A Fatal Affair Read online

  “Whatever, Allen. I worked for my career, but I gave my best years to you. I should get compensated for that. And this baby is mine to choose what I want to do with it. You can keep the condo. I want what’s mine and nothing more, nothing less.”

  What she considered hers was another matter, but right now I didn’t want to argue about that.

  “So this is it? There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

  “No, nothing. I’ve wanted out for a long time, but I needed the right opportunity to leave. That opportunity is now.”

  “Now—when we’re having a baby?”

  “Correction, Allen: when I’m having a baby.”

  My heartbreak surfaced, releasing a flow of tears that wouldn’t stop. I shielded my face with my hands, hoping to block the sobs from escaping, but they racked my lungs with full force.

  No comfort came. Susan simply watched me break.

  “I’m sorry to do this to you, but there’s no point playing house anymore. We were never meant to be, and that’s just how it is. I’ll be packing my things and leaving tonight.”

  I heard her retreat, the unrepentant steps of a woman set on her path. There was no fixing this, but I’d be damned if I didn’t try.

  **

  The vacancy of Susan’s walk-in closet was a nauseating reminder of her departure. The black sliding panel scorned me, laughed at me with its wide, toothless smirk. A question burned within me, its answer the only chance I had of saving my marriage. I needed to see her, to ask her one simple thing that could change everything. I couldn’t give up, and I had a plan. Foolproof? Probably not, but I was a fool still in love, so it was fitting.

  It didn’t take much sleuthing to discover where she moved to, for she wasn’t as discreet as she should have been. But it was to my advantage. With stirring reminiscence, I recalled our first date and hoped tonight’s surprise would jog her memory—and perhaps her heart as well.

  Holding a dozen red roses and a paper bag, I knocked on her door, anticipation just as alive as it was twenty years ago—perhaps more so, since the odds I stood against seemed much more insurmountable this time around. I knew she was home, but would she answer? I hid the flowers in case she peered through the peephole, hoping to present myself as business-like as possible. The door opened.

  “Uh, Allen, what are you doing here? And how did you find out where I live?” she said, leaving only a crack’s worth of space between us.

  “I wanted to give you something.” I swung the roses around my torso and held them out toward her.

  “Thanks. But I don’t want your gifts.”

  “Wait. I have more... if you let me in. And I won’t take no for an answer... even if I have to stand here all night.” Susan knew by now that I was as stubborn as they come, so there was no bluff there.

  Yet she stood sentry guarding the sliver of the opening.

  “It’s about the separation agreement,” I lied.

  Despite her grumble, the open door permitted entrance.

  I scanned her tasteful, yet not my taste, apartment—she sure moved fast. Black and white still lifes adorned the walls, turquoise vases gave a touch of vibrancy to several chrome and black end tables, and her signature black leather and metal style permeated the rest of the space. Susan’s cold, modern interior decorating preferences certainly followed her here.

  At last she accepted the flowers and headed to the kitchen for a vase.

  I set off toward the dining room table and laid out the contents of my bag. Lo mein for her, cashew chicken for me. I even brought plates and chopsticks under the incorrect assumption that she wouldn’t have had time to buy housewares. A bottle of Spottswoode Estate Cabernet Sauvignon followed, along with two wine glasses. The final touch was a single candle, my hand trembling as I eventually lit it, and my prep was complete. It was just like our first date, only this time I planned something extra special to mark the occasion of our reuniting. I placed a wrapped package on the table under the flickering candle.

  After some coercion, I finally persuaded Susan to sit down and eat... or whatever it’s called when one shuffles food around the plate to give the appearance of eating. Unlike our first date, there was a void in the flirting and banter and conversation. But I didn’t count it a loss, because I still had one surprise tucked up my sleeve, a surefire way to her heart.

  Susan pretended not to notice the professionally wrapped package with its silver bow blossoming over the edges of the box, but I sensed her curiosity. Gifts always touched her in ways I never could—both figuratively and literally.

  “So are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Susan had a way of getting to the heart of matters.

  “There’s no agenda, Susan. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine. Really. You don’t need to check up on me. Did you sign the separation agreement yet, by the way? Isn’t that why you came?”

  Ouch. I hadn’t expected her to bring it up so quickly, but then again, I clung to the faith that the conversation would take a different turn once I turned on my full charm.

  “I’m having my attorney look it over, but it’ll be taken care of. So...” I hesitated. Did I really want the answer to the question that had been bugging me since she left? I needed to know. “Did you decide what you’re going to do about the baby?”

  Mental fingers crossed that her heart hadn’t quite yet turned to stone.

  “I don’t know yet. But it’s nothing you need to worry about. It won’t be your responsibility; it’s mine.”

  “But I want the responsibility, Susan.”

  “If this is where your visit is headed, please just leave. I’m not going to deal with this right now.” Her voice rose an octave, and I knew I’d pushed a button. I still didn’t have an answer from her, but any chance of her keeping the baby was a window of hope for us... Even if it was a closed window, eventually I could pry it open. Single motherhood was no picnic. Eventually she’d need me, want me.

  “Okay, okay, let’s just enjoy the rest of the evening,” I conceded. “How’s work?”

  “Let me stop you there, Allen. You came here for something. What do you want? I don’t want to spend the rest of the night playing games.”

  I reached for the package, toying with the bow as I watched her eyes possess it. There was the woman I married. “This is my way of saying I’m sorry for everything. I want to make amends.”

  “You know I don’t want to get back together, right?”

  “Yes, I understand that, but I still wanted to give you something to remember me by.” I handed her the package, which she almost too quickly accepted.

  The silver paper tore off in one fluid motion, and inside a black velvet box peeked out. She popped open the lid and gasped.

  “A Rolex? Allen, this is too much, but thank you! I love it.”

  “I had the date and time set for you, and I guessed on the wrist size. I hope it fits. Here, let me help you put it on.” I slid the watch from the box and clasped it around her wrist, savoring the feel of her skin. My hand lingered on hers, resistant to the chilling isolation of being without her touch. A moment later she pulled away, admiring the gift, oohing and aahing over the diamonds encrusted in the metal.

  “Really, Allen, this is... I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll give me another chance,” I offered.

  “How about I just say thank you and that I hope we can still be friends? Will that be enough of a start?”

  It wasn’t where I hoped the night would go, but it was something—a start, she had said.

  “Okay, I’ll take that. Would you care to crack open the wine and join me for a drink?” I knew the price tag of the wine would be another dealmaker.

  Susan shook her head, her eyebrows arched in disbelief. “Uh, you know I’m pregnant. I can’t drink alcohol.”

  Now, of all moments, I felt embarrassed, and I’m sure my flushing cheeks gave me away. “I am so sorry. I totally forgot about that whole no
drinking thing...”

  I thought I overheard a sarcastic mutter about me being a natural at the father thing, but I chose to ignore it. “I’ll go pick up some sparkling grape juice.”

  I rose from the chair, but Susan followed.

  “How about another night? I’m really exhausted and need to get to bed.”

  Another night? It sounded promising, so I agreed.

  I kissed her cheek on my way out the door, hoping she’d turn her lips toward mine as I leaned forward, but the gift didn’t even earn me that. But I didn’t mind too much. I’d have another opportunity. I would bide my time and carefully plan my wooing now that things were in motion.

  Chapter 4

  I glanced at my Rolex, wondering if Susan was wearing hers too. I’d know in about... five minutes. Jazz poured from the speakers in my rented blue Civic and I hummed along with the melody of “Georgia on my Mind” with my eyes fixed across the street at her apartment building.

  Before Ray Charles ended, a red blouse caught my eye. It was her, yet different. Her hair was down, the waves toying with her shoulders. And the smile on her face was reminiscent of joy I hadn’t seen for over a decade. By God, she glowed. Pregnancy suited her.

  Or was it something else?

  I couldn’t help but notice that she walked with purpose, and then I saw why. The reason behind the whorish makeup, the tight pencil skirt, the hooker heels, the coy smile...

  A younger me embraced her right there on the sidewalk, kissed her passionately the way only intimate lovers can, then cupped her hand. He was me twenty years ago—fresh-faced but rich. I could tell by the Armani he wore and the BMW he gingerly helped Susan step into. Most likely a producer like myself, since Susan wouldn’t have settled for less and our jobs didn’t allow much time outside of the movie industry circle.

  So this was the guy Susan planned to share my money, my assets, my life with. I took a mental snapshot of his face. Sooner or later I’d find out who he was and make him pay.

  As she disappeared behind the tint of the glass, a spasm smacked the wind out of me, and I felt myself gasping for breath I couldn’t catch. My right hand grabbed my chest, as if somehow I could revive myself, but my heart was already torn out. My lips contorted in agony, and darkness waxed its way over my conscious.

  I was... having... a... heart... attack.

  **

  My cries were silenced as his fist exploded across my jawbone. I felt the impact splinter along my chin, cracking through to the marrow. Bone on bone impact, the momentary click of my jaw, then a blinding flash of pain as spots tangoed across my vision. Gerald’s ring caught my skin and sliced across it like a knife through a tomato, tearing another hole into my face that Mom’s makeup wouldn’t cover. As I slumped to the orange linoleum floor, I prayed silently that Gerald was done, that this was his last drunken blow for tonight.

  I closed my eyes, shutting out the spinning kitchen with my stepdad—now two of him—looming over me. I shrunk further onto the floor tiles. I knew no savior would come. My mother wouldn’t risk it, not after the first dozen times she should have been hospitalized for protecting me and my sister. My saving grace was that he expended his remaining energy on that last punch and needed to recharge with another beer... which gave me enough time to slip into my room unnoticed until he passed out.

  As I lay on my bed gazing through angry tears at my bare walls—Gerald had taken my Peter, Paul and Mary posters—I decided it was time to stand up for myself. I would plot my revenge, and the hell that smothered my life would end.

  **

  I awoke, disoriented and unsure of what decade I was in, in a driver’s seat with an imprint of an H on my forehead. As I glanced away from my rearview mirror and noticed a familiar apartment building, the pieces of the puzzle meandered together. Honda. I was still in the Civic... in the twenty-first century. Based on the dashboard clock, it seemed I had only passed out for a couple hours, unless days had passed without my knowledge. Certainly someone would have had the decency, even in L.A., to call an ambulance if a man had been unconscious in a car for days, so I made an educated guess it had only been hours.

  I couldn’t remember why I had rented a car or why I was at Susan’s apartment, but as I allowed the internal wheels to turn, the realization dealt me a blow worse than any strike Gerald had dished out. She was leaving me... for another man. And taking everything I worked for with her.

  Or not.

  I simply couldn’t let her get away with this. Just like I showed Gerald who was boss way back then, I would get the final say with Susan. It was time to make a statement.

  Chapter 5

  Two weeks later...

  I stood over her sleeping form, wishing for the days back when I was lying next to her. Watching her chest rise and fall, I savored the sound of her breathing whistling through her nose, the melody of which kept me awake for hours back when we were together. I wondered if her lover had the privilege of listening to her feminine snore yet. The image of him sharing a bed with my wife took form as I visualized him next to her now...

  My jaw tightened with fury, my fists clenched in rage. The bastard would pay for stealing her from me, and Susan would never make the same mistake again.

  With subconscious movement my hand slipped over her mouth, holding a rag soaked in Internet-purchased chloroform that would submit her to deeper slumber. Her eyes popped open and as fear settled in, her arms flung wildly at me, but with strained muscles I maintained my grip and leaned out of fist’s reach until her body went limp and subdued. Despite my age, I was at a positional advantage that compensated her fight-or-flight vigor.

  I waited until I was sure she was out, then lifted her arm to watch it heavily fall back to the bed. Yet her skin felt oddly cool... With sudden alarm prompted by her dead weight and unnaturally low body temperature, I placed my ear against her chest and heard a faint heartbeat. Thank God I hadn’t killed her.

  I cautiously lifted her up and carried her to the door, eyeing the hallway for an all clear before making my exit. With no one in sight, I slipped out into the shadow of early morning darkness, my plan in motion. Abduction had been easier than I expected.

  **

  “What the hell...? Hello? Is anybody there?” she groggily pleaded through dry, cracked lips. A dull ache circled her wrists, and she realized she had been bound, but when she attempted to wiggle herself free, the rope burned her skin, sharpening the ache.

  As her pupils widened to greet the dim light, Susan recognized the four-poster bed with its Native American-inspired bedspread, cheery turquoise and maroon zigzagging across the woven fabric. The totem pole lamp on the dresser—a memorabilia of their trip to Nevada. Susan realized she was in Allen’s Tujunga, California, cottage.

  Nestled in the Angeles National Forest, the one-bedroom bungalow had been a favorite vacation spot when they needed escape from the concrete jungle of L.A. It offered serenity, abundance of nature, and... isolation.

  Not a soul could be found for miles, with the exception of an occasional hiker who wandered this far off the marked trails. When basking in the heat of romance, the seclusion was a desired feature, but not so much when she was being held captive at the hands of a lunatic, facing potential torture and death, with no ears to hear her cries for help.

  She struggled against the ropes and duct tape claiming its victim, but its grip was impregnable. Her eyes skirted for something she could use to cut through her bonds, but her legs and arms were stuck at angles that made movement near impossible.

  A sense of claustrophobia overtook her, and she began flailing and crying out with fright. But the more she resisted, the more the ropes burned her flesh and the tape tore at her fine hairs... and the more panic set in.

  Stop! she willed herself. Take a deep breath and calm down.

  She slowed her breathing, sucked in a lungful of air, and exhaled deliberately, closing her eyes to the world. A minute later she felt calm descend, and she opened her eyes to examine her surroundings... a
nd possible options for freedom. With the kitchen and its collection of cutting knives out of reach, there didn’t seem to be much hope of escape.

  Breaking free wouldn’t be a realistic option in her condition, but perhaps she could appeal to Allen... trick him into letting her go. He was obviously still in love with her, so she just needed to find the words to convince him to cut the cords, then she could figure out a decent getaway plan from that point. For now she needed to figure out what he wanted to hear, and what he would believe.

  “Allen?” she called out.

  Footsteps echoed in another room, and as they grew louder, she felt the floor tremble under each step. Her chin lifted to the figure of Allen looming above her, glaring down at her with eyes set on evil intent. The blue iris a shade darker, his smirk lifting with a sinister crook.

  “Ah, you’ve woken up, I see.”

  “Allen, please,” Susan begged.

  “I apologize for my... unannounced visit to your bedroom. But I suppose that’s the definition of abduction, isn’t it?” He laughed a mirthless cackle. As his head flung back, it was clear his right mind left him long ago.

  “Please, Allen, let me go. Why are you doing this?”

  “Need you ask? You made a fool of me, you whore. I know about your... new lover. Well, fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, shame on you. Now it’s time to pay your penance.”

  “Look, he means nothing to me, I promise. If you let me go we can talk about it, figure out how to fix our marriage. Please give me another chance. Allen, I love you and I want to get through this.”

  He paused, as if weighing the truth in her words, considering the sincerity behind them. But as he turned his back on her to leave, Susan knew he found her plea lacking.

  “You are saying that to manipulate me. I know the truth by your actions, Susan. It’s over for you.”

  He took a step toward the door, and Susan knew this was her last chance for survival. If he left, there was no guarantee he would return before she’d starve to death, and God only knew what else he had planned for her. Removing fingernails one by one? Cutting her to pieces? Raping her? The scenarios rooted in her mind’s eye, each one worse than the next. Working in the entertainment industry had its disadvantages when it offered the imagination an ample supply of homicide options.