Whatever Happened to Claire?

He clicked the play button on the video clip entitled, "Claire's Second Visit." There she was: the woman he knew so well and yet didn't seem to know at all. This time the video opened with her standing outdoors in front of a brick wall. She looked exactly the same as she did in her first video, except this time she wore a flimsy black top and stretchy pants. She demonstrated her impressive flexibility by standing in front of the wall and effortlessly lifting her right leg above her head.

She posed in several more positions, giggling ever so often. In the background were the sounds of passing cars on the highway. She was so thin, she looked as though the wind created by those passing cars would knock her over. Less than two minutes into the video, she sat in that familiar chair in that familiar dark room, giggling nervously.

Hank drove down a long and desolate desert highway, passing one billboard after another. Vanessa sat quietly in the passenger seat looking forlornly out the window. She turned to look at her husband. What was his plan? Why wouldn't he tell her? From the moment he handed her a plane ticket and told her to pack her bags, she had relentlessly begged him to tell her what was happening.

"The less you know about it," he had said, "the better, okay? You just need to trust me."

Now they were driving in a rental car on the outskirts of Las Vegas, heading toward the one place on the planet that she desperately wanted to avoid. Hank's sister had been kind enough to watch their children. She was told Hank and Vanessa were celebrating their anniversary with a long weekend at the Bellagio. Nothing could be further from the truth. She glanced at the GPS on the dashboard. They were close. Five more minutes, maybe.

"Hank," she said softly, "are we actually going to meet him? Roger?"

Hank looked straight ahead, concentrating on the road. "That's the plan."

She shook her head. "I don't understand. What are you going to do? You're not going to kill him, are you?"

No, he thought, he wasn't allowed to carry his handgun on the plane. "No, I'm not."

"I just don't understand—"

"Vanessa, please," he interrupted, finally turning to look at her. "I told you to trust me on this, and I mean it. You trust me and I trust you. That's how this works. No matter what happens, no matter how this goes, we need to keep that trust in each other, okay? I love you with all my heart, and nothing - nothing - will ever change that."

"Hank, you're scaring me."

"I don't mean to scare you, honey. Everything is going to be alright. You helped me put my past behind me, and now I'm going to help you do the same."

"What are you talking about?"

He looked at her strangely. "Vanessa, you saved my life."

"What? How?"

"When I met you, I had hit rock-bottom. I was practically paralyzed. I had no one in my life who cared about me beside my sister. I had no family but her, no job, no reason to live. Then you came into my life. You and that damned giggle."

She smiled and giggled.

"That's the one," he said with a smile. "You had such a positive outlook on everything. You taught me to walk again. You motivated me to get back on my feet just so I could ask you out. I had no idea what you saw in a broken old man like me, but I knew I needed you in my life. You gave me a new lease on life, and now it's my turn to repay you."

She sniffled and smiled. "You were kind of a grumpy old man when we met, but I knew you had a soft spot. I could tell you were a good man with a kind heart."

He held out his hand and she squeezed it and held it on her lap. They drove in silence until he took an exit, traveled down a side road, and pulled into an abandoned parking lot. He shut off his headlights and parked in a spot facing the road.

"Is this it?" she asked, looking around the parking lot.

"That's the place," he said, pointing out the front window to a building on the other side of the street.

She swallowed hard. "So...now what?"

"Now we wait," he said with a comforting smile.

Several minutes passed. The street was quiet. Only a few cars were visible in the lot next to the building. Now and then a car would pass on the road before them, but mostly they seemed alone. He turned to her and smiled. He looked over her shoulder and his smile faded.

"Hands on the wheel, asshole," a man said. He stood next to the driver's side door and rapped on the window with the barrel of his gun. He was short and bald. Another man, tall with long and greasy hair, stood next to the passenger's side door, also brandishing a weapon.

"Shit," Hank muttered. He slowly placed his hands on the steering wheel.

"Now slowly open the door and get out," the bald man said.

While Hank exited the car, the greasy-headed man opened Vanessa's door and escorted her to the other side of the vehicle. Baldy produced a set of zip ties and secured Hank's hands behind his back.

"Are we being arrested?" Vanessa asked.

The greaser snorted when he laughed. "That's some funny shit right there."

"No, you aren't being arrested, sweetie," said Baldy with a grin. "You're here to work, aren't you? We just came out to make sure you get where you're going."

They were escorted across the street and ushered into the building. They took a turn into a small office where an overweight balding man sat behind a desk looking smug and amused. Hank recognized him from the surveillance video.

"Roger," Hank said.

"And you must be Hank!" Roger said, standing to his feet. "I've heard all about you, Hank. A decorated veteran of the Los Angeles county police force, standing right here in my office! I wish I could say I'm impressed, but...was this your big plan? Walk right in here and...what, exactly? Were you gonna shoot me?"

"We checked him," Baldy noted. "No weapons. Nothing but a cellphone and wallet. And not much money in it, either."

"Well, I mean that's just sad," Roger said with a phony pout. He then turned his attention to Vanessa. "Claire, it's so good to see you again! So glad you could make it!"

"Go fuck yourself," she spat.

Roger burst into laughter, and his two henchmen followed suit. "Feisty as ever. But honey, we're gonna have to do something with your...appearance. Your fans are expecting Claire; not some frumpy old housewife!"

He motioned to Greaser, who left the room for a moment before returning with a long, chestnut-colored, wig.

"Go ahead, honey, put it on," Roger said.

She looked at Hank before taking the wig and placing it on her head. Greaser then took off her glasses.

"There we go!" Roger exclaimed. "That's the Claire I know. Well, sort of. We'll have to get makeup in here - and wardrobe. Although you won't keep it on very long, anyway, am I right?"

Roger clapped Hank on the back and laughed. Hank turned and spit in his face. Roger shook his head and slowly wiped it off with his shirt.

"I really wish you hadn't done that," Roger said. He motioned to Baldy, who struck Hank with his fist across his left cheek. Hank's weakened legs collapsed beneath him, and he fell to a knee. Vanessa shrieked and attempted to run to him, but Greaser held her in place.

"Now, we have a lot of work to do tonight," Roger said, "so let's not waste any more time. Guys, take Vanessa to the staging area to meet the guys. Hank, ol' buddy, you'll stay here with me."

Hank spat bloody red on the floor and watched as his wife was whisked out of the office. She turned to give him one last desperate look before she disappeared. It broke his heart.

"Take a seat," Roger said, kicking a chair into Hank, who still knelt on the floor. "I'm sorry, I would have had some drinks and snacks prepared if I knew you were coming. That's not to say I didn't anticipate it. I knew your background, Hank, and I have to say I anticipated your every move. While you were playing checkers, I was playing chess. One step ahead of you the entire time. That's why I had the boys keep a lookout for your car."

"Yeah, you're quite the genius," Hank said, propping himself up into the chair. "I'm super impressed."

Roger laughed. "Yes, most people are. Now, don't worry. Although I don't have snacks or drinks, I do have this large-screen monitor." With that, he clicked a remote, illuminating a flat screen mounted on the wall. "You'll be able to watch all the action from here. You won't miss a second of it!"

Roger sat behind the desk, reached into a drawer, and produced a small baggy filled with white powder. He used a playing card to form it into lines and then snorted one line through a small straw. He looked up at Hank. "Want some?"

"No, thanks," Hank muttered.

"Suit yourself," Roger said with a shrug.

"Okay, she's looking good," the makeup artist remarked. "I'd say I took a few years off her life! What do you think, sugar?"

Vanessa looked at her blurry visage in the mirror and tried not to sob.

"Hey, what happened to the Giggliest Girl in Porn?" Roger bellowed as he entered the room. He approached Vanessa and took her chin in his hand. "Cheer up. It's not so bad, is it? You used to love doing these shoots. In fact, I don't think we ever had a more enthusiastic subject. I know somewhere, deep down inside, you must wish you could return to those exciting, sexy, carefree days of your youth for just one night. Well, tonight's the night! Make the most of it, okay?"

"I fucking hate you," she snarled.

Roger stood back for a moment in pensive consideration. "Hmm. You know, maybe we could work with this. The former slut-turned-housewife, reluctant at first, but soon craving cock and cum like the horny, sex-starved, slut we all know she is. Yes, that angle could work. In fact, it could be our most lucrative video ever!"

Hank watched the monitor from his chair in the office. Greaser now sat behind the desk, sifting through the drawers for snacks. Hank jostled with the zip ties behind his back and looked around the room. He could easily distract Greaser, then grab the chair behind his back and whirl it around to knock him out. He could then grab Greaser's weapon, escape from the room...and then what? Escape from the zip ties and shoot the rest of them? He was good, but not that good. They had taken his cellphone and wallet. He couldn't call for backup. How the hell did this all go sideways?

He watched as Vanessa was led into the small dark room with the chair and the familiar holes in the wall. His stomach churned just seeing her return to that place. She looked frightened and nervous. He wanted to reach through the screen and hold her and lie to her again about how everything would be alright. She took her seat and looked into the camera. Her imploring eyes seemed to speak directly to her husband, begging him for help.

The interview began. "Welcome back, Claire!" Roger's voice said from behind the camera. Vanessa stared straight ahead, nonresponsive. "Tell us what you've been up to."

Claire shook her head. She looked as though she were about to cry. She must have sensed that was what Roger wanted to see, so she held it together and bit her bottom lip. "Can we just get this over with?"

"Ooh, you're eager to start!" Roger bellowed. "I knew you were still a slutty girl! Don't worry, we'll get a cock in your mouth soon. First, I'm sure my viewers would like to see how you've kept your figure all these years later. Go ahead, honey, let's take off the top first, okay?"

She looked straight into the camera as if imploring Hank to send her some sort of signal. Instead, all he could do was helplessly sit and watch. She slowly rose from her chair and lifted her shirt over her head.

"Now the bra," Roger said.

Again, she looked into the camera for a moment before reaching behind her. She unclasped the bra and held it over her breasts before shyly letting it fall to the floor.

"Very nice!" Roger exclaimed. "You certainly have bloomed since we last saw you. What are those now? C-cups?"

Vanessa didn't respond. She simply stood with her arms folded across her chest.

"Now the pants," Roger commanded.

She couldn't fight it any longer. A single tear rolled down her cheek as she unbuttoned her pants. She brushed it away and sniffled as she pushed her pants and panties to the floor.

"Still shaving it clean I see," remarked Roger. "I like it a lot. Can you still do that flexible posing?"

She shook her head and looked at the floor.

"That's okay, honey. Now turn around for us. Let us get the full picture."

Hank watched as his wife slowly turned in a full rotation. Her body was exquisite. She was no longer the skinny girl he had seen in the videos. She was a woman - a gorgeous woman with full breasts, defined hips, and a shapely buttocks.

"She's fucking hot, bro," Greaser said from behind the desk. Hank ignored him.

"Okay, now sit down, honey," Roger said. "You ready to begin?"

Vanessa took her eyes off the floor for a moment and looked directly into the camera lens. Her expression turned from humiliation to defiance. She nodded. A large and fully-erect cock emerged from the hole on the left. Hank swallowed hard and fought the urge to look away.

The door of the office suddenly burst open. Greaser looked just as shocked as Hank when a pair of men burst into the room brandishing weapons. Greaser stood and made his way around the desk, fumbling in his pants to find his gun. The gunman didn't hesitate to fire three shots directly into Greaser's chest. Greaser stumbled backward into the wall and crashed into the flat screen before collapsing to the floor. The screen went black.

The gunman turned his attention to Hank while the other man continued down the hallway. Hank showed the man that he was defenseless and the man took off after his partner. Hank stood and hobbled after him, following the sounds of shouting and scuffling. By the time he flung open the door to the small dark room, he saw Vanessa huddled in the corner with her arms wrapped around her knees, naked. Roger was sprawled out on the floor, bloody and battered. One of the gunmen stood in Hank's way, pointing his weapon directly between Hank's eyes.

"That's my wife," Hank told the gunman, motioning toward Vanessa. "Please."

The gunman lowered his weapon and nodded. Hank hobbled across the room and shielded his wife with his body. He watched as another man entered the small room. He was impeccably dressed in a finely-tailored suit. His shoes likely cost more than Hank's car. The well-dressed man looked around the room at Hank and Vanessa, and then at Roger. He nodded to the gunman, who then moved over to Roger and forced him to his feet.

Roger struggled to maintain his balance. It took a moment for him to recognize the well-dressed man. "L-Lou," he stammered. "Mr. Branco. Listen, I'll have the money for you, I swear. As soon as this shoot is over, you'll have it all - plus interest, okay?"

Branco simply stared at him, silent and unflinching.

"I—I just had a streak of bad luck, okay?" Roger continued. "It happens to the best of us, you know? But I'm done with college basketball, I swear."

"You think this is about basketball?" Branco said at last. "Or money? Nah, Roger, it's not about that. I wouldn't go through all this trouble for that."

"So, what, then?"

Branco smiled and looked at his associates. "It's so cute that you think I don't know what you've been up to. You've been distributing for us for how long? Working with Lenny side-by-side, gaining our trust. Then, all of a sudden, the warehouse gets busted, coincidentally on the same day you mysteriously don't show up. As a matter of fact, we haven't seen you since."

"Mr. Branco, I swear to you I had nothing to do with that!"

"Oh, really? Does the name Angel Hernandez ring a bell? Or should I say Special Agent Hernandez?"

Roger appeared confused. "No, sir. I've never heard of him."

Branco motioned to his associate, who flipped through his cellphone and held it out for Roger to see. On the phone was a photo of Roger chatting with another man.

"Sir, I can explain—" Roger began. Branco slapped him across the face so hard that Roger staggered.

"You think I'm a fucking idiot?" Branco bellowed. "Get this piece of shit out of here."

"Wait!" Hank shouted. The men in the room turned to him in confusion. Hank looked directly at Roger. "Where are the envelopes?"

Roger scoffed and smirked. One of the men punched him in the gut, causing him to double over and wretch. "Just answer his fucking question so we can get out of here," the man said.

"Filing cabinet in the office," Roger whimpered. "Second drawer down."

"Good to know," Hank said. "Oh, and one more thing, Roger."

"What's that?" Roger asked.

"Checkmate," Hank said with a grin.

The men grabbed Roger by the arms and shoved him out of the room. Branco turned to Hank and Vanessa. "You must be Becker," he said with a snarl.

Hank nodded and swallowed hard.

"You know you cost us a boatload a few years back," Branco said.

"Yeah, well, I paid a price, too," Hank said.

Branco shook his head and scowled. He reached into his pocket and produced a switch blade. He flipped it open and walked toward the couple huddled in the corner of the room.

"I guess we're even, then," he said.

He motioned for Hank to turn around and sliced the zip ties, freeing Hank's hands at last.

"Roger," Vanessa muttered. "He'll take this out on me."

Branco smiled at her. "You don't need to worry about Roger, pretty lady. You won't be seeing him again. I promise you that."

They exchanged a nod. Branco turned and left the room, leaving Hank and Vanessa alone together. They embraced and kissed.

"What the fuck just happened?" she said.

"They were late," he said. "It wasn't supposed to go down like this."

"But who were they?"

"Remember I told you about the drug dealer we busted, Franco Marquez?"

Vanessa nodded.

"Marquez worked for Branco. When we busted Marquez, it was a huge deal. It cost Branco a few hundred thousand. I highly suspect that the guys who ambushed me and shot me in the back were sent by Branco."

Vanessa gasped. "But what was Branco doing here? And how did you know he was involved with Roger?"

"I told you I was reaching out to every contact I had from L.A., the casino, and the Vegas police. I also reached out to Marquez."

Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped. "You reached out...to the drug dealer you put away."

"He's still serving time in the penitentiary. I heard through the grapevine that he had found God and was repenting for his sins. My connections in Vegas told me Roger was a known associate of Branco's. I figured Marquez might have some information. He said he felt guilty about what happened to me, so he told me everything he knew about Branco.

"Word on the street was that Branco was pissed at Roger for some reason and was looking for him. But Roger had disappeared. No one had seen or heard from him in weeks. Roger was deeply in debt. Drug problems and gambling will do that. He was looking for a big payday, and that's where you came into the picture. I believe he was planning to take the money and run."

Vanessa shook her head in amazement. "How did you know Branco wouldn't kill you if he saw you again?"

"I didn't. That's why I didn't tell you what I had planned. I knew you'd never go along with it. I was hoping he'd appreciate me giving him a heads-up on Roger's whereabouts."

"I can't believe this," she said. Her expression turned to deep concern. "Hank...about what happened here, right before those men came into the room..."

Hank interrupted her. "Honey, it doesn't matter."

"But you need to know what I did." Her eyes watered.

"No, I don't. Whether you did anything or not, it doesn't change the way I feel about you. It doesn't mean anything in the big picture. Neither does anything you ever did in the past. And it's all in the past now. Every bit of it. Now we move forward, okay?"