As Sick as Our Secrets

by A B Whelan

  “What? Did they see the video?”

  “I can’t talk about this, Ash. I’m sorry,” Olivia says quietly. “The lawyer crucified me. I’ve never been so humiliated and alone in my entire life.”

  “Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been going crazy since you disappeared.”

  She runs her hand over her matted, greasy hair. I catch a whiff of its sour smell.

  “Brad was right. I shouldn’t have pushed you,” I admit, guilt weighing down my every word.

  She grants me a smile, and I’ve never been more grateful for someone’s forgiveness.

  “You can read the transcript from the indictment, if you want. My court-appointed lawyer gave me a copy. I don’t even know why. It’s over there.” She points to a stack of paper nailed to the wall.

  I get out of my seat and pull out the nail from the wall, releasing the stack of paper. Standing by the wall, I skim through pages of legal jargon to get to Olivia’s questioning on the stand.

  Victim: My husband was a master of lowering my self-esteem. He made me feel like I couldn’t manage my life on my own. That I needed him to survive.

  Counsel: Did Mr. Campbell lock you in the house or prevent you in any way from finding a job?

  Victim: No, but…

  Counsel: Just a simple yes or no will do.

  Victim: No.

  Counsel: Did your husband force you to have sex with him in exchange for the life he provided you?

  Victim: He drugged me.

  Counsel: So you say, but we don’t have any evidence supporting that, do we?

  Victim: You saw the video.

  Counsel: A video you recorded; a premeditated act. A setup designed to ruin your husband’s life.

  Prosecution: Objection. Mrs. Campbell did not record the video in question. She found it in her husband’s study.

  Court: Sustained. Mr. Collins, do you have a question for the witness?

  Counsel: Can you tell us how and when you entered the United States, Mrs. Campbell?

  Prosecution: Objection. How is this relevant to the case?

  Court: Mr. Collins, would you explain the reason behind your line of questioning?

  Counsel: I’m just trying to show a pattern in the victim’s behavior, your Honor.

  Court: I’ll allow it. Proceed.

  Counsel: Please answer the question, Mrs. Campbell.

  Victim: I came to America fifteen years ago.

  Counsel: On what type of visa?

  Victim: Tourist.

  Counsel: How long did you stay in the country on that tourist visa?

  Victim: Six months.

  Counsel: What did you do during those six months? Did you visit every town in America?

  Prosecution: Objection!

  Court: Mr. Collins, we are here on a rape charge. Ask questions related to the case.

  Counsel: I’m getting there, your Honor.

  Court: I’ll allow your questioning, but get to the point.

  Counsel: Okay, let me speed up this conversation a little bit. Mrs. Campbell, is it true that you entered the United States on a tourist visa, yet you worked as a nanny for a wealthy family over the course of two years?

  Victim: Yes, but I went back to Sweden every three months as the law required.

  Counsel: And you came back each time with the intention to work in the United States despite not having the proper visa required by law.

  Victim: I didn’t know better. I didn’t mean to break any laws.

  Counsel: Yes, of course. You are an honest woman. Did you have an affair with the father whose children you were hired to look after?

  Prosecution: Objection! Relevance, your Honor?

  Counsel: I’m just trying to show Mrs. Campbell’s true intentions in coming to this country. She lied to the authorities. She had an affair with another wealthy man and then married my client to obtain her citizenship and a comfortable life. And now, so conveniently after ten years of marriage, she wants to find a way out while keeping the comfortable life she’s gotten used to this past decade.

  Court: I’ll allow it, but only to a certain point. We are not here today to investigate Mrs. Campbell’s citizenship.

  Counsel: Thank you, your Honor. I’ll be short. So, Mrs. Campbell, did you or did you not have an affair with Johnathan Erickson, the father of the children you were hired to look after?

  Victim: I did.

  Counsel: Was it Mr. Erickson who introduced you to your husband?

  Victim: Yes, but Richard didn’t know about Johnathan and me.

  Counsel: Well, once you framed your husband, his friend came forward.

  Prosecution: Objection. Speculation.

  Counsel: Withdrawn. When did you tell your husband about your past, the ways you earned your living in Sweden?

  Victim: I married my husband because I loved him and he loved me.

  Counsel: Just answer the question, please.

  Victim: After we were married.

  Counsel: So, it’s fair to say, Mrs. Campbell, that you lied to my client before he married you? That you misled him?

  Victim: I didn’t lie.

  Counsel: Well, not telling the truth is lying. Are you lying now, Mrs. Campbell?

  Victim: I’m not lying. Richard drugged me and raped me repeatedly without my knowledge.

  Counsel: Your Honor, we only have one video of one sexual encounter between my client and his wife. There is no proof of repeated events.

  Court: Sustained. The jury is to disregard the victim’s last comment.

  Counsel: Did you file criminal charges against the Arab sheikhs in the United Arab Emirates who slept with you for money as well?

  Victim: What? No!

  Counsel: Did you or did you not allow men you just met to perform all kinds of sexual acts on you for money when you still lived in Sweden?

  Prosecution: Objection, your Honor! Mr. Collins is trying to discredit the victim, and it’s not only illegal, it’s unethical.

  Counsel: Withdrawn! One last question, Mrs. Campbell. Please tell the jury why, after lying on your Homeland Security application, lying to a mother whose children you looked after, and lying to my client to get him to marry you, they should believe that you are now telling the truth?

  Victim: I’m not proud of my past. And I don’t expect you to understand how it feels to hit rock bottom, but I am telling the truth about what my husband did to me.

  Counsel: And the jury should believe you because of your pretty blue eyes and your exotic foreign accent?

  Prosecution: Objection!

  Counsel: Withdrawn. Your Honor. I think it’s clear that there is not enough evidence against my client, and continuing with this trial would only mean more tax dollars wasted. The only evidence the prosecution has is a highly questionable home video and a less-than-believable victim.

  My face must have been twisted with revulsion, because Olivia rips the papers from my hand. “Stop reading this garbage.” She opens her kitchen trash can and shoves it all in. “It’s over. Done.”

  “So, you are supposed to just bend over and take it? Our judicial system is a freaking joke!”

  Her pinpoint eyes fix on mine, making me shiver. “I told you I wouldn’t stand a chance against Richard, not with my past, but you wouldn’t listen to me.” Her anger transforms into amusement, and she chuckles out loud, which I consider an alarming and disturbing reaction. “Actually, I can only blame myself. I was the naïve idiot, believing that things would be different this time. Decades later and I’m still not able to leave my past behind.”

  I feel an urge to hug her and tell her I’m sorry, but guilt freezes me solid.

  Minutes roll on in silence. I can hear the hammering of my heart and the buzzing of the flies. A drum solo echoes in the distance. It sounds as if it’s coming from above us. The music is soon drowned out by the passing sirens of an ambulance and cars honking. How can anyone get any peace here?

  “I’m sorry I missed Skyler’s funeral,” Olivia whispers, breaking the
silence.

  “You didn’t miss much. I was there for only a minute. Her mother flipped out on me the moment I entered the mortuary. She started screaming at me, ‘Are you happy now?’ and was telling everybody there that I was responsible for her daughter’s death. Skyler had come to me for help, and I didn’t help her. It was awful.”

  “I’m sorry, Ashley. Don’t worry about that white trash. You did everything you could to save her.”

  “Her parents don’t see it that way. She wouldn’t stop yelling at me to get out until I was halfway into the parking lot. And now the mess I put you in. What are you gonna do?”

  She shrugs, lifting her bony shoulders. “I don’t know. There’s nothing else to do. I asked my lawyer to get me protective custody, but he said Richard is not a threat to society or to me and that no judge would grant it. After what I put him through, it’s a matter of time until he comes for me. If you could find me, he’ll find me too.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “Oh, yeah, and what are you going to do to protect me?”

  “Everything in my power.”

  She smiles, and I feel hurt. “You know what my lawyer said as I was escorted out of the court room? He asked if there was anything else he could do for me. I told him he can collect my bloated body from the lakeshore after Richard is done with me. He told me my theory of Richard being the Fifty Shades Killer is only circumstantial and that I shouldn’t share my theory in public because Richard could sue me for it.”

  “He visited me in my office last week.”

  “Who? My lawyer?”

  “No, your husband.”

  Olivia sits back down on the edge of the sofa, a mask of disbelief on her face. “What did he want?”

  “He wanted to find out where you were. I told him I had no idea, so he threatened me.”

  Olivia’s fists roll into balls. “I’m gonna kill that fucking bastard. Who the hell does he think he is?”

  “He’s a piece of work, all right. When he cornered me and stared me down with those dark eyes of his, I understood the fear Skyler was trying to tell me. I think I truly understand what you had to go through too. After he left, I felt…I don’t know…violated.”

  Her jawline bulges under her skin as she turns away from me. “I’m sorry you had to experience that.”

  “I think he’s been following me or put someone on my tail.”

  “He must have hired someone to tail you. Remember when we went to that coffee shop looking for Skyler? I could have sworn someone was watching us.”

  “I can’t believe that the police can do nothing about this.”

  “No, they were on my side. You should have seen them during Richard’s interview, especially this one detective from Escondido, Bostick. He was absolutely certain that Richard was the serial killer he’d been chasing for years.”

  “So how come they didn’t arrest him?”

  “All they have is circumstantial evidence, nothing solid to hold up in court.”

  I stand in silence for a while. My thoughts linger on the conversation Betty and I had after our self-defense class with Anderson. “I think I have a plan on how to get your husband to admit to his crimes. It’s dangerous and probably unethical, but if you’re in, then I’ll be there every step of the way for you.”

  Olivia pulls out her illegal handgun from a drawer. “I’ve been thinking the exact same thing.”

  “Well, my plan is a little more complex than that. What do you say? You want to nail that son of a bitch?”

  One look at Olivia’s blazing eyes confirms her cooperation. The only question that remains is if we have enough darkness in us to execute it.

  “Now, go take a shower, and let’s tidy this place up a bit. We got things to do. We won’t let that bastard win.”

  Betty

  TUESDAY

  Wearing a sleeveless police department shirt and navy-blue athletic shorts, Brad pushes the bench-press barbell with wrathful intensity. It’s usually either frustration or helplessness that brings him to his makeshift gym in our garage, and that’s what brought him here today.

  Leaning against the doorframe with my arms crossed, I watch him moaning and wheezing. I’m thinking it may have been better if I hadn’t shown him the video of Olivia’s rape. As a San Diego cop, there wasn’t much he could do to help my friend. As a husband and a father to our daughter, there was much he could mull over.

  It’s strange how the smallest thing can evoke a deep-rooted and unconditional love in me for my husband. Here. Today. At this moment. Wrapped in a warm blanket of love and security, I know that every argument, every sleepless night, every tough day I’ve lived through with this man was worth it. We are a strong family, and that matters in so many ways.

  He notices me and calls out, “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I think I am. How about you?”

  He sits up, the sweat-stained bench between his legs, and starts undoing his gloves. “Yeah, me too. I was just wondering what’s happened to this world?”

  “The world was always like this.”

  “No, things have changed.”

  “Maybe you’ve changed.”

  Brad stands up and takes a few steps to a small refrigerator at his workbench for a bottle of water. “I’m scared for our children. All the craziness in this world. Who will they grow up to be?”

  I make my way beside him and gently put a hand to the side of his face. “We have great kids, Brad. We teach them what’s right and what’s wrong. They’ll be fine.”

  He throws the empty water bottle in the trash and props himself up on the workbench. “Can I ask you a question?”

  I nod.

  “What do you think about our sex life?”

  My face flames up. “Why are you asking?”

  “Do you ever think about having an affair with another man?”

  “No!” I say, as if offended. I may have thought about it in my weak moments, but I’d never go through with it. That one night in Vegas, that one slip, still haunts me.

  Feeling the heat rising inside me, though there is no way he would know about it, I go on the offensive. “Why? Do you think about tying me up or pretending to rape me to spice things up?”

  He shakes his head. “Yeah, in my free time. I’m stressing over money and the job all day. I barely have the time or the energy to hit these weights, let alone arrange elaborate sex games with someone else.”

  He jumps off the workbench and gets back to his exercise station. “You don’t have to worry about me, honey,” he says, slipping his gloves back on.

  “Do you believe in vigilante justice?” I ask, paddling to safer waters, away from the danger of the sin I’ve been living with since that girls’ night out in Vegas.

  “Sometimes. I’ve seen too many bad guys get off easy because of some administrative error. But if we start killing people, then what separates us from the criminals?” he asks.

  “Richard is a monster. He never should have been released.”

  He presses his lips together tightly and nods.

  I feel lucky to have Brad in my life. Although we aren’t rich—no collectable cars or luxury vacations—we do have something more valuable and enduring. We have a deep love and respect for each other, and we have our family. Although I tend to forget it sometimes, I know it’s enough for me.

  As if possessed, I find myself leaning over Brad. I sit on his lap and pull my shirt off over my head. I feel his warm hands pressing against my back and his wet lips against my breasts.

  He unzips my jeans with the urgency of a father of two, who knows that time is essential when it comes to before-bedtime lovemaking. I don’t mind. It’s these stolen moments of raw passion that keep me coming back for more.

  After I kiss my kids good-night, I dress head to toe in a dark outfit, tuck my hair tight underneath a ski hat, slip a pair of leather winter gloves into my purse, and head for the door. I look back at Brad dozing on the recliner in front of the TV. Doubt no longer plays tug-of-
war with my mind. I initially had my reservations, but I’ve overcome them. There is something I must do. It’s unethical. It’s dangerous. Nevertheless, I have daughters, and as a mother, I can’t stand by and do nothing.

  I call Ashley from my car. “I’m on my way. I should be there by ten.”

  Ashley

  TUESDAY

  A broken sprinkler head shoots water onto the sidewalk, and I’m forced to waddle through a puddle to get to the Guns and Reels store to meet Anderson.

  The door opens as I near it.

  A motion sensor beeps as I enter.

  Anderson welcomes me from the shadows. “I don’t like this, Ashley,” he whispers, scanning the dark, vacant streets behind me.

  “I came alone,” I say before he asks.

  “I hope you aren’t getting me involved in something illegal. I could lose my license in a flash.”

  Anderson is a retired ex-marine and self-defense instructor. In class, he tells us tales about his heroic acts and tough-guy moments to impress the ladies. Maybe the cautionary act he’s playing now is to get more money out of me for the goods I need from him.

  “I could buy all this stuff online; I just don’t have the time. I need them now,” I plead. If he chickens out, our plans for the night are over.

  He swallows hard, giving himself time to evaluate the situation, and then waves at me to follow him to the front counter. There he opens a brown cloth and reveals the spy gear I ordered from him. I pick up the pen camera and turn it around in my hand. “Wow! They do make these undetectable nowadays, don’t they?”

  He picks up the small black flashlight with a jagged rim around the light. “Remember, sometimes the most unexpected items can be used as a weapon.” He takes a wide, secure stance, holding up the flashlight with his thumb on the power button in the rear, the jagged edge pointing out to the front. “Bam, bam,” he says, jabbing at the air near my left eye. “Make sure your stance is solid and your grasp is tight.”

  After examining the gadgets, I fold up the cloth with the items and place it into a bag. I hand him an envelope with the money we agreed on earlier. He slips it into the back pocket of his khakis without counting it. I kiss him on the cheek as a bonus and walk back to my car.