Honey Kisses

Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Annie's Secret

Ann grabbed some clothing and shoved it in a canvas bag.

"Annie, this is ridiculous. I don't want you going back to the cottage. You're my wife."

She opened her underwear drawer and grabbed a handful of panties and bras. The anger she was trying to suppress found vent and her eyes flashed. "I don't intend to be your wife much longer. As soon as I'm finished helping the government, I'm filing for divorce."

"Annie, please..."

"No, Jackson, don't say anything. No matter how honorable your intentions were, it was wrong to lead me on. And now that I think about it, you sabotaged your computer to see if I could fix it, didn't you?" Her voice rose in volume and the guilty look on his face answered her question. Disgusted, she looped the straps of her bag over her arm, grabbed Spike off the bed, and stalked out of the bedroom.

Jackson followed and shouted as she stormed into the hallway. "How was I supposed to know the fifty thousand was stolen to protect your family?"

Ann paused, turned around, and said softly, "I will never again become a man's doormat or his charity project. My first husband used me for his own selfishness and you married me with some perverse idea of saving me. And to think that making love was only acting on your part. It makes me sick. I didn't want your pity. I wanted your love."

"Annie, it wasn't an act." He shoved his hands through his hair.

With finality, she turned and ran down the hall to the living room and out the terrace doors to the gate. She didn't stop running until she reached the cottage. Inside, she tossed her bag on the floor, set Spike on the couch, and then ran and launched herself across her bed to sob uncontrollably.

Hours later she stared at shadows on the ceiling. She'd crawled under her covers without even removing her clothing. Although weary, her mind refused to rest and memories taunted her.

Nine Years Earlier

Ann sighed and lifted the papers Jerry had scattered across the coffee table. He was forever leaving a mess for her to clean up. His new job as a computer programmer for a software gaming developer appeared to be going well. After changing jobs several times, he seemed to have finally found his niche. It certainly took up most of his time. She took the paperwork to her husband's desk in their spare bedroom. Sudden curiosity made her sit at the desk and peruse the papers. An hour later she was still studying the strange language with fascination. She could actually follow some of the programming logic.

When Jerry came home late that night, she was excited to talk to him about his work. Maybe they could find a common interest. She said, "I was curious about the language that creates computer programs, so I looked at the paperwork you left on the coffee table. I hope you don't mind. You know, I think I actually have a handle on it."

Jerry met her gaze, incredulity in his eyes. "Ann, there's no way you have a handle on it. You have a handle on cooking and housework. You do not have a handle on writing software programs."

Although his words hurt, she did not refute them. The next day she studied the programming language again, and definitely felt a semblance of understanding. A few days later she searched out the local university website, and after an internal debate, signed up for an afternoon class in Computers 101.

Within five years, she had completed the most difficult programming classes with all A's. Of course, Jerry always scoffed at her accomplishments, so after a year she never mentioned her classes again.

It was during her fifth year, while acing the most difficult class yet, that one of her classmates, a skinny, nerdy guy with long stringy hair, asked if she'd be interested in checking out a group that took programming to a level not taught in class. Since she'd completed all available classes, her curiosity got the better of her and she attended the meeting held in the dorm room of a full time student. She knew some of the students there, but most were strangers. When they showed her the code they were writing and the things they could do, she was enthralled and came to more meetings. Finally, they'd enticed her to join the club by saying she could see the "real stuff" if she did. Joining meant taking a vow of secrecy, and she'd accepted because she was hooked and couldn't imagine anything greater than what she'd seen thus far. After taking the vow, they initiated her into the art of cracking code and hacking computers. They also shared the name of their club, HFH, or Hackers from Hell. The name was more of a prestige thing than anything else. She'd never done anything illegal that she knew of. She mostly watched and learned and offered occasional advice. The group had an unwritten policy to never harm any website or computer that they hacked. Mostly, they were braniacs always trying to surpass their own accomplishments, and that of their fellow members. They were like marathon runners always striving to beat previous records. Since Ann lived a lonely existence, the nerds became her friends. They even gave her the nickname of "Hack" after laughing about her last name being Hackstetter.

A couple of years after joining the underground club, she knew enough to hack any computer and decipher convoluted software programs; the challenges made up for her boring life. When a new student joined the group and was later voted the leader, things changed dramatically. It didn't take long for her to realize their new chief and his followers were trying to infiltrate a government site. Ann was appalled and timidly voiced her opposition. Several members sided with her. The rogue members didn't listen and when they hit panic mode because they were about to get caught by a tracking program triggered by their hack, she had systematically stopped the trace to the amazement of the entire group. After that, she left the club and told them they were on their own.