November

Cliff didn't even bother telling the old man that he believed him. Whatever Ramona had done he was willing to give her a second chance, but only one. That was why he needed the pictures and the videos and the file. He intended to sit down with her when he got home, give her the file and then spell out his conditions for them to stay together. She knew that the pre-nup they had would give her next to nothing if they divorced in less than 7 years and it had barely been two.

The thing about it was that even if Ramona had cheated on him, having her in his life was way better than the alternative. He really had no choice. He loved her so much that the thought of living without her was painful. If that made him a wimp, then so be it.

Cliff had gone home wondering if there were actually reasons that she was cheating on him. Maybe she was hooked on drugs or something stupid like that. Maybe it was gambling. Ramona obviously had no idea how much money they really had. Oh please let it be gambling. He could pay off her debts, get her into counseling and they could go back to their previously happy life.

"Ramona," he yelled when he went into the house. He laid the file down on the kitchen table. He'd rehearsed what he was going to say to her in the car on the way home. He was going to tell her to look at the pictures and maybe the videos in the file. He was going to tell her that he'd already seen them and didn't have the stomach to watch them again. No, it sounded tougher to say that if he saw them again there wouldn't be any way for him not to kick her ass. Nope, that sounded like he was a wife beater. If he saw them again there wouldn't be any way for him to avoid kicking her ass out of the house. That sounded better. It sounded tougher and more in control at the same time, yet without sounding like he'd hit a woman.

The only thing wrong with his plan was that Ramona wasn't home. He'd called her several times and walked all over the house and she wasn't there. He sat down at the kitchen table with the files in front of him and practiced looking pissed. After a half hour he looked at his watch. It was almost midnight. Ramona had never stayed gone this long. He tried calling her but her phone went straight to voice mail.

In all of the time that they'd been married Ramona had never stayed out later than nine or ten o'clock unless they were together. Something was wrong, he knew it. He tried calling a couple of her friends but neither of them knew anything about her whereabouts. Cliff didn't know what to do. He sat down and watched some TV and fell asleep in front of it.

Several hours later he awoke and went up to their bedroom. She was still not back and it was nearly three a.m.

Then he noticed it. The picture that hid their wall safe was slightly ajar. He went to the picture and noticed that the safe wasn't locked. The safe was also empty. His first thought was that there'd been a home invasion or a robbery. Maybe they'd taken Ramona hostage. He went downstairs into his office. He opened up a program on his computer that let him watch their home's security video footage.

They normally used the footage not only to tell if someone had broken into their home but to tell if the contractors, workmen or anyone else who worked for them ever stole from them. The cameras were motion activated to save space on the hard drives and only stored video for a two week period.

As he watched the screen he scrolled back to the last movements in the house before he came home. The last image he saw was Ramona leaving the house. She was alone and moving quickly. He scrolled back further and saw Ramona emptying the safe and taking a couple of bags full of her own clothing and personal items. Tears rolled down Cliff's cheeks. Why was she leaving him? Didn't she know that he loved her? If she wanted the money and the other junk she took, she could have it. She didn't have to leave.

Maybe she thought that she didn't have a choice. Maybe she knew that he knew that she'd cheated on him. Maybe she thought that he intended to just throw her out on her well-shaped ass with nothing. That had to be it. Cliff needed to find her, but how.

Then he remembered the locator chip in her car. That was a laugh. Boy had they argued over that fucking car. She'd wanted a Lexus, like a couple of her friends drove. Cliff had refused and bought her a Cadillac XRS convertible instead. Cliff insisted on buying American made cars. Ramona had stomped her feet and refused to drive it. For three weeks the beautiful car just sat there in their driveway. Finally one of Ramona's friends' Lexus broke down and they had to drive the Cadillac or miss their hair appointment. Ramona had practically raped Cliff when he got home that night. She loved the car and all of her friends were jealous of it. It took a few months, but by the end of that year all of Ramona's closest friends were driving Caddies.

Cliff called the locator chip company's service desk. He told the woman on the phone that his wife had gone shopping and had literally lost the car. Ramona had left her keys in the car and called the company to unlock it so many times that her losing the car or forgetting where she parked it wasn't too much of a stretch.

The woman gave Cliff a location and he jumped in his Mustang, headed for the riverfront. As he pulled up to the parking lot closest to the location he'd been given, Cliff saw Ramona's bright red Caddy. He ran over to the car and knew that it was over. The car's doors were open. The keys were on the seat along with an envelope.

He opened the envelope and read the note.

"Cliff, don't miss me and don't feel bad. I wish that in all honesty I could tell you that I'm sorry or say some kind words to make you feel better. But the truth is that in the end that would only give you a false sense of hope and make things harder for you in the long run. This isn't about the fact that you found out that I've cheated on you so don't think that's what this is about.

Don't torture yourself trying to figure out what you did wrong and why I stopped loving you. The thing that you need to realize is that our whole relationship was a lie. I never stopped loving you because I never started.

From the first time we met you were nothing but a way for me to hide from the police and anyone else who was looking for me. When we got together, I planned on staying married to you only long enough for the heat to die down. I figured six months to a year at most. If it's any consolation, you were so loving and such a God damned puppy dog that after the first year, I decided to stay longer just so I could suck a lot of your money loose to take with me.

Unfortunately, you caught on before I could do that. Also don't worry about the cheating thing, Honey. We were never compatible in bed. You're just too lovey dovey for me.

Not every woman wants a man to make slow gentle love to her. Some of us like it rough. That just wasn't your style. I'm sure that someday you'll find yourself some boring little woman and make her happy as hell and even have a house full of kids, but I'm just not that girl.

If I have any regrets, it's not that I know your poor little heart will be broken. Trust me, Cliff. You needed to have someone fuck you over. You're too trusting and just to God damned nice to survive without learning a few painful lessons about the real world. My only regret is that I wasn't able to take more of your fucking money with me.

The letter was signed, Ramona. She added later PS. Ramona isn't even my real fucking name. And while I won't miss you, I will miss this car."

Cliff just fell and ended up sitting beside the car crying his eyes out. He wasn't sure how long he sat there. It could have been minutes or hours. But then things got weird. The first indication that something was wrong was when the wind kicked up. Cliff didn't care. He didn't know what to do or where to go. He'd never thought that his life with Ramona would end. He'd been ready and willing to forgive her no matter what. The stupidest part of it was that even after reading the letter, he still was.

Then the street lights started blinking on and off. The wind was blowing so hard that signs were bending in front of it and anything that wasn't nailed down was blowing down the street.

Cliff looked beside himself and saw her. She was a weird looking woman and she was looking at him intently. She was saying something to him but he couldn't hear her words because of the wind. As if she sensed his thoughts, she shook her head side to side and the winds calmed. It had to be a coincidence, thought Cliff.

"You're a man," the woman spat.

Cliff just nodded his head. "Barely," he said quietly.

"I don't understand," said the woman. "I have never done a man before. I'm supposed to make life better for someone whose heart has been ripped out by a cheater. Oh, occasionally I do someone who is just an out and out asshole for sport. But I don't understand this. In order to feel pain this strongly you're supposed to be a woman. Men don't feel this kind of emotional pain unless their dog dies, their team loses the championship, or someone scratches their fucking vehicle. Oh occasionally, there's one who get upset about one of their kids too, but I've never seen this before." She looked at him curiously. "Say something. Tell me your story," she said.

Cliff was too stunned to say or do anything. The woman gestured and the wind that was already at hurricane pitch got even stronger, but only around him. The wind lifted Cliff kicking and screaming into the air and out over the river. Then he plunged into the icy waters before he could even gather a breath. As Cliff descended through the water he realized that he simply didn't care. Without Ramona in his life there was no point in going on anyway. He felt someone grab him under the water and didn't even bother to fight.

November grabbed Cliff and placed her icy hands on his head. She needed his memories and she erased them as she took them. She erased all memory of Ramona, what a bitch. When Cliff woke up he would have no memory of Ramona at all. November sensed a presence above her. There was a police car patrolling the street just beyond the shore. She blew over a sign right in front of the car forcing it to drive onto the beach to avoid the sign. The policewoman driving the car got out of it and saw Cliff kicking and fighting not to drown in the icy water.

November smiled as the woman waded into the water and pulled the man out. He would be better now but she had business to attend to. Before she could even begin to scan for her target, November was suddenly pulled further downriver. As she rose above the water she noticed that the pull was stronger this time. There he was, the same fucking insect who'd disturbed her before.

Clad again in his black leather John Lake held an old Ojibwa power club. This time he'd called two of her names. That was why the call was stronger. He still couldn't control her, but he was getting smarter. He didn't realize that she now had two spirits; one that was the wind of the great lakes and one that had once been human. A great tragedy and an abuse of her power that had caused an incredible amount of sorrow had blended her spirit with the former host of this body. November now had to right a wrong similar to the one that her body had done, every year.

The last one that this little Shaman had tried to save had only been a tidbit. She'd swatted Jimmy for the pure fun of it, but also because he'd insulted her and called her out. Now the little shaman threatened November's business. If he ever figured out the third name, he might not be able to banish her permanently, but he could send her back to sleep until next year. November had no idea of what might happen in that case. This would be his own fault, she had warned him.

"The Witch of November," said John Lake, holding the club in front of him. "Also known, in my people's tongue, as Gashkadino-Giizis, I banish you forever to the lakes of your sisters. From now and forever more you can only exist in Erie, Ontario, Michigan, Huron and Superior. Go forth and never venture from those waters again. Feel my power." John gestured with the war club. He felt the throb of great power coming from the club of his ancestors.

November actually did feel a slight tingle. It pissed her off. She made her own gesture and John Lake was lifted into the air near where she hovered. "Feel the wall," she hissed.

A hurricane force wind propelled John Lake backwards at nearly 90 mph. November saved John's life at the last instant by twisting him in midair so his head didn't hit the wall. As it was he broke seven ribs, both legs and his left arm. As he slumped, unconscious to the ground November settled gently onto the grass beside him. She had no idea why she'd spared him. There was something about this one. She gestured again and a gentle cooling breeze awakened him. He looked up at her in terror.

"I allowed you to keep the use of your right arm, so you can write me a thank you note," she smirked. "Next time you try to control me, you'll die."

"But, I'm left handed," croaked John.

"Sue me," said November as she walked away towards the river. Her mind was already trying to find someone.

* * * * * *

"Should I stay or should I go," thought Janet Charles as she looked at the sleeping man in the hospital bed next to her. She sat in the chair beside his bed as she watched for signs that he might wake up. He was a handsome one, but he seemed to have no idea of what was going on. Only two hours before, she'd plucked him out of the river. He'd been shivering and cold and had no idea of how he'd gotten into the water. He kept saying that he'd been driving around looking for...And then everything would go blank. He didn't seem to remember what he'd been looking for.

When she radioed in, the detective assigned to the case had kept her in the loop. Detective Bernie Ghorka, was new to her precinct, but not to the force. He was a good cop and gave her all kinds of information about the man she'd fished out of the river. Janet soaked it all up. Even though she wasn't a part of the investigation, the captain didn't seem to mind her spending time at the hospital until this case was over. There were too many funny things going on in the case.

Janet's problem was that the more information she got about the apparent victim, the more she wanted to know. She'd spent hours just staring at him and wondering about him while he slept. Ghorka's report had filled in most of the blanks, but still posed a question or two.

His name was Clifford Darden. He was married apparently, but when they ran a background check on him and his wife as part of SOP, they came up with some interesting facts. The facts on him weren't very interesting. He was some kind of software engineer.

He was also supposedly very good at what he did and loaded to prove it. He wasn't like Bill Gates loaded, but dropping a million dollars or two wouldn't send him to the poor house.

He had no criminal record and except for the occasional speeding ticket had never been in trouble with the law. Even those speeding tickets had been promptly paid off and he'd even been very polite to the officers who wrote the tickets. Janet had seen his car at the scene. Cars like that probably came with the obligation for a ticket or three. It was probably written into the contract you signed when you bought one that you wouldn't hold the Ford motor company liable for any tickets you received while driving it.

Anyway, when they ran a check on the wife, alarm bells went off everywhere they looked. The first thing that was suspicious was that they got married in Las Vegas. Anyone can pretty much get married there, so why a rich guy would have to do a quickie wedding in Vegas was suspicious. Then they found out that Ramona Cruz didn't exist. The only Ramona Cruz they found had died in 1980. The age was about right but that was it. She'd obviously taken someone else's identity.

While checking the couple's financials they found something interesting. The wife had recently taken out every dollar she could withdraw from the couple's bank accounts. In fact it had been yesterday that she'd done it. As they checked the bank records, they got lucky. The bank used a fingerprint system for access to its safety deposit boxes. They ran the prints and came up with a hit. Ramona Cruz was an alias. The woman was actually Margaret Anne McGillicuddy. There were several warrants for her arrest dating back for over 10 years. She'd disappeared almost two years previous after a big insurance scam in Chicago. All of the men involved had been caught and were serving time but Margaret was never captured. Now we know why. She'd been hiding in plain sight as the wife of an upstanding citizen.

When they dumped his cell phone they found out that he'd been in the area looking for the wife's car. They searched her car as well and one of the prints they got from the car verified beyond any doubt that Margaret Anne McGillicuddy was Ramona Cruz aka Ramona Darden.

Even worse was the note she'd left the poor bastard. When Janet read that note, it tore her heart out as well. What kind of bitch leaves a note like that to someone who loved her as much as this guy did? Even the tough, battle hardened men on the case felt sorry for the guy. Most of them couldn't look at him. It was like when you had to interview a person with a terrible disease. It wasn't the disease that scared you, or even the fact that they had it. It was the fact that the possibility existed, that you could be in their shoes. Cops had a track record of bad relationships and broken marriages. Any one of those guys could be in Darden's shoes.

Janet herself was no stranger to bad relationships. Her last live in boyfriend had been a little bit rougher than the rest. The fact that she was a cop obviously threatened his macho ego, so there'd been several arguments and scuffles. The last one had come to blows. It started out with him just pushing her and quickly elevated. Her self-defense training had helped to even the odds but in the end, his six foot four, two hundred and ten pound frame simply overpowered her five foot four inch, one hundred and twenty pound body.

She had to stick her gun in his face and threaten to paint the walls with his brains, if she could find any, to get him to back off. That had been almost a year ago. He'd never dared to come back to get any of his things. After six months she'd donated all of his clothing and personal items to the Salvation Army. Since then she'd been both dateless and celibate by choice.

When she looked at herself in the mirror she just couldn't figure out why at thirty two years old she was still unmarried. She was attractive. She was slim with nice legs and a great ass, or so she was told. She had short curly brown hair and beautiful grey eyes. Okay, she'd been absent on the day they handed out the boobs, but that wasn't her fault. All of her friends were either married already or had been and were divorced and working on a second one. Some of them already had kids too.

Janet wasn't even very picky when it came to men. She just wanted someone who'd love her and treat her well. She wasn't asking for Brad Pitt. She just wanted a normal, everyday guy who wanted to be hers.

"Uhm, where am I?" asked the man on the bed beside her. His voice brought Janet out of her thoughts.

"Mr. Darden, you're in the hospital," she said. "Do you remember how you got here?"

"Yeah," he said. "I was in the river and a really pretty police woman pulled me out."

Janet's face turned the brightest shade of red possible.

"That was you, wasn't it?" he asked. She nodded her head and tried hard not to smile.

"What else do you remember?" she asked. "Do you remember how you got into the water or why? What about why you were at the riverfront anyway?"