I’ve got a guy that I want to bring over to check out your computer and Wi-Fi network. Are you around today?”

  “What do you mean, check out?”

  “Well, I want to see if there are any clues as to how these photographs were accessed, and to see if there are any indications that either your network or computer has been compromised.”

  “Is that necessary?” she asks.

  “If we want to catch this guy,” Joe says, and then thinks about Chan’s comment, “or gal, we need to do a thorough investigation. I know you’re not keen on anyone looking at that hard drive, but it can’t be helped.”

  Kennedy sighs. “Joe, can you keep the number of folks who . . . are involved down to a bare minimum? This is embarrassing without having to open myself up again to the world.”

  “I understand, and yes, I will. You have my word.”

  “Thank you. Yes, I’m available today. Preferably during the day before my son and husband get home.” Kennedy immediately regretted the choice of words—she doesn’t want Joe to misunderstand what she is saying. Doesn’t want to lead him on. “I didn’t mean it that way, Joe. What I meant was—”

  “I know what you meant. You don’t have to explain.”

  She takes a breath and exhales audibly.

  “Thanks.”

  “One more thing,” Joe adds. “I’ll begin contacting those . . . individuals on your list that you have provided contact info for. For the others, and as I recall, close to half of the names don’t have any contact information listed, I’m going to need you to put together some details—where you or your husband met them, dates, any physical characteristics if you don’t have photos of them. A long shot, I know, but we need to pursue all leads. I believe one of the folks on the list is responsible for this—or someone close to them. Okay?”

  Kennedy considers his words.

  “Yes, I’ll get to work on that.”

  “Good. I’ll see you later on today.”

  The line goes dead as Kennedy shakes her head sullenly.

  “Hi, Momma.”

  “Michael! Lord, it’s so good to hear your voice. Your father and I thought you dropped off the face of the earth!”

  “No, Momma, I’m still kicking.”

  Michael is in his office, door closed, feet up on his desk as he stares out the window. His office looks out onto Constitution Avenue. The Mall lies directly in front of him, the Museum of American History to his left, the Washington Monument to his right. Not a bad view.

  “How is my grandson? Oh my goodness, I miss my baby!”

  “He’s fine, Momma. Growing like a weed. You wouldn’t recognize him.”

  “And Kennedy? How’s my daughter-in-law? You ain’t driving her crazy, are you?”

  Michael smiles.

  “No, Momma. I am not driving her crazy. Kennedy’s all right. She’s had a bit of misfortune lately.”

  Michael’s mother sucks in a breath. “Oh my Lord, is everything all right?”

  Michael explains, leaving out the gory details. His mother is suitably concerned. She asks a lot of questions, which Michael expertly deflects.

  “I was thinking about coming up, Momma,” Michael says, revealing the true purpose for his call.

  “Oh my, you know your father and I would just love to have all of you. I miss my baby so much. All of you—I miss all of you.”

  “I know you do, Momma. We miss you, too. Perhaps,” he says, pausing to find the right words, “perhaps Zack and I could pop up for a long weekend.”

  It takes Michael’s mother only seconds to process what her son has just said.

  “You mean Kennedy’s not coming?”

  “I don’t know, Momma. Maybe. Maybe not. A lot going on, you know?”

  “Oh Lord,” she responds. “Let me put your father on. Talk some sense into this boy, would you, Roland?”

  Michael rolls his eyes as he waits for his father to come on the line.

  Chapter 32

  Joe and Kennedy stand behind Chandran Nadar.

  He is sitting in front of the desktop computer in the den. Kennedy is a bundle of nerves. She tries without success to squelch the fidgeting that has taken over. Joe notices and puts a hand on her shoulder.

  “Mrs. Handley,” Chandran says, “what I am attempting to do is see if any traces of remote activity were logged to this computer.” He glances back and witnesses the look of incomprehension on Kennedy’s face. He smiles. “In other words, we suspect that someone came in via the Internet and then through your wireless network and gained access to the photos here,” he says, pointing to the now powered-on external drive.

  “And you suspect this because?” she asks.

  “Well, according to your statements to Detective Goodman here, the photographs in question have not been shared with anyone. Correct?”

  “That’s true—as far as we know.”

  “Okay, fine.”

  Chandran has a laptop with him. He boots it up and reaches into his bag, pulling out a thick, worn CD case. He flips it open and finds the CD-ROM he is searching for.

  “I have a program that will check your firewall logs and those of your router. We should be able to get an IP address and footprint data that the perp left. At least, that’s the plan. . . .”

  “Okay,” Kennedy answers.

  “I need your permission to take the external drive with me. I would like to run some tests on it, and those tests I can only accomplish from my lab,” Chandran says.

  Kennedy’s shoulders sag as she glances over at Joe. He nods reassuringly to her.

  “Chan, I’ve assured Mrs. Handley that the handling and viewing of this drive and its contents will be kept to an absolute minimum. There are revealing photos on that drive,” says Joe.

  “Of course,” Chandran remarks. “Mrs. Handley, you have my personal assurances. No one but myself and Detective Goodman will handle this drive or view its contents.”

  “Thank you.”

  Kennedy looks as if she’s going to be sick.

  “Would you excuse me?” she says.

  “Of course. One more thing. What is the password to the drive?”

  “It’s Celestial.”

  Joe and Chan watch her go. Chan then returns his attention to the desktop computer. His fingers race across the keyboard, opening an Explorer window. Using the mouse, he double-clicks on the F: drive to display its contents. The front of the drive pulses green. Moments later, Chan is perusing the files and subdirectories. Joe glances toward the den opening, feeling his trepidation spike. This is the moment he’s been waiting for, and he feels guilt, knowing that, as an engaged man, he should not be focused on t
houghts of his ex with another woman. But he can’t help it. Kennedy is a beautiful woman. She is sexy, and it’s been a long, long time since he’s seen her nude.

  Chan’s fingers on the keyboard bring him back to the desktop.

  Joe’s glance goes stealthily to the den opening again before panning back to the computer screen. He is unprepared for what he sees next.

  There she is!

  Kennedy in the throes of lovemaking with another woman.

  Chan clicks on another photo.

  Kennedy, her loveliness displayed in full color and resolution.

  And another.

  And another.

  And so on. . . .

  Chan silently meets the eyes of the detective behind him.

  He closes the Explorer window an instant later.

  Continues with his work, gathering evidence.

  It is only then that Joe can find his breath again.

  Chapter 33

  Later on, Joe is at his desk in the Fifth District Station located on Bladensburg Road in Northeast D.C.

  He is staring at the list of names, deep in thought.

  Sixteen names.

  Sixteen liaisons.

  Eleven locations.

  Six international.

  He can’t keep the images from the hard drive from peeking into his psyche. He has to force himself to concentrate.

  But it’s difficult.

  He seems to see her and them every other moment. And it’s not a good thing.

  Sixteen liaisons.

  Out of sixteen names, six of them have some form of contact info: e-mail, phone, address.

  The others—names, vague descriptions—perhaps a photo. That’s it. Not much to go on.

  Joe concentrates on the names. Start with the ones you can contact.

  Natalie—Jamaica.

  Jayla—Philly.

  Makayla—New York.

  Chloe—London.

  Carrie—Baltimore.

  Lacy—Jamaica.

  Joe picks up the phone and dials the first one on the list.

  “Hello?” Female voice.

  “May I speak to Natalie?”

  The number he’s dialed begins with 858. San Diego, CA.