Biggest and Best

I wanted to pull her hair, slap her face, and tell her that she was acting like a slut. Then I caught myself as my imagination began to run away from me. I knew that I could never really lift a hand to her. I don't hit women, particularly women I happen to love.

As I continued to watch, Claire remained at the door, but no one came to answer the bell. She pushed the button at least three more times and still received no answer. She looked around and tried the door handle again. It did not open for her. She reached in her purse for her cell phone

I watched her scroll through her screen listing until she found a number and touched it. Putting the phone to her ear, I watched her wait as the call went through. She waited for almost a minute, and then she clicked to disconnect and pressed the phone screen lightly again, listening as her redial went through. Once again it was almost a full minute before she closed out her call attempt.

She dropped her phone back into her purse and stepped off the porch. She looked up at the second-floor windows, and then scanned the curtained windows of the first floor for any sign of activity in the house in which she was supposed to be meeting Harvey Bland for some illicit sex.

Finally, seeing no activity from the house and getting no response to her knocks, rings, and calls, she sighed and walked quickly back to her car and climbed in. She started the car, looked at the house for a few seconds more, and then drove away, probably much faster than the residential area would consider safe.

I just sat there, trembling with a combination of feelings of rage, relief, nervousness, and disbelief. My wife had actually tried to keep a rendezvous with a married man -- NOT her husband -- for the purpose of having sex outside of the bonds of her own marriage vows. And at HIS house no less, while his own wife and kids were conveniently away from the house. And it was still light enough for the neighbors to have seen the strange car and to be able to identify the adulteress who was attempting to gain entrance. I just shook my head.

I was still sitting there fuming and thinking about all of this about twenty minutes later when I noticed a couple of very big guys, one with what looked like an oversized laundry bag, walking my way from the direction of the Bland's back yard and then along the sidewalk. I watched as they moved with a sense of urgency toward one of the vans painted in the livery of a local landscaper. One moved to the driver's door and the other to the passenger side. The passenger came around and opened the sliding door on his side and threw the bag inside before reclosing the door and climbing into the passenger seat.

Within a few seconds, the driver started the van and gunned it once, sending out a bit of visible exhaust from the rear. He spun on the gravel as he accelerated away and the van moved quickly out of the subdivision by the same route taken by my wife earlier.

I finally started my 4Runner and drove back to my office so that I could establish my story of working late. I went inside, but I simply sat at my desk and read some of my ongoing Baldacci story on my computer, via its eBook reader application. I kept this up for about three hours, but found it frustrating, as I had to keep rereading paragraphs two and three times in order to keep up with the story. My mind was on other things and I found it hard to concentrate on my reading; no matter how good the story was.

Finally, I closed up and went out to my 4Runner. I stopped for gas on the way home and pulled into the driveway at about ten-thirty. Claire was not home yet. I wondered where she was, but figured that she was doing something similar to what I had done -- wasting some time -- so that she could arrive home late to match her earlier story. The only satisfaction that I got from that was the knowledge that she evidently did not get a chance to fuck Harvey Bland tonight.

I had a second of panic, thinking that she might actually have gone back to see if Harvey had been there later, but I wasn't going to go tearing out into the night to go back there myself. I really did not want to see any more evidence of her betrayal.

I was asleep when Claire finally got home. I woke for a few minutes, listening to her in the bathroom as she brushed her teeth. I took it as a good sign that she did not feel the need to take a shower following her evening out. But I was exhausted from the emotional strain I had put myself through over the past few days, especially today. I was out cold before she even came to bed.

I threw the newspaper on the kitchen table as I came in from my run Wednesday morning. I had run for about twenty minutes more than usual so that I could burn off some of the hurt and anger that I was still feeling over Claire's escapades of the previous evening. I did not even look at any of the headlines like I usually do. I just went for the coffee pot.

Claire was up and drinking coffee when I came in from the run, but she did not offer her usual good morning greetings or try for a hug. She looked like she was miles away in her thoughts. When I tossed the paper in front of her, she just glanced at it. I turned to finish pouring the coffee when I heard her gasp.

I turned back around and saw her looking with fear and surprise at the below-the-fold story and headline on the front page of the local paper. Her hand was to her mouth. She made some kind of strangled sound and pushed the newspaper away. Standing quickly, she poured the rest of her coffee in the sink and left her cup on the counter as she scurried quickly out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs without a word to me.

Curious, I looked at the newspaper and saw a headline indicating 'Home Invaders Terrorize Local Family.' The picture accompanying the story showed the front of a familiar house with a Police Officer talking in the foreground to reporters and a gurney in the background coming off the porch with two Fire Department EMTs moving it.

The article indicated that a house in the Sheffield subdivision belonging to the family of a Mr. Harvey Bland had been broken into while the homeowner was there. Fortunately, his wife and children were out of the house for the afternoon and evening.

Police would not give many details about the case, but they did say that it looked like the homeowner, Harvey Bland, had been surprised by two masked men entering the house in the broad daylight of the late afternoon through the patio door -- which sources say was forced. Bland had allegedly been assaulted and duct-taped to a kitchen chair with his eyes taped over as well, while the men allegedly went about moving through the house looking for valuables. No indications were given from authorities as to just what had been taken beyond a laptop computer. A source, who spoke on grounds of anonymity, revealed that the wife had returned late in the evening to find her husband secured to the chair in the kitchen and had called 911.

Bland had also been assaulted further in a strange manner. First responders evidently had difficulty in treating Mr. Bland, as his injuries were initially difficult to treat directly. The alleged attackers had driven an eight-inch landscape timber spike through Bland's left foot and into the wooden floor of his kitchen.

To keep him from bleeding out, they had sprayed all over and around the foot and the spike with an aerosol-delivered home insulation foam material used in construction for sealing odd-shaped openings -- the brand name on the spray can left behind in the trash, and identified to reporters by the unnamed source, was 'Great Stuff.' Reports from Sentara Hospital, where Bland was taken were sketchy, but it appeared that there are no other injuries, except for minor scrapes and a bruise to the left side of Bland's face, where he had allegedly been struck by the intruders upon their first arrival in the home. Early prognosis was for Bland's full recovery with no really harmful after effects.

There was more, including national and statewide statistics about home break-ins and home invasions. The Chief of Police made the usual plea for any witnesses to call the toll-free crime line. Blah, blah, blah ...

I put the paper down and smiled. It would seem that Mr. Harvey Bland had really -- I know, I know; it's lame and really corny -- put his foot in it when he decided to mess with the wife of a friend of Sonny Giancomo.

By the time I had finished my shower, Claire was dressed and ready to go. Since her Mom had the kids at her place this week, there was no typical scurry to get them ready for school. Still wearing just my towel, I got a perfunctory kiss, and an 'I love you; see you sometime late tonight' from her as she hurried out. She did not say anything about the report of the crime at the Blands, but I could see that she was upset. I just wished I could read her mind to see if she was upset at a friend being assaulted, or upset that the event had ruined her plans for some hot, monkey sex with another man.

I did not care at the moment. I was just basking in the relief that Sonny was taking care of things for me. I was also feeling a bit smug that Asshole Harvey Bland had gotten a small taste of exactly what he really deserved. I sorta wished that it could have been something more; something that Harv would carry around with him for the rest of his life; like maybe -- no dick. Nah! I'm not that vindictive, but the thought DID cross my mind once as I got ready for work.

Grace, my AA, was probably about to call a shrink for me as she watched me operate in my fog for a second day in a row. When she asked me at lunch time about my strange apparent fugue state, I tried to snap to attention mentally and smile at her, assuring her that I just had a lot on my mind. She wasn't buying the simple answer, but she did not press it.

I left the office for the rest of the day at around two. I went home, but felt a need to park around the block from the house. I cut across back yards and entered my own house surreptitiously from the rear. There was no sign of Claire -- not that I had expected any -- but I still listened for any sign of a presence in my house.

I checked the phone recorders in the drawer of the computer desk and saw that one of the digital counters had moved since I had last checked. Plugging it in, I got one recorded call from the cell phone recorder. When I had transferred the conversation to the computer, and plugged in the ear buds to listen, I noted that the call had been made during Claire's lunch break.

[Male voice] "Hello; Harmon Motors, where your job is your credit for one of our new or quality pre-owned cars."

[Claire] "Tim Harmon, please."

[Male voice] "May I ask who is calling?"

[Claire, with cold precision] "No. Just get him." Wow, I thought. She was really intense with that poor guy.

[Different male voice] "This is Tim."

[Claire] "This is Claire Sloan. Did you see the paper today? Have you heard anything about how Harvey is doing? Have ..."

[Tim Harmon] "Whoa, Claire Bear." God, I hated that cutesy name that all her old friends called her. "Yeah, I guess the whole town has heard; seeing as how it was on the radio all morning and in the paper. Gay went down to the hospital and linked up with Joy this morning. Joy was a wreck, understandably -- scared to go back to her own house. I guess, with Harvey not there, and with the break-in and all, she feels vulnerable."

[Claire] "Tim, I can assure you that any woman would feel that way after such a traumatic thing as that in her own house. I know I would. What I called about is to beg off tonight in light of what happened with Harv and Joy."

[Tim] "Oh, no; just because of one random act of violence that happened to hit in our circle of friends, I am not passing up my night with you. So, don't even think of trying to get out of it."

[Claire] "Tim; be reasonable. This kind of thing puts what we are doing under greater threat of being discovered. I have told Gay and now I'm telling you; I will NOT endanger my marriage to Wade in all of this."

[Tim] "Look. I have to go. I have a business to run and appointments to keep. You just be there at seven tonight according to plan, like Gay told you on the phone Sunday, and we will all work together to keep Wade out of it ... heh, heh ... for now. Now, get hold of yourself and calm down. I gotta go." Click!

[Claire] "Son of a bitch ..." This last was said to no one, as the call was already cut off by Tim's having hung up on his end.

I put all the stuff away in the desk and put the computer to sleep. I would have liked to sit and contemplate a bit, but I knew that I had to get out of the house in case Claire came by here for some reason. I also did not want my neighbors who got off work earlier than either of us to spot me here and say something to Claire -- after all; I was supposed to be busy at work until late tonight.

Deer Hollow subdivision, where Tim and Gay Harmon resided, was an established residential area and there was no good place for me to watch the Harmon house from within my 4Runner. Parking it on their street would be too obvious. So, I parked at the club house for the subdivision's community center and walked the three blocks to their street. I had arrived at six o'clock so that I could see what might be transpiring before and during Claire's expected arrival. I also had to find a place from which to watch without being detected.

There was a small retention pond behind the Harmon house. On the far side of the pond from their house, there was a very small building that looked like it might be a pump house for the city and county sewer system. Landscaping around the small building provided me enough shrubbery and bushes to be screened from view from the street and neighboring houses; while I was able to look obliquely at the back of the Harmon house from the driveway side.

I had been watching the back and side of the house for about ten minutes when I saw the patio door open. Two large men came out and closed the patio door behind them. They looked all around before moving off the back deck. Then, they strolled casually toward the retention pond and skirted the shore around the far side and through the yard of a house off to my left.

One of the men carried a cardboard box about two feet by two feet by two feet and one carried a bag that looked similar to the one carried by the landscapers I had seen the day before at the Bland house. In fact, these men looked exactly like the two landscapers I had seen the day before. They were not dressed in landscaping coveralls this time. Today, they wore khaki work clothes, maybe Carhartts.

I listened for about another ten minutes to the silence in the air, except for normal neighborhood noises and the sounds of passing minivans. There were no sirens in the distance. So much for Neighborhood Watch; these guys just waltzed out of a house in the subdivision in the middle of the day while the neighborhood simply ... watched!

Detecting movement at the side of the Harmon house, I looked to see Claire's Camry pull up in the driveway. After a minute or so, she got out and I lost sight of her as she walked around the front of the house.

The tension I had experienced earlier, followed by the smug satisfaction that Sonny's guys had already finished whatever they had been up to in the Harmon house, was now replaced by anger. I was seething at my wife's deception and outright lies. I had planned to call her with another preemptive call, like the one at the Bland house. But, this time, I just watched to see what would happen next.

There were no signs of activity and still no untoward sounds from the neighborhood. After about five minutes, I saw Claire reappear from the front of the house and walk around to the side and back. She looked all around, giving the indication that she was trying to determine if she were being watched by neighbors and then moved up onto the Harmon's patio deck. Here she paused and just looked at the patio door ten feet away.

That's when I hit the speed dial on my phone. Claire had been just about to step toward the back patio door when I saw her jump. Quickly reaching for her cell phone, she turned and began to walk back toward her car.

"Hello? Wade? What's the matter, Honey?" she asked. I could detect the fear in her voice.

"Hey, Sweetie, I was just calling to say just that very word ...'Hey' ... there's nothing the matter on my end. Is there something the matter there? By the way, where is the Majestic Party tonight?" I asked, after my dig at her conscience.

She paused and I could hear her breathing heavily, obviously still startled by my call. "Oh, it's at the ... umm ...Claiborne's. I'm almost there. I'm running behind and had to stop for gas."

"Okay, Sweetie. Well, I hope that it goes well tonight. You still plan on being late? If you don't pig out too much on the finger food, I could order pizza for a late snack and we could share that and some wine. Then, maybe we could ... uh ... snuggle, you know?"

Claire paused before answering. "I think we need to take a rain check on that, Baby. It sounds nice and romantic, but I am already tired and it's only going to be worse when I get in later after this party. But hold those types of thoughts for Saturday. THEN, I plan to rock your world for about a day-and-a-half. How does that sound?" She had gone from sounding frightened to sounding assured and sexy in the period of a few seconds.

I answered, "Oooh ... I like the sound of that. Well, I'll let you go. I wouldn't want to distract you and have you ending up in the wrong neighborhood ..." I saw her jump at that from all the way across the pond. "I mean with you being late already and all. Love you, Sweetie; see ya later." I cut the call before she could even answer.

I saw Claire look at the phone in her hand. Then she looked like she might be contemplating trying the Harmon's back door again. She then just sighed and turned back toward her car, all the while scanning the windows of the house trying to detect any sign of anyone's being at home; evidently with no success.

Unlocking the car with the remote key fob, she walked to the driver's door and got into her car and backed out. Turning away, she drove off, turning onto the street where my hideout was, and she passed my location without even looking at the structure behind which I was hidden.

The rest of Wednesday evening went much like Tuesday evening. I wasted some time before heading home and, evidently, so did Claire.

I heard her arrive in the house at about eleven and I could only wonder where she had gone to hang out in order to keep her own cover story alive. I smiled to myself and turned away from the bedroom door and feigned sleep when she came in to undress for the night. I was asleep before she finished in the bathroom and came to bed.

After my early run on Thursday morning, I brought in the newspaper and saw the headline -- this time, above the fold on the front page -- 'Second Home Invasion in Two Days.' I scanned the article briefly to assure myself that it did, in fact, reference an attack on the Harmon home, and then I went inside the house without looking for any more details. I placed the newspaper on the kitchen table in Claire's place. I had an idea of what the rest of the story would say about details; I was just content to see the Harmons get theirs in some way.

I had some coffee and held the cordless house phone in my hand as I sipped my coffee and watched for indications of Claire's descent from upstairs. When I heard her moving toward the head of the stairs, I hit a speed dial button on the phone, connecting me to the ADT Security number. As Claire turned into the kitchen, she heard me voicing my concern to our home security company's help line.