Why? The Reason

About a half-hour later, I got a call from Katie, who was almost as upset as her sister. However, Katie had had a more civilized conversation. At least she tried to learn what her mother had been up to and where she was. Melissa, of course, refused to tell her any details. Over the months, I had held nothing back from my girls, so they knew about Conrad Miller. Katie being the more reasoned of my two daughters tried to shock her mother into revealing more. Katie calmly told her mother that she knew her lover was Conrad Miller. According to Katie, her mother had gasped at that information and tried to deny it.

But at that point, Katie lost patience with her mother, and my daughter told me as much of the conversation as she could remember.

After telling Melissa about Conrad Miller, Katie refused to listen to any of her mother's denials.

"Look, mother, this conversation is pointless," Katie had snapped. "You obviously don't care about Karla and me, or you wouldn't have abandoned us. And what you did to dad was downright mean and despicable."

"Katie, honey, I'm so sorry," Melissa had interrupted. "I do love you and your sister. But I had to do this."

"Really, mom," Katie had snarled. "You had to rip dad's heart out and stomp it into the ground. Your lover was so important to you that you abandoned your own children. You might as well have cut your two daughter's hearts out by what you did. In your note to dad, you said you would grant us the privilege of contacting you if we so choose. That is so fucked up. And in case you haven't figured it out yet, we choose not to have anything to do with you."

At that point, according to Katie, Melissa broke down weeping. And all she kept saying was, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I still love you all." Then the phone went dead.

About three AM the next morning, my phone began to ring. I'm sure that you all can relate. When you're woken from a sound sleep at that ungodly hour, your heart is pumping a million miles a minute, and your brain is totally scrambled. All you can think is that something awful has happened. I was terrified for my two girls.

After two attempts, I finally grabbed the phone. "Hello."

"Mark, I'm so sorry. My two girls hate me."

I was pretty sure this was Melissa, but I wanted confirmation of that. So, I said, "Who is this?"

The phone went dead. I immediately hit *69 and got the number that had just called me. I immediately called it back, but no one answered. Later that day, when I called that number again, I was told it was no longer in service. However, it did learn that the phone call had come from Tuxedo, New York.

It appeared that Melissa was back in the United States and living with her lover in New York. But that didn't make any sense. I knew that Conrad had an estate there, but it was supposed to be the residence for his wife and children. Maybe his wife and children were away. Or perhaps now that Conrad was back in this country, he decided to visit his children?

About a month ago, I had discovered that Diane Lingrend supposedly lived on the estate with her children. So, I had tried to contact her by phone, but that was an exercise in futility. I was politely told that the lady of the house would not be available to phone calls from people she didn't know. Realizing that I was dealing with super rich people, I decided that I would have to get in touch with Diane another way.

The following day, I spent doing a series of trades. By five, I had netted twenty-seven thousand dollars. About eleven o'clock that night, I realized that I was out of milk, so I decided to do a bit of grocery shopping. I had just finished and was heading back to my car when a man grabbed me from behind.

He whispered in my ear, "You need to stop bothering Mr. Miller."

All of the pent-up anger and bitterness exploded at that point. Using my self-defense training, I turned quickly, kicking my assailant in the side of the knee, and grabbed his wrist, twisting it hard behind his back.

"Who the fuck are you" I demanded as I glanced down at the man now on his knees, grimacing in pain. He appeared to be in his thirties, obviously in good shape, but he couldn't move. I had him in a grip where I could shatter his wrist and elbow with a sudden twist. This guy didn't look like a mugger or even a strongarm kind of guy. Still, he had a professional look about him.

"You're making a big mistake," the man said through gritted teeth.

At that point, I felt the gun pressed up against my head.

"Let him go," the voice commanded.

But I didn't let him go. Instead, I turned to my sales training. This was a negotiation.

"I think we've got a Mexican standoff here," I said quietly. "You can shoot me, but I'll still snap your friend's arm in two places. He'll be crippled for life. Not only that, but the people will hear the gunshot and come running. They might even catch you before you get away."

The man seemed to hesitate, so I decided to bluff. "Besides, I've got a hidden microphone on me. What we're saying right now is being transmitted to a recorder. You won't have time to find the recorder before the police do. And when they do, it will connect Conrad Miller to a murder."

"Okay," the man finally said, "what do you propose we do?"

"To begin with, you're going to take two steps back," I said, much calmer than I felt. "You can keep your gun trained on me. Once you've done that, I'll get your friend up off the ground. But he'll then be facing you and shielding me. If I understand your assignment for tonight, you were to warn me to stay away from Mr. Miller. Consider your threat as having been delivered. Then I want you to start walking away. When I feel safe, I'll release your friend."

"Okay," the man agreed. "We were told to just warn you but not to hurt you this time."

"Good," I said, struggling to keep the relief out of my voice. "I'm glad that we're all reasonable men here. Now step back two paces."

I heard the man slide back. I slowly raised his friend up off the ground. The look of pure rage that filled his face told me that he was still dangerous. It was clear that the man felt totally humiliated.

"Look, asshole," I growled in his ear. "I can still cripple you. In fact, I can kill you before your friend can fire his gun. But we don't want things to get messy, do we?"

I tightened my grip on the man and twisted a little further. I heard him gasp, and then he nodded his head.

"Now you turn and start walking away," I said to the other man. Reluctantly, he did as I told him. When he was about fifty feet away, he turned around and looked at me.

"You said you'd release him," the man challenged.

"I will, just as soon as you are too far away to be a threat to me. After all, I'm not the asshole who started this."

The man turned and continued to walk away. When he was about seventy-five feet away, I released the man I was holding and gave him a push toward his friend.

Instead of following his friend, the man I had been holding turned to face me. "You've been warned. Stay away from Mr. Miller."

At that point, I pulled my nine-millimeter pistol out and pointed it at his head. "You tell your boss; I couldn't give a rat's ass about him. If he wants to keep his dirty little secrets about stealing other men's wives, he better leave me the fuck alone."

When my gun suddenly appeared, my assailant turned pale. I don't think he suspected I'd be armed.

I thought about following the men but reasoned that I wouldn't be able to tail their vehicle without them knowing. Even if I did get a license plate number, it wouldn't be connected to Conrad. No, at that moment, I needed to think and plan.

I had obviously kicked the hornet's nest, but I wasn't sure what I had done to cause this kind of reaction. So, I gathered up my groceries from the parking lot and headed home. I got the key from the board and opened the liquor cabinet. I don't drink much, but I definitely need one tonight.

When my nerves settled, I sat down at the kitchen table and started to list the things I knew, hoping to come up with a plan. First of all, Conrad Miller was definitely the man Melissa had run off with. But the why still haunted me. Conrad's wife was gorgeous, and from everything I'd read, she was a kind and generous person. Why would a billionaire choose my wife over this beautiful woman? Maybe Diane really was a bitch beneath it all. Yet, if that was the case, the media certainly hadn't picked up on it. And we all know how the media loves to tear down celebrities.

I finally surmised that what probably provoked Conrad was my daughter Katie's mention that we knew it was Conrad Miller that Melissa had run off with. That plus my phone call a month ago to Conrad's wife had probably irritated the billionaire.

At some point, in my desperate efforts to understand why Melissa had left the girls and me, I wondered if she had been in witness protection. That would explain the sudden departure and leaving everything behind. But if that was the case, why wouldn't she take the girls with her even if she didn't want me? Surely, they would still be in danger. But after tonight, I abandoned that idea. Those men were not trained, government agents. Federal Marshals would never threaten people, or at least, I didn't think they would. But in any case, they had been sloppy and allowed me to incapacitate one of them. Even with almost six months of intensive martial arts training, I shouldn't have been able to do that.

The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that these men were in the employ of Conrad Miller. That led me to two questions. Why did Conrad want to keep me away from Melissa? And why did Melissa just disappear on me without sitting down and discussing what she planned to do? The why of it all just kept rattling around in my brain.

Those questions got me to thinking about Melissa before we got together. She had been twenty-six when we got married. I knew that she had worked as a bookkeeper after finishing school. She'd lived with her parents for a while and then had her own apartment for a few years before we married. Her parents had died in a house fire before we started dating. With the destruction of the family home, almost all of Melissa's mementos of her early life were lost. It struck me that I really didn't know very much about Melissa before we got together.

Then there was the matter of Melissa's cell phone. She had insisted that her cell phone be separate from mine and the girls. Even though it would have been cheaper to use a family plan, she insisted on having her own plan and even had the bill sent directly to her. I never saw any of the statements, and I never found any copies of her phone bills in the house. Since her abandonment, cell phone arrangement had bothered me.

About the time I learned of Conrad Miller and that the divorce hadn't gone through, I came up with an ingenious way of getting copies of Melissa's cellphone bills. I requested a meeting with Melissa's divorce lawyer under the guise of discussing the final divorce settlement. I told him that I was very skeptical about everything, and I wanted to see copies of all the paperwork before deciding. He agreed, and everything was put out on a conference table for me to review. I placed my briefcase in front of me with it open while I read through the documents. It was the general power of attorney that I most wanted to see. Melissa had given this to her attorney to finalize everything. As I reviewed the document, I snapped pictures of it with a small but high definition camera.

Once I had photographed it all, I told Melissa's attorney that I would think about what I wanted to do and get back to him. Back at home, I downloaded the pictures of the power of attorney to my computer. Using the software, I'd bought online, I reformatted the document to make it look like a true copy. The only change I made was to name myself as having this power of attorney.

I knew that my altered power of attorney wouldn't pass close muster. Still, I felt fairly confident that it would do the trick when I showed it to a clerk at one of the cellphone provider's stores. However, they did hit me with one wrinkle that could have foiled my plan. They wanted Melissa's password. That threw me for a moment. Then I remembered that I had once seen Melissa punch her password into her computer. She hadn't been aware that I was behind her, and I decided not to bother her at that moment. It was just a combination of our daughter's birth dates. It was the only password of Melissa's that I knew, so I took a chance and used it. It turned out to be the correct one, and I got two pieces of information from my deception. First, I learned that the cellphone had been canceled shortly after Melissa left me. I also got the last year of statements for the phone before Melissa's departure.

Back at home, I poured over the statements and eliminated most of the calls as being routine. But once a month, Melissa called a number in Nashville until about four months before she abandoned me. The call was made on the same day and same time each month. It wasn't odd that Melissa would call someone in Nashville; we lived only twenty miles from the city. What was odd was that she called on the same day and same time each month. But then the calls got more frequent in the months leading up to Melissa's disappearance. And the day before she left, there were five calls to this number. The last call was just before I came home on that fateful day. The realization that Melissa was phoning her lover all this time sent my anger level soaring upward. But then another thought brought it swiftly down. If Melissa had started her affair a few months before, why was she only making one call to him each month for eight straight months prior to the supposed start of the affair? And why were these calls always on the same day of the month? And the sudden flurry of calls raised questions that I had no answers to. Could the affair have suddenly heated up in the last few months? Perhaps, but it still didn't make sense.

I called the number, but as I expected, it had been disconnected. I had been so hopeful, but the phone bills had just been another dead end. It was getting so frustrating that I once again thought I should just sign the divorce papers and move on. But deep within me, I knew that I would never have any peace if I did that. I needed to know why.

After my nighttime encounter in the parking lot, I realized that the only piece of information I hadn't fully examined was the estate in Tuxedo, New York. So, I packed up my car and made the thirteen-hour trip to New York. I only had the thinnest of plans, which was of great concern to me. As I drove, I tried to refine something that resembled a workable plan. I was not successful. I was also concerned because I had brought my gun, and New York didn't recognize my concealed carry permit. Isn't it funny that New York has some of the harshest gun control laws and still has one of the highest murder rates?

When I arrived in Tuxedo, I checked into a motel. I wanted to pay cash, but they insisted on a credit card. We compromised, and I let them run my credit card with the assurance that it wouldn't be processed unless necessary. I told them I was hiding from my wife until our divorce was final. They seemed sympathetic.

Next, I scouted the estate. It was quite extensive, and only a small amount of the property was visible from the road. A high wall wound completely around to keep prying eyes from seeing anything. The front gate appeared to have men guarding it. They were fairly well hidden, but I could pick out three men just inside the closed gate with the telephoto lens on my camera. I took three or four pictures of each guard. When I scanned back through them, I was able to enlarge each picture and found something interesting. One of the guards was the man I had incapacitated that night in the parking lot. I was definitely in the right place. I just needed a way to either get inside or be able to see inside.

As I was watching, two trucks arrived, and it sent a chill through me. They were moving trucks. If they were planning to "bug out," I might never find them again. However, one of the guards came out and said something to the drivers. A few minutes later, the trucks left. However, I was sure that they'd be back. Now I was desperate. I had to get into that house. But I'm not a super-secret agent with all kinds of special gadgets. I kept wracking my brain, trying to come up with some way to get inside. Each idea that I brought up, I quickly discarded as ridiculous.

The estate took up an entire block, so I made several slow passes around, making sure to bypass the front gate. This I did by cutting down side streets and then cutting back. On my third circuit, I finally saw it. A large tree seemed to have a couple of limbs extended slightly over the wall in the northwest corner. It was a crazy idea, but it was all I had. So, I used my phone to locate the closest hardware store. Fortunately, there was one less than a half-mile away.

I raced to the store, bought a collapsible ladder and a length of rope. On the way back, I thanked God that I had decided to buy a Range Rover as my primary car. If I had used Melissa's Prius, I wouldn't have been able to get the ladder in the car.

Once back, I stopped by the tree after assuring myself that no one was around. Then I unloaded the ladder and rope, hiding my purchases in the bushes. I parked my car less than a block away in case I had to make a quick get-a-way.

Taking my camera and hanging it around my neck, I made my way back to the tree. Once again, I assured myself that no one was around before I opened the ladder up on the wall. With one last look around, I climbed up into the tree with the rope also looped over my neck. Then I kicked the ladder over. I didn't want nosey neighbors to report a strange ladder leaning against the wall. If I had to make an emergency exit, I would use the rope.

The ironic thing about my situation right now was that I never would have been able to pull myself up into the tree seven months ago. Now, after all of my exercise, it was no problem at all. I climbed further up into the tree until I had an unobstructed view of the entire backyard. It was large and beautifully landscaped. There was a patio with a very expensive looking grill, outdoor patio furniture, and television set hung on the wall. However, the back yard's main feature was a large oval-shaped swimming pool with a waterfall and a slide. However, that wasn't what caught my attention.

I couldn't believe it. Laying on a chaise lounge, reading a book, was Diane Lingrend. She looked even more beautiful in person. Then I saw the sliding glass door open, and someone came out of the house. It was a man, but he stayed in the shade of the porch for several minutes, so I couldn't make out who it was. Finally, he walked over to Diane and kissed her. I was totally shocked to see that it was Conrad Miller. This was totally fucked up. He steals my wife and is still carrying on with his wife.

Then I heard a bit of a commotion from inside the house. Two men carrying guns with silencers on them ordered the couple back into the house.

I had no idea what was going on other than it was bad, really bad. I pulled my phone out and called 911. I told the operator to send the police because there had been a shooting. I didn't know there had been one, but I was pretty sure there would be. Besides, it would bring the police quicker. I had already tied off the rope, so I only had to throw it down. It only took me seconds to descend. Then it was an all-out sprint to the house. All the way across the lawn, I expected someone to step out and shoot me down. But no shots were fired.

Once I was by the sliding glass door, I found it still open. As quietly as possible, I slipped in and crept to where I heard voices. Peeking into a spacious living room, I found seven people. Four of them I didn't know. But I instantly recognized the other three. And my heart squeezed when I recognized one of them as Melissa.