time, he hesitated before picking it up. The cover was worn, and it felt slightly heavier than he expected. Flipping it open to the first page, he saw neat handwriting filled with thoughts and reflections.
As he skimmed through the entries, he realized they were filled with observations, feelings, and experiences from her daily life—both personal and professional. His heart raced as he came across entries that made him feel uneasy. Whitney had written about some of her interactions with her teaching assistant, Adam, in a way that seemed more intimate than professional.
Mentions of their conversations lingered longer than he felt comfortable with, and there were notes about how much she admired his work ethic and ambition. Brian's breathing quickened as he read another entry discussing her excitement for the Cincinnati seminar and her hope that Adam would be attending as well. He tried to push away the rising tide of unease, telling himself that he was overreacting.
After all, it was possible to have close relationships with colleagues without it leading to anything more. Still, he closed the journal and placed it back on her nightstand, feeling the weight of his discovery. The cozy evening he had envisioned suddenly felt overshadowed by doubt.
He finished getting ready for bed, trying to shake off the feeling of insecurity that clung to him. As he sank into his pillow that night, he couldn’t help but replay the moments from their conversation. Whitney’s sharpness, her insistence on going alone, and her unusual behavior all stirred in his mind, merging with the words he’d just read.
The nagging feeling wouldn’t leave him, and as he finally drifted off to sleep, he knew that this week would be much longer than he anticipated. Time. Brian picked up the small red leather journal, its brass lock cool against his fingers.
It seemed to hold answers to the recent changes in Whitney's behavior. Instead of returning it to the dresser, he carried it to the kitchen, where the lighting was better, and examined the lock closely. Only about a third of the journal's pages had been used, which struck him as odd; eight years of entries wouldn't fit in such a small space.
He guessed she must have older diaries stored elsewhere, likely in her closet. Each of them had their own closet, and Brian had never ventured into Whitney's. He decided to look, climbing the stairs back to their bedroom.
After a brief search, he found a shoe box on the top shelf containing a stack of matching red leather journals. Bringing them to the kitchen, he discovered they were nearly identical, each with a small white circle on the spine marked with numbers one through six, except for the current one, which wasn't numbered. On the back of each journal, the name "Chandlers" was embossed—a specialty store Brian recognized.
The locks all appeared to be identical, with no distinguishing marks, which made him wonder if a single key might open them all. Checking the phone directory, Brian called the store. A young clerk confirmed they had a couple of the same diaries in stock and that the store was open until 10:00.
Hoping to get a key that fit, Brian decided to buy one; picking the locks wasn't an option—damaging them would surely expose his snooping, and Whitney would never forgive him. About half an hour later, Brian was driving home with a new red leather journal and its small brass key tucked safely in a bag. The purchase had cost nearly $60, but he considered it worth the price if it helped him uncover what was troubling Whitney.
He reasoned he could always give her the new journal later. His mind raced with possibilities; perhaps Whitney was hiding an illness, as she had once done before when she kept test results to herself until learning they weren't serious. Another possibility was stress from work—maybe tensions with colleagues that she didn't want to burden him with.
But the darker thought that she might be unfaithful gnawed at him. He hated to even consider it, focusing instead on other, less painful explanations. Brian and Whitney had always been an unusual pair.
He was slightly short, with blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, and carried a muscular build from his work. Whitney, on the other hand, was tall and slender, with striking dark hair and expressive eyes. They met in school but only reconnected years later at a mutual friend's party, marrying shortly after Whitney graduated and starting their life together in a small house.
They had moved to a larger one after a few years, hoping to start a family soon. When Brian got home, he wasn't sure if the key would work on Whitney's diaries. Inside the shoe box, he found a tiny envelope containing the original key; it felt delicate in his hand, and he briefly wondered if he should have asked the store clerk whether all the locks were identical.
If the key didn't work, he decided he would give up on the idea; he wasn't about to waste time hunting for a match. Five minutes later, Brian was sitting at the kitchen table with a stack of journals and a soda. Holding the small key, he stared at Whitney's most recent journal, debating whether to unlock it.
His heart raced at the thought of betraying her trust, but his concern for her health and the nagging doubts drove him forward. Slipping the key into the lock, he turned it gently; it fit perfectly. Brian opened the journal and began reading the latest entry.
His face turned pale, and his eyes filled with shock. Staggering to the sink, he crushed the soda can in his hand until it overflowed. Shaking off the sticky mess, he washed up before carrying the journals and key to the living room.
Setting the books on the nightstand, he switched on a lamp and sank into his chair, determined to uncover the truth. Brian opened the first page of the current journal and began reading. The entry started in early June, over six months ago; it detailed Whitney's happiness and satisfaction with her life, marriage, and career.
But knowing how it all unraveled cast a shadow over every word. Flipping through the pages, Brian found an entry from early September that caught his attention. Whitney wrote about meeting her new assistant, Adam Torres.
Brian reread the passage twice, searching for clues. September 8th: "My new assistant, Adam Torres, came into my office today. He's a bit taller than me, with black hair, dark eyes, and a scruffy beard.
He reminds me of a movie star. He left me a printout of his grades and seems very capable. " Brian read on, hunting for more mentions of Adam.
The next two entries focused on a large class of over 100 students, with no further reference to him. Whitney seemed content but slightly overwhelmed by her teaching load. Then, on September 15th, she wrote, "Adam is now helping me manage the big class, answering students' questions while I work on lectures.
The female students seem especially taken with him; a few even said he looks like DiCaprio. " That must be why he seemed so familiar. As Brian read further, mentions of Adam Torres grew more frequent.
September 20th: "Classes are going well; a few students dropped out, probably finding the course too difficult. During my lectures, Adam sits in the front row, watching me intently. I should give him more tasks to keep him occupied.
" September 24th: "I had some free hours today and worked on a reading assignment with Adam. We were productive, making copies and choosing articles. I also want to talk to.
. . " Brian about starting a family; it's the first time I've thought about bringing it up seriously.
September 30th, I caught Adam watching me during my lecture again. I frowned at him, but he just grinned and didn't look away. After class, the female students swarmed him with questions, more focused on him than the lesson.
My students are performing well overall, but I feel the mounting pressure of my role. I want to ensure they succeed. Subsequent entries reflected Whitney's optimism and contentment as her classes progressed.
She also expressed her excitement about discussing children with Brian, and they agreed to wait until the school year ended before trying. October 8th, I'm thrilled! Brian and I have decided to start a family.
I'll stop taking the pill after the spring semester. I told Adam, and he seemed genuinely happy for us; he hugged me tightly in my office, catching me off guard. I had to gently push him away, reminding him that the door was open.
October 10th, Adam came to my office today, and I felt uneasy. I didn't notice him coming until I heard the door close and lock. He smiled and said no one could see us now.
I told him to open the door, which he did, but the moment left me questioning his intentions. October 11th, Adam helped me prepare quiz questions today. He apologized for locking the door yesterday, and I told him it was fine.
When I asked why he was so fascinated with me, he admitted he prefers the company of mature women to girls his age. I told him I'm happily married, but I can't deny I was flattered. October 13th, I expected Adam to stop by today, but he didn't.
Oddly, I felt a twinge of disappointment. I had hoped to discuss his interest in older women further. October 16th, today Adam asked to close the door, and I agreed.
When I pressed him about his preference for mature women, he shared that his first experience was with a 40-year-old widow. He said women his age don't know what they want. While we talked, he hugged me.
I let him hold me longer than I should have before stepping away. Then he kissed me and left without a word. I realized I should have stopped him sooner, but I didn't, and now I can't stop replaying the moment.
Brian's concern deepened as he read these entries. Adam was clearly testing boundaries, and Whitney wasn't handling it as he thought she should. Grabbing another soda, he braced himself to keep reading.
October 20th, this afternoon, as I was leaving the office, Adam appeared and asked if I was busy. When I said no, he locked the door behind him. Despite my request to keep it open, he said he'd been thinking about me constantly and asked for a birthday kiss.
I agreed, hoping it would make him leave, but I regret it now. When I apologized for not having a card, he laughed and admitted his birthday was in July. I should have been furious at the lie, but I wasn't.
He's starting to influence me, and I need to be more cautious. The following entries lacked mentions of Adam as Whitney seemed preoccupied with grading. Brian noted it odd that Adam wasn't helping her during this busy period.
October 30th, I don't even know how to describe my day. I'm terrified Brian will see right through me. It started when Adam came into my office while I was reading.
I didn't notice him until he locked the door. He took my hands, lifted me from my chair, and kissed me before I could react. I didn't stop him, and I'm ashamed to admit I didn't hate it.
He smiled and said, "Don't pretend you didn't like it. " I told him to leave, but he just grinned and said he'd see me tomorrow. I'm not handling this well.
Maybe I should talk to Brian, but I'm scared he'll hate me for letting this happen. Worst of all, I catch myself thinking about Adam sometimes. Brian read this entry three times, his anger building with each pass.
The thought of Adam made his blood boil. If the man were in front of him now, Brian wasn't sure what he'd do. November 2nd, I think I've finally stopped worrying about Brian figuring out what happened.
That first evening after it all began was the hardest. Every time he looked at me, I was sure he'd know. When he asked if I was upset, I denied it, and he believed me without question.
It struck me how easily I could hide things from him. I pray I never have to do it again. November 6th, Adam hasn't been alone with me since last week.
At today's lecture, I caught him watching me again. When our eyes met, he smiled, and I'm sure I blushed. For the first time, I'm genuinely worried about how I'll react when we're alone again.
November 9th, yesterday was another difficult day. I'm unhappy with both Adam's behavior and my own, and I'm scared of where this is going. This morning, Adam came into my office without me noticing.
He ignored my request to keep the door open. When he tried to lift me from my chair, I resisted at first but gave in. What started as a kiss turned into something more.
Afterwards, I ran to the bathroom, horrified. Adam followed, unapologetic, saying he hoped we could do it again. I couldn't bring myself to say no.
Surprisingly, I managed to act normal when Brian got home, even though I was still shaken by what had happened. Brian continued reading, feeling his anger build with every word. November 12th, Brian and I were together last night, and it was as good as ever, but afterward I wondered if I was trying to prove something to myself.
Brian clenched his fists, the realization of how deeply things had. . .
Spiraled, fueling his fury, he read further, noting that Adam wasn't mentioned again for several days as Whitney appeared focused on her classes and the semester's approaching end. November 17th: "I don't know what's wrong with me. Adam has this strange hold over me that I never anticipated.
He came into my office today, and I told him we needed to talk about what happened last time. I explained it was wrong, reminded him that I'm happily married, and emphasized how much my career was at risk. He just smiled and nodded, then asked if I wanted to lock the door or if he should.
I was stunned, and he went ahead and locked it himself. We've crossed a dangerous line, and I feel torn. Part of me knows I should stop him, but another part insists we haven't done anything irredeemable.
I can never tell Brian; at least no one can see into my office. This all happened an hour ago, and I still feel euphoric. I hope I can compose myself before I see Brian tonight.
" Brian's hands trembled as he read. Things were clearly spiraling out of control; he realized he didn't know Whitney as well as he'd believed and resolved to read every journal, no matter how long it took. He glanced at the clock; it was already 2 a.
m. , but stopping now wasn't an option. Calling his office, Brian arranged to take the next day off.
His life had irrevocably changed. Where love and dreams of a future had once existed, there was now only a cold void and mounting rage. He took a break to use the bathroom, grabbed another soda, and returned to the stack of journals.
Despite the late hour, his mind raced. It had been only eight hours since he last spoke with Whitney, and his suspicions had begun to consume him. November 22nd: "Adam came to my office today, but I kept the table between us.
He didn't lock the door or try anything. I felt so guilty lately that I couldn't let him touch me. I think he sensed my resolve; I just hope I can maintain it.
" Brian saw no mention of Adam in the next few entries. Whitney sounded optimistic as the semester wound down with only weeks remaining. November 23rd: "I told Brian about the workshops, and he was supportive, even offering to take time off and join me.
I'll need to think about it; we could find things to do when I'm not in class. But Whitney's decision to attend alone must have changed some. " Some time between late November and mid-December, Brian felt uneasy as he read on.
November 25th: "Adam stopped me in the hallway today and asked if he could visit our house. I told him no, especially after he asked about Brian's night shifts. Then he suggested I visit him at the house he shares with other students.
I refused, but he gave me his number in case I changed my mind. I mentioned the seminars, and he seemed very interested, even though they're for teachers only. " November 30: "Yesterday was awful.
I feel like I've lost myself. I barely slept, and Brian noticed something was off. Lately, I've been fantasizing about Adam, even though I don't have feelings for him.
When he came to my office today, we finished exam prep quickly, and then he locked the door again. I couldn't stop him. Afterward, I ran to the bathroom and cried.
How did I let this happen? Adam was gone by the time I came out, and everything seemed normal. I spent the rest of the day in tears, trying to make sense of it all.
Maybe I should see a therapist. " Brian saw the regret in Whitney's words but felt no comfort. Her inability to stop Adam had darkened his heart, transforming him into someone he didn't recognize.
December 1st: "Adam stopped by to say goodbye before heading home for the holidays. He asked if I wanted him to come back early and join me at the seminar. I told him to think about it since I hadn't decided yet.
He seemed excited. I'm not, but I'm considering it. I don't love him; I just see him as a partner for physical pleasure.
Spending time with him without rushing would be nice since he's experienced. I wonder if he'll drop the idea. " December 8th: "I told Brian I wanted him to stay home while I went to the seminar.
I suggested a spring break cruise instead. He wasn't thrilled but agreed eventually. I feel terrible lying to him.
I haven't decided if I'll take Adam, but I'm leaning toward it. I'll never love him the way I love Brian, but he pushes all the right buttons. " December 14th: "Adam called again today.
I wasn't in the office when he tried yesterday, but I've made the reservation: rooms 412 and 414 at the Sheraton, just as he suggested. He's paying for room 414 with his Visa. He's thrilled, but I'm more apprehensive.
He's leaving after the semester, so I hope these three nights will be the end of it. I just pray Brian never finds out. " Brian skimmed through the remaining December entries.
Adam was mentioned briefly on December 28th. December 28th: "Adam called yesterday. I was startled to hear his voice but thankful Brian was at work.
Adam asked if I was still planning to attend the seminar. I assured him I was, and he seemed pleased. I'm nervous but determined to end this soon.
" Brian glanced at the clock; it was almost 5:00 a. m. He knew the next entry was the one he had read first when he opened the journal.
As he poured himself coffee, he realized Whitney had been living a double life for months; her plans with Adam were already in motion. January 3rd: "Tomorrow is the big day: three days of workshops and three nights with Adam. I'll pick him up.
" Before we leave and drop him off on my way back, thank God Brian didn't insist on coming; I wouldn't have known what to say. I checked the mall near the Sheran and saw there's a Victoria's Secret. Maybe I'll buy something sexy for Adam and wash it before wearing it for Brian later.
It feels wrong, but Brian will never know. I can't believe I'm actually excited about this trip. Whitney wrote, “I wonder if Adam expects something different, something Brian and I haven't tried.
” I'm not sure I want that, though, since it might make Brian suspicious. Maybe I'll save any new ideas for our cruise and pretend I just felt adventurous. I've started packing and hope Brian doesn't find it odd.
I don't want to give him any ideas, but as I reread these thoughts, I'm questioning if I can really go through with this. What happened in my office was spontaneous, but this trip is premeditated. I can't explain it away as a moment of weakness.
I could still back out, pay for Adam's room, and cover his travel expenses. Brian closed the final journal, sipping his coffee as he reflected on the nine grueling hours he'd spent reading. A plan for the next three days was already taking shape in his mind.
He had decided there was no salvaging his marriage; even if Whitney backed out of her plans with Adam, the trust was irreparably broken. Forgiveness felt impossible. With each passing moment, his love for Whitney faded, replaced by growing hatred for Adam.
Just before noon, Brian stood and grabbed his cordless phone. Sitting back down at his desk, he dialed the number on the screen. "Pier Saw Investigations, how can I help you?
" The woman's professional tone was calming. "Do you handle cases involving infidelity? " Brian asked, hesitantly, unsure how to phrase his request.
"If you mean gathering evidence of a cheating spouse, yes. Would you like to speak with a detective? " "Yes, that's exactly what I need," Brian replied, reassured.
After a brief hold accompanied by soft rock music, a man's voice came on the line. "Francis Hopkins speaking. You're looking for evidence of infidelity; how can I assist you?
" Brian explained, "I suspect my wife is cheating with a man at the Sheran Hotel near the airport. I need photographic evidence and want to know the cost. " "Got it.
Sheran Hotel near the airport. Is this happening now? What's the timeline?
" "She's there now and staying until Saturday morning. She's in room 412 and he's in 414. They were together last night, but I didn't decide to act until this morning.
She's attending seminars, and he's tagging along. " Francis chuckled lightly at the unintentional pun. "Understood.
I'll need more details and can discuss surveillance options. Can you provide names and descriptions? " Brian described Whitney and offered to email a photo, though he preferred to move quickly.
He also gave Adam's name and a rough description from the diaries. "Straightforward, Mr Hayes. We can install cameras in both rooms this afternoon and leave them until they check out.
It only takes a few minutes, and I have a contact at the Sheran who allows us access for a flat fee. For photographic evidence, the cost is $800. " Brian hesitated.
"You mentioned cameras; would it cost less if you only took photos? " "We'd still need cameras in both rooms since we can't predict which they'll use. The flat fee includes equipment and access charges.
It's fair for what you're requesting. " Brian nodded, though Francis couldn't see him. "Okay, I'll pay.
Do you need payment up front? " "You can pay securely through our website. Use case number 13728 to ensure your payment is correctly processed.
Once it's confirmed, we proceed immediately. The footage will be transferred to a DVD for you. " "Actually, could you hold on to the DVD?
I just need clear photos for now, nothing explicit—just confirmation. " "Of course, Mr Hayes. I'll email the stills by tomorrow evening and keep the DVD on file until you need it.
" Brian provided his phone number and paid over the phone. The detective confirmed the payment and assured Brian they would begin the setup that afternoon. Relieved, Brian finally succumbed to exhaustion, falling asleep on the couch.
He woke in the late afternoon, groggy but slightly refreshed. After reheating some leftover pizza, he started reading Whitney's first journal. This time, he sped through the entries, avoiding dwelling on the details.
By 10 p. m. , he finished and received a call from Whitney.
Their conversation was pleasant, both hiding their secrets. After the call, Brian felt a bitter irony; just as he concealed his plans, Whitney was likely doing the same. He resumed reading, but his thoughts drifted to what might be happening at the Sheran.
By 1:00 a. m. , Brian had finished the second volume.
Exhaustion crept in, and he opted to sleep on the couch, avoiding the bed he once shared with Whitney. Surprisingly, he slept soundly, waking at 7 a. m.
, feeling rested. He prepared a quick breakfast and tackled the third and fourth journals, finishing by midday. Setting the journals aside, Brian addressed his to-do list.
First, he visited GL Tech to collect his final paycheck and clear out his locker. His superior, Grant, tried to persuade him to stay, but Brian explained his circumstances. Grant wished him luck and left the door open for a possible return.
Next, Brian went to the bank, withdrawing over $20,000 from his joint and personal accounts—just under the limit requiring Whitney's signature. He needed the money for immediate expenses. Returning home around 4:00 p.
m. , Brian checked his answering machine and found a message from Hopkins Investigations. He returned the call immediately.
"Hopkins Investigations, Francis speaking. How can I help? " "This is Brian Hayes; I'm returning your call," he said, his voice steady.
"Yes, Mr Hayes. We installed the cameras yesterday and captured footage earlier today. Both rooms were empty when we set up, so it.
. . " went smoothly.
Brian hesitated. "Did you find anything? " "Your suspicions are confirmed.
We have all the evidence you need for a divorce. They spent the night in your wife's room. The footage is on a DVD, and I have three stills ready to email if you'd like.
" Brian's chest tightened, his vision blurring with tears. He hadn't expected this. Despite everything he'd read, seeing it confirmed felt like a dagger to his heart.
"Yes, please email the photos. Thank you. " "Of course, Mr Hayes.
With everything settled, our business is complete. " Brian managed to quiet himself. "Thank you, that's all I need.
" The detective paused. "You sound different from yesterday. Are you okay?
These cases are often very emotional. " Brian steadied his voice, the edge unmistakable. "I'll manage.
Thank you for your help. I'll reach out if I need anything else. " "Your lawyer might want a copy of the DVD if you proceed with the divorce," Francis Hopkins advised over the phone.
"We'll keep it on file for a year unless you instruct otherwise. And if I may suggest, a good therapist can help with the emotional toll of situations like this. " "Don't worry about me, Mr Hopkins.
I know what I need to do. Thanks for your help," Brian said flatly before hanging up. He sat in the kitchen, his face expressionless, until the computer beeped with a new email.
He opened the message from Hopkins Investigations and printed the three attached photos on 8x10 paper. A few minutes later, he held the physical evidence of Whitney's infidelity. None of the photos were explicit, as he had requested, but they were clear enough to confirm what he already knew.
After a final look, Brian slipped the photos into a brown envelope and left it on the kitchen table. Then he returned to the chair where he had spent most of the past two days and picked up the fifth journal. By midnight, he had finished the last two volumes.
Reflecting on all six journals, he noted that Whitney had largely been the woman he thought he knew: confident, thoughtful, and loving. There were no signs she had considered betraying him before. Small secrets in her entries gave him clarity about past events, such as her deep insecurities and her struggles with self-confidence.
One detail stood out: her profound love for him, which made her actions with Adam even more incomprehensible. Brian was surprised to learn their meeting years ago at a mutual friend’s birthday party had not been accidental; Whitney had been excited to hear the birthday host knew him and had asked to have him invited. The journals kept Brian so engrossed that he didn’t realize Whitney hadn’t called.
Only when his stomach growled did he pause to make a sandwich. As he ate, dark thoughts about Whitney and Adam clouded his mind. These thoughts fueled his resolve to carry out his plans.
Whether due to the late meal or his racing thoughts, Brian's sleep was restless. He finally gave up trying to rest a little after 7:00 a. m.
and began his day early. At 8:30, he called his brother Barney, his only close family member. Though they had no animosity, they rarely saw each other except at Christmas.
Barney seemed surprised by the unexpected visit but said his family had no other plans. Brian arrived at his brother's home a little after 10:00 a. m.
and gathered Barney's children in the kitchen while his wife, Hazel, prepared coffee. Knowing they were planning a trip to Disneyland for spring break, Brian handed each child a $100 bill for pocket money. The kids were thrilled, hugging him in gratitude.
Barney smiled, though puzzled. "You didn't have to do that, Brian. What's going on?
Did you win the lottery? " Brian forced a small smile. "Nothing like that.
I just felt generous. " They chatted over coffee until Hazel brought up Brian and Whitney's plans to have children. "Whitney mentioned you two were thinking about starting a family.
You'd be such great parents," Hazel said warmly. Brian hesitated before replying. "She told you about that, huh?
Women really do talk about everything. " Before Hazel could respond, he continued, "It's hard to say how things will turn out. Sometimes life gets in the way of those decisions.
" Then he steered the conversation toward Barney's job as a restaurant manager. A few minutes later, Brian stood to leave. "In case I don't see you until next Christmas, I hope everything goes well.
" He shook his brother's hand and gave Hazel a brief hug. "I'll be thinking about you. " As Brian drove away, Barney turned to Hazel.
"I wonder what that was about. He seemed like he had something on his mind but didn't want to talk about it. " Hazel shrugged.
"Brian's probably just passing time until Whitney gets back from her conference. Didn't she say she'd be home this evening? " They walked back inside hand in hand, resuming their plans for the day.
Just before 6:00 p. m. , Whitney arrived home to find Brian's car missing.
Entering the kitchen, she felt a pang of disappointment at the silence. She had hoped to see him right away but took comfort in having time to unpack and start laundry. She also wanted to take another shower, unsure if the morning one had removed all traces of Adam.
As she passed the kitchen table, she noticed a note weighed down by the salt shaker. "Whitney, Grant called this morning needing help at the Village Center. I agreed to step in as senior foreman.
I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. " Brian, annoyed but relieved to have some time alone, Whitney took the note upstairs with her suitcase. She decided on a long bath instead of a shower and began sorting her clothes.
When she carried the laundry basket to the bedroom door, her eyes landed on her journal resting on the tall dresser. Relieved it was untouched, she retrieved it. She had planned to update it during the trip but had… Forgotten as the washing machine ran, Whitney made herself a sandwich and soup.
After eating, she tried calling Brian using speed dial. Hearing the ringtone from a basket on the counter, she realized he'd left his phone at home. "Great!
How am I supposed to reach you now? " she muttered, returning to the table with her journal. Retrieving the small brass key from her wallet, she unlocked it and began writing.
"January 7th: The most intense four days of my life are over, and I need to capture it all. Some of it won't be easy to write, but it's necessary. When I picked Adam up, he was eager for the trip and kept trying to touch me during the drive.
I was irritated until we hit the highway, and then I started enjoying his attention. When we arrived, we stopped at the mall before heading to the Sherin. While he went to the pharmacy, I went to Victoria's Secret.
He joined me before I was done shopping and made some suggestions. I bought one set he liked and two that I chose; the one he picked was tacky. After wearing it Wednesday night, I threw it in the trash.
Before we checked out, I discarded two other lingerie sets for the same reason. I didn't want anything to remind me of our nights at the Sherin. I know I can't erase the memories, but I'll try.
" As Whitney wrote, her emotions swirled—regret, satisfaction, and a nagging sense of guilt. As she recounted the past few days in her journal, she reflected on how her feelings for Adam had shifted. She realized the stark difference between physical intimacy and love, especially after their first night together.
By Friday morning, she had told Adam through a locked door not to come to her room again. Later, she was relieved to see him with another woman, knowing she wouldn't have to deal with him that night. Her thoughts turned to how she could make amends with Brian and salvage what remained of their marriage.
After finishing her entry, Whitney used her pen as a bookmark and left the journal on the table. She went upstairs to prepare a bath, bringing a cordless phone in case Brian called. Once the bath was ready, she added bath oil, lit a few candles, and sank into the warm water, trying to relax.
She nearly fell asleep but suddenly felt as though someone was watching her. Jolting awake, she glanced toward the bedroom, finding no one there. Dismissing the feeling, she resumed thinking about how to make up for her betrayal.
An hour later, feeling refreshed, Whitney returned to the kitchen to move her clothes to the dryer. She sat down to reread her journal entry but paused when her pen wasn't where she left it. She found it on the counter near the wicker basket, retrieved it, and continued reading.
On Sunday morning, Whitney woke with a determination to start fresh. She cleaned the house, showered, and dressed in an outfit she knew Brian liked. By noon, she was at the kitchen table with coffee brewing and a roast beef in the oven.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. To her surprise, two large men stood there—one was a young uniformed officer with his hand resting on his holstered pistol; the other, an older man in a suit, held out a badge. "I'm Detective Valdez, and this is Officer Santos," the man said.
"We're with the Springfield Police Department. We're looking for Brian Hayes. Is he home?
" Whitney, feeling relieved, replied quickly, "Brian is at work. I was worried something happened when I saw you. I'm his wife; maybe I can help?
" The two men exchanged glances. "Maybe we should come inside; it's chilly out here," Valdez suggested. "Of course," Whitney said, stepping aside to let them in.
Leading them to the kitchen, she asked, "Why are you looking for Brian? He’s never been in trouble. " Valdez replied, "We received a report of a homicide this morning.
The call was traced to your husband's phone. We're working with his carrier to pinpoint where the call was made. " Relief flashed across Whitney's face.
"There must be a mistake! I tried calling Brian last night and found his phone here at home in that basket. " She pointed to the wicker basket on the counter.
The detective frowned. "Can I check the phone? " Valdez walked over and searched the basket but returned empty-handed.
"I don't see a phone here, Mr. Hayes. Are you sure you're not confusing this with another day?
" Whitney's face paled as she realized the basket was truly empty. She hurried to check the counter, finding nothing. "I don't understand!
It was here when I tried to call him last night! " she stammered, clearly distressed. "Well," Valdez said calmly, "if the phone isn't here, we have to assume the call traced to your husband's phone was indeed made from it.
" He opened his briefcase, jotted a few notes, and continued, "Does your husband know Adam Torres? " At the mention of Adam's name, Whitney looked startled, her face going pale. "I know Adam Torres, but Brian doesn't.
Adam was my teaching assistant last semester. " The men exchanged glances again. "So there's no reason Brian would have an issue with Mr Torres?
" Whitney shook her head quickly, panic creeping into her voice. "No! Brian never met Adam!
" Valdez leaned forward. "Well, your husband seemed to know him well enough to report his homicide. " The words hit Whitney like a punch, and she sank into a chair.
"Adam is dead? He was with me on the trip, and I dropped him off at his house around 5:30 last night! How could he be dead?
" Valdez sat across from her. "What was your relationship with Mr Torres? Could it have given your husband a reason to act?
" Whitney's voice wavered as she said, "Adam was just a student and my assistant. " Brian wouldn't do anything to him; he's not like that. Her tone was unconvincing.
The detective let the silence hang for nearly 30 seconds before speaking again. "When we arrived at the address your husband provided, we found signs of a struggle in the hallway. There was a travel bag in evidence of an attack.
The estimated time of death was between 6:00 and 8:00 p. m. last night.
" Tears welled in Whitney's eyes as Valdez described the scene. "Brian would never. He wouldn't do that to anyone," she said, now more angry than upset.
Valdez checked his notes. "According to state records, your husband is licensed to carry a . 25 caliber pistol.
One of the bullets found at the scene matches that caliber. We also found three photographs next to Mr Taurus's body, suggesting they were shown to him before his death. " The detective slid photocopies of the photos across the table.
Whitney picked them up and gasped, recognizing them immediately. "No, Brian couldn't have known! " she cried, burying her face in her hands.
Valdez's phone buzzed, interrupting the moment. He took a brief call, jotting notes as he listened. After hanging up, he turned to Whitney.
"Your husband's phone was traced to Niagara Falls, Ontario. The local police found his phone, credit cards, and a . 25 caliber pistol in a Walmart trash bin, along with his car's license plates.
There's no sign of him or his car, but it's likely he replaced his plates with one stolen from another vehicle. " Whitney was inconsolable, her cries growing louder as the reality set in. Valdez placed another photocopy in front of her.
It was an image of a small brass key next to a ruler. "This was found at the scene. Do you recognize it?
" Whitney glanced at the photo and then quickly pulled out her wallet, retrieving her journal key. She compared it to the photo and broke down completely. "Geral, Brian," she murmured between sobs.
The officers stayed with her until her sister arrived to comfort her. As Valdez and Santos walked back to their car, the younger officer asked, "Do you think he'll be caught soon? " "It depends on how well he hides," Valdez replied.
"If he stays low for a few months, it'll get harder to find him. He's not a serial killer, so he might evade attention unless we bring in national coverage. " Santos frowned.
"What do you make of the phone being at the house? Do you think she's telling the truth? " "I think she is," Valdez said.
"He likely came home to retrieve the phone, but not just for that. I suspect he intended to confront her and possibly kill her. Something changed his mind; we'll never know why.
" Santos nodded slowly. "She'll figure that out eventually, and when she does, I wonder how she'll cope.
