Badge of Betrayal

"And if I refuse?" Bud asked. It was pointless. He already knew the damned answer.

"Then I turn over every last shred of evidence to the state Bureau of Criminal Investigation. A massive investigation will take place. Dozens, if not HUNDREDS of criminals will be released because of your tampering with evidence bullshit. You will be brought up on a list of charges as long as my arm and you will be responsible for putting some really bad people, including a few murderers, back on the streets of our community. Furthermore, you will be tried and convicted and spend the bulk of the rest of your life in a men's penitentiary where the kind of sex you want ain't the kind of sex you're gonna get. And the kind of sex you get sure as hell ain't the kind of sex you want. Either way, Bud, you don't come out of this a winner."

"Just fucking do it, Bud," Lawson groaned. "Stick a fork in yourself. You're fucking done! And so am I if we don't do what he wants. Just finish your term, step down and slip quietly back into the woodwork and into a long retirement."

"I'll do whatever you say, Patrick. But why not let Clarissa and I just be together? You already said that you plan on divorcing her, anyway. I swear to God I'll do whatever you want me to do, say whatever you want me to say," Bud pleaded.

"No."

"Why the hell not? You've got me and Lawson by the balls. You've got Clarissa over a barrel, too, for conspiracy. Why not just quit while you're ahead?"

"Jesus, you are a fucking weasel. You and Clarissa aren't going to be together, Bud, because I said you're not. If I even catch so much as a mouse fart of a whisper from you in her direction, I will throw the fucking book at you. I am spiteful enough and vindictive enough over this whole fucking situation that I've had to endure for the last two years that I won't even give you a fucking inch, Bud. Do you understand me? I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire, Bud. The only thing I'll bring to your funeral won't be flowers, just spit. In other words, I'm not going to let you and Clarissa be together just because I feel like being an asshole and there isn't a goddamn thing you can do about it. Clear enough for ya, Bud?"

Bud stood slowly, slightly hunched. He was no longer the picture of the virile, cowboy, frontier lawman that he was when I arrived earlier this afternoon. He stood and made his way to the front door, paused and said, "You win, Patrick. You win. I'm going home to my wife. I'm so sorry, Clarissa. I'm so fucking sorry." Then he exited my house for the last time, no longer my wife's lover and beginning his days as a lame duck sheriff.

All Clarissa could do was just stand there in total shock, one hand on her mouth trying to stifle a fit of sobbing and another hand on her stomach trying to keep the nausea at bay. She hadn't said a word in twenty minutes, too dumbfounded to even organize a thought.

Marion Lawson grabbed his coat and headed for the door himself. As he started to open the door, he paused as a thought came to him.

"You know, Quinn, the longer you let this go without arresting anyone in this whole fucking mess just makes you look more complicit in it, as well. Have you thought about that? What's to stop me from bringing charges against you in the future for squashing all of this? I mean, sure, Bud Roberts would hang most definitely. But you would have a lot to lose, too," he said with a slight smirk.

My mood and demeanor changed instantly. It was time to throw down my Ace.

"Let me explain something to you, Marion. I'm going to be running for Sheriff. I'm going to win the election this November. And when I become Sheriff of Mason County, the County Attorney can either be a friend or a foe. I can't stop you from choosing to become an enemy of mine but, if you do, you should be aware that I now have some key and often underestimated allies. You saw what I did with Bud Roberts today. So let me ask you a question, Marion? Just exactly how old are some of those girls in the fifteen pictures and five video clips you have stashed in that encrypted file on the c-drive of your home computer?"

"Oh-my-fucking-God," Marion whispered as he turned ghost white.

"When you give me your public endorsement for Sheriff, Marion, I think a very nice write up in the Op-Ed section of the Red River Falls Sunday paper would be just fine," I said with a game show host's smile.

Marion didn't say another word, just nodded and made a beeline for his Lexus.

Turning to my stunned future ex-wife I exclaimed, "Well! That went well! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to head upstairs and take a shit in my own toilet for a change!" My wife hadn't spoken more than a sentence since I arrived at the house. I left her to contemplate her own future in deafening silence.

*********

To say that things changed in my life would be the grossest understatement of the year. True to his word Bud Roberts made his announcement the following morning at the Jaycees meeting that he would not be seeking re-election as Mason County Sheriff. Instead, he regaled the attendees at the luncheon with numerous stories and anecdotes from his years in law enforcement. It was a canned speech that he had delivered numerous times before and was very polished at it. But if there is one thing that Bud Roberts is good at, it is making a speech. And so the crowd ate it up. Reporters from the local TV and radio stations, as well as the newspaper, were on hand expecting an altogether different announcement. But the one they got was still pretty big news and I'm sure the editors were happy.

I had sent Bud and Marion Lawson both text messages that morning stating that I felt it best to wait a week or so before announcing my candidacy. It would also give me some time to see what other candidates might appear out of the woodwork and gave me some time to size up the competition. Several people in the community hinted at the possibility of running for the soon-to-be vacant Sheriff's position. Tom Wellington was a local small businessman who was part of the Citizens and Law Enforcement Coalition. He was a civilian, however, and would have to take a special course in law enforcement within six months of being elected in order to stay on as Sheriff. He wrote and submitted a lot of editorials to the paper and usually wrote about local politics and his thoughts on the matter. I didn't really see him as much of a challenge.

Another person of interest was Amy Van Deeken, who was a Deputy on the department. She felt it was time for a woman to have a shot at becoming the top law enforcement officer in the county. To be honest, I really like Amy. She is a good Deputy but only has about five years of experience. But she is regarded as an up-and-comer, has a good head on her shoulders and has some ideas that are definitely worth consideration. In truth, she might actually have made a good candidate.

The only other serious threat, of course, came from Pete Sturgeon at the Red River Falls Police Department. I knew Pete would have it out for me if he became Sheriff and I could probably kiss my position as Captain and Chief Deputy goodbye if he got elected. But with all the notoriety and good will I had achieved from the public after dealing with Bridget's kidnapping and the hostage situation with Amber Rigby, I knew that I would pretty much blow Pete Sturgeon out of the water.

Apparently, Pete knew it, too. I announced my candidacy for Sheriff at a small press conference one week later. Shortly afterward, both Pete Sturgeon and Amy Van Deeken announced that they would no longer be seeking election as Mason County Sheriff. The upside to that was that it gave me the chance to ask Amy Van Deeken to be a part of my campaign and learn the ins and outs of running for office. Even though the move potentially set me up for a strong challenge from Amy in a future election, Amy eagerly accepted and proved to be one of the smartest moves I would make in the campaign.

So that left just me and Tom Wellington as the only remaining candidates for Sheriff.

Bud Roberts and Marion Lawson both reaffirmed their commitment to give me a glowing endorsement. But then again, what else were they gonna do? I had Bud Roberts dead to rights for a million things and I had Marion Lawson by the balls on a potential child porn case.

Out of everything that Tonya had done for me over the last couple of months, the Marion Lawson set up was the piece de resistance, a total masterpiece. Tonya, true to her abilities, was able to scan Marion's home computer by retracing an email that had been sent to me on a case we were both involved with that was coming up for trial. The email had been sent from his home. It was nothing short of a gift from God that Tonya was able to find the hidden encrypted file on Marion's hard drive. Doubtful that Marion's wife, Stacy, ever used his home computer.

It was one thing to know that the underage porn pics and video clips were on his computer. But what Tonya did was to take things a step further. All Marion would have had to do was destroy the computer and the evidence disappeared.

Tonya took the photos and video clips and was able to embed them in pictures of Marion Lawson and his family. Someone viewing the pics would never know they were there. But the FBI knows how to look for those things, if they were given a tip or probable cause. Tonya then posted those pictures in an online photo album on Lawson's Facebook page as well as a Microsoft cloud account that was set up under his name but one he didn't have access to. It was all routed to look like it was set up from his home computer. To a regular viewer, it was just family pictures. To a forensic computer analyst, it was pictures and video clips of young girls between the ages of 14 and 17 engaging in all manner of sexual acts with older men. If any of it was discovered, Lawson could reasonably expect to spend 10 to 20 years in a federal prison.

So all I could do was stand back, yet again, and admire Tonya's handiwork. That woman was something else. If all she wanted for recompense was a threesome with me and Chris Hayes, I might just have to sacrifice myself and give in -- because that's just the kind of guy I am. I put the needs of others before my own!

In all seriousness, though, the biggest changes in my life occurred at home. I never once promised Clarissa that I would take her back, never even hinted at the possibility that we would try and stay together. With her dream of becoming the next Mrs. William "Bud" Roberts now lying in ruin, Clarissa put all of her efforts into being the best Mrs. Sean Patrick Quinn that she possibly could. She literally became the epitome of a Stepford wife, even though I never asked her to. Our house became spotless, a big breakfast was always ready in the morning and a family meal was always ready to eat every night at precisely six o'clock.

Needless to say, I had immediately moved all of my stuff out of the Skyline Drive Motel and back out to the farm. I didn't move back into the master bedroom, however, and opted to sleep at night in the guest bedroom. I did make it a point to buy a completely new set of sheets, pillows, mattress and box spring.

To the boys, the transition to me being back at home was a very welcome one and they didn't seem to notice or care that I wasn't sleeping in the same room as their mother.

Clarissa and I spoke very little but we were extremely cordial with one another. I never once raised my voice to her, gave her an overt or implied threat and never even came close to raising my hand against her. We exchanged idle chit chat but very little more.

With the campaign in full swing throughout the rest of the spring and into the summer, I was kept very busy with both work and the campaign. Even Shannon, Bridget, Jack and Suzanne all pitched in and helped out whenever they could.

True to their word both Bud Roberts and Marion Lawson gave me glowing endorsements, in the local paper and in TV and radio interviews. The editorial board of the newspaper gave me their endorsement over Tom Wellington and, soon, more and more endorsements from the local movers and shakers jumped on the Sheriff Pat Quinn bandwagon.

I still made time to see Shannon whenever I could. Often times, it was on a Friday or Saturday evening and I gave Clarissa the excuse that I had campaign business to take care of. Much of the time I did, in fact, have campaign events or fundraisers to attend and would sneak off to see Shannon and Bridget afterwards. Shannon understood the need for discretion and never once complained about it. There just seemed to be an understanding between us that our lives' paths were both headed in the same direction and there never seemed to be any doubt in Shannon's mind about that. Our lovemaking sessions were still just as incredible and fulfilling as that first one on her living room sofa. The emotional and physical chemistry were perfect and I grew to need her just as much as I needed air to breathe.

The closer the election neared, Clarissa actually started attending some of the fundraisers and events. She didn't try to take a lead role or become overly involved but she did make sure that everyone knew that she was my wife, as if to make sure everyone knew that she would soon be the wife of the Mason County Sheriff. A small part of her was still deluded enough to think that her dream of being the wife of someone important could still come true.

It happened late one Saturday night in September. My boys were away for the weekend at my sister Beth's to spend time with their cousins. I had gotten home late that night after another campaign event. Shannon had to work an overnight shift at the request of a co-worker who needed some sudden time off. It was almost eleven o'clock and I had assumed that Clarissa had just gone to bed as usual. So I jumped in the shower and then headed straight to bed.

I was nearly asleep when I heard the floorboards outside the guest bedroom door creak and alerted me to someone's presence. The door slowly opened and Clarissa's figure was back lit in the doorway from the light of the master bedroom. She wore a thin, see-thru nightgown and I could tell she wasn't wearing any panties. To any normal man, she would have been an amazing sight to see creeping into their bedroom late at night. To me, she was still Bud Roberts' whore.

"Patrick," she whispered. "Are you still awake?"

"Yes, unfortunately," I groaned, rolling over and away from her. "Whatever it is that you want, can it wait until morning?"

"I want to talk to you, Patrick. I need to talk about us."

"Jesus. You seriously want to have a heart-to-heart talk now? I just got home, showered and into bed. I'm dog-ass tired, Clarissa. Let's just do this in the morning."

She sat down on the bed and put her hand on my right arm. "I want you to come to bed with me, Patrick. It has been a long time, now. Everything is in the past now. I'm ready to look forward to our future, Patrick. And I want to start that future with you making love to me."

"I can't."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I can't."

"You can't what? Make love to me? Are you sick or something? Are you not feeling well or just too tired?"

Frustrated and exhausted, I rolled over and let out a big sigh. "I mean, Clarissa, that I can't make love to you because in order to make love to someone you actually have to love that someone. I don't love you anymore, Clarissa. All that went away when I found out that you were fucking Bud Roberts."

"I know you still love me, Patrick. I know that somewhere deep down inside, you still love me. I'm the mother of your two children. That has to count for something. Just come to bed with me. I'll show you."

It was no use. I could tell she was still deluded and still in the fog that the entire world revolved around her. For the past nearly seven months since I torpedoed her and Bud Roberts' affair she has seemed to take the relative calm and cooperation around the house as me wanting to eventually work things out with her. She actually thought that she could try and save our marriage and, yet, she thought I was the one who would have to come to her to fix it. The only way to get this through her head was to be an asshole about it.

"I have absolutely no interest, whatsoever, in going to bed with you, Clarissa. I have absolutely no sexual interest in you anymore and I have absolutely no desire to stick my penis somewhere that Bud Roberts has been sticking his. You willingly gave your pussy to Bud Roberts and I relinquish any claim on it from here on out."

"Please, Patrick! I'm fighting for our family here. I wish that you would fight for your family, too. I want things to be the way they were. I want back the man that I fell in love with."

"Well, according to you and Bud, the two of you fell in love with each other. And, for your information, I fought like hell to make things better between us for over two years while you were out fucking Bud Roberts behind my back, letting him whore you out to his friends. And then, a year ago when I got shot, where the hell were you then? What exactly were you doing the day I almost got killed? Huh?"

"I know I wasn't there for you right away, Patrick. But I'm trying to make an effort. Can't you see that? Look what I've done for you the past few months. I've done everything you asked me to. I've tried to be a good wife and mother. Doesn't that count? I've even been using my medication for my low testosterone problem to make myself desire you more. Doesn't that count?"

"Why did it take Bud Roberts for you to finally come around with that? Why wasn't I good enough for you to make you want to do that for me? ME! The father of your children?"

"Patrick, none of that matters. What matters is that I'm here right now. What matters is that I want to fix our marriage, move on with our lives and forget everything that happened over the last couple of years. We can fix this, Patrick! I know we can! I'm just asking you to give me a chance!"

"No, Clarissa. We can't. There is no fixing this. You just want this to go away because that will make YOU feel better. You have hurt me. You have humiliated me. You have given away what was rightfully mine to another man and you did it for two fucking years. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel? Any fucking idea at all?"

"Just give me a chance, Patrick. Come to bed with me. I promise you I can make you forget about everything that happened, Patrick. I will give my body completely to you, Patrick. I will make absolutely every single one of your fantasies come true. I'm ready to do that now, Patrick. I wasn't before but I am now. Just give me a chance. Please!"

I stood there staring at her form in that sheer night gown. My God, but she was beautiful. I had to give her that. She wanted to have sex, something I literally had to damned near get down on my hands and knees and beg for over the last two years plus. And now, when I was planning to divorce her after the election and with her future life with Bud Roberts completely torn to shreds, NOW she finally desired me and wanted me sexually. My breathing quickened and my pulse began to race as I suddenly became filled with a building rage, a rage that I had to take out on someone or some thing. And the only thing I could do was to take it out on Clarissa. I wanted her to hurt. I wanted her to feel despair. I wanted her to feel used and cheated. I wanted her to feel the physical pain that I had to endure when I was shot and the emotional pain I had to endure when she abandoned me. But most of all, I wanted to humiliate her and shame her the way she had done to me. I wanted to take her natural beauty and destroy it.

"Clarissa," I asked deviously, "let me ask you a question. And I demand your complete honesty." I started to slowly and menacingly walk towards her. "In all of the times that you had sex with Bud or any of his friends, did any of them have your ass?"