Whatever Happened to Claire?

Author's note: In my last story (which I was surprised to learn was posted over six months ago!), I observed a man as he appears today and attempted to write a fictional back story to explain why he is the way he is. In this story, I will attempt to do the opposite. I have observed a woman the way she was many years ago, and will now attempt to create a fictional story about how her life has unfolded since then. I hope you enjoy.

"Nicholas! Emma! Let's go! The bus is coming!"

The young-looking mother frantically gathered her children's book bags while stealing glimpses out the window at the approaching yellow bus. Two small children, a boy and girl, bounded down the stairs, snatched the book bags from her like running backs taking a handoff, and bolted out the front door.

"Have a good day!" the mother shouted. "I love you!"

She watched as they entered the bus and waved to the driver, who returned her gesture before continuing to the next stop on her route. The mother closed the door and checked the time. She moved swiftly around the house from one room to the next, gathering toys, collecting dishes, and occasionally sipping from a steaming coffee mug.

She moved with the grace of a dancer. Her modest sweatpants and pullover top could not conceal the firm and fit body beneath. She wore her blonde hair in a short bob cut, which she found much easier to maintain than the long hair she had worn in her younger days. Back then, her hair was so long it tickled her buttocks. She wore stylish eyeglasses that partly concealed her bright emerald eyes.

She took one last sip from her mug, checked the time, grabbed her purse, and headed for the door. She swung it open and gasped at the man standing on her front porch, mere inches away from her.

"Hello, Claire," he said with a menacing grin.

She felt the blood drain from her body and her world faded to black. When her eyes opened again, she realized she was lying on the couch in her living room, staring at the ceiling. Her forehead was cold and damp. She reached up and removed a wet washcloth. Her momentary confusion dissipated when he spoke again.

"Ah, there you are! Rise and shine! I'm sorry I startled you, sweetie. I would have called, but I wanted to surprise you."

She slowly turned to look at him. It couldn't be. This couldn't be happening. How did he find her? What did he want? She sat up slowly. Her bottom lip began to quiver. Her eyes glistened uncontrollably.

"Oh, come now," he said in a soothing voice. He touched her knee and she recoiled. He smiled and withdrew his hand. "I've come such a long way to see you, Claire. I was hoping you'd be a little happier to see me."

"My name isn't Claire," she croaked. Her voice was timid, but defiant.

"Oh, I know, sweetie. You're Vanessa now. Vanessa Becker. Formerly Vanessa Duncan. You're a physical therapist at the Northwoods Clinic just down the road. You've been married to a Mr. Hank Becker for eight years. You have two lovely children together, a boy and a girl. Nicholas and Emma, right?"

She stared at him, wide-eyed, with her mouth agape. She swallowed hard. "How do you know all of this? How did you find me?"

A crooked grin appeared on his stubbled face. "Technology is truly amazing, Claire. Facial recognition software used to be for feds, spies, and spooks only. Now anyone can search the entire internet for any face and get a match. You can change your address, your name, your hair color, and even your eye color, but you can never change the unique proportions of your face. Thank god that woman on Facebook posted that photo of you at her birthday party or I never would have found you. From there, the rest of the info was just a Google search away."

She swallowed hard. "What do you want, Roger?"

Hank Becker was surprised to see his wife's car when he pulled into their driveway. He had just finished his shift as a security guard at the local casino. He preferred working the day shift, when he could be home and awake at the same time as his family, but as the supervisor of the security team he felt it was necessary to ensure that each shift ran like clockwork.

He instinctively touched the hood of her car as he passed it and determined the engine hadn't been running recently. He approached his front door and hesitated for a moment before turning the knob. The familiar tingling sensation in his gut told him something wasn't right. When he walked through the door, however, everything appeared to be normal. He called to his wife, and her voice responded from the kitchen.

"What's going on?" he asked as he stepped into the kitchen. "How come you're not at work?"

She stood at the sink washing dishes with her back turned to him. Without turning to look at him, she merely shrugged her shoulders and responded, "I wasn't feeling well this morning, so I called in sick."

It wasn't like her to call in sick. She hadn't missed a day in years. Hell, she hadn't had so much as a cold in years. He approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her. She seemed to tense for a moment, but then relaxed and patted his arm.

He placed the back of his hand to her forehead. "Why don't you go lie down, then? I'll get these."

"It's okay," she said. She turned to him and flashed a brief smile. "You go to bed. You must be exhausted."

He stared at her for a minute. Something was off. She wasn't acting like herself. He paused for a long while, simply looking into her eyes. It was a technique he learned many years ago when he was on the job. Sometimes the best interrogation technique is to simply say nothing and the let the silence grow uncomfortable enough that the suspect begins to talk. Instead of breaking the silence, however, she simply turned back to the sink and continued washing dishes.

Later that afternoon, after he had taken his nap and dinner had been served, Hank opened his laptop and searched for the security camera footage from earlier that day. He had installed that camera after several packages were stolen from his front porch. He eventually caught the thief thanks to that small investment, and no package had been stolen since then.

He began reviewing the footage from midnight and fast-forwarded until there was some activity. He watched as his children ran out the door to their school bus. Vanessa stood and watched them from the front door. Only a moment after the door closed, an unknown man appeared. He didn't knock or ring the doorbell. He simply stood there on the front porch and periodically checked his cellphone.

A moment later, the door opened. The man said something and then...something happened. Hank couldn't see inside the doorway. All he could see was the man quickly reaching out with both hands, entering his house, and shutting the door behind him. Roughly forty-five minutes later, the same man reappeared and left the house.

Hank closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Who was this guy? What was he doing in his house? Was he a door-to-door salesman? A Jehovah's Witness? He wasn't dressed as either. In fact, he was dressed like the back-alley junkies he used to arrest back in L.A. Why wouldn't Vanessa have mentioned this visit? Was she having an affair with this clown? This guy wasn't exactly her type. He was old, balding, and grossly overweight. Besides, Vanessa wasn't the type to cheat. If she were, she'd be smart enough not to invite the guy to their house.

Hank reviewed the video several times, looking for some clue as to who this guy was and what he wanted. He looked for vehicles parked in the street or passing in front of the house. He looked for images in the reflective surfaces surrounding their front porch. He took a still frame from the best view of this mystery man's face, but it wasn't a great angle.

He checked the time. Shit. His next shift was about to begin. He shut down the laptop, got dressed, and headed downstairs. Vanessa was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, her arms extended for a hug. It seemed she hugged him tighter than usual. Was there something she wanted to say to him? If so, why not just say it? What was she hiding? Why didn't she mention the mystery man who showed up at their house that morning, stayed for forty-five minutes, and seemingly prompted her unplanned day off?

"Have a good day," she said, and kissed him softly. To an outside observer, her casual attitude and bright smile would indicate there was nothing unusual happening at all. But he knew better.

The following day, when Hank attempted to take another look at the video, he discovered it had been deleted. That confirmed his suspicion that his wife was deliberately keeping a secret from him. He had given her several opportunities to confess. Each time, she chose not to divulge what had happened that morning. It wasn't unusual for her to keep a secret from him. In fact, it was a condition of their courtship and marriage.

He had just moved to Riverside, Missouri, when he met Vanessa at the Northwoods Clinic. He had been shot in the line of duty and required extensive rehabilitation in order to walk again. His sister was a nurse. She suggested he move to Riverside so that she could help him get back on his feet. The idea appealed to him, both in terms of being closer to his family and getting the hell out of Los Angeles.

Vanessa was one of the therapists assigned to him. They hit it off immediately. Despite the fact that there was a fifteen-year age difference between them, he couldn't help but notice her attraction to him. At first, he assumed she was merely flirting to be polite. After a while, though, it became clearly evident that it was more than casual flirtation. He asked her out, and she declined.

"I don't date patients," she told him.

When he was given his release several months later, he asked her out again. That time, she accepted. On the outside, she appeared to be a very positive and outgoing person, but there was a sadness to her as well. Whenever he would ask about her background, she would quickly change the subject. Eventually, she was forced to confront him about it.

"Look, I really like you, Hank," she said. "I like you a lot. In fact, I feel like I could fall in love with you. But we can't continue dating unless you agree to a certain condition."

He chuckled nervously. "I'll do pretty much anything to keep dating you. I like you, too."

"I don't want to talk about my past. I told you I was raised by my mother. I told you my father left us when I was little. I told you I was brought up in a very strict religious household, and I was not allowed to date. I told you I'm an only child. That's all I want to tell you, okay? That's all you need to know. All that matters is who I am now. I don't want to talk about the past."

The idea of starting with a clean slate appealed to him. He had some secrets of his own. She looked to him as though he were a flawless man of character and integrity. The last thing he wanted to do was spoil that perception. He agreed to her condition. Eventually, they married. It was a small ceremony attended only by his sister and a Justice of the Peace. Rather than spend money on an elaborate wedding, they splurged on a honeymoon at an exclusive resort in Turks and Caicos. That was where the twins were conceived.

Perhaps the man who showed up at his house that day was someone from her past. That would explain why she went out of her way to hide his visit from him. Still, it was unsettling that she needed to keep such secrets from him. He respected her privacy, but he also felt a marriage must include honesty and strong communication. He had learned that the hard way with his first wife.

He thought that perhaps if he opened up about his own past, she would reveal hers. It was worth a shot. That night, in bed, after they had made love, he put his plan into action.

"Vanessa, I know we have an agreement that we don't discuss our past, but there is something that has been weighing on me, and I really need to get it off my chest."

She was silent for a moment, and then whispered, "Okay."

"Back when I was on the force, I did something I'm not proud of. We were after this guy. A drug dealer named Franco Marquez. My partner and I caught him dead-to-rights with over a thousand bags of heroin. We could have put him away for twenty years. He offered us a bribe to look the other way. $10,000 each. I refused."

"Okay."

"I refused...at first. My partner was a veteran on the force. I was practically a rookie. I looked up to the guy. He was going through a lot of problems at the time. His wife was very sick, and their medical bills were through the roof. And they were putting their daughter through college, and had another about to graduate from high school. He pulled me aside and talked me into it. We took the dealer's money and let him go. A week later, a kid in the same neighborhood died of a heroin overdose. Just thirteen years old."

"Oh my god," she whispered.

"I secretly gave the ten grand to the kid's family, but that didn't erase the guilt I felt. We eventually busted Marquez again. An even bigger bust. But that didn't help, either. I've been living with that guilt for twenty years now. In fact, today is the anniversary of that kid's death. I guess that's why it's been on my mind. I've never told anyone about this until now."

She softly stroked his hair and looked into his eyes. "It's okay," she said. "It doesn't matter to me what you did in the past. You're a good man now. That's all that matters."

He kissed her softly. "Thanks for saying that. I actually feel better getting that off my chest, like a weight has been lifted."

They lay in silence for a long while, caressing each other gently. He hesitated to speak again, but felt the moment was right.

"Is there anything bothering you?" he asked. "You've been acting strange lately."

She stopped stroking his back. Her muscles tensed. "I...I'm fine," she said with a tightened throat.

"You know you can tell me anything, right? I will always be here for you, no matter what."

She could no longer hide the fact that she was crying. He hugged her tightly while her body shook.

"I...I don't want to tell you," she whispered. "I don't want you to look at me differently. I couldn't live with that."

"It sounds like you can't live with whatever is bothering you now." He stroked his fingers through her hair and brushed a tear from her cheek. "Please, honey, tell me what's wrong. I promise I won't think any differently of you. You mean the world to me and always will. No matter what."

"Something - someone - in my past has come back to haunt me," she said. "I thought it was all behind me. I thought I would never see him again. But the other day, he just showed up, here at the house."

"Who? Who showed up?"

"His name is Roger. Roger Bentley."

Vanessa was a freshman at the University of Arizona when she met her roommate, Brenda. Although the two of them could not have been more different, they got along famously. Brenda was a wild party girl, always willing to push the limits when it came to alcohol and sex. Vanessa was a shy virgin when she came to the university, but Brenda soon corrupted her.

Vanessa was utterly shocked and embarrassed the first time Brenda had sex with a boy in their dorm room, right in front of her. Vanessa pretended to be asleep while Brenda went down on him. Vanessa watched, mesmerized, from the corner of her eye as Brenda's mouth made his cock disappear, and then reappear, and then disappear again. It was the first time Vanessa had ever seen a penis outside of one surreptitious glance at her friend's sex education manual. Her mother had forbidden her from taking the class. She was so embarrassed to have been the only girl in the school to have been excluded, but luckily her friend relayed all of the important information.

She continued to watch through the darkness as the boy mounted Brenda and began thrusting into her. She could hear Brenda's soft moaning and the boy's low grunting. It didn't last much longer before the boy groaned heavily and then collapsed on top of her. Brenda made him dress quickly and leave the room. When the door closed, she returned to bed and slipped under the covers. She then turned to Vanessa.

"Did you enjoy the show?" she asked with a giggle.

Vanessa continued to pretend she was sleeping.

"I know you're awake," Brenda said.

"I...I'm sorry," Vanessa replied. "I didn't mean to watch. I just...I've never seen anyone have sex before."

"Oh my god! Are you a virgin?"

"Well...yeah," Vanessa responded hesitantly.

"We need to remedy that quickly! You should give Derek a try. He's cute. He has experience. His cock isn't too big. And he's very gentle."

"I...I don't even know him."

Brenda scoffed. "You don't need to know him to fuck him."

"I...I just figure my first time should be with someone I love."

"You're adorable," Brenda said with a chuckle. "College isn't for falling in love. It's for playing the field. Experimenting. That's what we're here for, right? It's all about the experience. This place is overflowing with hot guys. You should experience as many as you can while the opportunity is ripe."

Vanessa hesitated at first, but soon gave in to temptation. The next time Brenda brought Derek back to their dorm room, she asked Vanessa if she would like to join them. Vanessa shook her head, but her friend insisted. Brenda unbuttoned and unzipped Derek's jeans and yanked them off before doing the same with his boxer shorts. Vanessa's eyes widened when his fully-erect cock sprung into view.

"Go ahead," Brenda said. "Touch it."

Vanessa reached out and took it in her hand. Brenda placed her hand over her roommate's and motioned it up and down. Vanessa could feel Derek's cock throb in response.

"Now put your mouth on it," Brenda instructed.

Vanessa tentatively lowered her head and placed her mouth on his cock. Brenda gently pushed the back of her head. Vanessa gagged a bit when her head was pushed too far.

"That's okay," Brenda said. "You'll get used to it. Gotta work on that gag reflex, girl."

"This is fucking awesome!" Derek exclaimed.

"Just be quiet, idiot," Brenda scolded. "Class is in session."

Brenda took over and demonstrated by bobbing her head up and down Derek's shaft. She then handed it off to her roommate to do the same.

"Okay, don't do that for too long, or poor Derek will explode early," Brenda said. "Take off your pants."

Vanessa looked at her in horror. "I...I don't know about this."

"Oh, come on, just do it," Brenda said.

"I've never been naked in front of a boy," Vanessa said.

"Girl, I've seen you naked," Brenda said. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about, trust me. You were a fucking ballerina, and you have the body of a ballerina. You're in for a treat, Derek."

"I bet she's flexible," Derek said. Brenda glared at him.

Vanessa slowly unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them to the floor. She paused for a moment before dropping her pink cotton panties.

"We're gonna have to work on your grooming," noted Brenda. Vanessa covered her privates with her hands and quickly scampered under the sheets on Brenda's bed.

Brenda clapped Derek on the back. "Now strap on that raincoat and do your thing. Just be really gentle, okay?"

Vanessa watched anxiously as Derek placed a condom over his cock and unrolled it to the base. He then crawled beneath the sheets and positioned himself on top of her.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" he asked. Vanessa nodded. It wasn't her first kiss.

As he kissed her, she felt his hard cock at her entrance. When it slipped inside, she winced in pain.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you," Brenda said. "It hurts the first time. It gets a lot better, though, trust me."