Affair of Terror

"Cathy, what's wrong?"

The concerned tone of her husband's voice broke her absorption. The untouched cup of now cold coffee was still on the table, the casserole still on the counter. Her heart pounded in her chest, her palms started to sweat as she looked into his face, "I'm so sorry," she exclaimed in tears, "I'm so sorry, Al!"

Having no idea what she was talking about, he rushed over and put his arms around his sobbing wife. "Honey, what's the matter? Talk to me, honey. Are you okay?"

Shaking her head with disdain and guilt for her actions, she finally admitted... "I... I know who bombed your studio. His name is Tony Belshaw. We've... we've," she had a hard time saying it. She looked at her stupefied husband. "Please don't hate me, Al, please. We've been having an affair," she cried out before sinking her face in both hands as her crying intensified. She felt his embrace loosen immediately.

"What? What are you talking about? I... I... You've been having an affair?"

Without uncovering her face, she nodded her head.

Al walked over and sat in a chair on the other side of the table. "And you think he's the one who bombed my studio?"

This time she took her hands down and looked up so she could answer him. "I've been trying to break it off with him but he won't take no for an answer. I tried threatening him, I even tried blackmailing him, but he won't back down. I'm pretty sure that bomb was a threat aimed at me. He's letting me know that if I don't do what he says, he'll come after you next. I'm so sorry, Al. I didn't want to hurt you. I tried everything to keep you from finding out, but I had to warn you. I couldn't take a chance of you getting injured."

Al thought back to her bruised face. "Is he the one who gave you the black eye?"

She looked up, surprised. "Yeah," she admitted, "he slapped me the first time I told him it was over. How did you know?"

"That story about getting hit with the bathroom door just sounded a little weird. I didn't question it at the time because I had no cause to distrust you."

They both slipped into a depressive silence as they each assessed the consequences of Cathy's confession. It was Al who finally disturbed the stillness. His voice was unemotional.

"They caught the bomber this afternoon," he flatly stated.

His announcement shocked his wife from her daze. "They caught him? They caught Tony?" She shrieked.

"No, they caught Steve Mcilroy, he's Michelle's boyfriend, or at least was her boyfriend. He was jealous of the hours she's been putting in and didn't like the fact that she was alone with me all the time. He was trying to scare her into quitting. She got a look at him from the surveillance cameras I set up.

"I was going to give you the good news when I walked in but forgot all about it when I saw you crying."

Instantly, Cathy recognized that she'd just made the second biggest mistake of her life. The first was succumbing to Tony's advances, the second was her confession. She had him. She had Tony by the short hairs. If she had just kept her mouth shut she'd have gotten away with it. She burst out in more sobs, but this time Al didn't try to comfort her. Instead, he rose from the chair and left the house. She didn't even realize he was gone until she heard him start the car. By the time she got to the door, he was pulling away.

There was only one place he felt safe, the studio. The back door and one of the windows were boarded up and the air still lingered of that disgusting burnt stench, but nonetheless, it was his sanctuary. Almost unconsciously, he used his new Mr. Coffee to brew a fresh pot and sat in his office chair. Michelle had worked on it for over an hour to get the smell out of it.

He needed to keep his mind occupied. He wasn't ready to deal with Cathy's infidelity yet, so he took his cup into the processing room to go over the day's shoots again. After realizing he'd been staring at the same image for twenty minutes, he gave up and retreated to the dressing room. He had a couch in there for models to relax between shots. He sprawled out with one foot still on the floor and laid his arm across his eyes, blocking the glare from the street lights. His head swirled with a jumbled mess of thoughts bouncing between forgiveness, and divorce. It was all so tiring.

Cathy had no illusions of their marriage continuing. She knew her husband pretty well. He was a fair and just man. He knew people were human and made mistakes, but he'd never trust her again and she knew he wouldn't dedicate himself to someone he couldn't trust. With that knowledge, she went to bed early and cried herself to sleep.

The following morning, two people who had been happily married for years woke up feeling hapless and alone. Michelle picked up on it within minutes of arriving at the studio. Al assured her it had nothing to do with her or her boyfriend, but wasn't ready to answer any questions or expound on his situation.

Cathy, however, needed an outlet. She poured her heart out to Diane, who felt partially responsible for her friend's situation; after all, she was the one who encouraged Cathy to come clean.

"Diane, don't feel bad," Cathy told her. "I thought about it last night. I don't think I would have been able to keep it from Al anyway. He's a good man, Di. He deserves the truth. I screwed up and it's going to cost me dearly, but I have no one to blame but myself.

Cathy barely made it through the day again, but at least obeyed the traffic laws on the way home. She was surprised and nervous to see Al's car in the drive when she pulled in. She expected to see him packing either his clothes or hers when she walked in, but instead, he was sitting at the kitchen table with a beer in his hand. Every nerve in her body was standing on end as she cautiously joined him.

"We have to talk," he said as she removed a clean cup from the cabinet.

"I know," she agreed. She emptied the dregs of her morning coffee and stuck the cup in the microwave before making a fresh pot. When she finished, she took her warmed-up coffee and sat at the table. A tear breached her lower lid as both eyes welled up with fear of what was to come.

"First things first, Cathy, I want to know about this guy you've been screwing. You said he hit you?"

"Yeah, I really think the guy is a little off, " she answered while nodding her head. "Please, Al, don't get mixed up with him. I honestly don't know what he's capable of."

"You said he hit you when you told him it was over, had he hit you before that?"

"No, but he was always a little scary. He practically forced me the first time."

"What do you mean, practically forced you?"

She told him how Tony originally cornered her in the hall by the men's room, then pulled her inside and took her from behind.

"And that turned you on?" he asked with surprise. In all the years he'd known her, he'd never seen anything that would suggest she was submissive in any way.

"It... it was exciting, Al. I can't explain it. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. I should have turned around and kneed him in the balls. I should have called the cops. I should have tried harder to stop him, but when it was over, all I could do was stand there trying to catch my breath.

"To tell you the truth, he was so forceful, so physical that first time, that I didn't think of it as infidelity, but I knew if I told you about it, I'd have to go to the cops and I really didn't want to do that.

"I didn't see or hear from him for a good week after that, then he met me in the parking lot at noon one day. He told me to follow him. I knew I shouldn't but I really thought we were just going to have lunch. Instead of pulling into a restaurant, though, we went to his buddy's apartment. That was the moment of clarity for me. I knew I'd be breaking our wedding vows if I went inside with him. Heaven help me, I just couldn't find the willpower to stop myself.

"At first, it felt almost like a game, like role-playing. He was the powerful sheik and I was his captive, but he got more controlling every time we were together. It didn't take long before I got fed up with being his sexual cum dump," she said with sarcasm.

"Then, after our last time together, he told me I wasn't allowed to have sex with you anymore. He also wanted me to THANK his friend for letting us use the apartment. That was the last straw. I ignored his text messages afterward and thought I'd just stay away from him until he gave up, but he caught me in a restaurant at lunch one day. That's when he slapped me after I told him it was over."

"In a restaurant, in front of witnesses?" Al gasped.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "I'm telling you, Al, I don't think he's all there. Anyway, I wasn't about to let that happen again so I took out a restraining order on him."

Al sat there listening and couldn't understand how all that could have happened right under his nose without his knowledge. He took a deep breath and sighed at his naivete.

He crushed his empty beer can and tossed it in the garbage before walking over to the coffee pot. "And?" he asked with his back to his wife while pouring himself a cup of java. "What happened after that?" he questioned, while walking back to the table and sitting down. "You said you tried to blackmail him, so I assume the restraining order didn't work?"

Sitting there and answering his questions was the hardest thing she ever had to do. She could see the pain and disappointment in his face, but the time for lies and secrets was over. "No, he paid some guy to doctor a photo, supposedly showing me having sex with his buddy, and said he'd send it to you if I didn't do what he wanted. He told me to meet him in a restaurant the next day to discuss his TERMS.

"I had Diane from work sitting one table over with a digital recorder. After Tony threatened me with the picture again, he started bragging about all the disgusting and vile things he and his buddy were going to do to me... and we got it all on tape. I sent him a copy and threatened to send it to his wife if he didn't leave me alone, once and for all. That was the same night your studio was bombed. That's why I was so sure it was him. The timing was just too perfect.

"I knew confessing would destroy our marriage, but I just couldn't take a chance on you getting hurt, Al."

"Well, I appreciate your concern over my health; too bad you didn't have the same concern for our marriage or my feelings. You're right, Cath, you did destroy our marriage. I think we both know I could never live with someone I didn't trust, and after hearing about everything you did behind my back while keeping me completely in the dark, there's no way I'd ever trust you again."

Even though she knew that moment was inevitable: the moment when the man she loved would confirm the unthinkable, it still felt as though he'd just plunged a dagger into her heart. Once again, she broke out in tears. "I'm sorry, Al," she cried. "I'm so very, very sorry. I'm sorry I ever met that asshole. I'm sorry I broke your heart, and I'm sorry I destroyed what we had together. If you'll excuse me, honey..." as she used her normal term of endearment for him, she realized it could be for the last time. It was too much for her. She turned and ran from the room without another word.

Al heard her run up the stairs and slam the bedroom door closed. He heard the bedsprings above him when she flopped on the mattress, and he could hear her uncontrollable sobbing.

He had shed tears the night before and was determined to remain stoic and in control while he was there, but his grief was palpable. He reached up and wiped the salty droplets of bereavement from his face. He looked out the kitchen window and saw the light of day fading into night. He sighed with the thought of it being a metaphor for his marriage and continued to watch as the dark of night slowly squeezed the life from the shining sun.

After a while, Al awoke to the fact that he was still staring into the now pitch-black void. He listened, but heard only silence. She had stopped crying. He quietly climbed the stairs and looked in on his soon-to-be ex-wife. She was sprawled diagonally across the bed, and had evidently cried herself to sleep.

He looked at the clock on the bedstand. It was a little after eight and neither of them had eaten yet. It was too late to start cooking anything. Forty minutes later he returned from their favorite Chinese restaurant with take-out.

"Cathy, Cathy," he quietly called as he shook her shoulder. "Come on, wake up, I have dinner waiting downstairs."

She opened her eyes and forced a sad smile. "Okay, let me wash my face and I'll be down in a minute."

He had plates and two glasses of wine on the table when she joined him. They sat in silence for most of the meal. Cathy was the first to speak out. "I know I said it before, Al, but I am truly sorry for what I did. I don't imagine there's any way you'd ever forgive me, maybe if we went to couples therapy?"

"I thought about it, Cath. I've actually thought about it a lot, but it wouldn't make any difference. I absolutely despise the things you've done behind my back."

"Do... do you despise me?" she sadly asked.

"No, I don't despise you, I probably still love you to some degree, it's hard to tell. My feelings right now are all over the place. I'm really not sure how I feel, but I do look at you differently. You're no longer the person I put on a pedestal. Maybe that's not fair, after all, we're all human and we all make mistakes, but isn't that what we do when we fall in love, put the person on a pedestal?

"I just never ever thought you were capable of such deceit. I honestly didn't know you had it in you."

"I was desperate, Al. I was trying to save our marriage."

"The time for that was before you spread your legs for this guy, Cathy," he snapped.

His harsh words elicited another sob from his wife, but he went on. "Cathy, knowing what I now know means my whole perception of you from the time we met was wrong. I don't think there's a therapist in the world who could convince me you are the woman I thought I married. I'm sorry, Cathy, what we had is over."

She knew him well enough that she could have almost guessed what he was going to say, word for word, but she had to ask. She felt like bawling again but had no tears left. "So, where do we go from here?"

"I'll look around for a lawyer and start the divorce, but I'm in no hurry. I think we should wait until both of our emotions have settled down a little before we decide what's equitable. We still have that old futon in the basement. I'll set it up in the home office and sleep there."

"You can sleep in the bed, Al, I don't mind."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, but we'll see how it goes. In the meantime, I want your contact information for this Tony character. I also want to know what he looks like."

"What?" She had real fear in her voice. "Please, Al, don't get involved with him. I swear he's got a screw loose. Just let it be."

"The asshole pulled my wife into a men's room and fucked her and then struck her in the face. I'm not about to, 'just let it be,'" he stated emphatically. "You know me better than that. I also want to hear that tape you made."

"Al, I don't think that's a good idea. You're already fuming. If you hear what he said on that tape, you're going to want to kill him. I really don't want to see you behind bars for the rest of life."

"I'm not going to kill him, Cathy, but if he's as unbalanced as you say, he just might come after me. I want to convince him it would be a bad idea to come after either of us again."

"Al, I don't think..."

"I really don't care what you think, Cathy. I want a description of him and I want that fucking tape," he half-shouted.

She sighed. She'd only seen him that angry once or twice before. He hardly ever used the "F" word and if he did, it was never directed towards her. She knew nothing would deter him. If she didn't give him the tape he'd tear the house apart until he found it. "All right," she conceded. "He's... he's about the same height and build as you. He has straight black hair and a mustache."

"Any tattoos or scars showing, anything like that?"

"No, nothing."

"All right, where's the tape?"

"It's upstairs, I'll get it." She went into the bedroom and felt around in her underwear drawer. A minute later she was back downstairs. "Here," she said, offering it to Al. "Please, I really wish you wouldn't listen to that," she begged.

"Is this the only copy?" he asked, completely ignoring her request. She indicated it was. "Okay, I'm going to make a couple copies in case we ever need it again," he told her.

He left her in the living room as he closed the door of their home office behind him. He put his headphones on and stuck the thumb-drive in the computer. He almost wished he had taken Cathy's advice and not listened to it. By the end of the tape, his heart was pounding, his hands were sweating, and he had a gallon of adrenaline cursing through his body. He really did want to kill the son-of-a-bitch... literally.

The next day, at work, Michelle could tell Al was preoccupied. She was still nervous over finding out her boyfriend was responsible for the bombings and wondered if Al was considering firing her. When she asked if something was wrong, not wanting to share his circumstances, all he told her was that he had a personal problem. She had no idea what that meant and it did nothing to alleviate her worry so she came out and asked point-blank.

"Are you thinking of firing me, Al?"

"What? No, of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well, Steve was MY boyfriend," she answered.

"That doesn't mean I hold you responsible for his actions. Michelle, I don't know what I'd do without you around here. No, your job is not in any jeopardy at all," he assured her.

While talking, he thought, since she was younger than he was, maybe she knew things about the internet that he didn't. "Michelle, if I just have a guy's name and mobile number, how would I find out where he lived?"

"Gee, Al, I have no idea, maybe 'Whitepages dot com,' or something like that?"

"No, I tried that already, no luck."

"The only thing I can think of is to call a PI, or a cop, somebody like that," she suggested.

He'd never had any dealings with private eyes and really didn't know if he could trust them or not. The only cop he knew, or at least, could think of, was Sergeant Jergins, the cop he met at the first bombing attempt of the studio. He remembered the sergeant turned out to be a pretty friendly guy. He thanked Michelle for her suggestion and looked up the non-emergency number for the sixteenth divisional headquarters.

"Sixteenth division," the voice boomed.

"Hello, I wonder if you could tell me when Sergeant Jergins comes in. I'd like to talk to him if possible."

"Is this regarding a case?" the voice asked.

"Ah, well, it's actually regarding a former case."

"Hold on..."

"Sergeant Jergins," came another voice a few seconds later.

Al was surprised. He didn't realize the sergeant worked a swing shift. He just assumed he worked nights all the time. "Sergeant, I don't know if you'll remember me, but my name is Al Hodges. You were investigating a bomb that caught fire at my photography studio a little while back."

"Yes, of course, I remember you, Al," Jergins answered. "How can I help you?"

"Ah, I know you're going to think I've got brass balls, but I wonder if I could ask a favor. I really don't know who else to call."

"If you're going to ask for five minutes alone in a cell with Mcilroy, no can do," stated the sergeant.

"No, no, that's not it, although that's not a bad idea," Al replied as an afterthought.

"That's the usual request we get from victims after catching their perps."