Vanished?

Gene spotted her the moment she walked in. There wasn't much of a doubt in his mind, it was Melissa.

It did take him a moment to see what was different. The slightly too short dress with the touch too open bodice allowing the upper portion of a lace lined bra to show was the same. The long flowing red hair with about every possible color there is in it was the same.

Then he realized the gold wire framed glasses were missing, and the ruddy look to her cheeks from years of fighting blemishes common to pale skinned redheads was gone.

The advances in treatments for skin problems apparently were effective, her face appeared to be perfectly clear. That was enough of a difference that for a moment he thought that perhaps it was just a woman that looked like Melissa. But when Gene looked closely, he was certain.

His former wife? She couldn't be called his ex-wife, they never divorced. Instead, he simply died in the eyes of the law and that ended things.

Gene turned back to his drink sitting on the bar, a Vodka and tonic. Even that was now different about him, back then he was a whiskey and cola man. The neatly trimmed mustache, totally bald head and dark framed glasses that he didn't need was enough, he knew. Hell, a glance in the mirror was confusing even to himself at first, that combined with the weight loss.

The weight loss was quite a bit, well over 40 pounds. His own fault back then, content with his life it had been chips, ice cream, things one should really only consider in moderation. Exercise was work, by the time he got home, working the lever on the side of his overly stuffed easy chair was the sum total of that.

+++

It was a bit of a risk even coming back here to this town, but Gene took the risk, on a whim.

After all, he was supposed to be dead, that is what the judge had said, anyway.

The newspaper clipping had arrived, to a private mail box. No note, nothing, just the clipping. Enough time had elapsed for the courts to consider him deceased.

The woman certainly was Melissa, his former wife. He watched her in the mirror as she glanced his way. But engrossed in laughing conversation with the woman she was with, there was no sign of recognition.

She would still be his wife, except for the fact that William Carl Miller was dead.

It flashed into Gene's mind the day he had actually decided on what to do. Sure, he could have just divorced Melissa, but with the State having that community property law and the way courts always seemed to go, he knew damn good and well that he was going to end up with the short end of the stick.

Once lawyers began digging, they would find things he hadn't bothered to mention to his wife. Of course there was a reason for that, Melissa had a fun habit of enjoying spending money, she bitched when he had established a budget for her and that was it, but she managed to keep things in check because once she hit that limit, her cards didn't work any more.

The house was no problem, the down payment had been small and the interest rate high, Melissa would be lucky to get out of that with any cash at all.

Gene had withdrawn all of the savings accounts during his nearly year long preparation, and invested those in cash with the one person that knew the truth. Trying to control some of his wife's spendthrift habits, he had never just paid off the damned house, instead using that as another excuse to hopefully keep her in check.

Hell, if she ever knew the truth about what he had amassed, she would go berserk trying to spend it all.

That he did a few thousand dollars at a time. Melissa never paid any attention to any of his stock funds, she was far too involved with her circle of friends and waiting for the paycheck he brought home from his job so she could clear up her cards and start over.

There was no written record of anything he was doing, sure that was a risk but Dave Hanson was someone he had known since grade school.

Bill had carried Dave out of the jungle in Viet Nam, his friend's blood running down his back, mixing with his own as the world around them was lit up. That day was hellish, mud spurting up all around them as Bill ran right out into plain sight to get his friend out of there.

That didn't end even after they made it to the brush, then finally the river. He held Dave's head above water as they drifted for a few miles. Things in that river nipped at them, luckily nothing larger then a few leeches and some nasty smaller predatory fish came along.

Yes, he could trust Dave Hanson. Brothers, that is what men come to be in times like that, no stronger bond exists.

Something more than even blood in a way, no one could ever understand unless they lived it.

+++

Three times he had taken the almost new 1979 Chevrolet Impala to the dealership, complaining about it slipping out of park. It didn't, of course, but now the record was there.

That Wednesday morning he had pulled off next to the cliff some 50 miles South, there was no gaurdrail and it was nearly 100 feet to the ocean, with huge rocks down below.

The tide was low and coming in, he made sure of that.

Leaving the machine with the lever in park, he rolled down the driver's side window and got out. Reaching in, he slipped the lever into reverse.

Almost instantly, the car began to slowly roll backwards, as he had figured, right over the edge it went.

The tiny scooter he had stored in the trunk started right up, he had carried that over to the pavement so as to leave no tracks. A cash sale from Craigslist, Dave Hansen had done the purchase, no way to trace that to Bill.

There was one moment of panic as another car went by moments later, but they didn't seem to even notice him.

A dozen miles down the highway, Bill left the tiny scooter deep in the brush, climbed into the older Buick he had also purchased for cash and drove away.

William Carl Miller was dead, and Gene was now alive.

+++

A person can get lost in Mexico, especially if no one on Earth would ever expect them to be there. The documents Gene carried were excellent, it really is amazing how easy that is to do.

Find a child born and then lost, all of the information a person needs is there. Apply for and get a perfectly valid social security number. Even the copy of the birth certificate, how Dave managed that one Gene didn't know but he had. That is a lot of effort to go to to become someone else entirely, but it was worth it to Gene.

William Carl Miller was dead and gone, clearly devoured by creatures of the sea, now he was Gene Fitzgerald.

It might seem odd but by now that was who Gene felt he was, after all, it was over a decade since he had followed Melissa that terrible day, and barely eight years since he had "died".

+++

His heart had jumped into his throat when his suspicians were confirmed. She had walked up the outside steps to a second floor apartment, knocked on the door. The man who opened the door was tall and young, younger than William was by at least a decade.

He took Melissa in his arms for a very familar kiss, William knew right then that she had been up those steps before.

Now William could have made things difficult right then and there, but he was not that kind of man. Flying off the handle, getting involved in a violent confrontation was not his style.

They never heard William as he slipped up the steps, pausing to listen at the door. He heard her, those sounds that were familar, that he had only recently come to realize were not private to just himself any more.

It was enough and he knew, so he turned and walked away. From that moment on, he made his plans. It took quite some time, but then William never did get in any hurry about much of anything.

His investments plan had worked the same way, just allow things to grow, one step at a time, nice and steady. The plan was to have a nice nest egg for when he and his wife Melissa reached those golden years. Then things really took off when he made a shift into a company called Amazon. The $2000.00 he paid for the stock increased by over 3000%...?

Sure, there could be a claim of skill, but it was just luck. A broker he spoke with suggested and he simply went along with it.

Certainly that was a nice nest egg. Melissa never paid much attention to things like that, she was far to busy with her clubs and shopping trips with her friends, the daytime visits to the spa.

He also kept a Post office box for things like that, by now he knew very well to not mention any extra money being around.

Being extremely socially oriented, she was far more outgoing than her husband, and as a result she was constantly involved in something.

That was a bit of an asset considering what he planned.

So, just a a couple of months before that day, he bought the new Impala, putting it on a contract to make payments on.

Then he made the couple of trips to the dealership, mentioning it jumping out of park. It didn't of course, but the record was there.

+++

Detective Royster surveyed the scene. The breakin had been violent, one of those home invasions that went bad.

It seemed clear what had happened, but Detective Royster had been a policeman long enough to know when something smelled, and this one did.

The man's body lying on the bathroom floor showed signs of a fairly long period of having been beaten. The evidence of doing drug sales was all over the place, although all that remained was some residue on a table and a scale, baggies piled up, several boxes of the sandwich bags.

Methamphetamine, nasty stuff but certainly profitable. He got out his notebook, made some observations.

Not much more to do but wait for the forensics.

It did take him less than a week to discover that the man's main squeeze was a woman named Melissa who was his landlord? Now that was interesting.

Royster happened to remember her, her husband had somehow managed to end up over a cliff into the ocean months before, the body never found.

That one had smelled also, but he never found anything to suggest that any truth was other than just an incident. The one thing that did not fit was why. Why was her husband parked by the side of the road 50 miles away in the first place?

This interview with her was not all that abnormal, of course it began with being a bit evasive, then finally she admitted the long term affair.

Royster filed that bit of information away, making a note to remind him to poke around back in that case of her husband vanishing.

"Nasty looking little thing." Royster thought to himself. Too much breast showing, skirt too short, too much makeup for showing up at a murder investigation.

No tears, either. Of course that meant nothing, some people cry, some fall apart, some manage to hold it all together until they are somewhere private.

Then came in the DNA. The victim, of course, Melissa's, of course. Some fingerprints, a few that were easy to find and a couple that were not.

And one William Carl Miller's DNA? The former husband? Of course, he had lived in that same house not that long previously.

Still, it all smelled. The victim was very close to living full time in the house and had been for some time, moving in just a few months after the Miller guy took the header off that cliff?

The woman, Melissa? Living in an apartment by herself miles away. What the fuck was up with that? Probably she was involved in the drugs up to her neck, but no way to prove that.

On the face of it, it all looked like a simple landlord-tenant relationship? Except usually the landlord is not fucking the tenant and collecting a huse payment at the same time.

Of course, usually it is the female living for free, the guy coming by to collect on the trade?

Sure it was. Something else for Detective Royster to work on. Clearly the broad was fucking the guy periodically, but that meant nothing.

Hell, she had admitted to that, telling him that he was cute and paid his rent on time and she liked sex sometimes herself. She had looked him right in the eyes when she said that, he almost believed her.

But it did make the DNA worthless in court. There was one other man's DNA also, but nothing came up on the search of the database.

Oh, well. Detective Royster had all the time in the world, he just filed everything away and did what cops do when nothing ties up the loose ends.

He waited.

It seemed he was making the house payments, nice and convenient for the widow. But DNA from a long gone former husband at the crime scene? The house was neat as a pin, so either the woman, or perhaps the victim cleaned up regularly.

Yes, it all smelled. Detective Royster folded his notebook and headed back towards his office, he was in no hurry. He had all of the time in the world, he was one of those kind of men.

+++

Gene glanced again at Melissa, this time he caught her eye. She gave him a bright smile, no sign at all of recognition though. Then she headed his way.

"Hey." She said, stepping up to the bar beside him.

"Hello." Gene answered, looking at her. Still, no sign, none at all.

"Here by yourself?" She asked, her manner flirtatious. Nothing new there, she had always been that way.

"Yeah." Gene grunted. He was beginning to realize he had made a mistake, here Melissa was, far too close.

"Me, too. Mind if I sit?" She asked, hopping up on the stool next to him before he could reply. Then she set her drink on the bar, letting her shoulder slip forward like he had seen her do literally hundreds of times. It exposed a larger expanse of her right breast, she knew that of course. They had even discussed that way back, she called it her "bait."

The one thing Melissa did exude was sexuality, she knew that and she used that. Hell, it was one of the big reasons he had responded way back.

That affair had been wild, the woman loved sex and made no pretense at all of otherwise.

She was no virgin at their first union, but then neither was William. Their marriage had been wild also, off to Reno and then in front of some guy in a Elvis suit, for God's sake.

Then they settled into married life, William thought all was fine for a long time.

But things happen. The discovery of her affair was a shock in a way but then deep down inside he knew it could happen.

After all, she was that kind of woman, and she did love sex.

It was clear that Melissa was not going to recognize him, he had tasted a bit of fear that she might realize, but there was no outward sign at all. The only reason Gene was even here, in this place, was simple curiousity.

Everything he knew from his life before was here, his stopping on the way to see his friend Dave was simply on a whim. Running into his former wife was just an accident.

Now here he sat, sipping on his drink with the woman on the bar stool right next to him, and she was flirting mercilessly.

Just a typical pickup on a typical Saturday night, exactly like happens in nearly every bar or night club anywhere in the world.

Drinks, conversation, then drifting away somewhere to have sex?

Melissa was now being more blatant, she turned his way, allowing as much of her right breast to show as she could without just taking one out.

"Bait." She called that back in the old days.

Good bait, too, Gene felt himself becoming arroused. The woman had always done that to him with ease, part of why he married her.

That is when Gene decided. He was going to fuck his former wife!

+++

"Wow, that is some tattoo!" Melissa exclaimed, running her hands over the pattern on Gene's chest.

They ended up in a nearby motel room rather easily when he suggested that perhaps they could go somewhere more private?

He had that tattoo done down in Mexico, right after having the fairly unruly hair on his chest removed by laser.

Years of lifting weights, starting with barely managing ten reps with less than 8 pounds had built to 100, until finally he curled 30 pounds with each hand 50 times.

The body he had now carried little if any resemblence to the man who had disappeared. The new teeth changed his face only slightly, but enough, the contact lenses changed his formerly brown eyes to a dark blue, all of that combined with the other changes gave Gene confidence.

What a kick, he was going to fuck his ex-wife and she was going to not even have a clue who he really was.

+++

Melissa slid her top back and off her shoulders, a happy smile on her face as she eyed this hunk of a man she had picked up.

Clearly he spent a lot of time working out, his arms were huge, his chest muscular. The tattoo had been a surprise, tripping the buttons on his expensive shirt allowed it to come into view.

She felt her body shudder as she ran her fingers over the smooth hairless skin of his chest.

She slipped her bra off, allowing her freckle covered breasts to swing free, his hands reached out to touch them. The way he cupped them with one hand, then flicked her nipples with his thumbs was..familiar? But then that moment passed as they both reached down to remove their undergarments.

Melissa saw this man's eyes drop down to the red hair covering her loins, she was always proud of that and kept it full and untrimmed.

Her own eyes shifted to his erection jutting outwards at a perfect right angle to his body. She reached down to grasp him.

"MMMM. Big boy, I see." She muttered as she let her hand fondle him. Her other hand reached up to cup his testicles, there was another flash of familiarity that passed quickly.

Why she would think of her former husband Bill at a time like this was strange, but she did. He had been uncircumcised, Melissa had always loved the feel of him as she slid his foreskin back and forth, the way the bulbous head felt as she slipped the loose skin back with her lips, using them to slide it back.

She could almost orgasm just from doing that, the mild salty taste of him was something she had always remembered.

Dropping to her knees, she leaned in and engulfed him. It only took a few seconds for her to realize.

Melissa stopped, then looked up. What was that look on the man's face? It wasn't lust, it was...almost like...anger?

"I...Bill?" Was all she managed, then the man had her pressed back on the bed, his rigid member pressing, then invading her.

"No!" She cried out, far too late. Then she was helpless to resist as those hands came up and encircled her throat.

As her orgasm wafted over her, she felt total fear but could not stop him. She passed out while in the throes of something she had never known.

+++

Gene lay there on the bed, both of them still nude. He was leaned up on one elbow as Melissa came to awareness.

She started to get up but he reached out and easily pressed her back on the bed.

"I guess you figured it out, huh?" He told her.

"Bill?" She asked.

"You are as much fun to fuck as you used to be, babe." He told her with a grin.

"God, Bill? You look...?"

"Yeah, I know. I was thinking you would never realize, but I guess you did."

"I won't ever tell anyone, really."

"I know you won't." Gene sat up, stretched.

Melissa watched him do that. How could any man look so completely different, yet still be the same?

"Are you going to...? She asked, trembling.

"Kill you? Naw, but I think I will fuck you again." He laughed, climbing back onto the bed and pressing her knees apart.

He didn't choke her this time, she expected that and thought it might be the end. Towards the last, she felt magnificent, her body lifting furiously to meet him.

When she woke up that time, he was gone.

+++

Detective Royster sat and thought about what had just happened.

It was just the break he was looking for, that old case that had sat in his files for years was suddenly right back on top of his list.

Why the broad had called, and then came in for an interview was beyond him. If she had just kept her mouth shut, the old case of her husband vanishing and her boyfriend beaten to death would have just gathered dust and faded away, not even a memory.