Stalking The Phoenix

====================== Stalking the Phoenix by Karen S. Woods ====================== Copyright (c)1999 by Karen S. Woods First published by The Fiction Works, July 2004 The Fiction Works www.fictionworks.com Susense/Thriller --------------------------------NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Duplication or distribution of this work by email, floppy disk, network, paper print out, or any other method is a violation of international copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines and/or imprisonment. --------------------------------*Chapter 1* _Alicia_ I parked my lovingly restored white and black 1955 Chevrolet Bel-Aire in the small parking lot adjacent to the concrete block building. Literally shaking with fear, I walked across the slick, wet, green asphalt on this stormy noon hour on the eighth day of April. Thankfully, the rain that had come down so forcefully only minutes before was now nothing more than drizzle. But, looking at the sky, it was obvious that there was another storm coming. I thought that it was ironic that the sky so perfectly matched my situation: dark, stormy, and with threats on both horizons. I would have, gleefully, given anything, everything, that I owned not to be facing the next few minutes. Yet, there was no help for it. I didn't see any other course of

action open to me, not if I wanted to survive. Strangely enough, survival has always been important to me. Only a few steps separated me from the side door of the white stucco covered concrete block building which housed the greater portion of the municipal government and services for this small Midwest town which the residents laughingly thought of as a City. Yet, those few steps from my car to the door seemed as though they took an eternity to accomplish. My reflection in the glass door looked reasonably normal. Isn't it funny how appearances can be misleading? Well, maybe 'funny' is the wrong word. 'Strange' might be more appropriate. No, that doesn't quite cover it, either, does it? As I briefly examined my imperfect reflection, I knew that any casual observer would not be able to tell that anything was in any way different with me than it had been yesterday or last week. Long dark hair wound into a secure knot on the back of my head, violet eyes, medium height, athletic figure, dressed in a dark-blue silk business suit, and carrying a briefcase: I appeared the quintessential businesswoman. The picture of cool efficiency would have been complete, if I could have only stopped the slight trembling which had been nearly constant since midnight. Looking on the outside, there was no indication that my whole world had come crashing down about my shoulders overnight. Once inside the building, ten paces and a left turn took me into the police department. I stopped in front of a badly painted wallboard-and-glass cubicle. A local Boy Scout troop had painted the interior of the building a year before as a volunteer effort. Frankly, I had always thought that the free labor had been worth precisely what the municipality had paid for it, if not a little less. But, I had never heard anyone voice dissatisfaction with the job that the boys had done. And I wasn't about to be the first to criticize the boys' effort. Inside the cubicle sat Delores Kennedy, the police dispatcher, who was monitoring a myriad of considerably less-than-state-of-the-art electronic devices. Delores looked up at me, smiled, and asked kindly, "Yes, how can I help you, Alicia?" Delores and I are both members of the Parish choir. Delores sings alto. I sing mezzo-soprano. But, I had never seen her in the blues of the municipal department's uniform. "I..." I swallowed hard. I felt that my voice was shaking as badly as my body was. "Are either Phil Mallory or Chuck Edmunds in, Delores?" Not that I wanted to speak with anyone about this, but, since I really had no choice, it would be far better to talk with someone whom I knew. Not that I was exactly bosom buddies with either of the officers, you understand.

Frankly, I had a difficult time envisioning a circumstance in which I could be bosom buddies with any policeman, let alone a fairly high ranking officer ... especially a high ranking police officer. There were just too many old scars from my previous dealings with the police. Yet, I had worked with both of the officers on various social service projects over the past few years since I had relocated to Fieldsburg. Both of the men, I had found, to my great surprise, were honest and honorable. And both men were close friends of my fiancee. Phil was to be the Best Man at my upcoming wedding, and Chuck was going to be a groomsman. I knew that I could trust either or both of them to keep the matter as confidential as possible and to protect me as much as I could be protected. The only question was whether anyone could protect me. Personally, I doubted it. Delores Kennedy smiled at me. "I guess that you are all excited about the wedding. It's only two months away, now, right?" "Seven weeks." Then my tone became urgent, "I really do need to talk with either Phil or Chuck. Are either of them in, please?" The dispatcher took one long, assessing, look at me before she picked up the telephone and rapidly punched in an extension number. "Chief Mallory? Doctor Jenkins from the college is up here asking for you. She's awfully upset ... yes, sir." Delores returned her attention to me. "He'll be right out. Take a seat." "Thanks." It was a matter of only two or three minutes before Phil Mallory strolled into the small lobby area. Philip Andrew Mallory is an impressive man by anyone's standards. Yet, in the dress blues of the city police, he was positively intimidating. Tall, muscular, dark hair with more than just a touch of gray at the temple, a scar -apparently a legacy from a knife wound -- graced the left side of his face; this was the way that I assessed him. I would not particularly want to meet him in a dark alley, especially if he were angry and I was unarmed. Although he often covered his rugged harshness with a cloak of kindness, Phil Mallory was one truly tough customer. I knew for a fact that he was not a man who suffered fools gladly. Yet, I had seen how kind and gentle he could be in his volunteer work with Big Brothers/Big Sisters and in the volunteer work that I did as a victim's advocate with the local Crisis Center. And he was Geoff's best friend. So, I hoped that I wasn't making too big of a mistake bringing this to him. A major mistake at this point could cost my life; I knew that only too well. Doing nothing would cost my life. Surely, this couldn't be worse than doing nothing. Could

it? I hoped that it couldn't. But, just then though, I wouldn't have sworn to it. "Hello, Al. Missed you at the funeral ... but, you had classes this morning, didn't you?" Phil's voice was one of the better tenors ever to grace the Community Chorus. His voice, the gentleness and warmth contained there, covered me like a soothing balm. I sighed. I had totally forgotten about the funeral of the State's Attorney who had been killed in a car accident only days earlier. Naturally, that would be a reason for Phil to be in dress blues. I felt badly for having forgotten the funeral. But, considering the morning that I had been having, I suppose that was to be expected. "Yeah, I had classes to teach," I said, suddenly reluctant to open the matter up, yet knowing that I had no choice. "Geoff not with you?" he asked. I forced a smile. "Ah ... you see, that's why they promoted you, Phil ... your fine powers of observation and deduction." "Real funny, Al. I was just going to lunch, would you like to join me?" "It wasn't intended to be funny, Philip. This is not a social call." "It's not?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, as he suppressed a grin. "I had hoped that you had just stopped in to say 'hello'. It's not often that gorgeous women stop in to see me." "No, Phil. I really wish it were that simple. This is purely business -- your business. I've got a problem. Could we go somewhere less public and discuss it, please?" He looked at me with sharp assessment in his eyes before he nodded once. "Sure thing, Al. Why don't you step on back to my office?" -------*Chapter 2* _Phil_ I felt the tension radiating from her from the moment that I stepped into the lobby. There was something definitely wrong with Geoff's lady. Although I was mostly behind a desk these days, I hadn't entirely lost my knack for reading people. Somehow, the thought of self-sufficient Al Jenkins needing help floored me even as the thought that she had come to me for help sent an odd thrill through me.

I didn't want to explore the reasons for that thrill too carefully. At forty-nine, I'm more than slightly familiar with chemistry. I just never thought that I would be feeling it with my best friend's fiancee. Al sat in a chair next to the battered metal desk in the small office in which I spent the greater part of my working time. "So, Al," I asked in a forced business-like tone, "what can I do for you?" "You can help to keep me alive, Phil. You can help keep me alive." There was no sarcasm in her voice. The set of her jaw and the fear in her eyes told me clearly that she was seriously, almost mortally, afraid. I had dealt with fearful people before, many more times than I wanted to think about, but the look of fear on Al's face made my stomach twist oddly. It wasn't more than a short moment before she continued, in a tone absolutely devoid of emotion, "I need your help, Phil. I need you to help keep me alive." "What makes you think that you need police help for that?" She removed a small tape recorder/player from her briefcase. "You're about to hear what is probably an illegal wiretap. I don't know what the law is about such things. And frankly, at this point, I don't care." "Alicia!" "Just listen to this and tell me what you think, but don't say anything until you've listened to the entire tape of the phone calls that I've been getting." Al's hands trembled as she placed the machine on my desk and pressed the play button. A heavily accented, deep bass, Hispanic, voice said, "Seester ... I know where you are, Seester. Make your peace with God. You'll be meeting him soon, seester." The words were followed by a click as though the caller had hung up. There were eight similar calls recorded on the tape. Each time the message was short, so that the time of the connection was less than twenty seconds per call. I watched her reactions as the tape played. I stood convinced she was completely terrified. Personally, the tapes raised more questions in my mind than they answered. When I reached over and turned off the player, Alicia began to answer my questions without my needing to ask them. "The calls started again last night. This is all of them, except for the first one. I was so shaken on the first one that I didn't think to record it. There's no pattern to the timing of the calls, so far. I've had three within an hour and as little as one in a

two-hour period. I've kept a log of the time at which the calls came in." I took the small wire bound notebook from her shaking fingers. I flipped through it. "Only you would have the discipline to log the calls." "Discipline? Phil, this isn't discipline. It's fighting for my life. This man is serious. He wants to kill me." "Most crank calls are just that ... cranks. Mostly they are harmless," I assured her. "I know that they are disturbing, but there really isn't a thing that I can do about them." "This one isn't a crank. I know who is calling. Believe me, if he says that he is going to kill me, he will try to do so. He's tried before. He almost succeeded the last time. Trust me, he wants me dead." Tears flowed slowly down her face, leaving a streak of brown mascara on each cheek. "You've got to stop him, Phil ... please, I don't want to die. Especially not at the hands of that animal..." Her voice bordered on the hysterical. "I've suffered enough at his hands, I will not allow him to hurt me further. Help me, Phil. Please." 'Hysterical' is one word I would have never previously thought to apply to the cool, collected, and profoundly logical, local businesswoman and college professor, Al Jenkins. From the top of her raven hair, to her violet eyes, down the five-foot, six-inches of her spare, athletic, frame, to the soles of her expensively shod, delicate feet, this was one woman who was always extremely in control of herself and of the situation surrounding her. This frightened woman who sat now at my desk was so different from the Al whom I knew that I found it hard to believe that they were one and the same. I handed her my handkerchief. "Just calm down, Al. We're not going to get anywhere without your being calm." She waved the square of cotton cloth away. "You'd never get the mascara stains out of it," she answered as I watched her remove her own, delicate lace edged, embroidered linen, handkerchief from her suit jacket pocket. Al was the only woman whom I knew who still used linen handkerchiefs. Most of the women whom I knew had long ago switched to packets of disposable tissues. A few, for ecological reasons, had resumed using cloth. But no other woman in my circle used those delicate lace edged linen squares. It was one of the many little things which made Al unique; one of the traits which branded her as old-fashioned, as being a step or so away from the modern world.

"Take a couple of deep breaths and calm yourself," I urged. "I'm okay. I'm just more shaken by the calls than I wanted to admit, even to myself." She was obviously embarrassed by having cried in front of anyone. "You're convinced that these are not just crank calls? That someone is actually intending to go through with the threats?" "I wouldn't be opening this up, otherwise, Phil. It's all too painful. Personally, I had hoped that this would all stay buried in the past where it belonged. But..." She shrugged and sighed. "I don't know how he tracked me down. I thought that I'd made it next to impossible to find me." "Back up. Slow down. And tell me this from the beginning." "From the beginning? Frankly, I'd rather not," she said. Then she sighed. "But, I suppose that you are going to have to know. Soon, everyone will know..." I waited for her to continue. She looked up at me. "Do you have any idea how difficult this is? Of course you don't. Forget that I asked." She sighed again. "Until twelve years ago, I lived in Los Angeles and worked in a shelter for runaway teenagers. We tried to take young girls and boys off the streets, put them in rehab programs to shake their drug addictions, get them medical treatment, and when possible reconcile them with their parents ... although that wasn't always possible. And when we couldn't place the children back within their homes, we tried to find foster homes for them as far removed from working the streets as possible." She shook her head as to dismiss the memories. "Certainly, it was greatly different work than I'm doing now." I nodded in agreement. Yes, working with runaways was quite a bit different from the quite profitable hardware and software house she ran, or from the role of Computer Science professor at the local college. I filed that information away. It would bear some thinking about. But, I could see her in that position. There was something of the social worker in her make up. "I don't want to explain all of this. I don't think that I can." Her voice was perilously close to cracking. The strain was written on her face. "But, I have to .... Please just bear with me. This is difficult." "This ties in with the calls?"

"Yes. I wouldn't be bringing it up otherwise." She closed her eyes and took a several deep breaths. She opened her eyes, sat up straight, and looked me directly in the eye. It was obvious that she had steeled herself for the trauma. "Phil, there is no good way of saying this. So, I'll just distill it down. The man who is making these threats is the brother of the men whom I killed in Los Angeles." "Al, if this is a confession, I have to inform you that you have the rights to remain silent and to have an attorney present for this conversation. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law." The last thing that I needed was to have to extradite her to California. Geoff simply wouldn't like that at all. And neither would I. -------*Chapter 3* _Alicia_ Now, I could feel the tension coming from him. Suddenly, he was no longer just Phil. Now, he was once more all policeman, a peculiar subspecies of Homo Sapiens Sapiens with whom I had one too many dealings in the past. I shook my head negatively. "It's not a confession. I've been through all that legal mess in California, Phil. The deaths were ruled justifiable homicides. I acted in self-defense. There are no charges pending against me in any court ... so, you can stop worrying about having to slap me in irons." Phil laughed nervously. The look in his eye told me that I had gauged his thoughts fairly accurately. "That would have been difficult to explain to Geoff." "Wouldn't it have just?" I asked. "Does Geoff know about this?" Phil asked. "Of course, Geoff knows all about my notorious past. I wouldn't have agreed to marry him without telling him. That simply wouldn't have been fair to him. He needed to know what he might have been getting into with this relationship." "Deaths?" How he could put so much restrained curiosity into one word, I would never know. "Two men ... I killed two men. Twelve years ago."

I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "I see." I wasn't at all sure that he did. "The man making the calls, you are certain that he is the brother of the deceased?" "I'm positive of the voice. I'll never forget that voice, not as long as I live. Lord, I've heard it in my nightmares so often in the last twelve years that I'll never forget it." "Why would the brother still be after you?" "What's there to say? The brother swore vengeance on me. Based on my experience with the man, I have no reason to believe that a dozen years time would do anything except make him hate me that much more intensely. It's like a festering wound with him. He's not quite sane where I am concerned. I'm not certain that the man is sane, in any regard." Phil waited silently for me to continue. But, I could tell that he thought that I was being melodramatic. I wasn't. I meant every word that I said. "I just never thought that he would find me. I've done everything that I could do to make it difficult to find me. I've changed my name, changed my appearance, changed my occupation, and changed the area of the country in which I live. I have personally stayed as far out of the public eye as possible, without becoming a hermit. The company name might be a household word, but my name and face have not become so. I've tried to stay personally as much out of the spotlight as I could." "Calm down, Al." "I am as calm as I am going to get." "Would you like a cup of coffee?" he asked. I laughed with a sound that was nearly a sob. "No, ah, I think that my nerves are on edge quite well enough, thank you." "Continue, Al. Make me understand." "I don't regret having killed. Don't take anything that I say to be meaning that, at all. Both men were scum. I mean, they made their living by exploiting young girls in the vilest ways known..." He just sat there waiting for me to continue. I wished that he would say something, anything. But, preferably something like, "It's okay, Al. You don't have to say

anything more." Yet, I knew that he wasn't going to do anything except wait for me to finish the explanation. "Some of those girls were runaways who were barely into their teens, but many were even younger. The men were trying to remove one of the girls from the shelter. The two of them..." I shook my head as I gulped for air. "The two of them..." I lowered my eyes. I couldn't stand the curiosity in his eyes, even though it was masked with professionalism. I had been the subject of far too much curiosity about certain events in my life. I abhor being the target of curious stares, whispers, and gossip. That had been one of the reasons that I had left my life behind me in LA and had made a totally fresh start. The other reason was that I didn't want anyone to be able to find me. Phil looked at me as I twisted my handkerchief and fought for control. I felt his eyes looking at me. But, I couldn't bring myself to look up at him. I didn't want to see the curiosity or the revulsion or the pity that usually accompanied a person's realization of who I was. "It really doesn't matter now," I dismissed with a sigh. I've never been a person who feels comfortable displaying my emotions that openly. No, that's a lie. There was a time when I was very young, before I learned that people could use your emotions to control you, when I was very comfortable by displaying my emotions. But, that time has been gone for thirty years, or more. "I think that it does matter, Al. It's still hurting you. Anything that still hurts you that badly has to continue to matter," he said. "No!" I felt my lips quivering. And I hated it. I knew that my eyes were probably bright with the tears I was struggling not to shed as I looked up at Phil. I knew that I was behaving badly, but my control was stretched almost to the breaking point. "That was a very long time ago. All I want to do is to leave it in the past. I thought that I had left it there ... but, I guess that you never can leave the past behind. Can you?" I asked. Phil just looked at me while I composed myself. The starkness of my tone had not hidden the pain I still felt. I sighed, then spoke in a more controlled, almost analytical, tone. "No, if I have to be honest, I knew that I hadn't left it in the past. The truth is that the events still haunt me. And probably always will haunt me..." "The exterior scars are always the quickest to heal."

"Yes," I said with a sigh. "I know." "Want to tell me about it?" "Want? There's nothing of 'want' here, Philip. All I want is to be left alone. But, I doubt that is going to happen any time soon. The situation is spinning out of control and I don't really think that I can stop it." "I can understand the emotion. Help me understand the facts, Al. I still don't understand why you believe that the brother is still obsessed enough to try to harm you after all these years." "You'd have to have lived it, Philip. I don't think that I can explain it." I paused for a moment to marshal my courage. My past wasn't something that I wanted to expose. I didn't want anyone to see the dark underbelly of my soul. But, I had said this much. Without saying the rest would leave Phil with the impression that I was seriously unstable. I couldn't do that. There are many unflattering epithets applied to me but 'unstable' has never been one of them. I drew a deep breath then looked him straight in the eye. "Did you ever see the film, To Light a Candle'?" "A few years back. I think that almost everyone has seen it. Why?" It wasn't more than a second later when I saw him make the connection. If Phil had been a cartoon character with a light bulb positioned over his head, the instant in which he came to an understanding could not have been clearer. The expression on his face passed into discovery and then into horror. I wanted to sink into the floor. -------*Chapter 4* _Phil_ I recalled the film. It had been the topic of conversation for quite a while. It had been based on a sensational story straight out of the headlines. A young nun had killed two brothers in self-defense while they had been in the process of terrorizing and raping her. Then she was very nearly murdered by a third brother while she was in the hospital being treated for the injuries incurred at the hands of the two dead brothers.

Finding the young Sister asleep, the third, younger, brother had overpowered, bound and gagged, then murdered the older nun who was sitting with the younger Sister. Then the younger brother had taped the younger Religious' mouth closed and had bound her hand and foot to the bed with the same tape. Then.... I didn't even want to think about the rest of it. But the images from the film kept flooding back into my mind: images I had a difficult time applying to the woman seated in my office. Yet, I had no doubt that she was trying to tell me that she had been the young nun in question. Taken from the headlines, and from the book the young nun had written about her experience, the film had sparked quite a controversy. The case was used in college ethics textbooks. Al nodded tightly. "Except for changing the names, omitting some irrelevant details, and changing a few of the minor details to make it more dramatic, it was a fairly accurate account of what happened in the shelter and of the aftermath of those actions," she told me. Her shoulders were now rounded as though she was bearing the weight of a dozen years of memories upon them. I had to force myself to retain some measure of objectivity when it was obvious, painfully obvious, that she needed a friend to hold her and to tell her that everything would be made right. I wasn't at all sure that I could tell her that things would be fine. If she was correct, she definitely had a problem. "Must I elaborate?" she asked. I was struck by the absolute emptiness of her eyes. It was as though she had totally withdrawn into herself to shield herself from the pain. I had seen other people react to trauma that way. In Nam, I had seen that look on the face of several men who had been through too much, who had reached their breaking points. Twenty-nine years of law enforcement, first in the army, then in this normally quiet town where I had grown up, had forced me to grow calluses over my emotions in order to survive. But, the thought that the delicate woman whom I knew had endured that most base of human degradation at the hands of that punk and his brothers, the very thought of it filled me with nearly murderous rage. Had the surviving brother been in the room, I knew that I would have had no hesitation in putting him out of everyone's misery. I finally found my voice. It was harsher than normal as I tried to control the anger

that I suddenly found within myself. "You think that that punk who..." From the stricken expression on her face, I decided that she was close enough to breaking down. I didn't want to add any more to the situation than I had to. "...hurt you twelve years ago is the one making the calls?" "I know he is. I recognized the voice." There was absolute conviction in her voice. She fished into her briefcase. "This is a tape of some of the harassing phone calls which I received when I was recovering from the first attack. If you'll listen to them, you'll hear that it is the same voice. Running a sonogram analysis, er ... voice print, on both tapes should tell you that it is the same man in both series of calls. I've already rigged the equipment and run the analysis on both tapes. My equipment is not as accurate as the professional set up would be, but it is accurate enough to convince me that it is the same voice on both tapes. Here are the print outs." "I don't know how to read this, Al," I admitted as I took the pages of computer print out from her hand. She removed the first tape from her machine and replaced it with one of the older ones. "Just listen, then." She pressed the play button. I listened to the voice. Al stopped and ejected the tape. The voice that came over the speaker sounded the same as the previous tape. Only a voice print identification would verify that they were indeed made by the same person. Something else about the tape bothered me, but I couldn't quite register it clearly. "What time did the last call come in, Al?" "About four a.m." "It is now twelve forty. How did you find the time to set up equipment? Didn't you have classes this morning?" Al looked embarrassed. "I teach hardware classes, Phil. I just took my students into the lab this morning. We all worked as a team to rig the machinery to do the analysis. It wasn't what was on my lesson plans. But, then, it was good experience for them. And with the extra hands, I got the job done quite a bit faster than I could have done it, myself. Of course, I didn't tell them anything behind the reason for the equipment. And we will be using it for other things. So, it isn't a totally self-indulgent waste." I smiled slightly because that sounded like something that I could well imagine Al doing. In the four years that I had known her, I had never known her to sit around bemoaning anything instead of dealing with whatever was wrong head-on. I'd always assessed her as a strong, shoot from the hip, type woman. "Organized Al."

"Just frightened out of my skin, Phil. And working against a clock where I don't know how much time that it might have on it. My life could very well depend on how well I use what time that I do have." "Al, the first thing that you need to do at this point would to change your phone number, and to make it unlisted." "Called General Telephone first thing this morning and put in that request. That work should be done by now. I asked them to do so immediately, and they promised to put a rush on it, for a sizable fee, of course." "I see..." "He might not even have to come near me. If this keeps up, I just may have a fear-induced heart attack. But, if he found out my phone number, he probably has my address, too. God, Phil. I'm scared to death. I've ordered caller ID. But, it's going to be a few days before that service order gets filled." "You can't go on living alone. That makes you altogether too easy of a target. You need to have someone else with you." "No! The one thing that I can't do is to allow Hernandez another target. To involve someone else, an innocent, and to potentially to place that person in danger, is something that I simply will not do," she stated fiercely, spacing the last five words for emphasis. "I simply will not do it." "Al, be sensible." "I am being sensible! I've got enough blood on my hands as it is. I don't need to add the blood of an innocent!" "And Geoff doesn't need to have to bury you," I countered harshly, regretting the words when I saw her flinch. Then, I made a conscious effort to soften my tone. "It just about destroyed him twenty years ago when we had to bury my sister, Jan, only a week before their wedding. It took him a lot of years to get over her. He might never recover emotionally if anything happened to you..." A small shudder ran though her. She bit her lip. I wished that I could read her mind. "Believe me, I don't want to place that burden on Geoff, either. Especially, since there are only seven weeks to go until the wedding." "Think about this, hard. Your wedding is less than two months away, woman! No

one would think twice about your moving in with Geoff. In fact, a few of us have wondered why you and he haven't already done so." Al laughed mirthlessly. "I just bet it has been a topic of discussion." "No offense intended." "Oh, of course not," she said. There was fire in her eyes. "I should not be at all upset to find my fiancee's friends gossiping about us behind our backs. Tell me, did the speculations deal with the fact that we are living separately, or did they delve into whether or not Geoff and I are sl...." She blushed brightly. "Nevermind. I don't want to know." "No one meant to make you angry, or hurt you, Al." "Maybe not." She forced herself to smile. "But, you are right about one thing, being killed just wouldn't fit in with my plans at the moment." "No, it wouldn't." "I have no intention of allowing that Hernandez bastard to get anywhere near me. I have a gun and will use it, if that becomes necessary..." Her voice trailed off. Then she added in somewhat of an undertone, "I just hope that it doesn't become necessary." "I hope that it doesn't either. You have this gun on you?" I asked as I carefully looked at her, my eyes running over her in search for the bulge declaring her to be armed. "I do." "Care to produce the weapon?" "Must I?" "Definitely." Al unbuttoned her suit coat and reached for the loaded Walther PPK she wore in a holster in the small of her back. Double checking that the safety was on, she handed me the weapon. Illinois doesn't have a concealed carry permit law. Technically, she was breaking the law. I knew that I should have confiscated the weapon and put her under arrest. But, given the situation, I decided to look the other way and pretend I had no knowledge of it.

"It's legal, Phil," she stated quietly as she handed me a slip of paper. "Doug Webb was kind enough to make me an auxiliary deputy and to authorize the carrying of a weapon, shortly after I came to the county. But, he did so only after he and I went to the shooting range together and he could be sure that I would hit what I aimed at. I'm down at the lab at all kinds of hours. I needed to be sure I could protect myself." "My aren't you full of surprises today." I handed her back the weapon and the authorization from the county sheriff. "If Doug is comfortable with your skill level, I'm sure that you are competent." "I wouldn't feel comfortable carrying it if I weren't competent. And I don't make a habit of drawing the weapon unless I intend to use it. I have no intention of ever being a victim of violence, again. I mean that Phil." I had no doubt that she meant every word of what she said. Absolutely no doubt. If she had felt any differently, I would have been surprised. "I'll need a description of the person you think is placing the calls." "Oh, I can do better than that." She reached into her briefcase one last time. She handed me a folder. "That is a copy of his police record. It is complete with photographs, fingerprints, and his arrest history. I think that there is an active NCIC number there. He's still wanted for the attack on me, as well as for murdering a cop, and a half dozen other offenses of varying severity." I took the folder and looked through it. "Where did you get this?" She bit her lip, then looked at me sheepishly. "There are some things, Phil, that it is better off not inquiring too deeply into. I didn't ask any questions of the person who sent me this, several years ago, because I simply didn't want to know." "I see ... What aren't you telling me, Al?" "Listen to the calls. Then listen to the tape of the calls that I've received in the past. The background noises are too close to identical. They may be identical. The words are about the same. The whole situation reeks of some sort of weird _deja vu_. It seems too much of a coincidence that the calls are so similar. Entirely too much of a coincidence, if you ask me." "As though someone had taken the original tape and duplicated it?" "That has to be one possibility. But, if it is true, it means that he's been in my house. I don't want to even think about that." "I understand how you feel, Al. Let's see if the calls continue since your number has

been changed. If they do, we can put a tap and a trace on the line." She pressed her lips together firmly. "Is that the best that you can do?" "I'm afraid so. You have my home number and the station is connected on the 911 system. Call me if you need someone to talk to. Call 911 if the situation warrants it. Someone will be there directly." "Well, thanks for nothing, Philip!" She rose from the old wooden chair. "I really thought that there was something that you all could do. I guess that until you have a corpse on your hands that you won't be able to do anything. I only hope that the dead person isn't me. Just know that there isn't a doubt in my mind that if ... if I'm pushed far enough that I can and will kill to protect myself. I have before. I'm certainly capable of it." My mouth twisted into a wry acceptance of her words. "Yeah. I understand that," I said as I absentmindedly fingered the scar on the side of my face, the only physical sign of the one time that I had found it necessary to kill, aside from my Army years. -------*Chapter 5* _Alicia_ By the time that I had left the station, I was already regretting losing my temper with Phil. After all, it was a wild story I had told him. If someone had come to me with an unsupported tale of that nature, I would have been hard pressed to believe it. So, I really couldn't blame Phil for not wanting to believe me. Or, at least, that was what the rational part of my mind said. Still, the less rational part of me was disappointed. I had told him my biggest, darkest, secret and he had reacted predictably. Somehow, I had expected more of him. That hope had not been rational. But, then again, is hope ever truly rational? I wasn't the best person to contemplate that question. Hope and I had not been on a speaking basis in a dozen years. I got into my vintage Chevy and drove away. Somehow, this car always cheered me. I don't know what it was about it. But, I knew, from the first moment that I saw it that I had to have it, even though it had needed massive amounts of work. That, in itself, is grossly uncharacteristic of me. Possessions have not been all that important to me since childhood. Of course, with a childhood like mine, that's understandable. "Dwelling on the past, again, Alicia Marie? For shame," I said to myself. "Leave it

behind, and concentrate on the future." Those words were almost a litany for me. Leave the past behind. That could have been my motto. The problem was that I couldn't leave it behind. And I wondered if anyone ever could. -------*Chapter 6* _Phil_ I sat thinking for several minutes after Al left. Why did I feel so disappointed with myself for letting her down? What did she expect anyway? That I would issue an APB on the man? Lord, there was no indication that the calls were even being made locally. There was a reasonable doubt in my mind the calls were even being placed by the same man. What a mess! Still, I had to admire her. It wasn't often that a person met a real live hero. Real live hero? That was a bad choice of words, given the situation. She was afraid of becoming a real dead hero. I doubted seriously that she saw herself as anything or anyone special, definitely not as a hero. In the previous forty-five minutes, I knew that I had learned far more about her than she was comfortable letting anyone know. That glimpse of the real Al Jenkins just re-enforced my liking of the woman who was soon to marry my best friend. I filled out a complete report on the telephone calls. Then I left the building and walked the five blocks down to the city library. It was time to refresh my memory on the subject. After all, it was my lunch hour and if I wanted to skip lunch to spend time in the library, that was certainly my prerogative. I wasn't particularly surprised when Al telephoned late that evening. I had just finished re-reading the book she had written about her experience. If Al had been in the room with me, best friend's fiancee or not, I would have taken her in my arms and held her tightly until the pain stopped. Just then, though, I wasn't certain whose pain the holding would have assuaged. "Phil, he's still calling," she said with preamble. "Has the number change gone through?" "Yes." "Okay. Who has been told of your new number?"

"The answering service, Geoff's secretary, and the attorney that I have acting as a go-between between Sarah Quinn and myself." "Sarah Quinn? Not the girl from the shelter?" "Yes." "Easy, Alicia. What do you mean that you have an attorney acting as a go-between between you and Sarah?" "Sarah needed a hand to get her life together. I gave that to her. She's doing her Master's degree in Nursing. She's twenty-six now. Sarah doesn't know it, but I am paying for her tuition. She thinks that it is a full scholarship, which she had won. I've set it up so that she can't contact me directly, as a way to protect both of us. Anyone finding one of us would have no good way of tracking back to the other one. That way both of us are protected, somewhat." "I see..." That was the kind of thing that Al would have done. She was always generous with her time and money when it came to helping youngsters and advancing women's causes. There was certainly evidence of that given the amount of her spare time she spent volunteering as a youth advocate at the local youth attention center. And the time she spent acting as an advocate for the crisis center. Then there were the self-defense classes she taught to the girls at the local high schools, both parochial and public. Al had provided the start-up costs and the initial two years' funding for the local women's crisis center. Yes, I thought, I could definitely believe that Al was paying for Sarah Quinn's graduate school tuition. "So, what are you going to do about this, Phil?" she demanded. Her fear put a harsh edge on her voice. "I'll get the paperwork started to put a tap on your phone. And I'll see what I can do to speed up the caller id service order." **** After we hung up, I did a little investigating via the telephone. "Jencomp. This is the answering service..." a female voice said answering on the fourth ring of the phone. "Yes, I was trying to reach someone. It is urgent that I get in touch. Every last copy of the Graphics Interface I bought for my store is defective. None of them will boot. It's a disaster. I need to talk with someone there, immediately."

"I can take a message and have her call you." "No, I need to reach her immediately. I've tried her home number, but I get a message that the number has been changed." "Yes, sir. Just a minute..." there was the distinct sound of papers being shuffled. Then the answering service read off the new number. "You do need for me to read that back to you?" "No. Thank you. I believe that will be enough." Damn!, I thought as I hung up the phone. There goes my nice narrow list of suspects. I dialed Al's number. She answered quickly in a flat tone by reading off her number. "Al. This is Phil." "Thank God that it is you. I thought that it might be Hernandez calling again." "Not this time. First thing tomorrow morning change your personal phone number, again. This time make certain that you tell the answering service not to give it out because it is unlisted. Or better yet, don't give them your home number at all. Not until we have a better handle on this." "Fantastic ... I see that I'm going to have to have a long talk with the service." "Any more calls since you called me?" "Yes..." Her voice cracked. "I'm scared..." "I know that you are. Is Geoff with you?" "He's at my office, working. You know how lawyers are. They are all workaholics," she said. "Geoff's probably more dedicated than others." "Have you told him about the calls?" "Not yet. There isn't any sense in worrying him, right now. He has enough things on his mind with trying to straighten out the mess concerning the Apple Acres project." "Al! If my fiancee were getting threatening phone calls, I'd definitely want to know about them. I know that Geoff would want to know." "And just what do you think that Geoff can do about this? What good would it do to worry him over this?"

This was not the voice of a woman in love, I thought. Not want to worry him? What sort of marriage are they going to have if she can't share her worries with Geoff? Although those were my thoughts, I kept them to myself. Instead, I asked, "Geoff's working? Do you want some company?" "That's okay, Phil. You don't have to hold my hand. I'm sorry to bother you..." "You aren't bothering me," I denied, lying through my teeth. If she had any idea of just how much or how she bothered me, she would never confide in me again. But, she was my best friend's fiancee. She was completely off limits to me. And I knew it. However, that didn't stop me from thinking about her. Funny, until she had walked into the station earlier in the day, I had thought of her as Geoff's lady. Period. But, now that I had a glimpse of her as the vulnerable woman behind the facade, I had to admit that I was growing more and more fascinated by her. And that was an emotion that I couldn't afford to have where she was concerned. "Do you think that I could get by with leaving the phone off the hook?" "I wouldn't. Just turn off the ringer and leave your answering machine to handle the calls. And try to get some sleep, you sound tired." "I am. When is this nightmare ever going to end?" "I don't know, Al, but I'm going to make certain that nothing happens to you." She sniffled, as she tried to choke back the tears threatening to form. "Is that a promise, Phil?" "You have my word on it, Alicia." "Can you keep that promise?" "I will, or I will die trying." "No," she answered in a strained voice. "There's been too much death already. Far too much death. Promise me that if there is a choice between your life and mine, you will choose your own. Promise me." "You know that I can't do that, Al. Protecting people is my job." "To quote a line from an old Clint Eastwood movie, 'Dying ain't much of a living, boy'"

"_The Outlaw Josie Wales_. I didn't think that you were an Eastwood fan." "There are a lot of things that you don't know about me, Philip." "I can believe that. Why don't you make yourself a hot toddy or something and try to rest." She made a derogatory sound. "Rest. How can I rest? Hernandez is out there and wants me dead. Would you be able to rest in a similar situation?" "If you don't sleep, you will be an easier target. I doubt you really want to make this too easy for him." "Did anyone ever tell you that you have the makings of a first class nag?" she responded with a hint of amusement, a faint hint, in her voice. "Sweet talking officers of the law will do you no good. Try to rest, Al. I'll have patrols pass your way more frequently." "Thanks, Phil. I appreciate it." Something just didn't jell about this, I thought after I hung up the telephone. The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. If the man wanted to hurt her, why was he terrorizing her with those calls? Why didn't he just act, unless the anticipation of the act of revenge was giving him some sort of psychological thrill? Or maybe, he was trying to scare her enough and wear down her resistance to the point that she would be jumping at shadows? Was the goal to do her physical harm, or was someone trying to drive her crazy? There just wasn't enough evidence to say one way or the other. The only thing that I knew for certain was that if I caught the person or persons behind this, I would definitely take deep personal pleasure in seeing him/them convicted. Provided, of course, that I could keep myself under enough control so that I didn't beat the perp senseless before charges could be brought. I hadn't felt this protective of any woman since Rachel had died. Those feelings surprised and disconcerted me. I had never been one to poach on marked territory. Al was Geoff's girl. The vulnerable woman whom she had shown herself to be had touched me in a way that no woman had reached me in the all the years since Rachel had died. And I was damned if I knew what I was going to do about it. Strike that. I knew only too well what I had to do about it. Nothing, _nada, nihil_. There was nothing that I could do, except try to make sure that she was safe, safe and safely handed over to my best friend, Geoff.

But, there was something very strange about the way that she had spoken of Geoff. Thinking back on it, I realized that I had never seen either of them be more demonstrative of affection to one another than holding hands. Did Al love Geoff? I wondered. I had never even seen them kiss one another. "It's none of your business, Philip," I muttered to myself. The hell it isn't, I mentally countered. If she doesn't love him, she shouldn't marry him. A marriage without love would just make both of them miserable. I couldn't sit still and watch my oldest friend make a mistake like that, could I? But, I knew that was precisely what I had to do. To take any other course of action would put a massive strain on the long-standing friendship between Geoff and myself. But, what kind of a friend would I be if I didn't do something about this? On the other hand, what sort of friend would I be if I did do something about it? I leaned back in my easy chair wondering if I had thoroughly lost my mind. Decisively, I picked up the phone and punched in Geoff's office number. The answering machine picked up. "Geoff, if you are there, pick up. It's important." "Phil?" "Yeah, buddy. Listen, Alicia needs you." "What's wrong? Has something happened to her?" "She came to see me today, Geoff." Geoff laughed. "That's a good one, old buddy. 'Licia wouldn't set foot in a police station, willingly." "I'm serious." "Is she okay?" Geoff asked with a panicked tone in his voice. "Physically, yes. But, she's pretty shaken." "Was she in an accident?" Without a lot of wasted words, I told Geoff about the visit. Geoff was silent until I reached the end of my tale. "Thanks for calling, Phil." Geoff's voice sounded weary.

"Look, it's none of my business..." "Usually, when someone says those words, they shouldn't say the words which follow," he advised. "I know. And I wouldn't be saying this at all, if I weren't concerned about both of you. What kind of a marriage are you going to have, if she won't even lean on you during a time like this?" "She's not used to having anyone to lean on, Phil. It's hard for her. She's never had anyone to lean on: well, not for years anyway. It's damn difficult for her to ask for anything, especially anyone's support. But, she's learning. Some things just take time. But, she's worth all the frustrations. Lord, Phil, I hurt for her every time that I think about all the bad breaks that she's had in her life. But, all that pain has made her strong, Phil. She's the strongest woman whom I know." "Even the strongest things can break if the heat and pressure get too high, Geoff." "Never. 'Licia is too flexible to break. She bends when she must." "I hope that you are right, Geoff. She was awfully shaken earlier today. And she sounded absolutely panicked a few minutes ago when I spoke to her." "Look, Phil, thanks for calling. I'm going over to 'Licia's place right now." "That would be for the best." "Yeah. Talk with you later," Geoff agreed. "Our usual handball game tomorrow?" I asked. "Of course, loser pays the fees." "Bring your wallet." Geoff laughed as he hung up. **** I knew that I had done the right thing in talking with Geoff. But why did I feel as though I had just betrayed Al? -------*Chapter 7*

_Alicia_ I answered the imperious summons of the doorbell. My small Walther PPK was in the patch pocket of my old, rather ratty, chenille robe. A round was in the chamber and the safety was on. I checked the peephole and sighed in relief. Geoff Samson stood there, in the doorway, looking for all the world like a blonde god straight from Mt. Olympus. Tall, slender, blue-eyed, platinum blonde hair cut with an almost military precision; this was what anyone saw when they looked at Geoff. Most people loved Geoff. He was an easy person of whom to grow fond. Warm, open, with an easygoing manner (except when he was in the courtroom -- where he turned absolutely ruthless in pursuit of his goals); this was how Geoff impressed people. He was a busy, mature, professional man with a good income and terrific prospects. Active in politics, Geoff had been asked to consider a run for the U.S. Senate. But, he had refused the offer saying that he was happy practicing law and dabbling in real estate. He was good with children. In short, he was everything I had decided that I wanted in a husband. Why did I now, so close to the wedding, remember the old saw about being careful what you want because you just might get it? Immediately, I dismissed that thought as both disloyal and unrealistic. I was pushing forty. Surely, I didn't expect to be swept off my feet. Surely, the sort of rational arrangement I had with Geoff was for the best. Or, at least, that was what my mind tried telling me. Geoff is a good man, I thought. And he'll be a good father. I can't really ask for more than that. I placed the weapon in the drawer of the table nearest the door. Then I opened the door. "'Licia?" "Come in, Geoff. How do you always know when I need you?" Geoff smiled at me as he entered my small house and closed the door behind him. "Possibly because I love you. You want to tell me about it?" "No," I answered in more of a sob than anything else. "Hold me?" Geoff nodded as he opened his arms. "Come here, baby." "Oh, Geoff, I'm frightened," I admitted as I went into his strong embrace.

"I know, 'Licia. I know. Come on, sweetheart, let's just sit and let me hold you. You don't have to talk about it, unless you want to." It was a long time until either of us said anything. Finally, I sighed, then said in a voice little stronger than a whisper, "I don't deserve you, Geoff. You are so good to me." "I think that you've got that backwards, sweetheart. Now why don't you tell me about what's got you so rattled?" -------*Chapter 8* _Alicia_ "Alicia," Mae Thompson, the secretary for Math and Sciences, said as I returned to the offices from teaching my last class of the day, "this package just arrived for you. Flowers. I wish that some handsome man would send me flowers." Mae looked expectantly at me over the top of her wire rimmed half glasses as she pushed an errant shoulder length strand of her salt and pepper hair behind her ear. Mae's desk always looked like an anal retentive's vision of hell. Bulging manila folders were stacked, seemingly without thought of order, two foot high. There was a standing joke in the department that you couldn't tell whether Mae was at her desk or not from the doorway. That was a bit of an overstatement. Mae was short, but she wasn't -- quite -- that short. "Thanks, Mae." I began to open the long florist's box. "Did you and Geoff have a tiff?" I laughed while I continued opening the box. "Geoff and I don't fight. I don't think that we've ever fought. One of the things that I like so much about him is that he is so reasonable. Where reasonable is defined, of course, as thinking the way that I do." Mae shook her head and smiled indulgently. "Oh, Al..." Wilted red roses filled the box. Laying on top of the flowers was a single sheet of cheap erasable bond paper folded in half. With shaking fingers, I reached for the note. Unfolding it, I read the words formed by cut out newsprint glued onto the paper: "Roses are red, Violets are blue, these flowers are dead, soon you will be, too."

I dropped the note onto the flowers as though it had scorched my fingers. I felt faint, lightheaded, as though I would be nauseous. "Dead flowers?" Then the secretary's voice became angry, "Who would send you dead flowers? This is outrageous." She reached for the note I had dropped in the box. "Don't touch that. Call Phil Mallory at the police station. Tell him what's happened. Ask him to send someone. I'll be in my office. But, I don't want to be disturbed until the police get here. Understand? I'm taking these into my office with me." "Yes. Alicia, are you well?" "Just call Phil, will you?" "'Licia?" Geoff asked in concern from the doorway of my office a few minutes later. "Geoff, come on in." "Honey, what is it?" "Why are you here?" I demanded. "Did you forget, we are supposed to be over to the rectory in just under an hour?" "On the twenty-second." "Honey, today is Wednesday, the twenty-second." I looked at my calendar. "Sorry. I just wasn't thinking." Geoff smiled at me in puzzlement. "Are you okay?" "No. I don't think that I am. On second thought, I'm sure that I'm not." Geoff looked over to the desk. He saw box containing the wilted roses. I watched him blanch. "Honey?" "Oh, Geoff..." It was twenty minutes later before Phil Mallory came to my office. "How are you holding up?" "Honestly?"

"Honestly." Phil looked at Geoff who was standing just behind me. Geoff was kneading the musculature of my neck. I couldn't see how Geoff nodded in reply to his friend's question. But, I knew that he had nodded negatively. Phil's expression told me that Geoff was literally going behind my back. "Right now, I'm fine." "Right," Geoff said as he continued to work on my neck. "If these muscles were any tighter I could use them for violin strings." "Very funny." Gently, he kneaded the side of my neck. "This is about a high C, in fact," Geoff said. "And this particular strand is about an F above that. On the baroque pitch, of course." "Geoff, please. Cut out the jokes. I know that you are just trying to relieve the tension. But, I'm not in the mood." "You are going to go over to the Y and spend some time working off the tension. I'll make the supreme sacrifice and play you a game of racket ball. Although in the mood that you are in, you will probably wipe the floor with me. Then you will follow that by a long soak in the hot tub and a sauna," Geoff ordered. "We've got to go see Padre about the wedding." "After that meeting, you are going to spend time working off tension and relaxing if I have to hog tie you to make you do it." "That would be rather counterproductive, don't you think." "Take it easy, 'Licia." "I don't feel like taking it easy," I stated. I felt angry as I turned to face him. "Why in the world would I feel like taking it easy. I'm just about ready to spit nails, and you tell me to take it easy?" "'Licia, sweetheart, please calm down." "Calm down? Not rudy likely. Not in this universe." Phil cleared his throat.

I turned around to look at him. He told me, "The flowers were delivered to the receptionist at Aquinas Hall. Marj said that the man was who delivered the flowers was average height and tanned. I showed her the photograph of Hernandez. She couldn't make a positive ID. She said that she didn't pay any attention to him. But, she thought that it might have been the same person." "He's here, and he wants me dead, Phil. What are you going to do to protect me?" Phil sighed. "So far, all we really have are threats and harassment. But there have been no actions against you. I think that we have to consider that this is either an attempt to drive you insane or that there is actually someone out there who wants you dead, but wants you to suffer first." "So tell me something that I hadn't figured out?" I had thought that the statement had been rhetorical. But the sudden increase of tension in the air was enough to convince me otherwise. "What? What else has happened? What aren't you telling me?" "'Licia, calm down," Geoff urged. "You are only going to make yourself sick if you keep this up." "Just tell me, Phil. Tell me, straight." "Sarah Quinn is missing. Her apartment shows signs of a struggle having taken place," Phil stated after a long moment's hesitation. I hastily crossed myself. "Dear God." "Sarah Quinn?" Geoff asked in a puzzled voice. "What in the world do you still have to do with Sarah Quinn?" I sighed. "Nevermind, Geoff. It doesn't matter." "I think that it does, sweetheart. What do you have to do with Sarah Quinn?" "I've been paying her way through school. Anything else that you want to know?" "For pity's sake, 'Licia, the girl almost got you killed once. Now you are paying for her education..." Geoff replied. There was anger in his tone. "Why are you wasting your money like that? Why are you keeping that tie to your past?" "It's my money. I'll spend it as I wish."

"We'll discuss this later." I had only heard him use that tone once, when he was discussing a client's case with the prosecuting attorney over the telephone. It wasn't a tone I ever had particularly wanted him to use with me. "There's nothing to discuss. It's all laid out in our pre-nupt, Geoff. I'm sorry if you don't like it. But you were the one who insisted on having that document drawn. You know the terms as well as, if not better than, I do. After all, you dictated them." Geoff was visibly fighting with himself over commenting on that. Phil cleared his throat. "Al, I need for you to think long and hard about who else might in the farthest stretch of your imagination have a grudge, for a cause real or imagined, against you. While Hernandez is our principal suspect, we can't afford to rule out anyone else." Cupping my forehead in my left hand and massaging my throbbing temples with my left thumb and fingertips, I said, "I can't think of anyone whom I've ever hurt that badly." "Old lovers?" Phil offered. -------*Chapter 9* _Phil_ Alicia's head snapped up. She fixed me with a disbelieving look. "Get real, Phil. Just get real," she said in a tone so dry that it would have made the Sahara look like a tropical rain forest. "I'm serious." "So am I," Alicia replied. Geoff placed his hand on her shoulder. "Take it easy, 'Licia. Phil is only doing his job." "Al, we aren't at all sure that Hernandez is behind this. We need to cover all possible angles. Anyone who might have something against you has to be suspect. Old lovers are as good of a place to start as any," I said. "It might be under normal circumstances. But, I'm afraid that I can't help you, Phil. I don't have any old boyfriends lurking about," she said as she looked at a spot on the

wall just behind me. "None?" I asked in astonishment. "None?" "My personal history hardly makes it likely that I would have been promiscuous, now does it?" she asked, her voice full of pain. She still would not look at me. "But, this is really none of your business, now is it?" "Take it easy, 'Licia. Phil is just doing his job," Geoff said again. "I know. I just feel out of control," Al said as she closed her eyes as though to escape. "I hate feeling this out of control. I hate it." "Look, Al, you are thirty-seven-years-old. No one lives that long without making enemies. Now, I want a list of anyone who has anything against you." "I don't know of anyone who meets that criterion, aside from Hernandez." Al folded and unfolded her hands in a gesture betraying her anxiety. "I live a very quiet life. I run my business and do my research. I teach my classes and chair the department. I volunteer time at the youth center, the women's crisis center, with Big Brothers/Big Sisters, and the local Habitat for Humanity affiliate when they've got a construction project going. I sing with the parish choir and sit on the parish council. I coach the parish high school's track team, and I teach basic self defense to the girls in both the public and parochial high schools. Then I spend time with my friends and fiancee. That's about the extent of my rather boring life." "Think hard, Al, please. Is there anyone who might be holding a grudge against you?" With a vexed sigh, she said, "Look, Phil, I've been over and over this in my own mind. There just isn't anyone whom I've hurt that badly. There is no one whom I've really injured, who is still living. That is simply that. There isn't another soul on the face of the earth whom I've given reasonable cause to hate me." "No one?" "Not unless, you want a list of very minor disagreements which are best left forgotten. I can't tell you anything more than I already have. I just don't know." "Minor disagreements? Like what?" I demanded. "Old Mrs. Findley who lives behind me has a little dog which likes to dig up my daffodils. She and I have had numerous, sometimes heated, words about Dodo. I threatened to call the animal control people. She threatened to pepper my backside with rock salt and bacon rind, if I did that. I resolved the issue by just not planting any more flowers without putting up a fence around them. But, Mrs. Findley still

doesn't speak to me unless she absolutely has to." Imogene Findley was an old hell-raiser who had matured into a sweet-looking old lady. Appearances with that woman were deceptive. She was still a hell-raiser and probably always would be. I could well imagine her offering to pepper Al's backside with rock salt. "Continue." "Let's see. Sister Mary Clare at Holy Rosary High and I have a running dispute about the need for the girls to have a more thorough grounding in self-defense than I can give them in the three weeks that I spend with them each spring. I would like to extend the sessions to a full semester, but she is adamantly opposed." "And?" I asked. "I never could get Chester Whitfield to make good on the rotten job that he did of putting on my new roof. I still have a leak in the back bedroom. He wasn't too happy when I filed suit against him for breech of contract. That hearing is coming up in a couple of weeks." "Continue." "Ernestine Chapman and I have a running disagreement over the amount of money which the parish spends on the acquisition of new music. She thinks that we spend too much, that we use too much modern music. I tend to think that we don't nearly spend enough. We've both been quite vocal in our positions." "Go on..." "This is so silly, Phil. None of these people are devious enough to have plotted something like this," Al replied, her voice revealing just how tired she really was. "It's just plain ludicrous to think about. This isn't getting us anywhere." "Come on, Al. There has to be something, someone, whom you have forgotten." "What do you want me to say, Phil? I can't make things up. I live very quietly. I go out of my way to mind my own business. If I have a plethora of enemies, I certainly have no knowledge of them." "Think, Al. Just think. Didn't you get a teller fired at the bank?" "John Richards," she answered. "He shorted a corporate deposit by a thousand dollars. Of course, I was disturbed about it. I complained rather loudly to his supervisor. There were several other complaints, as well, as I remember." "Do you know where he is?"

"Come on, Phil. Do you really think that John Richards could be behind this?" Al asked. "The man was a total basket-case. I never thought that he had sufficient mental capacity to manage his own life, let alone meddle in someone else's." "We need to explore the possibilities. I am not willing to rule anyone out at this stage." "I honestly can't think of anyone else who might even have a minor grudge against me," Al replied quietly. "Real useful, Al. Your list consists of a feisty ninety-two-year-old woman, a nun, the head deacon of the Third Baptist Church, the mayor's sister, and an incompetent bank teller. That's some group of hardened felons that you have there." "I told you, Phil, I live a very quiet life. Personally, I like it this way. And Sister is not a nun -- she's a Sister. Her order doesn't take solemn vows, only simple ones. Sorry, I'm nitpicking..." Geoff took her hand. "Don't worry about it, honey. Everyone understands that you are nervous." "I just wish Hernandez would make his move, this suspense is killing me," Al said, a shade of desperation in her voice. "Again, Al that may be this person's goal -- to drive you batty," I offered. "He doesn't have far to go. I'm almost to the point of jumping at shadows now. I nearly go through the ceiling whenever the telephone rings." "I understand how you feel." "Do you think that Sarah is dead?" Al asked, after a long pause. "Phil, be honest with me, please. Do you think she is dead?" "It's a possibility. So far, no body has been found. But, I'd be lying if I said that it wasn't a possibility. The place, according to the St. Louis detectives with whom I spoke was trashed pretty thoroughly. They are acting on the suspicion that this could be a homicide." "Do you..." Her voice quivered. "I mean, you do think this is related, don't you?" "I don't think that we can discount it, at the moment." I told her. "I wish that I could tell you that it was absolutely unrelated. I've never been a great believer in coincidence." "I wish that I hadn't asked..." she said.

"No, you don't. You aren't a coward, Al." "I wouldn't be so sure about that. It's not a safe bet at the moment." Geoff's watch beeped. He looked down at it. "Well, 'Licia, are you ready to go? Father Douglass expects us over at the Rectory for our first session of pre-Cana." "Can't keep Padre waiting, now, can we?" Al retorted. We walked out of the engineering sciences building into the parking lot. Al stopped dead in her tracks as she scanned the parking lot in disbelief. "Oh! This is all that I need! Absolutely all that I need!" Both Geoff and I looked at her questioningly. "My car's gone," Al said in a pained voice. "My car is gone." "Gone?" Geoff asked. "Are you sure that you parked it here?" I asked. She fixed me with a look of pure exasperation. "I'm not quite in my dotage yet, Philip. I do remember parking my car in my assigned parking space, thank you very much." I nodded. "Okay, I need some information. I'll file the stolen vehicle report." Geoff looked at his wristwatch. "Can we do this later? Father Douglass is waiting for us." I sighed. "Barebones details. Do you remember the license number?" Al's mouth compressed into a thin line. "Of course, I remember the tag. I should remember it. I paid dearly enough for the privilege of vanity plates. They read Als 55. The car is an antique. I restored it with vintage parts. It's worth a fortune to a collector. I need to call my insurance broker, excuse me." "Father Douglass is waiting for us," Geoff said, taking her arm as she would have gone back into the building. "You can file an insurance claim after you have a copy of the police report. You'll need that for the claim anyway," Geoff offered. Al sighed. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Of course. We shouldn't keep Father Douglass waiting," she said.

"When did you last see the car?" I asked her. "About one o'clock when I walked back from lunch." "Are you sure?" "Trust me, Philip. I know my own car." "Okay. I'll file the report. I'll drop off a copy at your house later this evening." "Thanks, Phil," she replied with a sigh. "When is this nightmare going to end?" "We don't know that all of this is connected." "Don't we? Don't we really? Hernandez is out there waiting for me, stalking me. I know that you don't believe that. But, it's true. And there isn't a thing that I can do about it. I haven't slept well since the calls began and suddenly ended two weeks ago. Every time that I fall asleep, either the phone rings, or I wake up with a nightmare. I don't know how much longer I can continue like this..." "You will continue just as long as you have to, Al. You are many things, but a loser isn't one of them. You are a survivor. You will survive this." "Thanks, Phil. But, I wish that I had as much confidence as you do." Geoff drew Al closer to him. "Come on, sweetheart. Father Douglass is waiting for us." "Heavens," Al said, "we wouldn't want to keep Padre waiting over a matter as insignificant as a stolen vintage automobile, now would we?" Geoff looked at Al. "The wedding is in five weeks. Unless you want to postpone it, there are things that we have to do, whether we want to do them or not." Al sighed. "I know. And I know that I'm being a grade A certified witch just now. I'm sorry." Geoff lightly kissed her temple. "It's fine, 'Licia. You are under a tremendous strain, just now. Do you want to postpone the wedding?" "No," Al said, her bottom lip trembling more than slightly. "But, if you do, I would understand." "Not a chance, sweetheart. Not a chance," Geoff said.

"Then, we had better get going," Al answered. "Yes, ma'am," Geoff said. **** I filed the reports about both the hand-delivered threat and the theft of Al's car. The box of roses had been sent to the crime lab for forensic analysis. Maybe, just maybe, there might be some sort of physical evidence there to give a definite line on the perp. But, personally, he doubted it. So far, there was no good evidence pointing to any given person. Alicia was convinced, I knew, that Hernandez was behind this. But, that was all too neat. I mistrusted anything that was that simple and straight-forward. Life was seldom that simple. The disappearance of Sarah Quinn bothered me. What I hadn't told Al was that there was a substantial amount of blood found in Sarah's apartment. The splatters were consistent with the opening of an artery. The blood was type O negative. Sarah Quinn was O negative. So, while no body had been found, it was likely that Sarah had fallen victim of foul play. Of course, equally likely was that someone had wanted everyone to think that Sarah had become a victim of foul play. At this point, I didn't want to rule out any possibility. One a scale of one to ten, my liking of this whole situation ranked as a negative one billion and was steadily decreasing. -------*Chapter 10* _Alicia_ Geoff and I sat at a corner table of a small local restaurant. The decor was strictly Nineteenth Century Victoriana. The servers were all dressed in period costumes. The menu and elaborate table service were both strictly Nineteenth Century. In fact, the only thing not in keeping with the Nineteenth Century theme was the price of a meal. Since it was still relatively early, the restaurant was mostly empty. "Are you sure that you shouldn't see a doctor?" Geoff asked in concern. "You can't go on like this, forever, 'Licia . You need to get some rest." "Chemically induced rest?" "It's just a tool, 'Licia, a crutch. Something to get you through this. Not being rested is just playing into Hernandez's hands."

I sighed before I sipped the white wine. "You may be right." "Then you'll see Ed Roby soon?" "I'll think about it." "Just think about it?" "Lay off, Geoff. I told you that I would think about it. That is all that I am promising. I'm not at all certain that I want to sedate myself, especially now. I'm not at all certain that would be wise. I can't afford to lower my guard that way." "I can see your point, 'Licia. Still, if you don't start getting some rest, you are going to collapse." "I know. But, sedating myself could make me so vulnerable. If I was totally out of it, I couldn't defend myself. I don't know that I want to do that." "Proposition: Suppose that I come over and sleep at your place. That way you could rest easier." "An indecent proposition?" "Not unless that is what you want, 'Licia. I guarantee you that I am a light sleeper. If there was to be the slightest amount of danger, I would be there to protect you." "I can't put you in that kind of danger, Geoff." He sighed almost angrily, but when he spoke it was in a reasonable tone, "Look, sweetheart, unless we catch that Hernandez bastard before the wedding, I'm going to be in danger." Then he added in a tone that chilled me to the bone, "Personally, I would take a great deal of pleasure in taking down Hernandez, after all he put your through. A great deal of pleasure." "Geoff, promise me that you won't do anything illegal." Geoff smiled at me and took my hand. "Of course not, he's not worth sacrificing our future over." "Are we doing the right thing, Geoff?" He stroked my hand. "Cold feet?" "Can we talk about this someplace more private?" I asked as I looked around

uneasily for eavesdroppers. "Sure, coffee at my house?" "Sounds good." **** Geoff's house was a big Victorian built on what had once been the edge of town. Now, the area was Fieldsburg's Historic District. Almost every house in a two-block radius of Geoff's house was on some sort of historically significant list or other. The neighborhood had fallen on hard times a couple of decades earlier, but thanks to the Historical Preservation Commission's intense work, most of the houses in the area had been rehabilitated without major changes to the facades. This was now becoming the trendy area of town. I hated to see that happen. Big, old houses like this one needed to be loved, not just acquired by people who saw them as status symbols. There was too much work involved in keeping an old house, that if there wasn't a real love involved either the maintenance would be left undone or it would be done grudgingly, in a slipshod manner, with just enough done to get by. I settled in on the long sofa in the front parlor while Geoff made coffee. This was the sort of house, the sort of life, I had dreamed of from time to time since childhood. Soon, I would have everything that I had always wanted. Soon, I would be secure. Soon, I would have roots again. This level of roots was in direct contrast to most of my own background. Being orphaned as an infant, then shuttled about from foster home to foster home after my adoptive parents had died in a car crash when I had been six, had left me with a deep need for roots, for stability. There are times that I strongly believe that was why I entered the convent so many years ago: because the Church had always been my source of stability, because it had always been there for me regardless of the other changes in my life. Geoff could give me the stability I craved, and more. So, why did I feel trapped? Why was I feeling less and less sure of the wisdom of this forthcoming marriage? Was it simply because I was uncomfortable with the idea of opening myself up to that level of intimacy, not just physical intimacy -- although that frightened me -- but real intimacy with a capital I, the kind of sharing of one's self which made a marriage truly sacramental. Bridal jitters, it is, I told myself. But, I wished that I could be certain of that. Geoff brought in a tray with the silver coffee service which had belonged to his grandmother, then to his mother, and now to him. His mother's bone china cups

were on the tray, as well. "Would you pour?" I poured the coffee and added two lumps of sugar to Geoff's before I poured in a generous amount of cream. Geoff took the coffee cup from me. We sat in silence for a few moments as we both drank the coffee. Geoff placed his cup on the table. "Now, what is on your mind?" "It took you long enough to ask." "I thought that you needed some time. Was I wrong?" Geoff asked firmly. "No..." I admitted as I placed my own empty cup upon the table. "Cold feet?" "I'd be insane if I didn't have doubts." Geoff lightly touched my face. "I know that you are nervous." "You are so good to me, Geoff. Why do you put up with me?" "I love you, 'Licia." "Maybe it's time that we ... that we..." Geoff stroked my face. His hand slid down my neck and rested on my shoulder. "We've got the rest of our lives together. I told you before, I'm not going to rush you into bed before you are ready. I know that you need time." "What if I am never ready? What kind of wife would that make me?" "The arrangements have been made. All you have to do is to show up at the optimal time at the doctor's office in St. Louis. That's far enough away that no one around here will know the difference. This marriage is happening because we both want children, while we still are young enough to enjoy them. If you can never be intimate with me without flashbacks sending you into cold sweats, then you never can. It's that simple." "It's not simple at all!" "You are still seeing Dr. Kelly three times a week. Aren't you?"

"Yes, Geoff, for all the good that it's doing, I'm still seeing my Jungian Mother Confessor." "Don't get discouraged, 'Licia. You're doing all that you can do. I'm not going to worry about it. I want you, very much. But, sex is only a part of marriage. We have a strong friendship, and an abiding respect for one another. Those things are more important than sex, 'Licia. Much more important in the long run." "Geoff..." "We'll work through it, 'Licia. Trust me. We'll work through it." I looked away from him for a moment. "'Licia?" "Would you mind if I moved in a few weeks early?" Geoff smiled broadly. "Absolutely not. Why have you changed your mind?" "You and Phil are right. I'm just making myself more vulnerable than I need to be. And I am so near my breaking point, Geoff. If I don't get some rest soon, I'm not going to be any good to anyone, let alone myself." "Let's go back to your house. You can pack a bag or two. I promise you, 'Licia, I will not let anyone hurt you while you are under my roof. That's my solemn word." "I'm so tired, Geoff." "I know, baby, I know," he said. "Let's go. We'll work on moving the rest of your things later." -------*Chapter 11* _The Diary, April 22_ The answering machine at her house was beeping when they arrived, that much I heard through the headphones that were picking up the sounds of the house. I picked up the binoculars when I heard the sound of a door closing. Through the window of the van, I could see into her house through the open curtains on the large living room window. "Seester, did you like the flowers?"

After a long moment of silence, Sister Mary Alice looked over at that attorney of hers. "I want him out of my life. I'm so tired of this." "I know, baby. I know. Get a move on, lady. Pack some things. Do you want to get a mover in here? Or do you want to put this house on the market furnished?" "I thought that I would lease it out furnished. I've had several people express interest in the house. Renting to any of them would be a fairly safe venture." "I know that you don't want to give up the house." "It's the first real home that I've had in almost thirty years. This little house may not be much to most people, but it means a lot to me." Geoff smiled at her broadly. That smile made me sick. "Would you rather that I moved here?" She laughed. She laughed! Damn her to Hell and Back. She will pay, she will pay. I've waited far too long for this revenge. But, now, she will pay for all that she took from me. "No, thank you, Geoff," Sister said. "This house is not big enough for us. It's fine for me. But, for us? I don't think so." "Go pack a few things." I watched the pair of them leave the house. He carried a single suitcase that he stashed in the trunk of the car. Things were proceeding smoothly. Sister was frightened out of her wits. In the past two weeks, the woman had lost weight and was appearing considerably more on edge. I've got her just where I want her. Just where I want her. Now, it's time to turn up the heat and watch her squirm and sweat. I'm going to enjoy this. Once it is done, it will be over. There will be no chance of bringing her back from the dead. I intend to enjoy even moment of this, to draw it out and to savor every moment of my long awaited revenge. Then I'll just disappear. They tell me that the Grand Caymans are a nice group of islands. Maybe I'll go to Mexico. On the kind of money that I'll have to myself soon, I'll be able to live very well for the rest of my life. That's the only thing that I can thank Sister for. This plan has made me very rich. And it's going to make her very miserable, then very dead.

-------*Chapter 12* _Alicia_ I awoke in a strange room. My heart raced for about a half moment until I remembered that I had been installed in the bedroom that had been Geoff's mother's. Geoff's bedroom, the one that had been his father's, lay just beyond the shared bathroom. The sound of rain falling harshly against the windowpanes must have awakened me, I decided. Thunder rumbled harshly in the distance. I looked over to the digital clock on the night table: 5:45 a.m. on 4-23. I lay there for a moment, trying to shake off the sluggishness the legacy of the single prescription sleeping pill Geoff had urged upon me just before nine o'clock the night before. I did have to admit that I had slept more soundly in the past few hours than I had during the previous two weeks since the calls and harassment had begun. I wondered if that more restful night was due to the sleeping pill, the change of surroundings, or just having someone else around. Perhaps it was a combination of all of those things. Regardless of the cause, I was simply grateful for the sleep. But, I didn't like the lingering grogginess. I didn't like that at all. I reached for the thermometer, graph paper, and pen I had placed on the night table before I had retired. The small beep as I pressed the button told me that the electronic thermometer was working. I popped it under my tongue and waited the forty seconds until the second beep announced that the reading was ready. Quickly recording the temperature on the chart, I replaced the thermometer in the case before replacing the whole basil metabolism tracking kit on the night table. About another week until I ovulate, I thought. Just a few more days. Do I really want to do this?, I asked myself. The Church had condemned the action Geoff and I were conspiring to take. Was the Church wrong? Or was I simply justifying my own actions because I wanted a child so badly? I didn't have any answers. Rising from big, antique, brass bed, I pulled on the quilted robe I had left on the foot of the bed. I walked over to the window and looked out on the stormy morning. It had been raining a good part of the night, by the looks of the standing water in the streets. Quite a rain. Without a doubt, the dirt track at the college would be a mud bog. The parochial high school's track would be a bit better since it was asphalt. But, running on wet

asphalt could be hazardous. So much for the run I so desperately needed. I wondered if I could get time on the treadmills at either the college or the Y. I hate treadmills, but there seemed to be little choice. I absolutely needed the run. I only hoped that the track would dry off in time for this afternoon's track meet. Otherwise, there would be some very disgruntled high school track team members. That was something I didn't need to deal with at the moment. Sirens were heard off in the distance. I crossed myself and murmured a brief prayer for whomever the emergency vehicles were rushing. "'Licia?" Geoff asked in concern from the bathroom doorway. "It's raining," I said without turning around from the window. "Since about midnight, sweetheart. It's been quite a storm. Probably four or more inches of rain. I'm surprised that you slept through it." "I would have slept through the Second Coming, as tired as I was. And that pill did its job." I turned around. Geoff stood there in the doorway of the bathroom, wearing only a short white terry bathrobe carelessly knotted about his waist. I looked away from him. Then I looked down at my own light blue floral print cotton quilted robe and matching, Victorian cut, nightgown. "Quite a contrast." Geoff smiled softly at me. "You look adorable." "Prim, as contrasted with the ease at which you wear that robe. For you, I would like to be less uptight, Geoff. I would like to be the woman whom you need. I really would. I feel as though I let you down." "You can do anything that you want badly enough to do, 'Licia. I have that much confidence in you. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but eventually," Geoff said from the doorway. "You are the woman whom I need. And you never let me down." I shook my head. "I wish that I could believe that." Lightning flashed with a window-shaking roar of thunder. "Lord that was close," Geoff said. I turned around to look out of the window. "Wasn't it, though? I do love a storm

that blows free." "You would," Geoff said in amusement. "The world only sees the controlled Alicia Marie Jenkins. They never see beneath the surface to the woman of deep passions." I cleared my throat, but continued to look out the window. "Deep passions," I echoed. "You have them, you know," Geoff said as he moved to stand just behind me. "Are you trying to convince yourself or me?" Geoff wrapped his arms around my waist. I leaned back, surrendering myself to the comfort of his embrace. "I do love you." **** The sirens in the distance grew in numbers. "Must have been some accident," I said. Geoff kissed the top of my head. "Sounds like it, sweetheart. How did you sleep?" "I don't remember anything beyond nine fifteen," I replied as I turned around in his arms and wrapped my own arms around his waist. "Good. You needed the rest." "Yes. I did. Thank you." "Don't thank me, 'Licia. I told you that I would take care of you. Why don't you go back to bed? It's early. Your first class isn't until ten. You can afford to give yourself another two hours nap," Geoff said as he carefully put me away from him. "No. I don't think so. There are too many things that I want to get done. But, why don't you return to bed? You aren't due in court until when?" "Afternoon." "So, go back to bed. I have some work to do." "Work?" "I've had a thought or two about some of my research. I should put them down on

paper while they are fresh in my mind." "What are you working on, 'Licia?" "It's too complicated, Geoff, to try to distill down into a few words. It links artificial intelligence, graphics, and robotics. It is an interesting first step towards the next generation of industrial robotics." I shrugged. "Regardless, in a few years, it will be seen as nothing more than a curiosity. But, that is the nature of my field." Geoff smiled and shook his head. "A man could almost be jealous of the dedication that you give to your work." "Don't be silly. I would not be jealous of the hours that you spend in your law practice." "Won't you?" Geoff asked as the faint wail of sirens continued to sound in the distance. "In ten years, will you want me at home with you and the children while I am laboring over some detail or other of a complicated case?" "I can't imagine you putting anything before our children on a regular basis. I know that work is not something that can be shirked. I hope that I wouldn't be that mean spirited to resent an occasional necessity." "Ah, 'Licia..." Geoff sighed. "What am I to do with you?" "Try to make a life, I think." Geoff laughed. "It will be a good life, 'Licia. I promise you." "I hope so. Once we get past these threats, once we get them dealt with, there is no reason why we shouldn't have a good life. Now, since we are both up, shall I go fix us some breakfast?" "I thought that you wanted to work?" "I'll put the ideas down in a little while. I'm hungry." "Then, we'll go fix breakfast," he said. "How about waffles?" "Sure. Waffles sound good." "Let's go downstairs, then." "Ah, Geoff. Would you mind putting on some more clothes?" "Does this disturb you?"

"Now, what do you think? Of _course_ it bothers me. I'm not totally sexless ... in spite of my problems." Geoff smiled at me. "I can see the pulse beating in your temple. Do you want me, 'Licia?" I nodded mutely, hesitantly, in the affirmative. "Give me the words!" "I want you," I whispered, as though it was some sort of shameful secret. "Satisfied?" "Not hardly," he moaned as he crushed me to himself. "Alicia..." My hands went to the back of his head. I pulled his head down to mine and kissed him, fiercely. He returned my caress. Geoff's hands loosened the belt of my robe. Then his hands trailed up my ribcage until they cradled my breasts in his hands. He flicked his thumbs over my nipples. Then he pulled away from me. "Geoff?" I asked with hurt puzzlement in my voice. "'Licia, you aren't aroused at all," Geoff said. I frowned at the flatness of his tone. "Teach me, Geoff. Teach me how to please you." "What good would it do, when I obviously don't please you. I want to give you pleasure, 'Licia. Not just have you endure my attentions." "It's me, Geoff, not you," I said. "I'm just not a sensual person." "Nonsense! You're a woman who enjoys her senses. You just don't want me." "That isn't true. It's just that I-I remember ... flashback ... and I get scared ... then my body rebels. I can't help it. It isn't you. It's me. In spite of all the therapy, it's me." Geoff placed his hands on my shoulders. Very gently, he kneaded the muscles. "'Licia. You are so tense. Relax, sweetheart. I'm not going to force you into

anything." "I don't want to give up on us, Geoff. I want to have a full life with you, not just some kind of marriage in name only. Help me." Geoff nodded affirmatively. "Oh baby, we don't have to rush into this. We've got the rest of our lives." My lower lip trembled. I felt the tears of frustration and anger well up within my eyes. "Don't cry, 'Licia." "I'm not crying," I denied as a drop of moisture belied my words. "Of course not." "What if I can never be a wife to you?" "You'll be my wife the moment that we take our vows." "You know what I mean." "Look, 'Licia, when are you supposed to go to the clinic? Next Wednesday?" "Something like that. I should be ovulating then. That is if my cycle stays regular. Stress sometimes does strange things to a cycle." "I promised you a baby. You'll have our baby. No one, except the doctor and us, has to know that it wasn't conceived in the traditional way." "This makes me nervous, Geoff." "If parenthood didn't make you nervous, I'd be worried about you," he told me. "What if this doesn't work?" "Sometimes, it takes several months to conceive. The doctor told us that. Besides, it would be better for everyone concerned if you conceived closer to, or after, the wedding. People are going to be counting the months, anyway." I laughed, almost bitterly. "At least, no one is going to have to know the truth about me. Are you sure that you want to marry me? It doesn't seem fair to you." "I'm happy with our bargain. If I am ever less than pleased with it, I'll tell you. And I expect the same honesty from you."

"Of course. That goes without saying." Geoff kissed me lightly on the forehead. "Geoff, we could forego the visit to the doctor's. We could try to do things the old fashioned way." I felt my face go red. "Baby, I'd hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. When we make love, it should be joyous, not something that strikes terror in your heart." "Geoff..." "You aren't ready to make love with me. And I won't settle for anything less. Besides, you know that we'll probably never make a baby together in the time-honored fashion. You know that." "Yeah. I know." "If anyone's being unfair in this situation, I am. Not you. Your problem is something that can be overcome. My low sperm count is something that we have to live with." "At least we know that there probably won't be any unplanned pregnancies." Geoff laughed boldly. "I do love you, warped way of looking at the world and all." "Well, I suppose that I should go start breakfast. Waffles? Or something else?" "'Licia..." "Not on the menu." Geoff lightly stroked my face. "Too bad. Because I want a steady diet of 'Licia's tender smiles and sweet laughter throughout my life. I love you, Apple Juice." "I wish that I had never told you about the nickname that they saddled me with in graduate school." "It fits. Sweet, and tart, with just a hint of acid." "Gee, thanks. Should I be touched that you think so highly of me?" "It would be impossible for me to think any more highly of you. You are my life." "Don't put me on a pedestal, Geoff."

"I don't want a woman on a pedestal, 'Licia. I far prefer a woman of flesh and bone, someone who will laugh and cry with me, someone with whom I can share my thoughts, fears, hopes, dreams, disappointments. Someone very much like you." "Geoff..." The sound of the doorbell ringing incessantly shortened the conversation. "Now, who could that be at this ungodly hour?" Geoff asked. Before I could answer, the phone began to ring. "Popular, aren't you?" I asked as I fought back the panic that came now whenever I heard the telephone ring. "Wonderful timing. I'll go see who is at the door." "The phone?" "The machine will pick up in another ring. Why don't you start that breakfast that you were threatening? Or was that an unfounded threat?" "What do you want?" The doorbell rang incessantly. "Waffles. Anything. I could strangle whoever is at the door," Geoff replied. -------*Chapter 13* _Geoff_ Phil was at the door. I thought that he looked agitated. Well, tough, I thought, that makes two of us. "It's early for a social call. What's on your mind?" "Geoff. God, I hate to have to tell you this," Phil said. "It's Al." "What about 'Licia?" "I'm so sorry, Geoff..." "Hold it, Phil. Get a grip. Now, tell me what you are talking about."

"Al's house. There was an explosion and fire about a half-hour ago. The house is nothing but a pile of smoldering rubble." "Oh God..." "The fire department is there now. They are digging through the rubble to find her." "Waste of time. 'Licia's in the kitchen." The relief on Phil's face was easily read. "Thank God." "Come on. She ought to hear this from you." "Let me call this in, first. There is a crew busting their butts. They ought to know that there isn't a person trapped inside." **** 'Licia was breaking and separating eggs when Phil and I walked into the kitchen. "Waffles will be ready in about fifteen minutes, Geoff," she announced without turning around. "You probably should sit down, 'Licia." 'Licia turned around. The puzzlement on her face became genuine concern when she saw Phil standing there. "What's happened? You haven't called around for your health. What's wrong now? Have they found Sarah? What is it? Tell me!" "Al, just calm down." 'Licia hastily crossed herself after Phil told her the story. "Thank God for guardian angels." Phil nodded. "We feared that you might have been buried under the rubble." 'Licia's face lost the rest of its color. "Is it known what caused the explosion?" "Not yet. But, the state fire marshal's office will be investigating the incident." "I'll call my insurance broker. Two claims in two days. The company is going to love me," 'Licia said as she fought tears. I knew what that little house meant to her. It had been a charming little place. Originally, the house had been a "granny house," a secondary house to which the older generation had retired when the kids had grown,

married, and started a family of their own. And 'Licia had put her individual stamp on it. Yes, I knew what that place had meant to her. "Just be thankful that you are able to make the claim," Phil said. "If you had been home last night, you wouldn't have been able to make the claim." "Yeah. I do realize that. Geoff, will you put the eggs away, please? Excuse me, I need to get dressed. I need to see what is left of my house." Phil looked at 'Licia's rapidly departing back. She had almost run to the back steps. "I'll see you later. We'll need to question Al about the explosion." "It was arson. Wasn't it?" "My money would ride on this being deliberate." "'Licia's going to have a hard time in dealing with that." "The department is understaffed as it is, we can't stretch resources to give Al protection. But, Geoff, she needs someone watching out for her." "I understand. Private protection might be the best way to go. Although, I can't see 'Licia sitting still for the presence of several bodyguards in her life. Still, I'll see what I can do." "Yeah. I can understand that. I had my doubts before. The person behind this is playing for keeps." "I'll take care of her." Phil smiled at me. "If anyone can, you can." "The house is a total loss?" I hated asking that question. "It's a pile of burning rubble." **** The street was blocked off by police cars parked across the road at both ends of the block. The white van from the State Police Crime Services bureau was parked next to the police cars. It was still early. The rain had stopped. Yet, from the look of the sky, that was, at best, a temporary cessation. Crowds were gathered at each roadblock, trying to get a view of the disaster.

A camera crew from the TV station was present. "I have no comment suitable for publication," 'Licia said as the microphone was placed in her face. She pushed up the dark glasses she wore. A plain deep blue scarf was tied over her hair. "Professor Jenkins," the young, black, woman reporter, Lori Blakely, asked. "I understand that you have had quite a string of bad luck of late." 'Licia shook her head. "I don't believe in luck, Miss Blakely. Goodbye." "Professor Jenkins, why weren't you at home?" Lori continued. 'Licia smiled slightly, painfully. She removed the glasses with her left hand. Then she looked directly at Lori Blakely. "My guardian angel was sitting on my shoulder," she said patting her left shoulder with her right hand. "And I pray God that the angel remains there. Goodbye, Miss Blakely." "Don't I know you?" Lori Blakely asked firmly. "You look familiar to me. You've been on television before." 'Licia placed the glasses back on her face. She turned and walked away. "Damn the media," I said as we walked towards where her house had been. "Get ready for the whole story to come out, Geoff." "It doesn't worry you?" "There's nothing that I can do about it," 'Licia said in a resigned tone. "If you are embarrassed by my past, I'm sorry. If you want to be released from your promise to marry me, I will understand." "We both have pasts, sweetheart. We both have lived through our share of Hell. Mine was in two tours of 'Nam. Yours came from LA. Both made us stronger. Both gave us our fare share of midnight regrets. We both just have had to pick ourselves up and move on." She stood back from the pile of smoldering debris where her house had been. Bits and pieces of her house were scattered all over the neighborhood. Apparently, there had been quite an explosion. If not for the rain, the damage to the neighboring homes might have been much more severe when blazing bits had been blown away from the house. As it was, the houses on both sides of hers were missing windows. A shudder ran through her. I tightened my arm around her shoulder, holding her up when her legs might have gone out from under her.

"There isn't much left, is there?" she asked. "No, sweetheart, I'm sorry." "Let's get out of here." "Shall we avoid Miss Blakely?" "That would give her too much satisfaction," 'Licia replied grimly. "I try never to give that type too much satisfaction." Once we had returned to my car, 'Licia began to weep silently. "It's okay, 'Licia." "No, it's not okay, Geoff. It is most definitely not okay." "You can cry if you want to." "Thanks for permission," 'Licia retorted. "Just who do you think that you are that I would have to apply to you for permission to cry?" "Take it easy, 'Licia. I didn't mean it that way." She drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry. This all is just getting to me. That house was small, but it was mine. It was the first real home that I had in years. And I was attached to it." "I know, baby ... Don't worry about it. If you didn't blow up, I'd worry about you." "Did you have to use that phrase? I think that I've had quite enough of things blowing up, thank you." "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Let's grab a bite of breakfast somewhere." "I'm not hungry." "You've got to eat, 'Licia. How about strawberry waffles at Granny's?" "Sounds decadent." "You wouldn't know decadent if it crawled up and bit you on the toe. Decadent would be if we had strawberry waffles at home, minus the waffles, in bed," I replied with a laugh. "Strawberries and cream a la 'Licia and Geoff."

'Licia blushed. "I'm game." "That's not what you said this morning when I threw myself at you," she said. I sighed. "Darling, this morning was the wrong time. You weren't ready. One day, you will be. When that day arrives, I'll be only too glad to oblige you." "I wish that I could believe that." I patted her hand. "There are more important things in life than sex." She sighed. Looking in the rearview mirror, I said, "Don't look now, but the television crew is on our tail." "Terrific." Instead of a sit down breakfast, we took away a sack of breakfast sandwiches from a drive through. Then, we went to the Jencomp laboratory building to eat. The building was ideal. Within walking distance of both my office and the college, this was where 'Licia did most of her research. The one story brick building had once been a fairly large mom-and-pop grocery store. Then the building had housed a restaurant. 'Licia had bought it after the restauranteurs had retired. 'Licia had increased the security on the building. It now required either two keys, or being buzzed in, in order to enter. The original display windows were now bulletproof glass and the front wall had been reinforced with steel and masonry. A small entryway had been created when she had built a thick wall of steel re-enforced concrete blocks. A thick steel door sat firmly cemented into place in the wall separated the old display windows from the business part of the building. A variety of posters and other displays for community events and organizations could always be found in the windows. People sometimes joked that you could always tell what was going on in the area by the posters in the Jencomp window. State of the art video cameras hung in the foyer, so that whoever was inside could identify anyone seeking entrance. Toward the back of the building, there was a truck bay. But, the security provisions at the back entrance were roughly the same as those in the front. There were some people who said that 'Licia was paranoid about security. But, I

knew that several of the pieces of software, and hardware, which 'Licia had developed were worth literally millions on the open market. She would have had to be less than bright not to take precautions with her intellectual property. There were too many people who would have been only too happy to acquire the newest Jencomp innovation, sight unseen, based simply upon the strength of her proven track record. The rest of the building was divided into five basic areas. There was a clean room for the manufacture of hardware under a strictly controlled environment and the dressing room for the clean room. Then there was the software development area sporting an array of the computers in various sizes and configurations. The third area was a place for 'Licia to 'play with' robotics. The building was completed by a small kitchenette with a bathroom, and 'Licia's small but plush office. This was 'Licia's private domain. She could easily, and frequently did, disappear inside for days on end. She was quite careful about whom she allowed inside the building. I didn't even have a key. In fact, this was only the second time that I had been invited inside. 'Licia and I sat the small round walnut table in one corner of her well-appointed office. On the walls of the office, there were several original paintings worth a substantial sum of money. 'Licia, for her protests of not being hungry, dug into the biscuits and sausage. "I'm not looking forward to today," 'Licia said before she sipped from the plastic container of orange juice. "Who handles your insurance?" "Cait Richardson." "Call Caitland first thing after office hours begin. The police are going to want to take your statement. Then there will be an investigator for the fire marshals office who will want to talk with you. If you want, I'll cancel my appointments for today, and stay with you as legal counsel." "I think that I can manage, Geoff. I have nothing to hide. And I will tape record all the conversations for later transcription. I've learned that much about dealing with the police." I took her hand. "Are you sure that you are going to be fine?" "Nope. Not at all." "I can believe that."

She looked at her wristwatch. "There's about an hour until Mass. I think that I will walk down to the Church and go to the eight-thirty Mass." "We'll go together." "I have to get another wedding dress. Mine went up with the house." "There are at least two wedding dresses in the attic of my house. My mother's and my grandmother's. There may be three. You are about their size, or the size that they were when they married. It may be a matter of simply cleaning them and doing minor repairs." 'Licia smiled. "An heirloom dress..." she said, her voice holding almost a tone of wonder. "That's something that I never thought that I would have." I cleared my throat. She wasn't at all going to like what I was going to tell her. And frankly, I didn't want to raise the issue, even though I knew that I had to. "I'm going to hire bodyguards for you, 'Licia. I want to make certain that you stay safe." 'Licia reached under her suit jacket and produced a small pistol I didn't know that she owned. "So do I." I nodded, absorbing the fact that 'Licia was armed. "Okay. If you're sure that you don't want bodyguards?" 'Licia replaced the Walther. "I'm sure. I don't know what I would do with bodyguards, Geoff." "Use them to run interference with the press?" "Now, that's a thought..." The telephone rang. 'Licia nearly jumped out of her skin. "You want me to get that?" "Yes. But, don't identify yourself or the number." "Morning. Phil? Yeah, we're here. Okay. I'll ask." I looked at 'Licia. "Phil wants to know if you would like to come down to Municipal Services now to make a statement." 'Licia sighed. "I suppose. But I want to leave in time to go to Church. I really need to go to Mass this morning."

"Be right there, Phil." **** The investigator from the fire marshal's office was a nondescript middle aged man who sat quietly while Phil took 'Licia's statement. 'Licia looked at her watch. "Anything else?" Phil nodded negatively. The investigator cleared his throat. "The last time that you were at your house was when?" "Seven thirty or so last evening, I suppose." "And everything was normal there?" "I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Anything else?" The investigator shook his head. "Not just now. I'll probably have more questions later." "I'll be at the college during most of the morning. I've got some papers to grade. From eleven until about three, I'll be at Holy Rosary's track. The team has a meet at home this afternoon. Although if the track doesn't dry out, we'll have to call the meet. Then I'll be at my lab until about seven. After that, I'll be at Geoff's." Phil smiled at her. "Organized Al," he said. 'Licia's face took on a pained expression. "At this point, my schedule is the only thing that I feel in control of. Now, if you will excuse me, there is just enough time for me to get to Church before Mass begins." "You try not to worry, Al," Phil advised. "How can I not worry? It was bad enough when I got the telephone calls. Then the harassment became dead flowers and a threatening note. Then Sarah vanished. That was followed by the theft of my car. And now, my house has been destroyed. What's next, Philip? Who's next? I shudder to think about that. Who is he going to go after next? What part of my life is the next avenue of attack?" Phil patted 'Licia's hand. "You wouldn't consider going into protective custody?" "A jail cell? No thank you, Philip."

"It might be a way of keeping you alive," Phil offered. 'Licia nodded negatively. "No way. Hernandez probably isn't on a timetable. He's waited for a dozen years and chased me half way across the country. He'll just wait for me. The only way to beat him is to wait for him to make an open move." "You should consider bodyguards," Phil said. "And scare him off? No. I won't do that. Frightening him off now would only mean that he'd be back later. I've got less to lose now than I may have in the future," 'Licia said. I took her hand. She smiled at me. She rose from her chair. "You know where you can find me today, if you need me." The news crew followed us to the Church. But they didn't have the audacity to come inside. -------*Chapter 14* _Phil_ I sat back at my desk on the morning of May 8th and reread the report about Hernandez. Where did that information leave Al? The phone calls had stopped. The crime lab voice print of the police recorded tape and of the tapes which she had given to me of the calls which she had received in Los Angeles had shown that the voice was the same in both cases. In fact, the calls were, as Al has suspected, identical to the tapes of the LA calls. Or, at least, although not a simple copy, were taken from the tapes, according to the report which came back from the lab. Just as quickly as the calls had begun, they had ended. Yet, the absence of calls had not lessened Al's nervousness. If anything, she was shakier now than she had been as she simply waited for something else to happen. Of course, given the circumstances, that was not an unreasonable reaction. I thought that it was as though she was waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop. Al was convinced that this Hernandez fellow wanted her dead. But, according to the information in this report, Raoul Hernandez was dead. Involved in an auto crash in Central America two years previously, Hernandez' body had been burned beyond all

recognition. The crash had broken the man's jaw and knocked out enough teeth to make the body unidentifiable by dental records. Still, several eyewitnesses had verified that the man in the car had been Hernandez. This made me uneasy. Could Hernandez have faked his death, including hiring witnesses? Or was someone else behind all of this? If so, who? It would have to be someone who knew how Al was likely to react to the situations, who knew in detail about her past, and who had the technical competence -- or the resources to hire someone -- to falsify those tapes. The first person to be suspected, under any usual listing of suspects, would be Geoff. But, I couldn't, didn't want to, believe that could be true. Still, Geoff was having financial problems with his Apple Acres development. I had no doubt that the suit a group of rabid environmentalists had filed against the development would be eventually dismissed. But, the costs Geoff was incurring were significant. He made no secret of that. Al had money. Just how much, no one besides Al knew for certain. But, Jencomp was privately held. She was the sole stockholder. And the corporation had carved out a sizable position for itself in the computer hardware and software markets. That pre-nuptial agreement which she had mentioned during the conversation in her office on the day that she had received the flowers could be important. What if the only way that Geoff could get her money was if she were either dead or declared mentally incompetent, with him being named as executor or conservator of her estate? That was a truly nasty thought. But, I knew that it was one that I had to explore. Still, how do you investigate your best friend? I picked up my phone and placed calls to Geoff and Al. It was time, past time, for a meeting. -------*Chapter 15* _Alicia_ I read the report. I handed it to Geoff, without saying a word. I knew that my face had to have been as white as if I had seen a ghost. In all practicality, that was close enough to the truth, if the report were true. But, it couldn't be, could it? How could Raoul Hernandez be dead? For a fleeting moment, I wondered if I had totally lost my grasp on reality. I had heard his voice over the telephone. Dead men don't make

phone calls. Or at least, they don't without the intervention of the living. The calls could have been taken from the tapes in the closet. I knew that was a possibility, maybe even a probability. Still, if it wasn't Hernandez, who was it who was doing this to me? Who could hate me that much? Ever since the day that the flowers had arrived, and Phil had raised the issue, I had wondered about that. Somehow, it was much easier to simply believe that it was Hernandez. I knew that he hated me. It was far easier to attribute this to him. Was I simply acting like electricity and taking the path of least resistance? If Hernandez was dead, and that wasn't a possibility of which I was totally convinced, then someone else out there wanted to hurt me. That possibility frightened me. Doubly so, because I had no idea about who it could have been. I had to wonder if I was insensitive enough to have made a major enemy without having realized it. "So, where does this leave me?" I asked. "The calls were clearly being made, Al. But, we have to disregard the possibility that it is Hernandez making them." "Who else could it be? No one else wants to hurt 'Licia." Phil shook his head. "I don't know anyone completely without enemies. Who would have known about the tapes of Hernandez's calls?" I frowned. "Not many people. Me, Geoff, Sarah, a couple of police officers in L.A., and you." "Sarah?" Phil asked. "Sarah Quinn." "I see," Phil replied. "Who would have access to the tapes?" "Myself, the cleaning woman -- Ada McAllister -- Geoff ... I suppose that anyone who had been in my house could have had access to the tapes. I kept them on the top shelf in a closet in a small box behind everything else." "Was Sarah ever in your house?" "I haven't seen Sarah in twelve years. I haven't talked with her, or had any direct

contact with her in that time." Geoff cleared his throat. "Are we certain that the Hernandez fellow is actually dead?" At the disbelieving look which Phil directed at him, Geoff added, "Yes, Phil. I read the report. But, I also know that it is very easy to falsify a death record in many parts of Central and South America. The insurance companies face that sort of thing all the time. I have a friend from law school who now works for a major insurance company as one of their legal counsels. He tells me that the next legitimate claim that they have from anywhere in South America will be the first legitimate claim that he sees. That's why the question is in the standard application now about whether the applicant for a policy intends to travel overseas in the foreseeable future. The report did say that the body was burned beyond recognition. Dental records were inconclusive. It is possible that Hernandez faked his own death, planning something like this. It would be relatively easy to bribe witnesses to swear to what they 'saw'. Stranger things have happened." "I don't know that we can rule anything out at this point," Phil replied. "No matter how ridiculous the theory may appear." "Well," Geoff told him, "'Licia has had far too much of this strain. She ought to get away for a while. I'm taking her to Chicago for the weekend to meet my brother. As strange as it may seem, the two of them have never actually met. It's well past time that my brother meets the woman who is going to be the mother of his nieces and nephews." I felt my face grow warm. Phil smiled, but there was something not quite right in his eyes. "That may be a good idea. Give my regards to _Monsignor_ William." Geoff smiled. "We'll do that." **** The cab pulled up in front of an old brick church. Geoff paid the cabbie. While picking up my suitcase and purse, I heard the driver say, "I'd get wherever you are going quick. This ain't a good neighborhood, 'specially this time of night." Geoff took my arm and walked toward the white two-story house that stood next to the Church. Climbing the steps to the house, I saw the door open. That has to be Will, I thought as I looked at the man in the doorway. I couldn't believe how much the two brothers resembled each other. The only difference readily discernible was that Will was obviously older than Geoff. Will's blond hair had turned that rich shade of platinum that many blondes have in lieu of gray.

Geoff walked up to the man who stood in the doorway. Hugging him, Geoff said, "Willie, it's good to see you." "Yeah, kiddo. How's my brother baby?" Will asked. "Come in. Come in. No need to stand there all night. Have you had dinner?" I walked into the house just in front of Geoff. Will closed and locked the door behind us. I looked at Geoff, waiting for an introduction. "Since your brother, obviously isn't going to introduce me," I said in a tone that was intended to be a reprimand. Setting down my suitcase, I continued, "I'm Alicia Jenkins. _Monsignor_, I'm so glad to finally meet you in person." I extended my hand. Will took my hand and shook it. "Is a handshake all I get from my future sister-in-law?" I smiled. I walked over to him and gave him a hug and a peck on the check. "Is that better, _Monsignor_?" Will smiled. "Yeah. That's a lot better. And, except in ecclesiastical matters, you can drop the Father, the _Monsignor_. Among family, I'm Will. Some people call me Willie, others William. I prefer Will." A mischievous look came into his eye, "Will matches my personality." "Yeah, I can see that: strong willed." Will looked over at Geoff. "You know, I like this woman of yours. She gets my jokes without my having to explain them to her. A definite improvement over the ladies, and I use that term loosely, whom you used to hang out with." Geoff looked at me and took my hand. Smiling, he replied, "Yeah, I think that I'll keep her around for a long time." I chose to ignore the conversation. The grandfather's clock in the hallway chimed at the half-hour. I looked over to see that it was now 7:30. Suddenly, I felt very tired. I yawned. Father Will, seeing that I looked weary, walked over and picked up my bag. "Come on, you could use a few minutes to freshen up. I'll show you to your room. You come, too, Geoff. I've put Alicia and you in the spare rooms right next to me." He led them up the stairs and down a short hallway. "Alicia, my dear, you'll bunk here," he said opening the door. "I'm afraid it isn't much in the way of a room." I went in, switched on the light, and looked around. I said, "It's just fine. Thank you. I'll take the bag. I'll try to be down in fifteen or twenty minutes." I took my case and closed the door. I placed the luggage on the floor. The room was very monastic

and utilitarian. It was about ten by fourteen. A print of the icon of Our Lady of Perpetual Help hung on the faded and water-stained papered wall. The furniture in the room consisted of a single bed sans headboard, a small table in lieu of a desk, a desk chair, and a _Prie Dieu._ A built-in bookcase in the corner held a collection of obviously well-read religious and inspirational books. I set the alarm on my watch for ten minutes and lay down on the bed. -------*Chapter 16* _Will_ After leaving Alicia, I had showed Geoff his room. It was very similar to the one that Alicia was in, except that the religious picture was a print of the tilma of Our Lady of Guadelupe. I accompanied Geoff into his room and closed the door behind us. "Well, little brother, it's not that I'm not happy to see you, but to what do I owe the honor?" Geoff told me the story in brief. I sat there in silence for a minute. "Well, brother baby, I'm glad to see you, even given the circumstances. Do you think that Alicia would like to go out on the town, or would she prefer to sit around here and talk? We have to make this evening very special for her to make up for the bad weeks that she has had." "I asked her that question on the plane. She said that she'd rather see the two of us have some time to talk and enjoy each other's company than to go out and party." "Is there anything that I can do to make this all easier?" "Not that I can think of," Geoff said. "Aside from distracting her a little. She needs all the distraction that she can get just now. Bad luck seems to be following her around. Somewhere between Fieldsburg and here, she lost her overnight case." "That's hardly in the same class of thing that she's been dealing with." "No, it isn't. But, she was somewhat upset about losing it, since it was an expensive piece of luggage which she had bought for our honeymoon." "I can understand that," I said. "Seriously, now that you've seen 'Licia, isn't she everything that I told you she was?" Geoff changed the subject.

I nodded. "She is very pretty. Seems to be quite nice. Jack Douglass thinks very highly of her. That's recommendation enough for me." Geoff looked at his watch. "'Licia is usually fairly prompt. I'll bet that she is waiting for us right now. Come on, I want you to get to know her." Geoff opened the door to his room and went out into the hall. I followed. When we got to the steps, we heard Alicia's door open. "Alicia, you're just in time." "For what?" "Dinner," I said. "I hope you don't mind, but Friday night dinner is usually pretty light. A hearty soup and homemade bread, usually." "Sounds wonderful to me. I'm not a particularly fussy eater." Reaching the first floor, Geoff put his arm around Alicia's shoulders. I looked at her as to ask permission. Alicia nodded. The three of us went off toward the dining room entwined in each other's arms like three lifelong buddies. Alicia giggled then said, "A rose between two thorns." I did my best Irish accent, "So that's what you'd be thinking of me, eh?" All three of us began to laugh. The laughter subsided as we walked into the dining room. Two young men, both dressed in black suits with clerical collars, were already gathered there. Alicia looked at the men. The first man was about five-foot, seven inches tall, weighed about one-hundred and forty pounds, had deep brown hair and a full beard. The other fellow was about the same height, but weighed about thirty pounds more and was very blonde and clean shaven. The younger men stood as I walked into the room. "Good evening, _Monsignor_," the younger men said almost in unison. Their curiosity was evident. "Good evening, Father. Good Evening, Brother. You know my brother Geoff. I'd like to introduce his fiancee, Alicia Jenkins. Alicia, this is Father Cecil Peters and Brother Louis Blaska. Alicia and Geoff came up to spend the weekend with me." The younger priest smiled as he stroked his beard. "I'm pleased to meet you, Alicia. It's good to have company in the rectory."

Brother Louis added, "Especially company as charming as Miss Jenkins." Alicia began to blush. "Thank you. I hope to be worthy of such a high compliment." I looked at my watch. "The others should be down here. Do you know where Sisters Dorothea and Bonaventure are?" "Sister Bonaventure is in the kitchen. But, I haven't seen Sister Dorothea since just before noon," Brother Louis replied as though slightly irritated. I wondered what Dorothea had done now. Brother Louis was a normally even-tempered man. He was hard to rile, but something had gotten under his skin. I would have bet a year's stipend that the something was someone in the person of Sister Dorothea. At times, that woman had all the tact of a Marine Drill Sergeant, without the accompanying charm. "Did I hear something talking about me?" a deceptively gentle voice said from the back of the room. Alicia turned to look. There stood Sister Dorothea. She was a small, young, brunette, about five-feet in height and weighing all of ninety pounds, soaking wet. The only semblance of religious garb that Dorothea usually adopted was to wear the emblem of her liberal order pinned to a t-shirt. Why she had decided tonight to appear in the floor-length black serge habit and veil her order had laid aside, but never officially abandoned, was anyone's guess. I wasn't fooled by the concession to tradition. The determination and spunk that people always saw in the Sister's eyes announced that this was one woman who was to be reckoned with. I only wondered which of Sister's schemes to drag the predominantly Hispanic congregation kicking and screaming into the twentieth century had upset Brother Louis and what exactly I was going to have to do to smooth over the situation. Alicia smiled at the Sister. I made the introductions. Just as I had finished, a tall, older woman in a street length brown habit and black veil, Sister Bonaventure, entered the room carrying a soup tureen. The inhabitants of the rectory went to the table. I placed Alicia and Geoff next to me, Alicia on the right and Geoff to my left. Alicia was sitting between Father Peters and myself. Geoff sat between Sister Bonaventure and myself. After grace, Sister Bonaventure struck up conversation with Geoff. I noticed the surprised look on Alicia's face. Sister Dorothea, who was sitting across the table, asked Alicia, "Is anything wrong with your soup, Miss Jenkins?" "No, But, thank you for asking," Alicia replied. "It's just that you looked so surprised."

"I was just a little startled that there would be conversation at dinner," Alicia said. Father Cecil asked, "Why should that surprise you? Don't most people normally talk over dinner?" "I suppose. But, in the convent we always kept silence at meals. I assumed that it was common practice, even among secular religious. I don't know why I should have done so." The silence in the room was deafening. I broke the silence, "Alicia left her order, with permission, before final profession, at the expiration of her final set of annual vows." "So, Alicia, what have you done with your life since leaving your order?" Sister Dorothea asked. "Well, I taught high school for a year. Then, I completed my doctorate, and have been both teaching at the collegiate level and running my own business since then." Sister Bonaventure spoke up. "What's your subject?" "Computer Graphics and robotics, primarily. I also have a fascination for artificial intelligence." Brother Louis' eyes lit up. "I teach computers and Math at the parish High School. Tell me more about your business." "Actually, Brother, I fear that I'll bore the rest of these good people. It's pretty technical stuff, for the most part," Alicia said smilingly. Geoff laughed. "You'll probably recognize the name of her company, Jencomp." Brother Louis smiled broadly. "You're brilliant, Doctor Jenkins. I've played with the Jencomp graphics interface. It's exceptional." "Thank you. It's been a good seller." "What are you working on, now?" the brother asked. Geoff looked over at Alicia. "You know, she hasn't even explained her latest tinkertoy project to me. She's really tightlipped about it." Sister Bonaventure prodded, "I would like to hear something about it. You can always tell so much about a person by how they talk about their job." Father Cecil countered defensively, "I'm not sure that's true. What a person does

for a living generally doesn't affect the kind of person that he/she is. For example, I worked on a construction crew to earn my way through college. Am I what you would character type as a construction worker?" Sister Bonaventure turned red. I wasn't sure if the reason was that Sister was angry or embarrassed. However, I really didn't want to find out. Clearly figuring that she'd diffuse the conversation, Alicia said, "I think what Sister meant is that when someone loves her job, you can hear it in her voice. And when someone doesn't like the job, you can tell much about that person's character by finding out why he doesn't like the job. I really don't think that Sister was type-casting anyone by career, or lack thereof." Then smiling, she added, "Besides, Father, I don't see that there is anything wrong with having been a construction worker. In fact, I'd be very proud of it if I were you. After all, that was St. Joseph's and Our Lord's profession." Father Cecil laughed. "_Mea maxima culpa_," he uttered. I looked at Father Cecil, trying to think of some way to change the subject. Alicia, obviously feeling on the spot, sighed deeply. "If it will make you feel any better, I'll tell you about my current project." As I watched Alicia's face become animated, I thought that she was one of the most beautiful women whom I had ever seen. My brother was one truly blessed man. "What it is that I am working on is a way of linking robotics, artificial intelligence, a graphics interface, and a few other components to create fine art, specifically paintings. I've just about got all the bugs worked out of an expert system that ties a unique electronic eye and a very special robotic hand together. The resulting system can scan any existing work of art and duplicate it down to the finest detail in oil on a canvass. Potentially, the machine could paint in the style of any of the great masters. Imagine that you could set any given subject in front of the machine, and you'd get a portrait of that person done in the style of, say, Cezanne, Renoir, DaVinci, you name it. My database is almost complete on the techniques of the Masters. The only one that I haven't quite got down is Van Gogh. I never have been able to codify his brushwork. But, I'm working on it." Geoff smiled. Brother Louis' jaw had dropped open about half way through Alicia's explanation. "Just how much of a system do you need to control all that?" "Right now, I'm running it off of a machine of my own design. I've tied together neural nets with more standard technology. It's been an ambitious project."

"Whew! How do you interface between those diametrically different technologies? That had to be interesting," Brother Louis asked. "Yeah. None of this was easy. There were really a few difficult parts to the development. The first was in refining an electronic eye so that it could distinguish enough shades and intensities of color, as well as being able to quantify the texture. The second was in working out a robotic hand that would be flexible and sensitive enough to perform the functions required. The only other difficult part, really, was breaking down the thought processes of the Masters and codifying it into the database. I had to do a lot of painting, observing certified copyists, and thinking to accomplish that. Once that was done, most of the other pieces fell into place. I'm still having some problems with the robotic hand." "Like what?" Brother Louis inquired with more than polite interest. "Occasionally, when it is trying duplicate a particularly emotional piece, its grip will become so tight that it either breaks the brush or rams it right through the canvass." I laughed. The rest of the people at the table, joined in the laughter. "Are you putting us on?" Alicia smiled. "I wish I were, Will. I suppose that it does sound funny." Becoming more serious, she added, "But please, I've been keeping my work very quiet, for obvious reasons. I've put too much effort into this to see it be duplicated somewhere else. I've spent a lot of my money on this research. The patents for the subsystems have already come down. The graphics interface which Brother Louis spoke of earlier was one of those subsystems, or at least, the commercial program was a part of one of those subsystems which I modified for commercial usage. The patent on the overall machine has been approved only a few days ago. I'm working on the paper to announce the development at a conference scheduled for this fall. So, please, I'm swearing you all to secrecy on this." All heads at the table nodded in agreement. Sister Bonaventure remarked thoughtfully, "Sounds like an interesting machine. I'm a little worried that with machines like that and like music synthesizers that people will eventually forget how to paint and play music. I mean, why should we go through the hard part of learning to play or paint if a machine can do it for us?" Alicia smiled. "I understand and share your concern. Machines are only good for what we choose to use them. Only our use of them can impart a moral nature to them. I envision a machine like mine used in teaching people how to paint. So many times in art classes, we look at fine works by the Masters and we wonder how they accomplished that one effect. I see this machine as a way of helping to create finer painters by showing them how the old Masters did the things that they did. In fact, I hope to have my machine declared to be a certified copyist by the Louvre. It is

certainly more accurate than many copyists that I've seen." "If the machine is that good, won't people be tempted to use it to make forgeries of paintings?" Sister Dorothea asked. Alicia smiled. She had obviously been waiting for that question. "That's a very good question. It deserves a good answer. There are many elements to a painting. First, there is the matter of a canvass. If the painting to be duplicated is very old, for a forger to do an acceptable job, he or she would have to have a canvass of approximately that age. He or she would also have to stretch the canvass using the techniques and materials of that time. Each master used slightly different techniques, for example DaVinci often painted on wood, instead of canvass. Finding wood of the appropriate era that hadn't been already painted on is difficult. But, that's another problem entirely." Alicia paused momentarily, before continuing, "The second important element as I see it is the paint. Until relatively recently, each artist mixed his own paints, often mining the pigments himself, from what was locally available. Put that together with a wide variety of binders used in mixing the paints, and you come up with something which is extremely difficult to duplicate exactly." Father Cecil smiled. "It sounds like you've thought of every way possible to forge a painting." Alicia smiled and laughed quietly. "Let's just say that I try to stay one step ahead of the competition." "Suppose," Geoff asked, "just suppose that someone went to the effort of getting a piece of canvass of the right age and stretched it properly and got the right pigments and mixed them the right way. Given those conditions, would your machine make a perfect forgery?" "I've allowed for that contingency. Each painting begins with a routine to rule out any possible undetected forgery. The first step is to paint, or size, the canvass with gesso. That is pretty well standard modern procedure. What isn't standard is that there is a microscopic amount of powdered white lead sprayed onto the gesso forming the letters C O P Y along the diagonal of the canvass. It's microscopic, i.e. invisible to the eye, but believe me, any x-ray equipment will certainly pick it out." Geoff nodded his head. He seemed amused at the detail of this project of hers. I wondered if this was the first that he had heard of it. "Woman. That is some plan. What's to stop a sharpy like, say Sister Bonaventure here, from removing the canvass after that part of the painting is complete and replacing it with another?" he asked with clear humor in his voice. Alicia smiled and winked at him. "That's easy. After the painting has begun, if the

canvass is removed from the easel, the entire process recycles. Starting with, guess what, the gesso and the white lead. And to answer the next logical question, there is no way around it. The machine will sit motionless if there is any lack of either the gesso or the lead. The machine tests the quality of both the gesso and the lead. If either fails to meet preset minimum criteria, the machine will not continue. The control for that portion of the process is in hardware. Any modification of the machine out of preset criteria will cause it to malfunction." "What do you mean malfunction?" Sister Dorothea asked. "It will paint, but..." Alicia laughed boldly. "the only thing that the machine will produce is a facsmile of one of the suggested early American flags. You know, the one with the snake and the message 'Don't tread on me'?" Everyone at the table broke up laughing. Geoff looked over at Alicia. "That's real cute 'Licia." "Yeah, I thought it was poetic justice." "What is the possibility of lead poisoning from your process?" Brother Louis asked when he stopped laughing. Alicia laughed. "The amount of lead in the machine is insignificant. The amount on each painting is hardly worth talking about. It's well below the EPA standards." Brother Louis smiled. "So, do you see other applications for the sub-assemblies?" "Yes. There are lots of manufacturing applications," Alicia replied. "You've worked out the visual recognition problems?" Brother Louis asked. "For the most part." "Wow!" Brother Louis remarked in awe. "The applications are mind boggling." "I've already licensed some of the technology to Davis Engineering," Alicia said. "That's Rose Davis' outfit?" Father Cecil asked in surprise. "Rusty's a friend," Alicia replied quietly. "You've got some ... real ... interesting friends," Father Cecil remarked with distaste in his voice. Alicia looked at him with narrowed eyes. "My friends are interesting people."

"So what is Davis going to be doing with your innovations?" Father Cecil asked in a cautious tone still heavily laced with distaste. "Why are you so concerned?" Alicia asked. "That woman has her paws into many areas," Father Cecil said in disgust. "She is little more than a pawn in the hands of the military industrial complex." Alicia bristled. "Rusty is my friend. No one who knows her would call her a pawn in anyone's game. She plays by her own rules. Period." Father Cecil, seeing the fire in her eyes, backed down. "I meant no disrespect. The pair of you seems diametrically opposed to one another. She's such a-a flamboyant person." "Only Rusty's work is flamboyant. She is actually quite a private person." "She's a merchant of death!" Father Cecil said. "Rather, her inventions try to maintain life for people in otherwise untenable situations," Alicia countered, no small measure of heat in her voice. "Right." A person would have had to be deaf to have missed the sarcasm in Father Cecil's voice. "How did you meet Davis?" I asked quietly, trying to get a handle on my future sister-in-law. "I was a doctoral candidate when she was an undergraduate challenging the Institute for her Bachelor's and Master's course work. There weren't a lot of women in the E.E. and M.E. programs. The few of us that there were tended to form friendships as self-defense against the good-old-boy mentality of the department." "So, Geoff," Sister Dorothea said changing the subject, "_Monsignor_ has told us all about your upcoming marriage. The date is for three weeks from tomorrow?" "Yes," Geoff answered with a smile. I cleared my throat. "Well, Sister Bonaventure, you've outdone yourself with this cheese and vegetable chowder. It is wonderful." "Thank you, _Monsignor_. I remembered how much you all liked it the last time I made it," Sister replied, her face beaming with quiet pride. Small talk ended the meal. After dinner, we all went to the living room.

Sister Dorothea stepped over to the piano and sat down. "Now for some real music," she announced. She began to play some Irish folk songs. Father Cecil and Brother Louis sang along. The hall clock struck ten. Sister Dorothea stopped playing and excused herself saying that it was getting late. Sister Bonaventure also made her excuses as did Father Cecil and Brother Louis. Within three minutes, only Alicia, Geoff and I remained in the living room. "Hummph," Geoff declared, "you certainly have them well trained." I looked at Geoff, shaking my head. "They all are adults living under rule. They are expected to keep the hours for retiring of their respective communities. For most of them that is ten or thereabouts," I replied matter-of-factly. "Yeah. I remember," Alicia said, mostly to herself. "Father Cecil is going to say early Mass in the morning. I don't have to be at the Church until ten tomorrow. So, we can stay up and chat for awhile, if you like," I offered. "Yeah", said Alicia, "I'd like that. It's not often that one meets her soon-to-be brother-in-law. But, if we are going to stay up and chat, I could use a warm drink." I nodded. "I could use a cup of coffee myself," I said as I rose to go make the coffee. They were embracing when I returned to the living room carrying thermal carafe of coffee and three mugs. There was something very tender in the caress that my baby brother was bestowing on his fiancee. I was glad to see that. Geoffrey has always been a womanizer. I was glad that he had found a woman for whom he could feel tenderness. Couples embracing don't bother me. But I thought that Alicia might be embarrassed. I backed out of the room and waited. **** A few minutes later, I handed her a cup of coffee. "I received your letter the other day," I remarked to Alicia. "It was a fine idea. Thank you for the thought." "You're most welcome," Alicia hedged, as her face went totally ashen. That was when I realized that I was talking out of school. Geoff didn't know about the birthday surprise that she was planning for him. Geoff looked at Alicia then at me. "Okay, why has this suddenly become 'Treat Geoff like a mushroom' day?" he demanded.

Alicia smiled. "Never mind. Trust me. I've got a birthday surprise for you. I just wanted to run it by your brother to get his opinion. You'll see about it soon enough. That's all I'm telling you." "Okay. But the suspense is killing me," Geoff said. "You're a big boy, you'll survive," I told him with humor. The conversation went on for hours as Alicia, Geoff and I spoke of many subjects. As the hall clock struck one, I announced that it was way past my bedtime. "Come on, we'll have lots of time later today to talk. It's time that we all got some sleep. Come on, now. Up to bed with all of us." -------*Chapter 17* _Alicia_ I hadn't been asleep long when I was awakened by the sound of the door opening. I opened an eye to see Geoff standing at the door. I sat up in bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. "What?" He walked in and closed the door behind him. "Geoff, go to bed. It is very late. I'm tired." By the light streaming in the window, I watched as he walked over to me. He sat on her bed facing me. His arms surrounded me, crushingly. He kissed me, angrily. His face felt very cold, almost plastic. I pushed him away. While pushing him, I tore some latex loose from his face. He tore the rest of it off. It was Raoul Hernandez. His hands went around my throat. "Now you die, Seester." The next thing that I knew, I was sitting upright in bed, screaming. Suddenly, the light switched on. Geoff and Father Will were standing there. Sisters Dorothea and Bonaventure, along with Father Cecil and Brother Louis, followed quickly. "What's wrong?" Sister Bonaventure asked. "'Licia's had a nightmare," Geoff explained. "Go back to bed, please. We're sorry to disturb your sleep." Sister Bonaventure nodded. "I'll brew her up some chamomile and red clover tea.

That will put her back to sleep." Father Will smiled at Sister. "Please go back to bed. There is no need for you all to stay here. The situation is under control," Will told them. I was breathing very hard, as I tried to regain my composure. Tears streamed down my face. It was only a dream, I kept telling myself. Geoff walked around the bed and sat down. He held me and let me cry. "Oh, Geoff. Such a nightmare. Hernandez found me. He disguised himself as you and got close enough to hold and kiss me. Then he tried to kill me." "It was just a dream. No one is going to hurt you while I'm here," Geoff reassured me as he stroked my hair. Father Will came over. Kneeling by the bed, he took my hand. "Alicia. Listen to me. You've got to pull yourself together. It was only a nightmare." He got up from his knees and sat on the bed. I looked at him, seeing only compassion in his eyes. I laughed, nervously, becoming embarrassed. "I'm so sorry to wake everyone up." "Don't worry about it," Will said. I realized that Geoff wasn't wearing a shirt. I looked down to discover to my relief, that he had, at least, pulled on his pants before answering my screams. I pulled away from Geoff. Will looked over at Geoff. "I want to talk to Alicia about this. Why don't you go help Sister." Geoff and his brother exchanged looks I couldn't decipher before Geoff left the room. "Alicia," Will began, "I know all about Los Angeles. I know about this Hernandez fellow. I can understand why you'd feel fear of him. I would be in fear of him, if I were you." I laid my head on Will's shoulder, and hugged him. Will held me tightly. A long moment passed. "Feeling better?" I moved out of his arms. "Yes. Thank you." I paused briefly. "Will?"

"Yes?" "Thank you. You are going to be a fine brother in law," I said warmly as I touched his shoulder. "I'm a lucky woman to be marrying into this family." Will patted my hand. "Anytime that you want someone to talk to, call me. I'll always be here for you." I looked at him. "Thank you, Will. You're a fine man." I heard Geoff coming up the stairs. "That brother of yours is coming. Have you noticed that he has a great sense of timing?" "Yes. Just super," Will said with a touch of caustic undercurrents in his voice. Geoff opened the door. He was carrying a tray with cups, a pot of tea, and cookies. Closing the door behind him, Geoff said, "Tea and sweets." He sat the tray down on the table and poured three cups of tea. Will looked at Geoff and then at me. He downed his very hot tea as though it were merely lukewarm. "I'd better get some sleep." As he rose, he admonished, "Be good, you two." "What else would we be?" Geoff asked in as innocent of a tone as he could muster. "Frankly, I'd rather not know," Will said as he left the room and closed the door softly behind him. Geoff sat down on my bed. He sipped his tea. "Do you feel better now?" I smiled at him. "Yes. I feel much better now. Nothing is solved. That maniac is still out there somewhere. I'm still in danger, but I feel better." I finished my tea. I waited until Geoff had finished his, then I handed him my cup. He laid them on the floor before he tucked me in, under the covers, then he lay down beside me, on top of the covers. He held me until I dropped back off to sleep. There were no words between us. There was no need for them. Once I was asleep, he must have picked up the cups and taken them downstairs to the kitchen. -------*Chapter 18* _Geoff_

Will was in the kitchen making some cocoa when I came in. "I couldn't get back to sleep," my brother explained. "Poor girl. She is very lucky to have someone who cares about her like you do." "Personally, Will, I think that I'm the lucky one." "She's a fine woman." "I'm worried about her, Will." "I can understand that. She's been through Hell." "She's so strong. But, there is a limit to anyone's strength. Since Thursday morning, she's been on edge. Every little sound is making her jump. I know that she didn't sleep on Thursday night. I heard her up and walking around almost all night." "That means that you didn't get much sleep either, doesn't it?" "True. But, I don't need much sleep." "You and she are to sleep in, while you are here," Will said. "I don't care if you stay in bed until afternoon. Both of you need the rest. If you can't get a bit of sanctuary in a Rectory, where can you?" "Thanks, Will." "Drink your cocoa and go to bed," Will said in a gruff tone which didn't hide his concern for us. "Always the bossy big brother." "Does Alicia know about your vasectomy?" I hated lying to my brother, but there was no way that I could tell him the truth. He just wouldn't understand the fact that I had seen fit to lie to 'Licia. He definitely wouldn't approve. And the chances of his keeping his mouth closed about it were slim to none. I couldn't afford the risk. "It's been reversed." Will smiled broadly. "Then, will I be an uncle within the next couple of years?" "Within the next eight and a half months. Alicia's pregnant." Will just looked at me. "Does Jack Douglass know that?"

"We haven't told anyone else, yet. 'Licia just had the blood test and ultrasound day before yesterday to confirm." "I take it that this was planned?" "With malice aforethought. 'Licia wants children. She doesn't have many productive years left. We didn't want to waste time." Will shook his head. "Do you love her?" "Of course." "Well, you won't be the first couple to consummate a marriage before taking your vows. I doubt that you'll be the last," Will said. "You might try being happy for us." Will smiled at me. "Of course, I'm happy for you." "Are you?" "Of course, I am. I just can't help wishing that you had moved up the wedding." "She wanted to get the term over and done with, so that we could spend those first few weeks without any other distraction. And I needed some time to wind up most of my urgent caseload so that I could take a long honeymoon." Will sighed. "I'm going to bed, now. Turn off the lights when you come up." -------*Chapter 19* _Alicia_ It was one in the afternoon before I awoke again. I looked at the clock, then looked again. I gathered my clothes for the day and went to the bathroom. My hairbrush and toothbrush had been in the overnight case that had not made it to Chicago. Entering the bathroom, I saw a note taped to the mirror. Will had gone out and bought me a new toothbrush, hairbrush, bottles of shampoo and conditioner, and a tube of toothpaste. I smiled. He was just as thoughtful as his brother. Leaving the bathroom twenty-five minutes later, dressed in jeans, a cotton sweater, and tennis shoes, and with my still damp hair hanging down my back in a single plait, I felt much better than I had in days. I made my way downstairs.

Sister Bonaventure was in the kitchen making pies for dinner. "Want some help?" "Come in. Sit down," the older woman said warmly. "You must be hungry." I smiled. "You are always trying to feed me." "That is my apostolate. I'm a registered dietitian. I supervise the food preparation over at the school. And here as well, I suppose," the Religious said gently. I nodded. "I can see that." "What would you like for breakfast?" "Don't fuss over me. I'll make something for myself." Sister smiled. "_Monsignor_ Samson is quite taken with you." "He's a good man. I am glad to be marrying into his family." Sister laughed, then she became serious. "You don't have a family of your own, _Monsignor_ says." "No. I don't. Or rather, I don't have any that I know of. My parents died when I was small. Both of them were only children of only children. There never has been anyone really close." "You ought to get out today and see the area. Make Geoff take you to see the sights." "Chicagoland is my old stomping grounds. I was born in Lake Forest." Will had been standing at the doorway. "Geoff didn't tell me that you were a native." "I'm not certain that I've ever told him," I said. "My childhood wasn't particularly a pleasant one. I tend to avoid discussing it." Will nodded and smiled with understanding. "Speaking of Geoff, where is he?" I asked. "Across the street, shooting hoops with a group of teenagers." I laughed. "That sounds like Geoff. I suppose that he is winning?"

"Probably being run into the ground, if I know the teenagers who are playing against him. They are ruthless," Will said with glee in his voice. I laughed boldly. "A little humility would not be a bad thing for your brother to acquire. But, then again, I wouldn't be so sure that the teenagers would best him. He keeps in pretty good shape. And Geoff has a streak of ruthlessness in him a mile wide. That isn't a trait which your high school kids have probably had the necessary experiences to acquire and hone." "How well you know him," Will said with a laugh. "Have you had breakfast?" "Will, please ... I would prefer it if people would stop trying to fatten me up." "You could use a few pounds. Especially now. It isn't good for you to miss meals. Eat a good breakfast." "The last few weeks have been rather trying." Will nodded. "An understatement of British proportions." "Very much so, I'm afraid." Will patted my hand. "You just take today to relax. You need some time away from everything. I was glad to see you sleep in." "Thanks, Will. You don't know how much I need some down time." Will nodded. "I think that I do. Now, eat some breakfast, lunch, brunch, whatever. Just get some good solid food inside you." Then he looked at me in concern. "You aren't one of those females who gets all woozy in the mornings, are you?" Will asked in a volume too low for Sister to overhear the words. "Relax, Will. I'm not likely to faint at your feet." "That's a relief. Now, eat your food," he said as Sister placed before me a plate containing a thick ham and swiss on rye and a large handful of raw vegetables. I nodded and sighed. "Okay." After eating, I walked across to the school-yard where Geoff was involved in a fast paced game with teenagers. He had his shirt off. Several of the high school girls were trying not to stare openly at him. I could sympathize with them. It was difficult not to look, and keep looking, at a form that nearly perfect. Several wolf whistles greeted my appearance on the playground.

I laughed. "Good grief, guys. I'm probably your mothers' age." "Terrific, guys. You've worn out an old man. Have mercy," Geoff said teasingly. "Yeah, right, man. You've wiped the court with us," one of the boys said in respect. "I can hardly believe that you are _Monsignor_'s brother." "Will shot a mean game of hoops when he was your age. In fact, he was All-State for the last three years of High School. And he was All American in college. If he hadn't been called to the priesthood, he would have probably gone pro." The teenagers absorbed that bit of information in silence. I could tell that the boys had never thought of _Monsignor_ Will in that light before. "Hello, beautiful," Geoff said to me. "Hello, yourself." "So, you finally decided to rejoin the land of the living." I laughed. "Sure did. Now, why don't you go get cleaned up. I want to go shopping at Marshall Field's." "Trying to empty my wallet?" Geoff asked teasingly. "Trying to fill my closet." Geoff nodded as he slid his arms back into his shirt. "Okay. Let me go get a shower." "Take your time." He laughed. "What you don't think that I should go as I am?" "Not unless you are going as a fumigator." -------*Chapter 20* _Diary, May 8_ I have Sister's overnight case. It was incredibly easy to steal it from the airport. In fact, it was almost too easy. Soon, the next stage in my plan will begin.

Very soon, she will continue to pay for the harm that she has done to me with her lies and her murderous actions. The law can't touch her, but I can. I can. I've already proven that. Bye-bye car, bye-bye house. Soon, soon, she will have nothing left. Not her business ... not her sanity ... and not her life. The law can't touch her. But, I can. I have. And I will. Soon, all my waiting will be over, but not before I make her suffer, not before I destroy everything that she loves, the way that she did to me. I can almost see her face as she opens the case. I only wish that I could actually be there to see her reaction. Still, I'll hear it. That's the next best thing. It will be a surprise to her, maybe but probably not a lethal one. That's a calculated risk. I'm not done playing with her, yet. I haven't yet given her back all the pain that she caused me. I would hate for the game to be over before I've had my satisfaction. I will have justice. I will make her pay. There's really no one else who can extract the vengeance for her murderous acts. Then she will be helpless, at my mercy. She'll beg. She'll plead. But no one will listen to her. No one will want anything to do with her. Everyone will know her to be the lying murderess that she is. The religious school where she teaches will have no recourse except to terminate her contract. After all, they won't be able to afford to keep a cold-blooded murderess on faculty. It would be bad for their image. It's just a matter of time. Like the drop of water that erodes a stone as it drips, I will be wearing her down, cutting a groove into her, until finally she breaks in two. It's just a matter of time. I have all the time in the world. Too bad that Sister doesn't yet really realize that her time is limited. Not yet. But she will. The thought of making her sweat, really sweat, makes me happy. But not as happy as the thought of seeing her brought to justice. -------*Chapter 21* _Geoff_ I stood back watching Alicia shop. Heaven help anyone who stood in her way, I

thought. In the hour that we had been in the store, she had selected four business suits, three daytime dresses, two dressy dresses, a half dozen blouses, and five pair of slacks which coordinated with the suit jackets. "Are you planning on buying out the store?" Alicia laughed. "Me? I thought that you were buying?" I laughed in return as I crossed the distance between us. "I think that it is good that I found out just how extravagant you can be before the wedding." "Afraid that you can't keep me in the style to which I have become accustomed?" "You could probably buy and sell me a dozen times over, woman." "Not quite." "Aren't those a lot of things for a woman in your condition to be buying? You aren't going to be in them for very long." Alicia smiled at me. "I don't intend to spend the rest of our marriage pregnant. And I won't be letting myself go. I'll be the same size after the baby comes." "You are sure about that?" "If I have to starve myself after the baby is born, I'll be back in a size eight. Trust me." "That's my girl." Alicia raised an eyebrow. "Girl?" she echoed disdainfully. "Oh, please, you aren't going to go militant on me, just now, are you?" "Sweetheart, I haven't been a girl for decades." "You're as young as you feel, darling." Then I kissed her forehead. Alicia laughed. "I certainly hope not. On second thought, maybe that isn't so bad. I'm in pretty good shape for a hundred and ten year old." "Idiot." But that was a term of affection. "I've got a few more things to pick up."

"You aren't finished?" "Not hardly. I need shoes, a new spring coat, some lingerie..." She stopped as my eyes lit up. "Stop drooling," she warned in a teasing voice. I laughed. Then I kissed her forehead, again. "Go shop." "You know, I wouldn't be this extravagant if my wardrobe hadn't been lost in the explosion. I'm so sick of living in jeans, and sweats like I have been for the past weeks." "I know, Apple Juice." "And I am buying my own things. I was only teasing you about letting you pay." "Sure, 'Licia." "Why are you being so agreeable, all of a sudden?" "Would you rather that I be disagreeable?" She smiled broadly. "Of course not." "It's good to see you enjoying yourself. I haven't seen you smile, really smile, when we are alone, in what seems like forever. A man could become addicted to your smiles and laughter." "I'm sorry, Geoff." "You've had a lot on your mind. Now, shop until you drop or your credit limit makes you stop." "I've never pushed my Field's card to the limit. I doubt that I'll do so today. But, the thought is tempting. This is the only time in my life that I will be assembling a trousseau." "Then by all means, don't forget the lingerie. Make sure that it doesn't have scratchy lace." Alicia smiled, and laughed genuinely. Her laughter always sent a thrill up my spine. "Ah yes, but scratchy for which one of us?" she asked, mischief in her eyes.

"You never let me get by with anything, do you?" "Never." **** I looked at the rear of the borrowed station wagon. Alicia had filled it with packages. "How in the world are you going to get all of this home?" "Ever heard of UPS? I'll take the crucial items with me. The rest, I'll box up and have your brother send them downstate via UPS." Alicia smiled as she leaned back against the seat. "What are you thinking?" "Just how good it feels to be loved." "I do love you, 'Licia." "I know ... I've not been fair to you, lately, have I?" "Life hasn't been fair, lately." "We are going to have a good life together, aren't we?" she asked with a shade of desperation in her voice. "Of course we are. We wouldn't dare do otherwise." -------*Chapter 22* _Alicia_ The rest of Saturday passed entirely too quickly. Geoff and I went out on the town Saturday evening. Dinner and dancing in Chicago were too much of a temptation for us. Especially so, since the only restaurant in Fieldsburg which offered dancing did so to the music of a Country band. We returned to the rectory at two a.m. Even after that late night, we were both awake and dressed in time for ten thirty mass on Sunday.

Laughter filled the dining room at the rectory. Sunday lunch was simple: homemade bread, sliced cheeses and meats, assorted raw fresh vegetables with a feta cheese and walnut dip, and an array of fresh fruits. "You've got to let me have the recipe for that dip." Sister smiled at me. "Of course, Alicia. I'll write you with it." Will glanced at his watch. "I hate to be a nag. But, you two are going to miss your flight unless we get moving." "Flying out of O'Hare?" Brother Louis asked. "Meigs." "I hate small airplanes. I never feel safe," Brother remarked. I sighed. "But, then again, I've never found much about life which was safe." Will looked pointedly at his watch. "Come on, people. It is past time for us to get going, if I am still driving you to the airport." Geoff and I made a simple dinner working together in his kitchen, after we returned to Fieldsburg. We ate by the light of the fire blazing in the fireplace in the living room. When the grandfather's clock rang off nine, I yawned. "Tired?" "A little." "Then go to bed, 'Licia. I'll lock up before I come up." "Geoff?" He smiled at me. "Thank you for the weekend." "If I thought that you stood the remotest chance of being able to walk away from your teaching at the college, I would take you somewhere far away from all of the troubles here. But, you have to honor your commitments. The old-fashioned values which you have are one of the reasons that I love you so."

"Finals are in a bit less than two weeks. We will be married the day after I turn grades in, Geoff. I only hope that we get this situation resolved by then." "Whatever comes, 'Licia, my love, we will deal with it." I kissed him lightly, nothing more than a brush of my lips against his. Geoff's arms tightened around me as he kissed me in return. This caress started light, but rapidly became much more passionate. I was with him until his hands began to roam, then the fear hit me. I began to shake. I know that I stiffened. Pulling back from me slightly, he smiled a strained smile. "I've taken so many shortcuts in my life, 'Licia. With you, I want to do things right. I'm not pushing you. It's just so much of a temptation to..." "To try to seduce me." Geoff smiled sheepishly. "Yes. But, you aren't ready for that, are you?" "No, obviously I'm not. I'm sorry." "I love you, 'Licia." He placed his hand on my still flat stomach. "And I love sprout there. He just seems so unreal to me, right now." "As for sprout, it won't be terribly long until she'll seem real to you. Now, I'm going to bed. Sleep well." Passing through the foyer, I saw someone peering into the house from the porch. I couldn't make out the face because of the opaque etched glass, but there was definitely someone there. "Geoff?" I asked. Geoff was there in a flash. I nodded over to the door. The face was still there. Geoff wrapped his arm around my waist and urged me toward the stairs. "Easy, baby, I'll come down the back stairs and go around from the kitchen," Geoff whispered in my ear as he hustled me up the stairs. "Let's get you out of harm's way." "You be careful," I whispered in return. "Always." Geoff left me in the upstairs hall. ****

I heard the sound of breaking glass. I ran into my bedroom and found my gun. I picked up the telephone extension on my bed table and dialed 911. "This is Alicia Jenkins. We have a prowler at 133 Park. Assistance needed, immediately." I made my way downstairs carefully. The antique etched glass was broken out of the front door. There was a substantial amount of blood on the floor. "Geoff!" I called out in fear. "Geoff!" But, Geoff did not answer. The police car pulled up, siren running. I placed the pistol on safety, then put it at the small of my back at the waistband of my jeans. Both uniformed men approached the house with guns drawn. I called out to them, "Come around to the kitchen door. There's too much glass and blood here." "Are you all right?" one of the officers, a young man named Sam Ulrich who had taken a couple of classes I had taught, asked in concern. "I am. But, I'm not so sure about Geoff." I reached the kitchen at the same time that the officers arrived at the door. "What happened?" Sam Ulrich asked firmly. "I don't really know. I saw someone outside, peering in the front door. Geoff took me upstairs, told me to stay safe, then he went down the back stairs to the kitchen door, and walked around the porch to confront whomever it was. The next thing that I heard was the breaking glass. That's when I called." Sam Ulrich nodded. A motorcycle drove into the driveway and parked at the back door. There were heavy footsteps on the back porch stairs. Phil Mallory walked in, pulling off his helmet. "Al? Are you okay?" he demanded as he came to stand before me. "Oh, Phil!" I cried brokenly as I buried my face in his chest. "There's broken glass and blood in the foyer. There was someone there, looking in. Geoff must have chased him. I'm so scared."

Phil put his helmet down on the kitchen counter. Then he wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly. "We'll find him, Al. We'll find him." "Phil..." His name was a cry of pain on my lips. Phil stroked my hair. "Look, I know that you have been through hell lately. But, you have to pull yourself together. Come on, Al, show some of that famous Jenkins composure." I sniffled. I pulled myself out of his arms. "Thanks, Phil," I said as I wiped moisture from my eyes. "Al, hang in here with us. Let's take a look at the broken glass." I led them back to the foyer. Then I went back into the living room and sat before the fire. I just stared into the dying flames. Phil looked at Sam Ulrich and Peter Hess. "Get the men out looking for Geoff Samson. And I want a photographer, and a man with an evidence kit here ten minutes ago." "Al?" Phil asked from his position behind where I was sitting on the carpet just in front of the hearth. I hadn't answered his earlier softer queries. "Go find him, Phil," I responded without taking my eyes from the fire. "Al, look at me." "No," I denied with a sob. "Just go find him. Find him and bring him home. I don't think that I want to go on without him." **** I was aware of the men who came and went. After the photographer was done, a forensic sample of the blood was taken. No textile fibers could be found around the break in the glass. I was aware of all of this. But, I couldn't pull myself together. Instead, I sat in front of the fire, not seeing, nearly lost in my misery and fear. Periodically, I heard the difficult-to-decipher squawk of a broadcast along the police band from one or more of the radios the uniformed officers wore on their belts. After the majority of activity was done, I rose from my place in front of the dying fire. "May I clean up the mess now?" "Sure, Al," Phil answered. "Do you need a hand in fixing the window?"

"None of the stores are open. That glass was antique. I don't know how Geoff will want to fix this." Phil nodded. "It could be boarded up until it can be fixed correctly." I nodded tightly. "That sounds reasonable. I know that there is a piece of plywood in the garage. How do I get the bloodstain off of the hardwood floor, though?" Phil looked at me for a long moment. "Would you like for me to board up the window?" My face crumpled. "I don't know how much more of this I can take, Phil. I just don't know how much I can take. If Geoff is hurt or worse ... God forbid. Oh, Phil..." "Hey, let's not worry about something which we can't do anything about. Don't go borrowing trouble." "Borrowing trouble? I don't need to borrow any. I've already had a life time supply. Do you know why I picked Fieldsburg? It's almost funny now. It was a quiet college and farming town. Being the county seat, there was enough of the urban conveniences resent that I didn't quite feel out of place and there was enough of the rural mindset that I felt comfortably laid back." The radio Phil had laid down on the hall table screeched just after he had finished boarding up the window. Phil picked up the radio and answered the call, "Mallory." "We've located Mr. Samson. He's in route to Community Hospital." "What's his condition?" "Unconscious." "Dear God!" I prayed fervently. "I'm on my way," Phil replied before signing off. "I'm coming with you!" "You ever ridden a motorcycle?" "Never. But, I'm not in any shape to drive. Look, Phil. Just take me to Geoff?" I demanded. "Please, Philip."

Phil nodded affirmatively. "Okay. Hang onto me. If I lean, lean with me, even if your first instinct tells you to do the opposite. Trust me." I knew in that moment that I would trust him with my life. "Fine. Just get me to the hospital." **** Geoff was in the emergency room at Fieldsburg Community Hospital when Phil and I arrived there. Sam Ulrich was there, having ridden in the ambulance with Geoff. "How bad is he, Sam?" "I've seen worse, Doc. But, he's not going to be pretty for awhile," the young officer said. I sighed impatiently. "'Pretty' is not important. How is he? How badly is he hurt, Sam?" "Well, Doc, I would surely hate to see the other guy. There was apparently quite a fight." I turned and walked over to the clerk. "Who is working on Geoff Samson?" "Doctor Roby was called. He's with him, now. Would you like for me to ask him to talk with you when he's done?" "Just tell me where they are." "Examining room A." "Thanks," I replied as I turned to go from the waiting room into the treatment rooms. "But, Miss ... Miss, you can't go in there." "Watch me." **** The young clerk looked over at the officers as I went through the double doors that separated the waiting area from the treatment rooms. "She shouldn't be back there," I heard her say.

Treatment room A was a small cubicle just inside the treatment area. The door was open. "Well, Ed?" Doctor Ed Roby was a dark haired, muscular, man of average height in his early forties. "He's going to be fine, Alicia." "Thank God." "'Licia?" Geoff's voice asked. "I'm right here." I walked into the room. Ed Roby had been blocking my view of Geoff. Now that I stood close by, I could see that Sam had been right. If Geoff had an eye that threatened to become a technicolor horror, I wondered what the other guy looked like. "How do you feel?" I asked. "Like hell," Geoff said in a strained voice. "Don't bother talking, just now, Geoff. You just lie still and let Ed work you over..." "Hey, I've been worked over enough for one night." I laughed nervously, in relief. At least his sense of humor was still intact. "Are you keeping him overnight?" "That would be for the best, Alicia. I haven't gotten him down to x-ray, yet. But, I would feel more comfortable, if we kept him for observation. He's not going to be a happy camper for a few weeks. I would guess that he has a couple of cracked ribs, in addition to the shiner. I wouldn't doubt that the cheekbone is cracked, at least. You will need to help him wrap those ribs every day." "No problem. What about the eye? Any real damage to the eye or optic nerve?" "Doesn't appear so." "Orbital bone?" "Don't know. We'll get a x-ray to make sure. I think it's broken, as well." "But, there's no damage to the optical nerve or to the eye?" I asked.

"Doesn't appear so," the doctor said. "Thank God it wasn't worse," I said. Phil walked up behind me. "Come on, Al. Let the doctor work." Geoff said, "Let her stay. I need to know that she is all right." "How you doing, buddy?" "Been better, Phil. Been better." "What happened?" "He got away from me." Phil looked over at Ed Roby. "Could I have a few minutes alone with Geoff and Al?" Ed smiled. "I'd hate to be charged with obstructing justice," the doctor responded with a smile. "Just don't over-tire him. You've got until they come up for him from x-ray. Maybe five minutes." "Now, tell me something that I didn't know," Phil said after the doctor had closed the door on the way out of the room. "Did you get a good look at him?" "Yeah. Short. Dark hair, dark eyes. About, I don't know, five-two, five-three, 140 pounds. Fairly recent ragged scar on the left side of his face from his cheekbone to his chin." "A 140 pound shrimp did this to you?" Phil asked in disbelief. "That shrimp was a lot stronger than he looked. Stronger and faster. I finally caught up with him in the alley behind the lumberyard. He took a couple of swings at me with a 2 by 10. Then he started working on me with his fists. I got in a few good, solid, hits. He has to be hurting. And that was the last thing that I remembered until I woke up in the ambulance," Geoff said. "You got a good look at him?" Phil demanded. "You could identify him if you saw him, again." "I'd know him anywhere. I recognized him, immediately. It was Hernandez." I lost all color in my face. I reached out to Phil as I felt my knees begin to buckle out from under me.

Phil looked at me carefully as he steadied me. "Steady, Al." "I'm fine, Philip," I said in as strong of a voice as I could muster. Phil nodded tightly in acknowledgment. "You are sure that it was Hernandez?" Phil asked. "Absolutely. No doubt in my mind," Geoff said, still not looking at the pair of us. "It was Hernandez." "Well, I don't suppose that it would be the first time that someone had faked his own death in a foreign country," Phil replied. He looked at Geoff. "Was Hernandez cut when he broke out the window?" "No. I don't think so. At least, I didn't see him bleeding." "There was quite a bit of blood around the broken glass at your house," Phil stated. "When I came around the corner of the porch, he had broken out the window. His arm was inside the house. I don't think that he was hurt. In fact, I know that he wasn't moving like a man with a cut. When he saw me, he took off like the proverbial bat. As he ran off, he shoved something that looked like a small glass jar into his pocket." "When is this nightmare going to end?" I demanded. But everyone, including myself recognized that as a rhetorical question. Geoff opened his one good eye. He looked over at us. "Phil, please take 'Licia home with you tonight. Let her sleep in Jan's old room. At least, that way, I'll know that she is safe. I don't want either of us back at my house, until I've improved the security." Phil nodded. "I was going to suggest something along those lines, myself." "Look, guys, I'll just sleep at the lab." "Not likely. The last thing that you should be is alone, 'Licia," Geoff said. "Alone and asleep, you would be more vulnerable than I want to think about. Please. Just go home with Phil. For tonight, I need to know that you are absolutely safe." "You don't worry about anything, Geoff. You just rest. I'll take care of Al," Phil said. "Nothing is going to happen to her while she is in my care." "Fine, but tomorrow, we hire bodyguards and dogs," I suggested.

Geoff closed his good eye and sighed. "That might be for the best, at least for the short run." "I hate this," I said. "I can't tell you how much I hate this." "I know. I know," Geoff said . "But, honey, we are in a state of siege with this man. We'd be foolish, if we didn't take all the precautions that we could take. We have quite a lot on the line at the moment." I sighed. "I know. We can start with precautions of someone sitting up with you all night. Hernandez has a known history of attacking people in a hospital setting. I want to stay with you, Geoff." Geoff looked at me. "No. You won't. You will go with Phil. You will get some rest, if I have to talk Ed into giving you some samples of sedatives. This man wants you rattled. Don't give him the satisfaction, 'Licia." "No sedatives," I answered. "Not now." Geoff smiled. "Okay, baby. No sedatives," he said. "You're right." I looked at Phil. "Geoff is the only person who can place Hernandez in the area. Can you swing police protection for him tonight?" Phil's jaw tightened. "That can be arranged quite easily. At least, for one night. Especially given the man's known MO." I yawned. "You and Phil go back to his place. Get some sleep, 'Licia," Geoff ordered. "You need to get all the rest that you can." "After the police guard is here and you are settled into a room. I won't leave you even one second before." "Stubborn woman," Geoff said with tenderness in his voice. "Were I not stubborn, you would roll right over me," I replied quietly, just before the knock came at the door. Ed Roby put his head inside the room. "X-ray gurney is here. Your time is up." If barbershops were where old magazines went to die, then radiology departments were where they were mummified, I thought as I looked through a two-year old copy of Gourmet magazine.

Tenseness surrounded Phil. Although he stood perfectly still, looking out of the window onto the dimly lit parking lot, the tenseness was undeniably there. I stood and went over to stand beside him. "What are you thinking?" I asked quietly. "I don't like this. Why is Hernandez doing this?" "I had a psychology professor who had worked in a mental hospital for twenty years. I will never forget that he said that while the criminally insane have reasons for their actions, reasons which make perfect sense to them, that those reasons don't usually make sense to anyone but them," I replied. Phil looked at me. "One of these days, you are going to have to tell me how you went from being a social working nun to being a computer scientist. The two seem so diametrically opposed to one another." I nodded. "Someday, perhaps," I allowed. "But, my past is very difficult for me to discuss." Phil nodded. He looked at his watch. "Geoff will have one man on him at all times while he is here." "I appreciate that, Phil." "I'll take you back to Geoff's so that you can pack an overnight bag." "My overnight case was lost by the airline on the way to Chicago." Phil smiled at me and shook his head as he heard the gurney being pushed out into the hall. "Then just do the best that you can." I sighed. We saw Geoff safely installed in room 234. The police guard was just outside the room. Mabel Norman, a middle-aged woman whom I knew from our joint involvement with the women's crisis center, was the charge nurse on the four p.m. to four a.m. shift. Mabel had a reputation, I had learned, as a dour woman with almost never anything good to say to anyone. But, I had learned by watching the woman that under Mabel's tough exterior lurked a tender soul. In many ways, I was afraid that I would turn out like Mabel -- seemingly rigid, cold, and inflexible -- so accustomed to living inside the defensive walls that I had built that I would find it uncomfortable to be outside of their protective, and imprisoning, circle. That was one of my greatest fears. And it was one of the reasons that I was

so anxious to marry. I walked out of the hospital with Phil on my heels. "Slow down will you?" he demanded. "Sorry. I hate hospitals. With a passion." Phil nodded. "I suppose that I can understand that." "Can you?" I asked. "I wonder." "Look, Al, just take it easy. We are going back to Geoff's then you will pack a bedroll. Jeans and a shirt for tomorrow. I know that you prefer to present a more professional appearance. But, appearances have to take a back seat just now. Clean underclothes. And something to sleep in tonight. A hairbrush. Toothbrush. Whatever cosmetics you absolutely need. Don't pack too much. The only storage I have is under the seat. And you don't want to be riding through the streets carrying a suitcase." "I know how to pack lightly, Phil. It's a skill I acquired a long time ago, believe me." Phil heard the utter weariness in my voice. "When we get back to my place, you are to have a long hot bath, a stiff drink, and go to bed." "Aye, _mon capitaine_," I said. "Without the stiff drink." "No arguments?" "I'm too tired to argue with you." "That's got to be a first." "Am I really that horrible to get along with?" Phil nodded negatively. "No, you aren't horrible at all." I told myself that I had to be imagining the way that he made horrible sound endearing. "That's something, at least." "I never asked you," I said as we reached his bike. "Why do you always carry a second helmet?" "So I can take beautiful women for rides," Phil replied with both a broad smile and a wicked mock leer. "Why else?"

"Of course, I don't know why I doubted it." -------*Chapter 23* _Phil_ Having her in my house was uncomfortable. Yet, this was better than dispatching a couple of officers to keep her company at a local hotel. "Thanks, Philip," she told me. I didn't at all like the pallor she was showing. She looked as though she were about ready to fall apart. I couldn't say that I blamed her. But, it was worrisome. **** "The upstairs bathroom is at the end of the hall. There is an array of bath salts in the linen closet on the second shelf." "Bath salts?" "A lady friend's idea of a suitable birthday gift. Said that I was entirely too tense. A handful of any of them in a tub of hot bath water will help you relax." "Oh! Do they really work?" "I don't know. I prefer showers." She chuckled. "Poor lady friend. A gift which is never used." "She and I went our separate ways shortly after that. I began to wonder what sort of woman would think that I was the bubble bath type." She smiled broadly. "You are making this up, just to make me laugh." "Would I do that?" I asked. "Only if you thought that there was a snowball's chance of getting by with it. What would you have done if I had wanted the bath salts?" "Look in the linen closet. There are really some there. Still in the sealed packages. Everything was true except why the lady and I parted company." She looked at me curiously. "Why? Forget it, I have no right to ask. Forgive me."

"No problem. She threw me over for another man." "She must have been blind, deaf, and stupid. I can't imagine any woman stupid enough to let you get away from her," Al replied. "You are well rid of her. You deserve a woman who can appreciate all of your fine qualities." If she had known how much her words had meant to me. But, she didn't have a clue. "Alicia, you are good for my ego." "As though your ego needed helping. You have to be one of the most self-assured men whom I have ever met." "The feeling is quite mutual, woman." "I don't feel very self-assured, lately," Al replied, looking away from me. "In fact, I feel about as far in the opposite direction as possible. I'm so scared most of the time that I can hardly think straight. I don't liked feeling this way." "But, you carry on, anyway. That's courage." "I've never been one to sit around and feel sorry for myself." She made a disgusted sound from the back of her throat. "However, I am seriously considering changing that." I laughed at the dryness of her words. "Never. Never." "Probably not." "Back to the matter of your bath. There should be plenty of clean towels and such. The timer for the whirlpool jets is on the north wall. Don't give yourself anything less than ten minutes. You need it. But, don't stay in any longer than fifteen, or you won't be able to crawl out of the water." "Thank you, Phil." "I'll leave a large brandy on your night stand. Drink it, then go to sleep. I'll wake you at seven. Now, go on." She smiled at me. "Somehow, I never imagined you playing mother hen." "I almost hate to ask how you had imagined me." "Good. I'd hate to have to tell you." "That bad, eh?"

"Let's just say that it wasn't as the bubble bath type." "And you aren't going to elaborate further?" Alicia shrugged. "I can't think of any reason that I should." Then she added suddenly, "Why are you opening your house to me, Phil?" "Geoff is my best friend. You are his woman. He asked for this favor. Why are you here?" "Because I'm scared, Phil. I'm so scared. I hate feeling this way. I just hate it." "I can understand that." "Could we just sit and talk for a few minutes. I really don't want to be alone, just now." "You need to relax. I'm worried about you," I confessed. Alicia sighed. "Can we sit and talk?" "What do you want to talk about?" "Anything, nothing. I don't care. I just don't want to be alone right now. Please. I don't think that I could face being alone in a small room right now." I nodded. "Okay. Let's go into the living room." "Sounds good to me." I poured her a brandy. She had kicked off her shoes and was sitting on the sofa with her legs curled up beneath her. "Here." "You aren't having anything?" "No. I need to keep my wits about me." "But you would like to see me witless?" Alicia asked, with a smile, as she took the snifter from me. She sat the glass down on the end table without sipping it. "Maybe. Maybe I would like to see a bit more of the real Al. She fascinates me. I can see now why Geoff was so taken with you. Now, drink up."

"No. I really shouldn't." "I know that you don't drink, much, Al. But, make an exception." "No. It isn't good for the baby." I did a double take. "Baby?" Alicia blushed brightly. "We weren't going to say anything about that to anyone yet. It's early days, yet. In fact, we just found out for sure before we went up to Chicago." "You are sure that you are pregnant?" "I can tell you almost to the hour when this child was conceived. The pregnancy has been confirmed by both a serum pregnancy test and an ultrasound." "How pregnant are you?" "Less than a month." "Are you happy about it?" "Phil," she said, "I'm thirty-seven-years-old. Do you think that I would be marrying at this stage of my life, if babies weren't a primary concern? I may only have a couple of years, if that long, left to have a child. The biological clock is ticking away, and it's ticking rather loudly. Yes, I am very happy about this baby. I am ecstatic about the baby. "What?" Al demanded breaking the uneasy silence that had fallen following her statement. "Is it Geoff's?" I immediately regretted the question. My sister, Jan, had been a diabetic. Geoff had undergone a vasectomy, after Jan had agreed to marry him, because it would have been dangerous for her to ever have a child. Al looked at me for a long moment as she visibly fought her growing indignation. "That was out of line," she said harshly. "What makes you think that it isn't Geoff's baby? Have I ever given you any indication that I wasn't faithful to Geoff?" "You're right. It was out of line. I'm sorry." "You ought to be!"

"I never apologize twice." "Something's bothering you, if you could even ask that question. What is it?" "Don't worry about it." "How can I not worry about it? Something has shaken you. Don't you think that I would be a good mother?" Al demanded of me. "Do you love Geoff, Alicia?" "He's the man whom I am to marry. That should say everything." "It should. Does it?" She looked away from me for a minute. "Geoff is a good man. He's stable, well respected, good looking, and funny. He cares about me. He's more than capable of giving our children a strong father figure." "It sounds like you are trying to talk yourself into loving him." She blanched. "You're way out of line here, Philip." "But, are you in love with him, Alicia?" I hadn't thought that she could be any whiter than she had been a moment before, but I had been wrong. Al's face resembled nothing more than a just bleached white cotton sheet. I thought that she was going to be sick, faint, or something equally drastic. There were only two times that I had ever seen a woman turn that particular shade of white. The first time, the woman had gone into cardiac arrest. The second time, the woman had picked up a knife and had attacked her husband. I honestly didn't know what to expect from Al. Slowly, the color came back to her face. "Geoff is my best friend, Al. I love him as though he were my own brother. In fact, he was supposed to have been my brother-in-law. He would have been my brother-in-law, except that Jan died less than a week before their wedding. I would hate to see you and he walk into a marriage which would make both of you miserable." Al sighed. I lightly touched her face. "I'm sorry, Al. You've been going through all this stress. You don't need me giving you more problems to think about, especially now, in your condition."

Al nodded negatively as she raised her hand to mine. "No. I only want honesty from people. Thank you for caring enough to share your fears with me. That means a good deal. Geoff and I will be very happy together. Thank you for loving him enough to speak your mind." "I love you, too, Al. You are very special to me, not only because of how Geoff feels about you. I don't want to see you making a mistake which will ruin your life." Al sighed. "I don't want to be making a mistake either. But, I don't see this marriage as a mistake. In fact, it may be the best thing that I have ever done." "You just relax a little. I'll go make a pot of herb tea for you. You've probably given up caffeine, too, right." "Not entirely. Coffee smells rank, these days, as I discovered recently." "I'll be back in a few minutes." "Want some help?" "No. You just rest." **** I stood in my kitchen. I rinsed the teapot with hot water, then filled it from the tap of "instant" hot water I had installed because I hated to wait for hot water to boil. I added two bags of a tea that Tommy Liguori down at the health food store had recommended as a mild sedative. Then I added a generous measure of very good vodka. She needed to unwind. Surely a little alcohol wouldn't harm anything? Would it? Oh, I knew the talk about fetal alcohol syndrome. But surely one drink wouldn't harm anything? "I can remember sneaking down the stairs on long winter nights when I was very young to spy on my parents. Daddy would always pour them each a brandy. Then they'd sit on the floor in front of the fireplace. Most of the time, Mom would sit and Daddy would lie with his head in her lap. She would stroke his blond hair and they would talk softly with one another. I never could hear the conversation, but I didn't need to. It was enough that I could see how much they cared about each other," she said as she brought the old image to her mind. I smiled at her. This side of Al was something that I had never seen. "Where did you grow up?" "Lake Forest, until I was six. Then here and there around the Chicago area. After my parents died."

"You lost your parents when you were six? That's tough." "It felt that way at the time. Looking back on it, I had a good series of foster homes. No one abused me. I was always clean, well fed, and cared for." Then she added with a large measure of self-derision in her voice, "But I wouldn't let too many people close to me. I guess that I was good at building walls even back then." "How many foster homes?" "In the twelve years between my parent's deaths and my eighteenth birthday, I was in seventeen foster homes." "Seventeen?" "I was a bit of a terror, I'm afraid," Al confessed with remembered pain and mischief in her eyes. "So what happened to Alicia the Imp?" "She grew up. The imp seldom appears these days. Because I've learned to suppress my rage, to channel it, to master it," Al said starkly. "It doesn't control me, any longer. There was a time when the rage did control me. But, I've grown past that." "Rage?" She always picked her words carefully. Rage wasn't a term that she would have used lightly. "I can't even envision you enraged." "Pray that you never do. I gather that it isn't a pretty sight. But, it's been years since I've lost control that thoroughly. It used to frighten me when I lost my temper. No, I worked hard for years to vanquish the Imp, to get a handle on my rage." "You were enraged at the shelter when you killed Luis and Juan Hernandez." "Yes. That was the last time that I've seen red." "If the Hernandez brothers hadn't come into your life, would you have stayed in your religious order?" "Probably. I was happy there. The work was hard, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I had already gone through my candidacy, postulancy, novitiate, and was ten months into my last set of annual vows before I would have been taking those final vows that would have bound me for life. The order had been my life since I had graduated from college. The order had put me through graduate school, getting me my Masters in Social Work. In two months time, I was to have made my vows again, this time for life. Religious life filled a big void in my life. I felt as though I was

doing what God wanted me to be doing. I was happy. Before the attack, I couldn't imagine ever leaving Religious Life. But, things don't always go the way that we want them to." "No, they don't," I agreed with feeling. "I had expected to have the rest of my life with Rachel. Neither of us expected that forever would be less than fifteen years after we took our marriage vows." Al finished her tea. "Life has a way of leaving scars on all of us, doesn't it? Sometimes, I think that it is a wonder that any of us can be functional. I don't know anyone who hasn't fallen under the 'walking wounded' category at one time or other. Several of us live there." I took the cup from her. After refilling the cup, I returned it to her. Al took the tea from me. "You really do know how to spoil a girl." "I just want to see that you are able to rest tonight. Besides, you can't spoil someone who is already completely rotten." Al took another sip of the liquid. Then she sat it down, on a coaster, on the end table. "I am so frightened that some hot shot reporter is going to dig around enough that he'll discover who the adoptive parents of the baby were. The last thing that I want is for the child to be exposed to the notoriety of having been fathered like that. Childhood peers can be terribly cruel. I hate to think how badly the little girl's self image could be damaged by that sort of irresponsible journalism. There's been enough pain. I fear innocents being dragged into this. I really fear that." "Do you know who adopted the baby?" "Yes. It was an open adoption. I met them before the baby was born." "That had to be hard." "She was my child as much as she was a-a Hernandez ... I loved her, in spite of everything. She deserved a home with two parents who would love her unconditionally." "Do you ever regret the decision to give up the child?" "No. It was for the best," Al replied. "I feared that there would come a day when I would look at the child and see only the Hernandez in her. That frightened me, terribly. I knew that I couldn't live with the daily reminder of those few terrible hours. And I knew that I couldn't take the risk of having the child realize that her mother

dreaded looking at her. She deserved better." "You never considered abortion?" Al was silent for a long moment. "Of course, I considered abortion. Well-meaning people kept urging me towards it. The temptation was there. Very few people would have condemned me for the action. But, I knew that I could never have lived with myself later, if I had killed an innocent person just because of who her father was, and what he had done." Then she downed the rest of the spiked hot tea. "It couldn't have been an easy few months for you." "It wasn't that hard. The pregnancy was easy. I didn't have any problems. And she was so beautiful. Her parents still send me photos of her, and letters full of news of her, through my attorney. She has brought them so much joy." "You are still in touch with them?" "Not directly. I don't think that close contact would be good for any of us, especially not for Joanie. It's better this way," Al replied. "Would you like to see a picture of my daughter?" "Of course." Al removed her wallet from her small purse. She flipped it open. "This was this year's school picture. She's eleven. But she's a high school senior." "She has her mother's brains." "She's talking about medical school. She wants to be a trauma surgeon. Her grades are good enough. She shows real promise in science. In fact, she has already had three years of college chemistry, mathematics, and biology courses to supplement her high school curriculum. She's an exceptional kid." I took another look at the young girl in the photo. "She has your nose and chin." "Yeah," Al agreed. "Poor child." "You really have a hard time taking a compliment, don't you?" Al yawned. "Why don't you go take your bath, now?" Al rose from the sofa. She wobbled a little in her weariness. I reached up to steady her. She smiled at me.

"That tea was stronger than I thought, or I am more exhausted than I thought I was." Al sank back down to the sofa. "I guess so." Al yawned widely. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear that I had been drinking." "Come on, Alicia Marie. Time to put you to bed. You can worry about the bath in the morning." I escorted her to her bedroom, my arm around her waist as we climbed the stairs. I threw open the door to the bedroom and turned on the light. "Here you are." Al smiled at me. "Thanks, Phil." "No problem." Al swayed towards me. "Steady, Lady." "Did your folks give you growth hormones while you were a baby?" Al asked as she tilted her head upwards slightly and smiled at me. She giggled slightly. "In you go," I said. "Don't condescend, Philip," she replied, gathering her dignity about her. "Of course not. Sleep well, Al." Al reached up, grasped my collar, and pulled my face down to her level. "Thank you for being such a good friend, Phil." She kissed me. But the friendly kiss she meant to give me all too quickly metamorphosed into something far more passionate. I'm sure that neither of us knew who was kissing whom. Kissing Alicia with both of us standing isn't likely to be a prolonged experience. There is too much disparity in our heights. My arms wrapped tightly around her. I straightened and lifted her up to a far more comfortable level. I couldn't remember the last time that I wanted anything the way that I wanted the woman whom I was kissing. There hadn't been a serious woman in my life in almost three years. I had almost forgotten how good it felt to have a woman's hands in my hair.

Regaining some measure of sanity, I lowered her to a standing position, while stepping back slightly. I shook my head negatively. Al couldn't look at me. "I didn't mean for that to happen." "Look, you've been under a strain lately. It's understandable. We're both adults, Al. It's called chemistry. But, it doesn't mean anything. Neither of us would ever do anything to hurt Geoff." "I don't make a habit out of throwing myself at men," Al said. Gently, with one hand, I urged her head up so that she was looking at me. "You get some rest now. Okay? We'll just forget that this ever happened." "Good night, Philip. Sleep well." "You too." But, we both knew that we were both far more disturbed by the kiss than either of us was willing to let on. But, maybe I'm being presumptuous in speaking for her. The sound of Al screaming woke me, with a start, at two-thirty. I didn't bother with a robe. Instead, I grabbed my gun from the night table and went to her room. What I found was far different than anything that I had feared, and far more frightening. Al was alone. She was still asleep. But, she was lying on her side, curled into a fetal position, with tears running down her face. And she was shaking. I tucked the .38 Special into the back of the elastic waistband of my pajama trousers. Then I sank down on my knees beside the bed. "Al!" I watched her eyes open. Somehow, I had never really noticed her remarkable eyes until about a month ago. Now, every time that I looked at her, I was struck by the beauty and strength behind them. "Nightmare," Al said in a voice very different from her normal tone. "Al? Want to talk about it?" "Go back to bed. I'm sorry to bother you." "Are you well?" "No, I'm not. But, I am in no danger at the moment. It was just a nightmare."

"Have them frequently?" "More than I care to admit." "Always?" "Recently." "Want to talk about it?" "Not really, no," she answered. "Thank you. Please go back to bed." I nodded negatively, as I rose from my kneeling position. I sat down on the bed, facing her. "Phil, please," she practically begged, "go back to your own room." "Not until you talk to me about the dream." Al sat up, and pulled the sheet up over her. She hugged her knees. Her less than neat nighttime braid fell forward. I thought that she looked much younger than her years. Al bit her lip. "It was your standard nonsense nightmare." "Tell me about it." "I'm not sure that I can. It's pretty disjointed." "Nightmares often are." "I was being chased through a series of darkened halls and rotting stairways. There were holes in the floors I couldn't see, but which were large enough for me to drop through to the lower levels of the building. The ceilings were huge, twelve or fourteen feet. I knew that if I fell, I would die. Hernandez was calling out taunts as he chased me. He had a flashlight. It was pointed just ahead of his feet, so that he could see where he was going. That was almost the only light available until I got down to the ground floor. Just when I thought that I had gotten away, I was at a door that led outside, I could see the sunlight streaming through the window on the door, I noticed that the door was fastened with two deadbolt locks. The glass was thick, and wire reinforced. The only way out was to go back into the darkness where he was waiting for me. Geoff was on the other side of the door. He was holding keys, frantically trying to find one that opened the door. And Hernandez was getting closer. I could hear his footsteps..."

I gently wiped the tears from her eyes. "Fear can come out in dreams." "I know." "What can I do to help?" "Go back to bed, Phil. There's no reason for both of us to suffer with this." "Al?" "Go back to bed, Phil, please?" "Are you afraid of me?" "Afraid? No. I'm not afraid of you. But, I've got no business feeling for you the things that you made me feel earlier. It's wrong, Phil. I'm committed to Geoff..." she said with her innate honesty. "I'm having his baby." "If it makes you feel any better, I don't want to feel this way towards you, either. But, I think that I'm falling in love with you, Al." She closed her eyes against the pain. "No, Phil. Please, no. We can't do this. It's so wrong." "Al..." "No, Philip. Don't let me hurt you that way. I won't encourage you. Geoff and I are getting married at the end of the month. There is no room in my life for anything else. I don't want to see you hurt. Please, don't let me hurt you." "I won't mention it again." "Thank you. Good night." "Sleep well, Al." "You, too." **** I looked into the darkness of my room. I had left my door open so that I could hear her, if she needed me. I had heard her move around restlessly. I looked at the alarm clock. Four-fifteen. Since I wasn't getting any rest, I might as well get up. Maybe an hour's workout would help, I hoped. --------

*Chapter 24* _Alicia_ I heard the footsteps in the hall. I held my breath as Phil hesitated just outside the door before he went downstairs. In the silence of the house, I heard every step until he reached the bottom landing of the staircase. "Oh, Alicia Marie, how in the world did you get yourself into this mess?" And there was no other word to describe it other than 'mess.' Geoff loved me. But, Geoff had never made me feel the way that Phil had in those few seconds that he had kissed me. Geoff had never made me want him. And I would be going into a marriage that lacked that sexual tension. How could it work without that element? Did I want to spend the rest of my life like this? Years ago, I had decided that I could easily live without sex. And I knew that I still could. The problem was that those few seconds last night had touched a part of me that I hadn't known existed. So, why hadn't I been able to want Geoff? Why had I always frozen in his arms? Was it simply that I had always had time to think with Geoff? Phil certainly hadn't given me any time to think about anything other than how good his lips felt on my mouth, and how much more I wanted from him. Or was it that the last few hours had been so emotionally charged that my normal resistance had simply evaporated? Life and death situations could do that to people, could make a person reach out for life. That could well be it. I both hoped that it was all there was to it and hoped that there was more to it. I didn't know what to think. All I knew was that I was so confused that I could hardly think straight. Well, that wasn't all I knew. My fingers lightly traced over my stomach. It would be a matter of months before the baby was big enough to be noticeable to other people. But, the child was a factor in my life I couldn't ignore. Unfortunately, Hernandez had made his presence in my life also a factor. Deciding that I wasn't going to get any more sleep, I got out of bed. Gathering my clothing for the day, I went to the bathroom to get a shower. -------*Chapter 25*

_Alicia_ I stood with my back to the class, writing on the board. "Okay, people, you know your assignments. If there are no questions, you are dismissed." Carrie McKinley, one of my brighter students, raised her hand. "How is Mr. Samson, Doc?" "He'll be fine, Carrie. Thank you for asking." "I think that I'm speaking for all of us, Doc, when I say if there is anything that you need, we want you to call on us," Carrie said strongly. "We all wanted to offer you support after your house was destroyed, but none of us had the guts. But, you've got to know that any of us would be glad, honored, to help in any way that we can." I smiled at the collection of senior students. "Thanks, guys. But, it would be far better for you if you all stay clear. You really don't want to be involved in this." "I don't know, Doc," Hank Freedman, the captain of the college football team said, "I think that I would rather enjoy throttling the man who hurt you the way that he did." I sat down on the well worn wooden stool which sat at the end of the blackboard. I didn't feel particularly well. Feeling faint was not my usual mode of operation, but I definitely felt faint for more than a passing moment, then. "Doc?" Carrie asked in concern. "Are you all right?" I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Doc?" Carrie demanded. "I'm fine, Carrie." "You don't look fine," Hank said. "You look like you were about to pass out." I looked at the students. "Suppose that you tell me what you meant by that remark, Hank." Hank looked as uncomfortable as I felt. "Well, Doc ... you haven't read the newspaper this morning, have you?" I looked at him. "No. Should I have?" "It told all about LA and your-your attack," Hank replied as if he were frightened of

saying the wrong thing. "About your having killed those men who -- " "I see. Well, I suppose that it was only a matter of time until that came out. Did you happen to see under whose byline the story was run?" "No," Hank said quietly. Carrie smiled, but the expression was clearly forced. "I think that I speak for all of us in telling you that we all are behind you." "Just make sure that you stay far behind me. No one else needs to be hurt," I warned them. "There's been too many people hurt here as it is. Being around me tends to be dangerous, just now. While you may not care about the risk, I assure you that your parents will. So, do us all a favor, don't stand too close to me. Please." The silence in the classroom was nearly deafening. "Now, are there any questions about the assignment?" When none were forthcoming, I told them, "Then I'll let you go a few minutes early." The class filed out of the room in silence. **** I stretched out on the long sofa that lined one wall in my office. It wasn't particularly comfortable. But, I was asleep almost immediately. Unfortunately, it was a rest that didn't last very long. I was awake the moment that Mae Thompson stuck her head into the office. "What is it, Mae?" "Why don't you go home, Alicia?" the departmental secretary asked in concern. "You look wasted." "I'd love to. Unfortunately, I have a meeting with Harry in about twenty minutes to discuss the departmental budget for next year." "You work too hard, Alicia," Mae charged. "Nonsense. Work is the only thing keeping me sane, just now." Mae smiled softly.

"I had better walk over to the Administration building." "I can walk over with you, if you want," Mae offered with clear hesitation. I smiled at the department secretary. "Thanks, Mae. But, I'm a big girl these days. I think that I can walk a half block without incident." I didn't think that was an inaccurate statement. However, that simply shows how false my impressions can be. The exploding sound of a car backfiring was all that it took to send me hurtling to the ground. Several students who were walking along the sidewalks heard the noise and saw me drop. They also saw the very deadly Walther come into my hand with the ease of long practice. The old Chrysler backfired again as it drove down the street. I, realizing what the sound had been, and more importantly what it had not been, colored as I replaced the weapon into the holster at the small of my back. Hank Freedman came over to me. "Doc?" "Excuse me while I regain my dignity," I replied as I rose from the pavement. "Are you all right?" Carrie, who had been walking with Hank, asked. "I've been better," I said. "Jumping at shadows and loud noises. I guess that it is obvious that my nerves are nearly shot." "You've got every reason to be nervous," Carrie said. "I'd be nervous, too." I smiled at my prize student. "Thanks. Excuse me. I'm due for a meeting." "We'll walk you the rest of the way," Carrie offered. "No. You just let us do this small thing." President Harry Henderson's office was a large suite on the third floor of Aquinas Hall. "Alicia?" Harry asked in concern as I was shown into his office. "How are you?" "My health seems to be a primary concern for people today." Harry smiled at me as he ran a hand over his balding pate. He laughed lightly. "That's the Alicia whom we all know and love." I took a seat in the chair opposite the desk. "I won't be able to teach during the

entire second semester next year." Harry smiled at me. "I see. Am I to assume that motherhood is eminent?" "That's not for public discussion at this point." Harry laughed. "You young people," he said with a smile. "Congratulations, this is wonderful news. Babies are very special. Of course, it's been twenty years since my youngest was a toddler." "I will, of course, make the arrangements for someone to come in to teach my sections. I've compiled a short list of candidates." "It will be a temporary position?" Harry asked. "You are coming back to us?" "Of course. I wouldn't give up teaching." Harry smiled. "Hand pick whoever you want to teach your courses. The faculty personnel committee will have to rubber stamp that. But, I am confident that there will be no problem with anyone whom you find acceptable." "Of course." "I don't suppose that you could find someone who is willing to teach for what we pay you?" he asked. I laughed. "Maybe. Most of my friends wouldn't serve in a volunteer capacity. But, I've a couple of friends who might be lured away from their labs for a few weeks in order to fill in for me, as a personal favor. But I would owe them, big time, for the favor. I was thinking about Rusty Davis of Davis Engineering." Harry raised an eyebrow. He whistled softly between his teeth. "You think that you could lure her here?" "It's within the realm of possibility, at least for a few weeks. Rusty's been trying to lure me into working on a detailed project with her. She might be willing to take the teaching duties as a trade-off for what she wants from me." Harry laughed. Then he asked, "Why didn't you take the position at MIT?" I looked at him with narrowed eyes. "How did you find out about that?" "I have my sources," Harry said. "And the offer from the NEC was almost too good to pass up. As were the offers from CalTech, UM at Rolla, et al." I shook my head negatively. "MIT and CalTech contract with the Department of

Defense. NEC is Japanese. Besides, I like it here. I'm free to do my own research, without being having to have it approved by some committee, and I'm not forced into working on something that I have no interest in. And if I decide that there are military applications to something that I am working on, then whether I pursue it or not is my call. I prefer to make my own decisions about my work." "How is Geoff?" Harry asked, changing the subject. "He'll mend. I shudder to think about how much pain he's going to be in for a few weeks. Thankfully, the injuries weren't as serious as they could have been." "Is he home?" "I've got to get him in about an hour. The repairs should just about be done to the house and the security people are due to be there today." Harry nodded. "For your sake, I was sorry to see the story about Hernandez come out. I know that you would have rather left all that in the past." "Sometimes, there is no help for it, Harry. The past lurks in the dark waiting to spring." "That is a cynical attitude." "I'm in a more than slightly cynical mindset at the moment." "Just know that your friends are here for you, whatever you need, whenever you need it," Harry said. "Thanks, Harry. Geoff and I both appreciate it." "This is far from over, isn't it?" "I'm afraid so. I'm almost to the point of wishing that he would show himself. I'll deny ever saying it if the topic ever comes up, but these guerilla acts are having their desired effect, unfortunately." Harry sighed. Then his phone rang. "Go ahead, answer that. I'm leaving." **** I walked the ten blocks to Geoff's house. I let myself in the front door. The workmen had been there earlier in the day, obviously, because the front door had been repaired. Sounds were coming from the kitchen.

Drawing the Walther for the second time in one day, I made my way to the kitchen. I peered around the corner. Geoff's secretary, twenty-two-year-old Connie Banks, was there making sandwiches for herself and her two-year-old daughter, Bobbie. I holstered the gun before either of them saw me. I walked into the kitchen. Connie startled and dropped the knife she was using to spread peanut butter onto the slices of whole wheat bread. "I didn't mean to give you a fright," I told her. Connie smiled broadly. "My fault, entirely. I should have heard you come in, but I didn't. Do you want some lunch?" "You let the workmen in?" "Geoff asked me to. The alarm people are supposed to be here, shortly." I smiled at the younger woman. "We appreciate everything that you've done." "No problem. No problem at all. Are you going to bring Geoff home?" "In a while, Ed Roby said that he should be able to leave there about three. There were some tests that they wanted to run which they wouldn't have the results of until about two." "You look tired." "It's been a long few weeks." "Yeah ... I can understand that." "I'm going upstairs to take a short nap before I go to the hospital to pick up Geoff. Wake me in thirty minutes?" "Sure thing. By the way, you got a couple of big boxes UPS from _Monsignor_ in Chicago. They are in the dining room." "Thanks, Connie. I'll tend to them later. Right now, I'm so tired that I can barely keep my eyes open. I'm going up to take a short nap." **** There was a message written on my dresser mirror in lipstick, bright red lipstick. "Now you lay you down to die, hope the Lord up in the sky, exists and takes you home on high."

I screamed. Twenty minutes later, sitting in the living room, I was still shaking. The tremors were not particularly noticeable until a person looked at my hands. "Al?" Phil asked as he walked into the room. "He's been here again, Phil. In the house." "I heard. You are coming home with me, until the alarms get installed. You and Geoff both." "That's probably for the best." "We'll pick Geoff up on the way." "He hates being kept waiting." "He never was a patient man," Phil replied in a half-amused tone. "He's more patient than you know," I added, falsely thinking that I was using a voice Phil couldn't hear. The expression on his face told me only too clearly that he had heard. We settled Geoff into the bedroom on the first floor that in previous years had been the housekeeper's room. The pain medication Geoff had been prescribed made him quite drowsy. Letting him sleep, Phil and I left the back bedroom and made our way to the kitchen. "Herb tea?" Phil asked. "Only if you promise not to spike it." Phil smiled sheepishly. "When did you figure that one out?" "It wasn't hard. There's a reason that I don't drink much. I don't have any head for the stuff. Thinking back on last night, your lacing the tea with alcohol is the only logical reason why I behaved as I did." "You've nothing to be ashamed of, Al." "Don't I?" "Are you angry with me?"

"I should be. Somehow, I just can't summon that emotion. Right now, I am having a difficult time feeling anything. I'm just numb. And I think that's very dangerous. I ought to be feeling something, anything. I don't like feeling this numb." "Numbness is nature's way of blunting pain when it is too intense to deal with," Phil said as he touched my face. "Just relax a little and try not to worry about it." "That's just it, Phil. I'm not worried. That concerns me. A little tension can be a lifesaver. I think that I've passed beyond fear into acceptance, almost complacency. That could be fatal." Phil looked at me for a moment. Then, wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly. I should have pulled away from him. But, instead, I merely relaxed in his arms, burying my face in his chest, and leaning on him for comfort. A long moment later, I eased myself out of his arms. "Thanks, Phil. I needed that. Thanks for being my friend." "I'll always be your friend, Al," he pledged. "Always." "I don't know what I did to deserve all the friends whom I have." "Saddled with us all for your sins, perhaps?" I laughed until the sound became harsh and tears rolled down my face. Sitting at the small, antique oak kitchen table, drinking cinnamon and rose hip tea while Phil enjoyed his coffee, I asked, "Has any progress been made on catching Hernandez?" "None at all. We've circulated his photo to all the motels and boarding houses in the county. He's not checked in to any of them. There is no record of his having flown into any of the close by airports." "But, then again, no one would have really expected him to have been traveling under his own name. Not especially after he went to all the effort of faking his own death." "I put out some inquiries into that," Phil said. "And?" "Seems that Hernandez managed to take out almost two million dollars in life insurance about four years before his death in Mexico. From what I can gather he

bought quite a few of those term policies which are offered over the television and issued through the mail. Most of the companies paid the claims without batting an eye." "Four years. He was obviously planning this for quite a while." "If he had staged his death during that first year or two, all sorts of red flags would have gone up at the head offices of the insurance companies. But, by waiting, the claims went through with no problems." I sighed. "Who was the beneficiary?" "His mother." "I don't suppose that someone could subpoena her financial records to see if she still has the money?" "Might be able to, if she was still alive. But Maria Hernandez died seven years ago." "Then who collected the checks?" "Maria Hernandez." "This doesn't make any sense, Phil." "Someone posing as Maria Hernandez cashed all of the checks." "I don't suppose that anyone remembered what she looked like?" Phil just looked at me with an expression that asked, "What part of the galaxy did you say that you hailed from, anyway?" "Quite a scam. So, even counting his living expenses and overhead, he's wandering about with well over a million dollars in his war chest. That's an awfully large amount of money for a man bent on vengeance," I stated as a wave of pure misery spread over me. "That kind of money can buy an awfully lot of silence and looking the other way." Phil sipped his coffee without comment. I uttered an uncharacteristically coarse epithet as I rose from the table and walked over to the kitchen window to look out on the sunny spring afternoon. I stood looking out the window. I knew that he had to almost feel the anger radiating from me. Already, the Hernandez had harassed me unmercifully, possibly killed a girl for whom I had taken responsibility, probably stolen my car, become the chief

suspect in the demolition of my house, and definitely put my fiancee in the hospital. The anger I felt, and which was threatening to overwhelm me, was a much healthier emotion than the emptiness I had been feeling earlier. He rose from the table and came to me. He lightly touched my shoulder. "Al?" Only then, did I realize that I was crying. "Excuse me," I said. "I'll just go take a rest." Gently, he turned me around to face him. Then he took me in his arms, allowing me to sob into his chest. But this time, I stepped away from him. "I don't mean to be such a watering can," I said as I dashed the tears from my face. "I can't imagine what came over me." "Can't you? You've been through more stress than a person should have to take. On top of that, you are pregnant. Either of those would tend to make a person tend towards being weepy. Both of them put together are a combination designed to render the most stable person a little out of control." "I almost want him to make an open move. I want to come face to face with him. Yet, I know that if that happens, I will probably do my best to kill him." "Al, I understand." "I know that you do. I'm not going to let him get off easily this time, if I come face to face with him. He's hurt too many people." "Go take a nap. Use the same room that you had last night." "Thanks. I think that I will." **** I awoke to the sound of the doorbell. I looked at the clock at the bedside. 7:30 p.m. I looked at the clock again. I hadn't meant to sleep that long. Still, I had needed the sleep. Pulling myself out of bed, I made my way to the bathroom. Quickly, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and straightened my hair before I started to make my way downstairs. Phil was on the stairs. "I was just coming to get you."

"Why did you let me sleep so long?" "Didn't you need the rest?" "I guess that I did. Thank you." Phil sighed. "Al," he began. "What?" "There are two FBI agents downstairs wanting to talk with you." "FBI. What do they want?" "To talk with you. Will you come down?" "On my way." **** Geoff sat in the living room in a recliner. The two FBI agents, a man and a woman both bland enough looking to be virtually nondescript, were seated in wing chairs near the fireplace. "Good evening," I said quietly as I entered the room. "I am Alicia Jenkins. I understand that you want to speak with me?" "Yes, Miss Jenkins," the brunette female agent stated. "Miss Jenkins," the man agent said quietly. "I am Special Agent Ellis Matthews. This is Special Agent Grace Hulme." "What can I do for you?" I asked as I took a seat on the long sofa. "You don't have to speak with us without legal counsel," Agent Hulme warned. "Am I to understand that I am being charged with something?" "Not at present," Agent Matthews said with the clear implication being that I could be charged with something serious at any time. Geoff spoke up from his recliner. "I am Doctor Jenkins' legal counsel." "Should you be up, Geoff? Are you feeling well enough? You've only been out of the hospital for a few hours."

"I am more concerned with you than with my little discomforts, sweetheart," Geoff replied firmly. "I came out of my little encounter with Hernandez with only a bump on the head, a black eye, and some bruised ribs." "A mild concussion and a two ribs with hairline cracks are nothing to take lightly, Geoffrey. Neither is the break in the orbital bone. You are lucky that you have kept your sight. You should be resting." Geoff smiled at me. "When I am tired, I'll rest. But for now, you need to answer the Agents' questions. And you need legal representation. I'm here." "Promise me that if you get tired, or feel badly, that you will go to bed?" "I'll take care of myself," Geoff assured me. "Now, you need to address the agents' questions, sweetheart." "Fine. What is it that you want, Agents?" "I understand," Agent Hulme said, "that you are acquainted with a young woman named Joan Houston." "Joanie," I responded as a feeling of dread overcame me. "Why are you asking about Joanie? What's wrong?" "How well do you know Miss Houston?" Agent Matthews asked. "Just tell me what is wrong," I replied far more sharply than I had intended. "How well do you know Miss Houston?" Agent Matthews repeated his question. I shook my head slightly. "Not well. I know more about her than she knows about me. But, that was a matter which Clay, Maggie, and I discussed and decided many years ago when I signed the papers allowing them to adopt her. Now, please tell me why you are asking about Joanie." "Miss Houston has been kidnapped," Agent Hulme stated flatly. "Holy Mother of God! Clay and Maggie must be beside themselves. They love that child." "When was the last time that you saw Miss Houston?" Agent Matthews demanded. "Eleven years ago when I relinquished her for adoption. I don't even know where Clay and Maggie are living these days. They correspond with me through my attorney, keeping me up to date on the child."

"Saint Louis," Agent Hulme informed me. "The Houstons live in Saint Louis." "I had no idea that they were so close," I mused aloud. "Didn't you? Mrs. Houston says that she saw you in St. Louis on 30 April," Agent Hulme continued. "I was in the city, yes. I had a doctor's appointment late that afternoon. I taught my morning classes, drove down to the appointment, and came right back in time to go out for dinner with a group of friends." The Agents looked at one another. "I suppose that you can substantiate that," Grace Hulme challenged. "Yes. I can substantiate that," I replied with more than a hint of anger in my voice. "But, I resent the implication that I have need to do so. If you have a point, I do wish that you would make it." Geoff cleared his throat. "Where is this leading, Agents? I can't say that I particularly care for the tone that this line of questioning is taking on." Agent Matthews looked at Geoff for a moment before he turned his attention back to me. "You still contend that you had no idea that the Houston family had located to St. Louis?" "I had no idea of their location. My only contact with them over the last eleven years has been through an attorney who passes on letters from them." "Why did you go to St. Louis to a doctor?" Agent Matthews demanded. "I believe that is my business, and none of yours." "It just seems to be an awfully long way to go in order to see a doctor," Agent Matthews continued. "Highly skilled specialists are rather thin on the ground in rural areas." "What sort of specialist are you consulting?" Agent Matthews asked strongly. "I believe that is none of your business." "Sweetheart," Geoff chided. "If you have to document your time, they will need to know." "If I have to document my time, I'll tell them. But until then, my private life is

private. It's none of their, or anyone else's, business." "Your hostility is not helping us resolve this matter," Agent Ellis Matthews said. "In fact, it makes me wonder what you are hiding." "Why don't you just go out and find whoever it is who took Joanie, instead of wasting your time harassing me," I suggested with a large measure of sacchrine in my voice. "Just go out and find the criminal and stop harassing me." "Where were you two days ago, Doctor Jenkins?" Agent Matthews asked. "In Chicago. Visiting my fiancee's brother, _Monsignor_ William Samson. I have a number of witnesses to that, as well as the ability to confirm my location by the use of airline records." When neither Agent replied, I demanded of them, "Surely, you don't really believe that I had anything to do with Joanie's disappearance?" "Easy, Al," Phil said. "Easy? Take it easy? When they are here suspecting that I may have been involved in the kidnapping of my own daughter? That is so insulting a suggestion that I...." My voice trailed off. "Hernandez. It's got to be Hernandez." The agents looked at one another. "Hernandez?" I closed my eyes and leaned back on the sofa. "If he's got her..." I forced the words out. "She may be dead or-or he may be wishing that she were ... O Merciful God..." "Take it easy, Al. Don't go borrowing trouble," Phil said. "Borrowing trouble? Borrowing trouble?" I replied in disbelief, as I turned to face him. "I don't have to borrow trouble, Philip. I've got a surfeit of it, just now, thank you." "Why would this Hernandez fellow want to harm the child?" Agent Matthews asked in a tone which was anything except casual. I looked at the male FBI agent. "Why? Because he hates me. He has been trying to take from me everything that I care about. He's sworn to destroy me." "That's a bit melodramatic, don't you think?" Agent Hulme countered. "The whole situation's been melodramatic, and it's not getting any better. No. It's getting absolutely no better. Excuse me, I am not feeling well."

I rose too suddenly from the sofa. My head swam just before everything went black. "'Licia..." Geoff said quietly, as he knelt beside the couch. He ran a cold cloth over my face. "'Licia, sweetheart." I came to consciousness slowly. I looked at Geoff. "Good. Honey, you scared the hell out of me." My feet had been propped up with cushions. "What happened?" "You fainted, Al," Phil said from where he stood next to Geoff. "Don't be ridiculous. I've never fainted in my whole life." Phil raised the one eyebrow in reaction to my statement. Geoff smiled at me. "You've never been thirty-seven and pregnant, either, darling. How are you feeling?" "Embarrassed, but otherwise fine." "You make an appointment with Connie Yerke, tomorrow," Geoff ordered. "I'll call her office. Now, stop worrying." I sat up slowly. The FBI Agents were still seated across the room from me. -------*Chapter 26* _Geoff_ With bodyguards dogging our every step, 'Licia and I returned to my, to our, home on the morning of May 12. Dark circles lined her eyes, attesting to her lack of sleep. Of course, I didn't know how she had expected to be able to sleep well after the bombshell which the FBI agents had dropped. Joanie. Poor Joanie. Her only hope had to be that Hernandez wouldn't harm the child. But, even though Joanie was a Hernandez by blood, neither 'Licia nor I could count on Joanie being returned to her adoptive parents unharmed, or even alive. Neither of us had voiced that thought to

the other, but we both knew that was the truth of the situation. Because of the shock, last night, I had insisted that she sleep downstairs in the room Phil had given to me so that I could keep an eye on her. That wasn't something that she had wanted to do, because she was afraid of keeping me awake, but she gave in, anyway, under protest. When 'Licia had managed to fall into fitful sleep during the early hours of the morning, she had awakened after nightmares obviously so vile that she could not, would not, relate them to anyone; not even to me. 'Licia hadn't even wanted to think about the dreams. Yet, they quite apparently continued to fill her mind. It bothered me that she refused to confide in me. A large stack of parcels blocked the front door of the house when we arrived home. I took my fiancee's hand. "Wedding gifts. It's only a matter of days, now, my sweet." 'Licia sighed. "You should be resting. I know that you didn't get any more sleep than I did. I'll bring the packages in after I get you settled." I laughed slightly, wincing at the pain in my ribs. "That's my 'Licia, always thinking of other people first," I told her gently. "Do you know how much I love you?" "I'm just so frightened." "Come sit with me for a few minutes." "I'll bring in the packages," 'Licia replied. "Like a kid at Christmas. Sometimes, I think that you only agreed to marry me for the gifts." 'Licia glared at me for a moment, then laughed it off. She teased, "How perceptive of you, my dear." **** After seeing me settled in on the long sofa in the living room and putting a CD of Chopin nocturnes on stereo, 'Licia brought in the numerous packages from the porch. She placed the parcels on the floor beside the sofa. Then took a seat on the floor right beside the sofa next to where I lay my head. Before sitting down, she had retrieved a notebook and a pen to record the gifts.

"You ought to get some rest, yourself. These will keep." "Nonsense," she dismissed with a smile. "You know that I can never keep my hands off presents. You said it. I'm like a kid at Christmas." I smiled at her, as much of a smile as I could manage considering that my face was still a painful technicolor nightmare. "I know, sweetheart. Go ahead." 'Licia peeled the brown wrapper from the first box. "It's from your Aunt Margaret in Salt Lake." Then she broke the tape that was holding the lid of the cardboard box together. A slightly smaller, gaily wrapped, box was within the outer box. Unwrapping it, she found that gift was a silver serving platter. "That's Aunt Margie for you. Her standard gift is something silver." "It's lovely." "Of course it is. Aunt Margie has wonderful taste for an old bat." "Margaret is a very nice lady." "Grandmother would have confined Aunt Margie to her room for the rest of her natural life, if she had been less than a nice lady," I said with feeling. 'Licia looked at me curiously. "I thought that you liked your Aunt Margaret?" "I do. But, you have to admit that she is a bit eccentric." "When she came for a visit last year, I thought that she was absolutely charming," 'Licia responded lightly. "I'm not denying that. But, Aunt Margie has more than one cog loose." "Geoff, how can you say that? She's still active, still working, even though she must be all of ninety." "Even you have to admit that Aunt Margie is a little strange." "Must I?" "Why are we fighting?" "Are we fighting?" "Felt like it to me."

'Licia sighed. "I think that it is just the strain of the past few weeks coming out. I'm sorry." I touched her face. "Are you okay? And sprout?" She smiled at me. "We're both fine, Geoff. You don't have anything to worry about." "Wonderful. Well, are you going to open any more of the presents?" "Now you sound like a little kid at Christmas," she teased. "Of course. It's infectious ... I can imagine all the Christmases after this next one with kids wandering around down here, like I used to, shaking boxes and peeping into stockings hanging by the fire. We are going to have such a good life together, you and I." 'Licia's smile was wistful. "I know." "Now open those presents, woman..." The gifts were a mixture of practical, elegant, and whimsical. Finally, there was only one package remaining to be opened. The music died away as the CD finished playing. 'Licia rose from the floor to clear away the wrapping paper and to carry the presents into the dining room where all the wedding gifts were being displayed. Then she returned to the living room. I was looking at the package. I motioned for her to be quiet. "What is it?" she whispered. "Hush! I thought that I heard a sound coming from the box. Listen." 'Licia looked at the box, noticing for the first time that it hadn't been delivered by UPS. In fact, there were no markings on the parcel except for a typed name label. The guards were keeping an eye on the house. 'Licia went to get the man who was guarding the front door. Tall, muscular, and thick-necked, James Brodwell, definitely looked like a bodyguard. Either that or a thug. But, then again, how do you easily tell the difference?

He took a look at the package. "Do you have someplace big enough so that I could submerge this?" James, the bodyguard, asked almost too casually. "Is it a bomb?" 'Licia demanded, not buying the casual tone. "I don't know. But, I don't like it," James said. "The laundry room has a large sink," I told him. "You go immerse it, I'll call Phil." -------*Chapter 27* _Phil_ I stormed into the house with two uniformed officers in tow. "Good grief, Al! Can't you stay out of trouble for even eight hours?" "Very funny, Phil," she said in a voice which told me that she found the situation anything except amusing. "What do you have here?" "I hope nothing. But, the package was making a rhythmic sound. And it had neither a return address nor any sort of postage/ UPS marks. It looks as though the package was simply placed on the porch, among the rest of the wedding presents," she told me quietly with strain in her voice. "So you decided to drown it?" I know that my anger was reflected in my voice. If I hadn't immediately realized that, I would have known how harsh my voice had sounded by the way that she had flinched. "Don't you know that you should have left this for us? Water won't hurt some bombs. And then there are designs that could use being immersed as a trigger. This was a profoundly stupid thing to do." Al blanched. James Brodwell, one of the bodyguards whom Geoff had hired, spoke up. "I take the responsibility for that decision." "Well," I said. "It's far too late to second guess this. Let's see what we have here.

Al, why don't you get out of here." "Maybe I would rather stay," she responded. "This could get messy. It would be better if you were out of harms' way," I told her. "I can take care of myself," she replied. "I know that, Al. However, you have more than just yourself to consider. There is someone who can't take care of himself. Consider him." Al sighed. "You're right." Then she turned and left the room without another word. I looked at the bodyguard, then at the officers whom I had brought with me. "Well, this is one drawback of being on a small force. We have to do everything ourselves. Shall we begin?" Cautiously, I slit the wet paper on the top of the package. Using a flashlight, I looked inside the wrapping, down the upright sides of the parcel for trigger strings coming from the packaging. Finding none, I peeled the paper from the piece of luggage. I looked for a long minute at the overnight case. A brass plate on the front of the tan leather case was engraved with AMJ, Al's initials. Very slowly, I turned the case around. Several half inch holes had been drilled in the backside of the case. Water still drained from the punctures. With the flashlight, I looked into those holes. Scales. Reptilian Scales. I barely suppressed a shudder. With most wildlife, I could adopt a policy of live and let live. But, I hated snakes with a passion. This was a snake: probably not a pleasant one, if snakes could ever be pleasant. Personally, I had never met a snake I could like. "I'm not going to open it," I said firmly. "We'll take it over to Glenna Clarey's and have her x-ray it. She should be able to identify the creature from the x-ray." "What is it?" John, the bodyguard asked. "Look for yourself," I said as I handed over the flashlight. "Holy sh..." John exclaimed, then caught himself. "Timber rattler." "You're sure?"

"Hell, yes," the bodyguard replied. "I've seen enough of them while hunting. The color of the scales is distinctive." **** Al hadn't been in the living room for more than a couple of minutes when I walked in. She had obviously been pacing the room. "Well?" she asked. I sighed. "Do yourself a favor. Don't open any other presents until we can x-ray them. Don't eat any candy sent to you. Check your car before you start it. Be careful. Be very careful." "You are frightening me," Al replied. I nodded. "I intend to. You have cause to be frightened. Not holding onto that fear could prove fatal. You know that, Al. You've told me virtually the same thing yourself. Just be extra careful." "Then it was a bomb?" Geoff demanded. "No. It wasn't a bomb." "Don't tell me that I ruined a clock?" Al teased. "It wasn't a clock." Geoff looked at me. "Care to tell us what it was?" I knew that tone. It was one he used frequently in cross-examining hostile witnesses. "It was a rattlesnake." Al looked at me in open disbelief. "A rattlesnake?" she croaked. "If you had opened it, the snake would have struck, probably repeatedly." Al crossed herself as she sank into a chair. "A rattlesnake?" "John ID'd it from the scales. I've sent the cruiser over to Glenna Clarey's with it. The vet should be able to give us a positive identification of the species," I responded. "While people don't usually die of snakebite, I'd say that someone definitely wanted to make his point." "Lord," Geoff prayed.

Al's color became even more pasty. "I feel ill..." I nodded. "I'd be worried about you, if you didn't. The bodyguards and two of my men will be, with your permission, searching the house to make certain that there are not any other little nasty surprises around." Geoff nodded. "Go ahead. Can you take a look at my cars as well?" "No problem. You ought to know that the snake was delivered in an overnight case." "The overnight case? Was it the one of mine which disappeared during our trip to Chicago?" "The case was tan leather. The initials on a brass plate on the front of the case were AMJ." She drew a deep breath. "I was afraid of that." "Are you okay?" I asked. "About as well as I could expect to be," she said. "I'd like to lay down for a while." "Let us check your room first. The last thing that we need is some kind of unpleasant surprise like yesterday's." Al sighed. "I am so sick of this, Phil." I nodded. "We'll catch him, Al. We'll catch him." "Before or after he kills me?" Al asked. Geoff looked at his fiancee in surprise. "There is no need to bite Phil's head off. The police are doing the best job that they can do." It was obvious as she sank into a wing chair, that Al was struggling for self-control, and that the struggle was difficult. "It may not be enough, Geoff. We have to face that. It may not be enough." "Baby?" Geoff asked. "Just leave me alone," she said in a tone just over a whisper. "Please. Just give me some time alone. I have to pull myself back together." "I'll be here, whenever you need me," Geoff told her.

"I know." Al said as she lost her battle with tears. "This isn't going to work, Geoff. Hernandez will never leave us alone." "We'll catch him," I pledged. "Then what? He'll be out on parole in less than twenty years, probably less than ten, Phil. And he'll be after me again," Al said. Geoff cleared his throat. "I won't lie to you, Alicia Marie. You know what the criminal justice system is like. But, if Hernandez is behind this, he has some major charges to face." "I know, but what are the chances of his being put away for good? Slim to none? He faces charges in California in connection with the death of a police officer, rape and attempted murder charges from the hospital incident, and God knows what else. Then there are the grand theft charges, the arson charge, the assault charge in connection with his hurting Geoff, and at least two counts of unlawful entry." "That's enough to put him away for a very long time. Besides, California does have the death penalty." "And how often is it enforced?" she demanded. "In cases of cop killers, fairly often," I told her. "Come on, Phil. There's no guarantee that he would get that sentence if the matter went to trial. Some smart lawyer would have him plead mentally ill and he would be placed in a hospital," Al said. "And even if that doesn't happen, he could be out of jail rather quickly. You know it, and I know it. I would be living in fear of his getting released. What kind of life is that to ask anyone to share?" "Are you trying to call off the wedding?" Geoff asked. Her face crumpled as the scattered tears became a steady stream. "It isn't fair to you to ask you to marry me," she said through her tears. "It isn't ... charitable ... to purposefully place you in danger." "What about sprout? Is it fair to him for us not to get married?" Geoff asked. "You've already been harmed because of me? Do you think that I want to see you be killed for me? Is it fair to sprout for me to take his father from him?" Geoff slowly rose from the sofa and went over to her. Carefully, wincing as he knelt on the floor in front of the chair in which she sat, he told her, "Baby. Don't do this.

Don't. I love you, Apple Juice." "Don't you see, Geoff? Hernandez has to die. That's the only way that we will be safe." "Hush, baby. Don't make threats in the presence of witnesses." She laughed harshly. "Geoff. That wasn't a threat. I strongly believe that the only way that we are going to be rid of Hernandez is to get rid of him." Geoff drew a deep breath. "Sweetheart." "You couldn't live with that, could you? You couldn't live with that. One way or another, this is going to tear us apart. Slowly, he's taking everything away from me. My car, my house. And now, he's trying to take my sanity and my relationship with you." Geoff looked at her as he took her hands in his. "He can't win if you don't let him. Fight back, 'Licia. You have to keep fighting." "I know," she admitted. "It's just so hard to fight someone who won't show his face." "Don't take any precipitous action," Geoff advised in his best lawyer tone. "If you come face to face with him, make damned sure that it is self defense, clearly and without any doubt. The last thing that either of us needs is for you to land in jail on a murder charge." "I have no intention of landing in jail, Geoff. Absolutely no intention," she said. Geoff smiled at her. "That's my 'Licia." She looked over at me. I had simply stood there watching the exchange. I would never want to be on Al's enemies list. There was no doubt in my mind that she was plotting some way of taking out Hernandez, if this was Hernandez doing this. Personally, I still wasn't convinced that it was Hernandez. That was too entirely cut and dried. Life was seldom that convenient. Geoff was the only one who could place Hernandez in the area. I still couldn't dismiss the lurking suspicions that Geoff was somehow involved in this besides as a victim. I know that Geoff's stated theory was that Hernandez had faked his death, collected the money, and come hunting for Al. I was more than a little uncomfortable with the fact that she had accepted that explanation so readily. It was what she wanted to believe. But, if it wasn't true, then where did we stand?

If Geoff was involved in this plot, then he had to have an accomplice. The Houston girl was kidnapped while they were both in Chicago. There were so many pieces that didn't fit. One thing was certain, Geoff was hiding something. I've known him almost all my life. He's been my best friend since we were both first graders. I know when he's hiding, lying about, or up to, something. Red flags were going off in my head about this. I didn't like it. I didn't like it, at all. I didn't like having to suspect him of mentally torturing his fiancee, of stealing her car, of demolishing her house, of kidnapping her daughter, of staging his own beating. No, I didn't like it. Not at all. However, part of me couldn't blame Al for how she felt in her desire to put the person behind all of this out of her misery. The cop part found the kind of vigilante action I thought that she was planning to be totally unacceptable. But, I understood what was driving her. "You think that you could go through my room, first. I would like to lie down," she asked me. "Sure thing, Al." A few minutes later, I stood on the stairs listening to them talk. I could see into the room from my vantage point. I was going to simply go into the room, but I heard Geoff talking about me. "You and Phil seem to be getting along much better," Geoff observed. He was seated back on the long sofa. She didn't move from her position staring out the window onto the back garden. The set of her shoulders spoke of the tension that she was under. "'Licia?" Geoff asked. Then he spoke to her more firmly. "'Licia!" Slowly, she turned to face him. "Sorry, Geoff. What did you say?" Geoff smiled at her. "You and Phil are getting along better than you used to." Al shrugged. "Are we? I wasn't aware that Phil and I ever appeared to have problems getting along with one another. I've always liked Phil. But, maybe, there is something to what you are saying." Geoff shook his head slightly. "I'm glad to see my girl and my best friend becoming close friends for their own sake." "Am I really that difficult to get to know?" Al asked. "I've never thought of myself as rigid or unbending." "You are a little intimidating," Geoff replied gently. "Not that you mean to be, but

I've seen you freeze people out." She shrugged again as she moved over to a Queen Anne chair. Settling within it, she sighed. "I am so tired, Geoff." "I know, sweetheart." I returned to the room. In my hands was a clear, evidence bag containing a plastic bag of white powder, a syringe, a silver spoon, a partially burnt votive candle, matches, and a length of rubber hose. "Al, are these things yours?" "What are they?" she asked, not getting a good view of the contents. "A kit for shooting up heroin," I said. "Complete with nearly a pound of the stuff." "You've got to be kidding!" Al almost shouted. Then her tone became more resigned. "I suppose that it wasn't unexpected that something like this would happen. Hernandez has taken most of the things that I care about from me. I suppose that it is only expected that he would try to take my reputation from me, as well." "You are sure that this isn't yours." "Absolutely. I've never done drugs, Phil. I'll gladly submit to a bank of blood tests and physical examinations to prove that. You can look at my arms and legs. You won't find any needle tracks there. You won't find my prints on any of that stuff because it isn't mine!" Al replied. "I'm confiscating this kit." "Good," Geoff stated. "The last thing that we need is to leave something like that laying about." "When is this all going to end?" Al asked. "To be on the safe side, since you know that there has been an intruder, you should probably go through the cabinets and throw away every bit of food that has been opened. I may be paranoid, but I can't help thinking that there might have been poison or drugs slipped into packages." Al closed her eyes and sighed. "I'll do it tonight." **** I leaned against the stainless steel counter in Glenna Clary's examining room. I didn't at all like what Glenna was telling me.

"You'll want to keep the snake preserved as evidence, of course," the middle aged, petite, blond, chocolate brown eyed, vet stated. "I'll take care of that process for you." "Better you than me." Glenna laughed at him. Her dark eyes sparkled with amusement. "You always did hate snakes, didn't you?" she said. "How long have you known me, Glenna?" "Almost all my life, Phil. You can't fool me. I bet that you had to force yourself not to run out of the room when you saw that it was a snake in the case," she said in amusement. "I'm just glad that Al didn't open it." Glenna sighed. "How's she holding up?" "Better than I had hoped. The stress is getting to her." "Of course, it would be. I'm not sure how well I would have held up to everything that she's gone through lately," Glenna replied. "Do you have anything else to tell me?" "Nope. That's about it. The snake was certainly capable of producing a nasty bite. From the looks of it, it was probably alive when it went into the water," Glenna said with a sigh. "God." "Yeah," Glenna said. "I don't know what else to say. I wish that I could be of more help. But, I'm a vet, not a herpetologist, definitely not a forensic pathologist." "Thanks anyway, Glenna." "How badly was Geoff hurt?" Glenna asked. "The other night, I mean?" "It could have been worse." Glenna turned away. "You aren't still carrying a torch for him, are you?" "What? Me?" Glenna replied without conviction. She still didn't face me. "That

would be profoundly stupid. Now, wouldn't it? I mean, he's supposed to be marrying Alicia on the thirtieth, isn't he? Even I am smart enough not to allow myself to stay hung up on a man who is committed elsewhere." "You want to go to a movie tonight? The new Stephen King film is in town. It might be an interesting diversion. I'll even spring for pizza." Glenna smiled softly as she turned around. "Now, there's an offer that would turn any girl's head." She chuckled. "Why couldn't I have fallen for you?" "Maybe because you are brighter than normal?" I offered with a smile. Glenna laughed tightly. "Yeah, right. Just now, I don't feel particularly bright." I crossed the room to stand just in front of the petite veterinarian. I touched her face, lightly, with the back of my hand. "Glenna," I said. She moved into my arms. I held her close, in the comforting embrace of an old and valued friend. "Philip," she whispered just before she left my embrace. She stepped back a couple of paces. "Pizza and a movie sound good. But, I've got dress rehearsals for the Theatre Guild tonight. I've really got to be there." "Of course you do. Can't have the Guild's production of The Mousetrap have dress rehearsal without its prized director." Glenna smiled softly. "Sorry." "Take a rain check?" "Love to," the petite vet said. "But for something other than a Stephen King film." Then her eyes softened to hold an invitation, "Unless you were also offering to hold me all night to protect me from the nightmares which always come after I see a horror film?" I smiled at her. "I never know when you are serious, Glenna." "That's always been the problem. No one ever has," she said almost under her breath. -------*Chapter 28* _Alicia_

I awoke suddenly from my nap, at three-fifteen on the afternoon of May 14, still shaking from the nightmare. Do you call them nightmares when they occur during the day? Of late, the dreams were too surreal for me to mistake them for reality. Thankfully. Still, I woke shaking each time. I saw, in my dream, Hernandez handcuffing Sarah to Joanie -- the girls standing back to back -- then chloroforming them both before taking them out into the night. Then the images had dissolved, becoming far more lewd. The two dead Hernandez brothers, Luis and Juan, had specialized in furnishing girls for extremely kinky encounters as well as for blue and even snuff films. The images I had seen in my dreams were nothing more than the memory of what I had found out about the way that they had worked. Even telling myself that, I felt sick, defiled, and shaky. I forced myself to lie back on the bed and close my eyes. Then I took a series of deep, slow, breaths to calm myself. **** The hour had just past four in the afternoon. I was looking through the refrigerator and freezer in the kitchen, hoping for inspiration. Dinner wouldn't be anything outstanding. Yet, I was hoping for the ingredients for more than another humdrum meal. I don't know why I was inspecting the cabinet's contents. I knew all too well what was contained there since I had replaced everything only this morning. Finally, I decided that deliciously different food was not going to magically appear upstairs in the kitchen. So, I went to the cellar stairs. Flipping on the light, I made my way down into the dank, poorly lit, inadequate excuse for a basement. I walked over to the freezer with the intent of retrieving a package of steaks from the large, older, chest freezer. I pulled the chain on the porcelain light fixture that hung just above the freezer. The light coming from the single 100 watt bare bulb was harsh, yet adequate for the use. I lifted the heavy white metal lid and peered into the frosty box. The last thing that I expected was to find another set of eyes staring back at me ... A set of dead eyes ... In a face contorted by pain ... encased in a block of ice, no less ... a little girl's face, as familiar to me as my own. Joanie.

I looked at the brownish/red tinged cube of ice for the longest moment, not daring to believe my eyes. In the small part of my mind still working, I knew that I couldn't touch it, shouldn't touch it. I tried to tell myself that it wasn't real, that it couldn't be real. I dropped the lid of the chest with a resounding thud as I heard someone screaming. It wasn't until the bodyguards had thundered down the steps that I realized that I was the one screaming. -------*Chapter 29* _Phil_ Al was sitting on the long living room sofa with her legs drawn up to her chest and with her arms hugging her denim covered legs tightly to herself. Geoff sat beside her, speaking far too lowly for me to hear his words, although I recognized the soothing tone. "Can't you stay out of trouble?" I only half teased, as I saw the strained and nearly shocky expression on her face. "Obviously not," she answered. She rocked herself gently, slowly, back and forth. "The city is running up quite a bill by having the State Police Crime Scene Services here of late," I replied, again only half in jest. "You've got to stop this, Al. We can't afford the tax hike to pay the bills." She smiled weakly at me. "Funny," she replied in a tone which belied her words. "That's better, Al. Don't let the bastard get to you," I advised. "It's not his getting to me that I am worried about," Al said in a strained tone. "I wish that he would show his face so that I could get this over with, one way or the other. I am so sick of this tension that I could scream." Geoff touched his fiancee's arm. "'Licia. Hang on. Fight back, baby." Tears streamed down her face. "He killed Joanie, Geoff. Joanie, whose only connection to me was the circumstances of her birth. I can't believe that he killed Joanie. She was a Hernandez. The last link to his brothers. Why would he kill her? Just to get back at me? It doesn't make any sense. It just doesn't make any sense."

"You said that he had sworn to take everything from you that you cared for." "But, Joanie, Geoff?" Alicia demanded. "She was just a child. I had never even seen her except for photographs since the morning that I gave her over to Clay and Maggie Houston." I took a seat and opened my notepad. When have you ever seen a cop without a notebook? People think of guns as police equipment, but cops use pen and paper far more than we ever use our guns. In fact, anymore, I tend to think that I am at a far greater danger from a nasty paper cut than I am from an armed assailant. "I hate to have to do this, but I have to take a statement, Al. I'll try to make this as straightforward as possible." "I'm sure 'Licia appreciates that, Phil," Geoff replied with strain in his voice. "Tell me about today..." I listened to her tale. "Did you check the freezer when you got rid of the open packages?" "Yes. It wasn't there last night." "Al..." "I know," she said, "you have to establish a time frame on this. I know that." **** I sat, staring at a blank wall in my office at the municipal services building. The further that this case evolved, the more that there was which didn't fit. The phone rang. I picked it up before the second ring. "Mallory." "Phil? Bill Gregory here." I sat up a bit straighter in the seat. William Gregory, M.D., was the local physician who served as the county's Medical Examiner. "Yes, Bill? Do you have a cause of death?" "I think that you had better get over here. You aren't going to believe this."

"Tell me." "You have to see it to believe it." "Right there, Bill." It was less than a ten-minute drive from the municipal services building to the local hospital. I parked in back and walked into the basement door. Down a hall, past classrooms which were inhabited by student nurses and EMT training, then turning right and down another hall, he finally came to the suite of rooms that were used, thankfully rarely, for autopsies. I entered without knocking. "Bill?" Bill looked up from the report he was writing. "Come on in, Phil. Like I told you on the phone, you aren't going to believe this without seeing it," he said with a puzzled smile. "Do you have a cause of death?" "Nope. Thank God." "You had better explain that. I'm not following you." "Come on through." The inner room was very similar to the rooms in the surgical suite on the fourth floor. It was very well lighted, appointed in stainless steel, and chilly. My eyes went immediately to the head that still lay on the table. Only now, it was no longer encased in the block of ice in which Alicia had found it. "Go, take a closer look," the doctor suggested. "Look closely." I fought back the revulsion that I always felt in a morgue. You'd think that I would have gotten used to this by now, but I haven't. I walked to the table. "I'll be damned! I'll be god-damned and boiled in oil!" It was fake, a gruesome work of an obviously twisted mind. The medical examiner snorted. "Probably. If it is any consolation, it had me going too, for about a half a second. But, I couldn't prove what I was thinking until some of the ice came off." I reached out to touch the head, then pulled my hands away before doing that.

"Who has handled this?" "Only the officers who brought it and me," Bill stated. "I doubt that we'll get any good prints off of it, but I have to try. Dump it into an evidence bag. I'll see that it is dusted for prints." "You had probably better tell Alicia about this," Bill said. I nodded. "That isn't something that I'm looking forward to." "How's she holding up?" Bill asked in concern. "Considering everything, not too badly. Not too badly, at all. She was pretty shaken up over this, though." "I'd like to get my hands on the person who did this to her," the doctor said. "Just for five minutes. This was not funny. Just five minutes, Phil. Do you think that you can arrange it?" "Not likely, Bill. There are too many people who would like to get a shot at this guy. Too many people." I didn't have to tell him that I was one of the first two on the list. I could see that he understood that. "Find him." "We'll get him." Bill nodded in agreement. "Give Geoff and Alicia my best regards." "Will do." **** John, the bodyguard, answered the door. "Is Doctor Jenkins at home?" Al stood at the doorway between the living room and the entrance hall. "Weren't you the one who said that I was running up quite a bill for the city to pay?" she drawled. I smiled slightly.

"What's happened now?" "Good news." "I could use some. Come on into the living room." **** Al looked at me in disbelief from across the room. "Fake?" Her voice rose in volume and shrillness, "Fake?" "Someone is trying to drive you nuts, Al." "Tell me about it," she replied. Then she smiled a forced smile. "And he's doing a very fine job of it. I hope that Hernandez is getting a thrill out of this." Geoff looked at me and then at his fiancee. "So, Phil? Where do we go from here?" I ran a hand through my dark hair. "Hernandez obviously learned his trade well." "A bit too well," Al responded. "His trade?" Geoff asked. "Before he took it upon himself to go after Al, he was in an apprentice special effects man in Hollywood. And he was starting to make a name for himself," I explained. "He was the only one in the family with a straight career. Although, it was suspected that he was involved in the film end of the family business." "Lord." Geoff growled. Al shrugged and rose from her chair. "I am going to bed, if you will excuse me." "Are you feeling well?" Geoff asked. "No. I'm feeling pretty badly, actually." Geoff levered himself up from the couch with a groan. His ribs were obviously giving him a good deal of pain. He walked over to her. He touched her forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever. Do you need to go to the doctor?" Al sighed. "Don't worry about it, Geoff. I'm not physically ill, just emotionally distressed. You are the one who should be in bed. You still have to be hurting from those cracked ribs ... I'm just mollycoddling myself." Geoff smiled at her. "Pregnant women deserve to mollycoddle themselves."

"Well," I said, "I'll be going now. Sleep well, both of you." "Thanks for everything, Phil," Geoff told me. "I only wish that I could do more." Al nodded negatively. "You've done everything that anyone could expect from you. Thank you, Phil. You are a good friend." I smiled at her, somewhat hesitantly. "If you need anything." "When have you ever known me to be shy?" Al demanded. I laughed. "Hang in there, kid. Sooner or later, he's going to slip up. When he does, I'll get him." "Well," she said with more than a shade of malice, "one of us will." -------*Chapter 30* _The Diary, May 14_ The fools don't even realize that they can't have a private conversation in that house, or in any of their offices. They haven't found the transmitters I've hidden. I've got the tapes of her saying how it is necessary to take out Raoul. Fool. Those tapes will be the nails in her coffin shortly. This is almost too easy. She's running scared. The snake and the prop head did it. Now, she's beginning to know what I could do to her. And she's scared. But, not nearly as frightened as she's going to be before this is all over. The kid is one of the last straws for her. And now she has another kid to think about, another bastard. It's almost funny. So sanctimonious, so holy, so apart from the world. My how the mighty have fallen. But, she never was what she pretended to be. She's got a couple of surprises coming yet. I almost wish that I could be there to watch her get what is coming to her. Justice is sweet. Revenge is sweeter. --------

*Chapter 31* _Geoff_ I paced the emergency room hall. I had brought her into the hospital with the help of one of the bodyguards who had carried her downstairs and had driven us here. I knew that I should have been waiting out in the waiting area. I wanted, needed, to be here if she needed me. Doug Webb, the county sheriff, was pacing the same hall. One of his deputies had been shot during a 'routine' traffic stop in the county. The young man's prognosis was apparently not good. But, I was too concerned about 'Licia to spend much time thinking about Doug's problems. 'Licia was in the same treatment room where I had been only days before. The door was closed. Only two minutes ago, Ed Roby had gone inside. Phil walked up behind me. "How is she?" "I don't know. She's frightened." "The baby?" I nodded negatively. "God, Phil, she woke up bleeding and cramping. I'm scared to death. I can't lose her now. And if she loses that baby, I don't know what she will do. I don't know what this is going to do to her. I don't know how much more she can take." Phil looked around to see if anyone was listening. No one was. "When she told me that she was pregnant, you could have knocked me over with a feather. You had a vasectomy before you asked Jan to marry you, twenty years ago." "I had it reversed." "I thought that after that long, it was almost impossible to do." It is. But, I wasn't going to tell him that. Best friend or not, there are just some things that you don't tell anyone. "The specialists are doing marvelous things these days." "She wanted this baby," Phil said after a moment. "Sometimes, I think that she wanted the baby more than she wanted me," I admitted. Heaven knew that much was true. "God, Phil, I don't know how she is going to cope with this."

Phil just looked at me, totally at a loss for what to say. Fortunately, Ed Roby chose that moment to come out of the treatment room. "We're taking her up right now for an emergency D&C. She's losing too much blood. Connie Yerke is on OB/GYN call tonight. She'll do the surgery." "Then, she's lost the baby?" "I'm sorry, Geoff," Ed said with compassion. "Spontaneous abortion at this stage of the game is usually nature's way of handling mistakes. And it happens far more often than most people want to think about. She was -- what -- less than a month into term?" "Something like that." A pair of patient care workers entered the treatment room with a gurney. "Is there any reason that you know of that 'Licia and I couldn't try again?" "Give her one normal cycle before you try again," Ed advised. "Sometimes, it takes a woman a while to begin to ovulate again after a pregnancy terminates. If you wait one cycle, it will be easier to track the pregnancy. I doubt that she's going to feel much like anything for a while." The nurses wheeled 'Licia out of the treatment room. I didn't at all like the fact that 'Licia was almost paler than the white cotton pillowcase on which her head rested. "'Licia," I said as I walked beside the gurney. She opened her eyes and looked at me. "I'm sorry, Geoff. I'm so sorry." "You've got nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart. This wasn't your fault. The only thing that you have to worry about, now, is getting yourself well. The wedding's in two weeks. Just remember how much I love you." Fresh tears streamed down her face. "Stay with me." "I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere." "Call Father Douglass for me, please." "I will, baby. Is there anything else that you want?" She just held my hand as though it were her only anchor to reality. But, looking back on it, I'm not sure who was anchored to whom for that reality check. All I could think of was that she was, maybe, dying and that it was my fault. ****

I sat by her bedside waiting for her to awaken. My mind was entirely too full for me to be able to sleep. If I hadn't made arrangements for the artificial insemination, she wouldn't be lying here now. She wanted children. That was one thing, nearly the only thing, she had wanted from our marriage. And that was one thing that I could never give her. I had lied to her about the vasectomy having been reversed. It had only taken a reasonably small bribe to get the doctor to use donor sperm, from a healthy, relatively intelligent, blue-eyed, blond male, who had my blood-type, to inseminate 'Licia. I would have accepted and loved the child, if for no other reason than for the fact that the child would have tied 'Licia to me, in a way that nothing else could have ever done. The ends would have justified the means. Or at least that was what I had told myself at the time. Now, I wasn't so sure. She would never forgive me, if she learned how I had conspired to fool her. Perhaps, this was just as well. Now, at least, we wouldn't have to be living a lie for the rest of our life. But, I hurt for her. She had wanted this child, so badly. And I had wanted it for her. -------*Chapter 32* _Phil_ As Geoff walked off down the hall with Al, I turned to Ed Roby. "What could have caused this?" "More things than you want to know about. About half of the conceptions which take place end up spontaneously aborted. Often before a woman even knows that she is pregnant. There isn't anything that we can do most of the time," Ed Roby replied. "I'm probably going to sound paranoid. Is there anyway of telling whether the miscarriage was induced?" "Induced? Alicia would not do something like that to herself," Ed dismissed. "But, there is someone who'd like to harm her. This seems to be a thing he would do. It's entirely too coincidental for my peace of mind." Ed Roby looked at me for a long moment without saying anything. "You are a suspicious bastard, Phil Mallory."

I nodded tightly. "It's my job to be." "I'll order a whole range of toxicological tests, just to be on the safe side. Will that make you happy?" "Nothing about this makes me happy," I replied. "But, I need to know." "Fine. I'll bill the department for the tests." "Whatever. How serious is this?" "Pretty serious. She's bleeding too much, far too much for this early of an abortion. You saw that I had started her on plasma. When we get her typed and cross-matched, she'll get at least two units of whole blood. But, we've got to get the bleeding stopped. If we don't get that under control, she'll die." "Oh God..." Geoff paced the floor in the surgical waiting room. "She had most of a pot of peppermint tea before she went to bed," Geoff said in reply to my subtle questioning. Geoff was far too distraught to notice that he was being interrogated. Connie Yerke was the community's only female obstetrician. Connie was five-foot-nine, a vivacious redhead, full of nervous energy. There wasn't an ounce of spare flesh on her runway thin frame. Occasionally, Geoff and Alicia had played mixed doubles tennis with Connie Yerke and her husband Larry. I always liked to see those matches. Talk about an immovable object versus an irresistible force. Neither team liked giving up a point. "Geoff?" Connie asked. "How is she?" my best friend asked. "Sedated. We managed to stop the hemorrhaging with the D&C. I want to keep her under observation for twenty four hours, at least. Then if everything stabilizes, you can take her home Sunday morning." Geoff sighed. "Thanks Connie." "This is going to be rough on her, Geoff. Don't let her blame herself. These things often are for the best," Connie advised. "Is there any problem with her becoming pregnant again?" Geoff asked. "You didn't find any physical problem?"

"Give her some time. But, no, she should be able to conceive again," Connie replied. "At her age, though, we should watch any pregnancy more closely. She hasn't been in for confirmation of the pregnancy." "No. She has a friend who is a high-risk obstetrician in St. Louis. She went down to see him," Geoff answered. "She was concerned about her age being a factor." Connie sighed. "I understand. I'm sorry, Geoff." Geoff nodded. "How long will it be until she is back on her feet?" "She lost a lot of blood, Geoff. More than she should have." My ears perked up. "Why would that be?" "I don't know. The last time that I saw anything like this was when I was doing my residency. A young girl had drank a lot of pennyroyal oil to induce an abortion. She damn near died," Connie replied. "Pennyroyal oil?" I asked. "It's in the same family as mint, I think. Although botany never was my strong area," Connie replied. "Mint?" I asked. Connie and Geoff both looked at me questioningly. "No, 'Licia wouldn't have," Geoff said. "Of course she wouldn't have. That doesn't mean that someone else might not have." Geoff closed his eyes as the color drained from his face. "That bastard," he said. Then the epithet was followed by a stream of crudely colorful language Geoff would have never used in a court of law, at least without incurring a contempt charge. Connie's eyes narrowed as she looked at both of us. "This is monstrous," she said. "Don't say anything to anyone, Connie," I advised. "I don't quite believe it, myself," the physician replied. "What does pennyroyal smell like?" Geoff asked.

"A lot like peppermint, only sharper and more acrid, I think," Connie responded. "How much would it take to induce a miscarriage?" I demanded of the gynecologist. "I don't know off hand. Not much if it was oil taken by mouth, I don't think. It's pretty powerful stuff, as herbal remedies go. It can even be absorbed through the skin. I remember reading a case where a woman repeatedly spontaneously aborted in the spring and summer due to her use of a natural insect repellent containing pennyroyal," Connie replied. "Would you recognize the smell of pennyroyal?" I asked. "Tommy Liguori at the health food store would be better at identifying that sort of thing than I would be. Herbs are her area of expertise, not mine," Connie said. -------*Chapter 33* _Phil_ I took the canister of loose peppermint tea inside of a plastic bag into "Everything Nice", the local natural foods store run by Thomasina Liguori. Tommy's Mediterranean heritage was clearly evident in her olive skin tone, dark hair, and dark eyes. I had thought that it was ironic that Tommy was back in town after having made a name for herself on the West Coast as the senior VP for Asian operations in an electronics firm. Why Tommy had come running home after abandoning her high six-figure, or maybe low seven-figure, annual salary was anyone's guess. She was not the same person whom she had been when she had left home several years before. But, life has a way of jading most of us. There was sadness in her eyes when she thought that no one was watching. But, she kept her problems to herself. Tommy, when she put her mind to it, could be terribly secretive, almost as secretive as her father, the Reverend Doctor Thomas Liguori, Rector of the local Episcopal parish. The county sheriff, Doug (aka Spider) Webb, was Tommy Liguori's fairly steady companion. The two of them had dated in high school. Then when Tommy had moved back to town, the pair of them had started keeping company again. According to local wisdom, it was only a matter of time until Tommy and Spider would marry. But, from what I had observed, Tommy wasn't in any tearing hurry to legalize the relationship. And neither was Doug.

I smiled softly to myself as I wondered what it was about this small college town which drew so many strong, downright interesting, women. Most of the women I knew fit, uncomfortably well, the old description of the Soviet Union -- a riddle wrapped in a mystery shrouded by an enigma. "Morning, Tommy," I said as I entered the store early on Saturday. She turned around about a quarter of the way on a ladder where she was standing to restock her upper shelves. "Well, Phil Mallory. This is a surprise. What can I do for you?" she said warmly as she came down from the ladder. "I was told that you were the resident expert on herbs." "What do you need?" "Tell me what's in this mixture?" I asked as I held up the bag before placing it on the counter. "Playing 'Stump the shopkeeper'?" she countered as she wiped her hands on her apron. "Something like that." I carefully removed the lid from the canister. Tommy Liguori used a plastic scoop to remove about an ounce of the mixture from the canister into a small plastic bag. "Umm..." she said as she sifted through the tea with the sharpened end of a pencil. "Peppermint, alfalfa, and spearmint. I blend a similar tea for people with nervous stomachs." "Nothing else?" She brought the bag up to her nose to smell it. "Whew!" she said as she sat the bag down on the counter. Then she rubbed some of the tea between her fingers. "That's odd." She brought her fingers to her nose. "Definitely odd." "Talk to me." "Someone doused this tea with pennyroyal essential oil. That's unusual." "Why?" "Alfalfa is primarily used for a digestive tea. Rich in choline, vitamins A, B6, D, K,

and P, it is a treatment for ulcers as well as being a general aid to digestion. The spearmint and peppermint are both mild antiseptics, rich in menthol, thymol, and other volatile oils. Teas made from those mints are used as tension relievers, cold remedies, and stomach settlers. Pennyroyal, when it is rarely taken as tea, is usually infused from leaves instead of being added as essential oil. Pennyroyal essential oil is very strong. No one in her right mind would take it internally," Tommy Liguori replied softly, thoughtfully. She continued, "It can be a dangerous herb, if used incorrectly, or by the wrong person. Usually, pennyroyal essential oil is rubbed into the skin as an insect repellent or it's used in dog shampoos as a treatment for fleas. The dried flowers are sometimes used in an infusion of lavender flowers, wood betony and sage as a bath treatment for mild hysteria or tension, or they can be strewn about in animal bedding as a flea repellent. I don't recommend pennyroyal at all, for any woman of childbearing years. Too many women have died over the years because of that herb. I don't even stock it, normally. Although, I do special order it, occasionally, for some of the veterinarians in the area who use it as a flea treatment for dogs. It's real effective used that way. And at wholesale, it is a good deal cheaper than the commercial anti-flea treatments." "What would happen if a woman drank a pot of this tea?" Tommy looked at me sharply. Speculation was in her brown eyes as she swept a strand of her dark hair back into place. She wanted to ask questions. I could see that. But, she had been around law enforcement for long enough that she obviously knew better. She sighed. "That would depend on the woman. If she were pregnant, I'd say that she would be lucky to survive. If she weren't, I don't know." "Thank you, Tommy. You've been very helpful." "I take it that this conversation is not for public consumption." "You always were a bright kid, Tommy." "Gee, thanks, Phil," she replied. "Give Doug my regards." She smiled wryly. "Maybe, if Spider stops working double shifts in an effort to find out who's been breaking into houses in the county and if he finally runs down the person who killed Pete Burgess, I might get a chance to tell him anything. But, as it is, you probably see him more than I do." "Has he made any progress on cracking those cases?"

"Not much, honestly." "Hmm..." "Now, that's a lawman's look, if ever I saw one." "Refresh my memory, the break-ins took only children's clothing?" "And a TV, a VCR and a collection of movies, and a Nintendo and some game tapes, and an insulin kit from the Peterson's house. But no cash, even though the Peterson's had several hundred dollars lying on their bedroom dresser." Tommy sighed as she looked at my face. "Remind me to invite you to play poker. I could use the money. You think that this has something to do with Alicia." "You know that I can't comment on that." "She buys that particular herbal blend. I blend it for her, specially." "When was the last time that you made a batch up for her?" "Ten days ago, or so. I don't know. Before she and Geoff went to Chicago." "Was anyone else in the store while you were blending the tea?" "Glenna Clary came in." "Was that unusual?" "No. Glenna stops by every once in a while. She's not exactly my best customer. But, then again, she lives alone and hates to cook." "Why does this stick in your mind?" "You asked if anyone else was in the store. Glenna was here. I had been just about ready to vacuum seal the bag of tea for Alicia when my cheese delivery arrived. It took me about fifteen minutes to take and verify the delivery. Glenna made herself a cup of tea, grabbed a cookie, and did her shopping while I was busy checking in the cheese." She could have gone all day without saying that. Was Glenna involved? Glenna had been in love with Geoff for as long as Phil could remember. She had the motive -wanting Geoff for herself -- and the opportunity -- left alone in the storefront. "You said that you sell pennyroyal to local vets?"

Tommy nodded. "Glenna buys dried pennyroyal flowers for use in her kennel and oil for her grooming operations." That wasn't a piece of the puzzle that I particularly wanted to have. Could Glenna have done this? "You don't think that Glenna had anything to do with this, do you?" Tommy asked. "I don't know." "Have you seen Alicia today? How is she holding up?" Tommy asked. "I guess that they are going to keep her in the hospital today for observation. Geoff is with her." "Melie Morrison and I were going to give her a surprise bridal shower on Thursday. Do you think that she is still going to be up to it?" "She needs all of her friends around her, now more than ever." "Yeah. I can understand that," Tommy Liguori replied. "I have to think of something nice to do for her. I think that I'll take her a couple of pecan honey buns from the bakery. Comfort food. They are her favorite. But what do you say to someone at a time like this? That you're sorry? Somehow, that just doesn't cut it, does it Phil?" "No. It doesn't." "Unless I'm asked about it under oath, I don't know anything about this conversation which we've just had, Phil." I smiled. "Thanks for the information about the tea. You're a good woman, Thomasina Liguori." "Tell that to a group of people who still call me 'Sin'." "Well, that would give the phrase 'As ugly as Sin' a totally fresh meaning." Tommy smiled tightly. "I do have shelves to stock. Do you need anything else?" I walked the seven blocks from Tommy's health food store down to the county courthouse. The county's reasonably modern jail sat just behind the nineteenth century gray stone architectural monstrosity known as the courthouse. A youngish jail matron, named Stephanie Scott, was doing dispatch /receptionist

duty from behind a thick enclosure of bulletproof glass. The blonde jail matron looked up and motioned for me to take the phone from the wall. "Well, well," she said, her green eyes twinkling with mischief, "To what do we owe the honor?" "Sheriff in?" "I'll buzz you back. Try the door after the second buzz." The door closed automatically behind me. "Doug in his office?" "You know the way, Phil. But then again, you know the way to a lot of places where I haven't seen you lately." I laughed. "One of these days, Stephanie, I'm going to take you up on the offer." "Promises, promises." She dismissed me as a call came through on the radio. Duty took priority. I moved down the sealed concrete floor of the freshly painted hallway. Even through the closed door of the Sheriff's office, he could hear Doug Webb's bass voice. The words were indistinct, but the meaning was more than clear from the tone of the voice. Someone was being called onto the carpet. Knowing better than to knock, I leaned back to wait. Knowing Doug Webb, it wouldn't be long until his temper blew itself out. After a couple of minutes, the door to the office opened and a very upset looking young deputy exited. I knew the boy. His folks and I had been in High School together. Somehow, I didn't think of myself as being old enough to be a grandfather. But, this deputy's wife had just given birth to their first child. "Boss in a foul mood, today, Clyde?" "He should have had his ration of human hide for the day. God knows the strip that he peeled off me was wide enough. Do yourself a favor. Knock before you go in. If he growls, stay away." "Thanks for the warning." "So, Spider," I said, not quite casually, from where I sat across from the Sheriff's desk, "tell me about the couple of rural robberies which you are investigating?" Doug (Spider) Webb looked at me for a long moment. Doug ran a hand through his sandy hair. Then he stood. He walked over to his filing cabinet and pulled out the folder.

Leaning against the wall, Doug thumbed through the pages contained within the manila file folder. "Why are you asking?" "How much do you know about the situation with Alicia Jenkins?" "Oh, I see." "I may be grasping at straws here." "Maybe, maybe not," Doug allowed. "I understand that an insulin kit was taken from the Peterson's house." "Yeah. Irene Peterson was real upset about that. She had to get a new prescription before she could replace Jimmy's stuff." "And all the other things taken were things that a child would want or need?" "A portable TV/VCR, a Nintendo game and tapes, VCR movies, jeans boy's size 16 slim, t-shirts, that sort of thing. The FBI told me about the kidnapping. Was the girl a diabetic?" "No." "Then what makes you think that the two are related?" "A kit was found in Al's bedroom, along with a good quantity of heroin." Doug whistled through his teeth. "I can't believe that Alicia's a user," the sheriff said after a moment's hesitation. "She's not. But, there have been at least two instances of someone getting into Geoff's place." "A plant? That would make sense." "Frankly, none of this makes sense. When it starts to make sense to me, I'll begin to worry about my sanity." The sheriff laughed. Then he became serious. "How's Alicia holding up?" "This is rough for her. Especially now. I don't know how she is going to hold up." "You know, the robberies could have been done by a teenager with a drug problem. This could be totally unconnected."

"I know that is your theory. But would a drugged out teenager have left money behind?" "Why would a kidnapper?" "That's a very good question." **** The two FBI Agents who were handling the abduction of the Houston girl were waiting at the police station when I returned to my office. "Coffee?" "No thanks," Agent Matthews said as he took a chair. "What's up?" "Understand that you've had a bit of excitement, Chief," Agent Hulme stated quietly. I poured myself a cup of coffee from the carafe, then placed the half-full pot back on the warming plate. I took my seat at my desk. "That's one way of putting it, I suppose. It's been an eventful few days." "The Houstons have been contacted with a video tape of the girl," Ellis Matthews stated. I just waited for the Agents to continue. Grace Hulme removed a copy of the tape from her briefcase. "I wouldn't watch it just before bed unless you want nightmares." "Why the volunteer cooperation?" I asked. "This impacts on your investigation, as much as it does on ours," Grace Hulme said. "We went to see your Doctor Jenkins. But, it seems that neither she nor her lawyer were at home." "She's in the hospital," I replied. Ellis Matthews asked, "Hospital?" I picked up the bag containing the canister of tea. "Someone poisoned her herb tea. She lost her baby, and damn near died herself."

"God," Ellis Matthews said in disgust. "When will she be out of the hospital?" Grace Hulme asked. "Tomorrow, if she is lucky, according to her doctors. But, I doubt that she will be herself for a while after that." "What a mess," Grace Hulme replied. As a summation of the situation, that was as good as anything. -------*Chapter 34* _Alicia_ I looked at my wristwatch on Wednesday morning, May 20, as I left the house. I sighed. 6:30. By all rights, I should still be in bed, resting. But there was no rest. I hadn't had more than ten hours total sleep since Saturday. I had come home from the hospital on Sunday afternoon. Monday morning I had returned to work at the college. Physically, I felt weak. Mentally, I was devastated. But, I told myself, that sitting around feeling sorry for myself wasn't going to change anything. At least, by keeping busy, I would not have time to dwell on dark thoughts. Maybe, I hoped, I wouldn't have to think at all. John, the bodyguard, was walking beside me. "Are you sure that you feel up to this, Doctor?" I sighed, but kept walking. "If I didn't feel up to it, I would still be in bed," I said. "I intend to work for the next few hours. You can sit quietly and read, or you can leave me alone until the time to go to the college." "Always trying to shake me off, aren't you?" John replied in half amusement. "I'm not the enemy, you know?" "I know. Look, I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable. I know that you are doing your job, the job that Geoff and I are paying you to do. And I know that I probably ought to be giving you hazard pay for having to put up with my bad humor." John laughed as we walked. "Oh, no, Doctor. Not at all," he said. "It's been an experience." I laughed. "You have diplomatic skills."

"My idea of diplomacy is to knock heads together in the hopes of installing sense," he teased. "I've never found any need to be diplomatic with you or Mr. Samson." We walked silently to the Jencomp laboratory building. I let John and myself into the lobby, then into the workrooms, locking the doors behind us. John looked around with interest as he walked through with me to my office. When I settled in at my desk, he took a place on the sofa and waited patiently as I worked my way through a stack of correspondence. The presence of the bodyguard distracted me for a few moments, then I surrendered myself to the work. Finishing the correspondence, I retrieved the schematics for the system that was under development. After intensely reviewing all of the circuit diagrams I had drawn for the machine, I rose from the desk and went into the cleanroom dressing area. John started to follow me, but I waved him off. I slid into a white coverall, and hid my hair under a paper snood. Paper booties went over my shoes. John could observe me clearly through the door. He watched me do the final assembly for a rather large machine for the next three hours. A machine very similar to the one I was constructing stood in the corner of the clean room. Finally, I came out of the clean room, triple locking that reinforced steel door behind me. One of the locks had a key. Another was a state of the art digital lock. And the third lock was featured a ten tumbler analog combination. Any one of the locks would have been sufficient to keep the door closed. It was unlikely that any one person would have the skill to get through all of the locks. And the wall was reinforced concrete. "What is that thing?" John demanded. I smiled. "That's a little complicated to explain. Would you believe me if I told you that it was one of the next big advances in artificial intelligence and robotics?" John gulped. "That important." "I sure hope so. I've been working on it for the last few years," I answered. "There's a quarter of a million dollars of development funds setting there in those two prototypes." "What does it do?" I laughed. "Come on, John. I've got to teach a class in a half-hour. And I've got to lock up the plans first."

**** "As though you need a reminder, semester projects are due no later than fifteen hundred hours on Friday. Any project turned in later than that will not be accepted. I will be here until fifteen thirty," I informed the Operating Systems class. "The final will one week from today. See you then." John watched as the students filed out of the classroom. "I'll bet that you give a mean test." "A thorough one, at any rate," I replied as I erased the chalkboard. John looked over to the doorway. Geoff stood there. "You want a ride home, 'Licia?" I nodded affirmatively. "That would be nice. I'm about ready for a long nap." Geoff looked at me in concern, hearing the weariness in my voice. "You aren't wearing yourself too thin, are you?" "Probably. But, when have you ever known me to do otherwise?" I answered. Geoff sighed. "Come on, 'Licia. Let's go home. We wrapped up the Lancaster suit this morning and Her Honor ruled in my favor. I thought that a lazy afternoon at home would be nice in celebration." I awoke suddenly, shaking from the all-too-real dream. Geoff was instantly awake. "Another dream?" he asked. I only sighed and looked over at the clock. "Do you realize that we've slept the afternoon and evening away?" "Does it matter?" Geoff asked. "You needed the rest." "Thank you for being here." "Where else would I be?" "Are you hungry?" Geoff smiled at me wolfishly. I laughed. "Silly."

"I'll cook dinner, what do you want?" "You'll cook. This I have to see," I replied. "I'll have you know, woman, that I can cook quite well." "So, why haven't you ever cooked for me until now?" "I don't know. You got started cooking for us when you invited me to dinner the first time. Somehow, you just seemed so comfortable cooking that it was a joy to watch you." "Sexist," I charged. "You have a streak of sexism in your nature a mile wide. You liked having me in the kitchen because it suits your ideals to have a woman in the food preparation role." "You could have asked if I knew how to cook. Instead, you simply assumed that I was the stereotypical helpless male." I smiled wryly as I rolled over on my side to face him. "What can I say? You're right. I should have asked." Geoff smiled at me and shook his head. "I can cook. But, it isn't my favorite activity. Frankly, as long as you were willing to do it, I wasn't going to raise the issue." I chuckled. "That's just like a man," I complained. Geoff raised one eyebrow. "Good. I'd hate to be just like a woman." I laughed. "It's good to hear you laugh, 'Licia," he told me. Then he became serious. "I wondered if I would ever hear you laugh again when we took you to the hospital on Saturday. Honey, I was so scared." "We won't talk about that Geoff. We just won't talk about it. We can't change it. Why dwell on it? Let's just leave it behind us and go on." "Okay, honey. Whenever you change your mind, I'll be here to listen. Know that." "I know that." I assured him. Then I smiled slightly, "You said something about food? Or was that an unfounded rumor, Counselor?" I sat in the kitchen watching Geoff cook. In spite of his statement that he could cook, I had assumed that "cook" was a relative term he maybe applied to opening a

can of soup and toasting a cheese sandwich. I wasn't prepared for the boneless chicken breasts in a tarragon, nutmeg, green onion, and orange marmalade flavored cream and white wine sauce with seedless flame grapes. Teamed with "instant" brown rice, steamed broccoli, and a bottle of Chenin Blanc, the meal was certainly more than acceptable. At the end of the meal, I sat back replete, with a smile. "I think that I will turn over the cooking duties to you," I teased. Geoff looked horrified. I laughed boldly at his expression. "Okay, we can share them." "Since I cooked, you can do the dishes," Geoff replied with a smile. But, we both did the dishes. The clock rang off 10:00 when we entered the living room after dinner. One of the night bodyguards, Mike Krumpt, was hovering in the background. But, I was doing my best to ignore him. Picking up the chess set, I asked, "Want to give me a game, Geoff?" Geoff looked at me. "You don't have to try so hard, 'Licia," he told me. "Is that what I am doing?" "Isn't it? You are so busy trying to prove to everyone that you are just fine that you haven't given yourself time to mourn the baby." I placed the chess set down on the table where I had gotten it. "Maybe, just maybe, I've cried too many tears, Geoff. I'm sick of feeling so scared and weepy all the time. Hernandez wants to hurt me. He's succeeded. He wants to destroy me. I'm not going to let him do that," I said. "And I have to be strong if I am going to fight him. _And_ I am going to fight him. He's had too many victories. I'm not giving him any more." Geoff smiled at me. Then his expression became cautious. "There's a difference between being strong and becoming hard. Don't grow a harsh crust over your emotions, honey, please." I tilted my head slightly. "Is that what I am doing?" "I don't know. I am afraid so."

I sighed. "I'm not trying to shut you out, Geoff." Geoff nodded in acceptance. "I know that this is difficult for you. It's not easy for me, either. I hate this stress, this not knowing where the next disaster will strike." "I know." "Still want to play chess?" Geoff offered. "Unless you would rather do something else." He smiled at me with a mock leer. I laughed quietly. "Geoff," I remonstrated. We both knew that I was in no physical condition for the type of activity that he had in mind. And neither was he, for that matter. His ribs were still, judging from the way that he moved, quite painful. "I know. Behave." "Please." "I'll set up the board. Would you light a fire?" he asked. **** "Checkmate," Geoff said after about an hour of playing. "So it is." He was the only person by whom I had ever been defeated in chess. "Another game?" "I don't think so, Geoff. I'm tired. I shouldn't be this tired. We slept for most of the late afternoon and evening." He nodded. "Have you talked with Colleen Kelly about this?" "My Jungian mother confessor?" I teased. He laughed as he reached out and stroked my face. "What did Colleen say?" "That excessive sleep was a sign of clinical depression. But since I was having so little real rest at night because of the dreams, she didn't seem to think that my sleep habits were all that out of line." "Was that all Colleen had to say?"

"She is fascinated by my dreams. I think that she is writing a book about them from the notes that she keeps taking." Geoff laughed. "If she publishes without permission," he teased, "we'll have her license yanked so fast that her head will spin." I giggled. "You need rest. Why don't you go on up." "I think that I will." "I'll be up shortly." I was on the landing at the top of the first flight of stairs when a solid, police style, pounding sounded from the front door. Mike answered the door. Geoff stood at the doorway connecting the living room to the entry hall. I stepped around the corner so that I couldn't be seen from the door. "Chief Mallory," Mike greeted as he opened the door. "Phil," Geoff echoed, strain in his voice. Then his voice became considerably more agitated, "What the hell is wrong, now? Haven't we been through enough?" "May we come in?" Phil asked. "I'm almost tempted to ask if you have a warrant," I replied from the top of the stairs. "No, Al. I don't have a warrant. But, we do need to talk with you," Phil replied. "Then come in, Phil. Who's with you?" I replied as I started down the stairs. "Sam Ulrich, Doc," Sam answered, as he stepped into the light. Geoff looked at me. "Are you sure that you are up to this, sweetheart?" "It doesn't look as though I have any choice," I said. "Gentlemen, won't you please take seats in the living room?" "Okay, what's up?" I asked, once we were all seated.

Phil sighed. "There's been a break-in at Jencomp," he told me. "My lab or the duplication facility?" I asked, not wanting to hear the answer. "The lab," Sam Ulrich replied quietly. I bit my lip in an effort not to say what was on my mind. The words that immediately came to mind would have not at all been constructive. My eyes closed for a moment as I tried to find my composure. "'Licia, honey," Geoff asked in concern. "I'm okay, Geoff," I said, my voice sounding as though it came from a long way off. Then I opened my eyes and looked directly at Phil. "A break-in?" "I hate to ask. But, we need you to come down and assess the damage. It isn't pretty, Al. I'll warn you that," Phil replied. "Somehow," I said, "I didn't expect otherwise. I'll get my purse and be with you, presently." Geoff and I went to the lab in Phil's car with Sam. Mike and the other night guard, a bodybuilder named Peter Cross, remained at the house. I stood at the outer door to my lab. Looking in, the only sign that anything was amiss was that the video surveillance camera lay on the floor, broken into several large pieces and many smaller ones. "What." I started to ask, then found that I couldn't piece together a sentence. "How long ago was this found?" "I've had a patrol come round about every couple of hours and check the place. There was a power outage in this section of town about two and a half hours ago. Strange thing. It took out only the center of town," Phil answered. "What caused the outage?" I asked sharply. "Should have known that you would pick up on that. A pair of raccoons in a transformer at the substation. They won't bother anyone again," Sam replied. "I'm getting a little paranoid. But, is there any way of determining whether the animals were alive or dead when they came into contact with the transformer?" "Not hardly, Al. But, the question had crossed my mind as well. I'd say that you

have every reason to feel persecuted. Every reason," Phil said. "Don't be shocked by the amount of damage. It's pretty bad. And I only looked at the main room." "The place has been photographed, finger printed, and whatever else you had to do to it?" "Yeah. You don't have to worry about touching anything, Doc," Sam said. "You've been inside, Sam?" Geoff asked. "Come on, Al," Phil urged. "We need a damage assessment." "I'm not sure that I want to do this, Phil," I responded, unable to keep the tremble out of my voice. Geoff took my arm, gently urging, "Come on, darling. The sooner we get it over, the sooner that we can get past it." They had warned me, I told myself. Yet, I hadn't been prepared for this level of destruction. Scrawled in black spray paint on the block wall from ceiling to floor to the left of the door was "Once a gal from Chicaga, over her computers went gaga, soon you will see, she is no longer to be". On the right was "Roses are red, violets are blue, your business is dead, soon you will be too." "Hardly likely to win awards with that poetry," I remarked. "The paint was still tacky when we found it," Phil replied. I spun around sharply and began looking through the room in detail. Electrical cables lay coiled in a jumbled mess like some ancient reptile against the cream quarry tile floor. There wasn't a monitor in the room intact. Bits and pieces of glass were scattered over the entire main room from where the tubes had exploded after they had been obviously thrown to the floor. Circuit boards had been pulled from the small mainframe computer. The integrated circuits had been yanked from the boards when possible. Then the multipronged black and silver circuits had been smashed with something very heavy. Now the ICs lay like so many dead spiders after an exterminator's visit. The remaining boards from the small mainframe computer had been tossed carelessly on the floor then beaten into small pieces.

The removable disk packs used by the mainframe computer had been pulled from the disk drives. The magnetic platters lay in bent and broken pieces, an angry modern sculpture. The coaxial cabling from the mainframe to the system console and the local area network cabling from each of the smaller computers had been disconnected. The male and female connectors had been snipped from the cables, then smashed. My commercial laser printer lay in pieces, obviously a victim of whatever heavy instrument had destroyed the other equipment. Plastic lined cardboard cases of what had been new floppy disks lay open. The dissolving disks were swimming in some liquid that smelled suspiciously like acetone. Six keyboards had been disconnected from their respective computers or terminals. Several keys had been removed from the various keyboards. I made a mental note to ask if the keyboards had been left in the same order as they had been found. I stared at the keyboards for a minute before I understood. The message conveyed by the keyboards was simple. Each keyboard's missing characters formed a word. Together the message from the six keyboards read: Death comes slow to the wicked. The remains of a Logitech and two MS mice, a scanner, and a trackball lay where they had been hurled against the walls. A long florist's box containing more dead roses lay inside the now crippled system unit of the mainframe. A note was also scrawled on the inside of that door. Rather terse, it read simply, "Die, Bitch." "This is not the act of a sane person," I said, breaking the relative silence that had filled the room since I had begun my inspection. Geoff sighed as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "Hold on, 'Licia." "Can you give me a damage estimate?" Phil demanded. I sighed. "Not yet. Let me look at the other rooms." Geoff lightly kissed the top of my head before he released me. I went through the clean room changing area. Several of the overalls had been torn to pieces. One was missing. Obsenities were painted onto the walls. The large thick armored window in the door was totally blacked out with paint. I looked at the locks on the heavy steel door.

"I wonder how good of a lock picker he is," I asked rhetorically, not meaning to voice the thought. Then I got out my keys. Slowly, I unlocked all three locks on the door. Hesitantly, not wanting to see the damage, I went inside. "Thank God for small miracles. There are advantages to strong doors and excellent locks. He didn't get in here." "You sure, 'Licia?" Geoff asked. "Absolutely. Nothing's been moved. I always set little traps in secure areas. None of them have been tripped," I said as I left the room and locked the doors behind me. "But, I'll find someplace more secure to store the machines." "What's so important there?" Phil demanded. "Those machines, and the technology there, may be worth billions of dollars by the time that all of the applications of the pieces are done," I replied. "Or it may be worth nothing more than the licensing fees and sales which I've already derived from the patents and copyrights. It's still in development. Probably always will be. But it has potential to be very big." "Big enough so that someone would be tempted to manufacture this whole threat to cover their theft of the system?" Phil asked. "This level of security would have been pointless otherwise. Although a fat lot of good my security measures have done." I couldn't keep the anger out of my voice. "Just thinking out loud," Phil stated. "To answer your question: possibly. The subassemblies are all patented. It's within the scope of possibility that someone could have looked at the pattern of the patents and figured out what I am up to. But, it would take a truly sick mind to come up with that tactic for industrial espionage." "You've said yourself that this is not the act of a sane person," Phil countered. "Thank you, Chief Mallory. Your grasp of the obvious is outstanding," I replied, trying not to focus my growing anger on him. I looked at Geoff. "I want one of the guards here and armed for the rest of the night, and until I can get the devices moved to more secure quarters. I'm going to call Rusty and see if she will house them, if I can get them to her." "All right, 'Licia," Geoff answered. "That sounds like a good idea." "I have to look at the rest of the building. I don't want to, but I have to," I stated.

In the kitchenette, there was a general mess as canisters of coffee and tea were spilled all over the floor. Obsenities, again, were painted on the walls. But, I had seen worse words scrawled on the walls in LA. I backed away from the room and went to the bathroom. The contents of the medicine cabinet had been emptied without ceremony onto the floor. There were a collection of pills which I didn't recognize. I did a quick inventory. "My hairbrush is missing. Along with a small bottle of Chanel No. 5, and a lipstick. Added are those capsules on the floor. They aren't mine." "You're sure?" Phil asked. "I like Chanel and always keep a bottle. I just bought a new bottle last week. Same reason for remembering the lipstick. I bought it at the same time that I got the Chanel," I explained. "And I always keep a brush here. But, I don't do drugs. You've already had the bloodwork done to prove that." Then I went to my office. The door was unlocked, but closed. "Has anyone looked in here?" Phil nodded affirmatively. He pushed open the door and went in first. I quickly followed. I looked around. Then I went to a cabinet and threw open the door. Spray painted on the face of the safe were more obscenities. Quickly, I worked the seven tumbler combination and opened door to the large fire resistant safe. I looked through the contents of the safe. Then I closed the door to the safe and relocked it. "Everything's there. Nothing has been moved." "Where do you write down the combination?" Sam asked. "Nowhere. The only record of the combination is in my memory." "Suppose that you forget it?" Sam asked. I looked at him. He shrugged. "Forget I said that," he replied with a smile. Again, I looked around the room. I flinched when I saw the obscenities on the wall. I walked over to a now empty frame that had held a painting. I began to laugh and continued to laugh until the laughter became nearly hysterical. Geoff came to me. "'Licia, calm down!"

"But, it's so funny, Geoff. He stole the paintings," I said as tears began to roll from my eyes. "He actually stole the paintings." "They were valuable," Geoff said. "Those were copies, made by the prototype of the machine in the cleanroom," I replied when I got my laughter more under control. "Absolutely worthless. And for all the mess that he made in the other room, the damage is much less than he would have thought. I have backup copies of all the files in the safe. And I keep a set of backups off site for added security. It's a set back, but not a crippling one. More of a nuisance, really. This time, this time, he miscalculated." I walked over to my desk. Then I began to methodically search the drawers, looking for anything the least bit odd. And I found plenty odd: papers misfiled and missing, my lethally sharp surgical steel letter opener missing, and things in the wrong drawers. I sat at the desk and made up a damage estimate. "This is rough. Will it suffice for your purposes?" Phil looked at it. "Fine. Thank you, Al." "Let me make a copy of it for my files?" "You mean, he left the copier unharmed?" Phil asked. "I wonder why." "Good question," I replied after a moment. "There's only one way to find out." Then I pushed my chair back and walked over to the copier. "'Licia," Geoff said as I hit the button releasing the top portion of the copier. Lying there face down on the paper feeds was a photograph. The first time that I would have used the copier, there would have been a jam. Cute. Very cute. Phil tapped me on the shoulder. He had a removed a plastic evidence bag from the inside pocket of his coat. It covered his hand. I stepped back. He blocked my view. "Well?" "You don't want to see this, Al," Phil told me. "You really don't want to see this." "Maybe not. But, I have the right."

He had inserted the photo into another evidence bag and sealed it shut. Holding the bag by the edges, he turned around and showed me the photo. Phil had been right. I didn't want to see it. I barely made it to the powder room before my stomach gave out. -------*Chapter 36* _Geoff_ "'Licia, sweetheart, are you doing better?" I asked from outside the closed door of the bathroom after I had heard the sound of her retching cease. The toliet flushed. And there was the sound of running water as she obviously tried to clean up. "Stupid question," she answered as she opened the door. She buried her face in my shoulder for a moment. "Did you see the picture?" "I saw it." "It's one of the images from my dreams, Geoff. I saw that in my dreams. How could he have known?" Phil asked, "Who did you tell about the dreams?" "Only Colleen," 'Licia said as she turned to face him. "Colleen Kelly?" Phil asked. "Yes," 'Licia answered. "I've been seeing her." Phil nodded. "Professionally?" "Professionally. This situation is rather tough, you know," she said. "Easy, Al. No one is judging you," Phil said. "Let's go home, 'Licia." "Sounds great to me. The sooner I get out of here, the better. But, we ought to make a run over to the duplication facility, just to make sure that there is no damage over there," she said.

After we had walked through the duplication/shipping facility and she was certain that there was nothing wrong there, we were driven back to the house. "I won't say that it has been pleasant, guys," she told all of us. "But, thank you for being here for me." Sam turned around from the front seat and looked at her. "Are you okay, Doc?" "Not really, Sam," 'Licia said as she laid her head on my shoulder. "Not really." I heard the shower shut off as I sat reading, early that morning. The clock on the fireplace mantle in my bedroom had just chimed three. I listened for her door to open. But, instead, a few minutes later, 'Licia came into my room. She was wrapped in her long quilted robe. I put down my book and stood. "I'm sorry, 'Licia." She nodded tightly. "Me, too," she said. I crossed over to her. "Would you like for me to hold you for a while?" She nodded again. "If you don't mind. I'm feeling fragile." "You need to rest," I said as I wrapped my arm around her waist. "Come to bed." She finally slept. I looked at her for the longest time, before I fell asleep. I would have given anything for her not to be going through this. Yet I was powerless to stop any of it. The situation felt as though we were on a giant roller coaster, up, down, thrown sideways, by sudden turns, twists, and plunges. I've never liked roller coasters. -------*Chapter 37* _Diary, May 21_ I am not disappointed. I have a collection of tapes now to make good evidence against her. Threats. Anger. Pain. She's nailing her own coffin closed. Only a few more steps are necessary. Any day now, all hell should break loose when her car is found.

Even her tame police chief won't be able to save her, then. There is no way that anyone will be able to keep her out of jail with the evidence I've accumulated against her. Maybe she won't go to jail over the deaths of Luis and Juan. It's too late for that. But, she will suffer over this. She will. No amount of bodyguards' swearing as to her whereabouts will detract from the overwhelming physical evidence. The police are a lot like hound dogs. Throw them meat and they'll eat it, even if it is poisoned. -------*Chapter 38* _Phil_ "Mallory," I answered as I picked up my office telephone on the morning of May 26. A woman's voice came over the line, "Chief Mallory? I am Detective Sergeant Larson of the St. Louis P.D. I'm with homicide." "What can I do for you, Sergeant?" I wished that I had never asked. **** "Your car was found," I told Al as we sat in Geoff's living room. "And?" she demanded as she paced behind the long sofa. "Why don't you sit down, Al," Phil urged. Instead, she walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured two stiff shots of Wild Turkey. Then she crossed over to Geoff and handed him one of the drinks. "I've got a feeling that we are going to need it." Then she looked over at me. "Give it to me straight." "The car was abandoned in a parking garage in St. Louis. The plates were switched, but your registration was in the glove box." Al looked at me, waiting for the rest of the story. She didn't know what was coming, but there had to be more to the tale. I could read that much on her face.

"The St. Louis police want to question you first thing tomorrow. The FBI want to talk with you as well," I continued. "Over an abandoned car?" Geoff demanded. "No, it's a little more serious than that." "Oh?" Geoff asked. "Hernandez' body was in the trunk." "He's dead?" Al asked on a whisper. "Very." "Why do they want to question me?" "It was your car," I told her. "My car was stolen weeks ago." "Phil knows that 'Licia." "He does. The St. Louis police obviously feel otherwise," Al offered. I watched as she downed the shot glass of amber liquid in one toss. She had never been much of a drinker. I wondered if she had been drinking more heavily lately. -------*Chapter 39* _Diary, May 26_ They found Raoul's body. Good. I wondered how long that would take. It might have been better if it had waited until Friday night when it would have been more dramatic. I could see it. The police bust into the wedding rehearsal with a warrant for her arrest on suspicion of murder charges. But, it doesn't look like it is going to be that dramatic. I've been keeping the brat sedated. In a few days, I'll call someone and tell of her location. They'll chalk up the call to just another anonymous citizen doing her duty. Then I'll take off with the money which Raoul and I got from the insurance company. I can live quite well, thank you, on $1.5 million, tax free and properly

invested. Poor Raoul. Simple Raoul. God rest his soul. Yeah, right. As if God really exists. That fiction is good for hypocrites like Sister Mary Alice. A boogeyman to scare the simple minded. Speaking of simple minded fools, there's no way that the authorities can disregard all of the evidence that I sent their way. The strands of her hair beneath his fingernails will be damning. Her engraved stainless letter-opener shoved through his heart was an elegant touch. The monogrammed lace edged linen handkerchief that lay beneath the body. The fact that the body was found in the trunk of her car is simply the piece de resistance. She's going to roast over this one. It's past time that she was called to account for her sins. So what if they are my sins that she's paying for. If she hadn't started this, everything would have been just fine. But she called the tune, so it's time for her to pay the piper. I'm just sorry I won't be here to see it. -------*Chapter 40* _Alicia_ I sat in the conference room at the local police station on the morning of May 27. Geoff was with me. The clock on the wall said that the hour had just gone past ten. The St. Louis detectives were due here any minute. I sipped the coffee which Phil had given me only a couple of minutes before. "This will all be over soon," Geoff told me. "Will it?" I demanded. "I'm beginning to believe that it is never going to be over." "Trust me," Geoff said. I looked at him for the longest moment. Then, I realized I would never be able to trust him completely. That shook me. Did I have any business marrying a man whom I didn't completely trust? "First," Detective Sergeant Kathryn Larson, a tall lanky brunette, said, "I want to thank you for speaking with us. I know that this has been a difficult time for you."

I nodded tightly. "What do you need from me?" "You know that there was a body found in the trunk of your car?" I nodded in acknowledgment of that fact. "Then you also know that we've identified him as Raoul Hernandez." Again, I nodded. She produced a photograph. "Is this the man whom you know as Hernandez?" I took the 8 x 10 glossy from her. It was a head and shoulder's shot of a dead man lying in the trunk of my car. Somehow, seeing it made it much more real and far more horrible. "Yes. That's Hernandez." The bone weariness in my voice wasn't something that I could mask. I returned the photo to her. Geoff took my hand. I pulled away from him. I just wanted to be alone. There was a hurt expression on his face. Lord knew that I didn't want to hurt him. But, I also didn't want to be smothered in a mantle of care. "Why have you asked for this meeting?" I demanded somewhat harshly of the detective. "Do you own a stainless steel letter opener with the initials AMJ engraved on it?" she asked. "I do. It was stolen a few days ago when my business was vandalized." The policewoman nodded. "When was the last time that you were in St. Louis?" "May 7." "And your car was stolen when?" "April 22." "Doctor Jenkins, all of the circumstantial evidence surrounding our discovery of the body leads us to you. Chief Mallory and I have had detailed conversation about the times and dates in question. Your alibi for the period when the murder must have been committed is tight. While you might have had motive, and while the murder

weapon and the car in which the body was discovered were both yours, you didn't have the opportunity to commit the crime." "Where is this leading, Sergeant?" Geoff asked. "Doctor Jenkins, who wants to hurt you badly enough to try to frame you for murder?" -------*Chapter 41* _Alicia_ "Who hates you enough to want to frame you for murder?" That question echoed through my mind the rest of the morning. Until today, the only person would be Hernandez. But, there he lay dead. At noon, I left the college and went back to Geoff's house. There was only one thing to do. I would be gone before Geoff would be home, I thought as I began packing. Part of me wanted to be out of here before he came home. And the other part screamed that I had to face him. Yet, I didn't want to hurt him. My engagement ring lay on the dresser with the note explaining why I was breaking the engagement. I had never told Geoff that I loved him. And he had never asked me for that sort of declaration. If the baby had survived, it would have been a far different matter. I would have given that child a stable home with two parents. However, that was now a non-issue. No matter how badly it hurt, I needed to move on. Part of that moving on was to try to straighten out my own life. And I couldn't do that by making another mistake. On my way home from the college, I had stopped off at the motel downtown and had rented a two-room suite with a kitchenette. It would serve my purposes at least until I could decide what I wanted to do. All I knew was that I couldn't go through with this marriage. I just couldn't. It would be wrong. I wanted more in my life than what lay before me in this marriage to Geoff. I had thought this was what I had wanted. Certainly, the trappings fit my dreams. Yet, if the last few weeks had done anything, they had taught me to look inward. I didn't particularly like what I saw. So, I had called off the wedding. It was rather short notice. But, I couldn't marry Geoff. I should have talked with him first. Instead, I had simply called Father Douglass and called off the wedding. Then I had called and canceled the reception.

I snapped shut my suitcase and left the beautiful bedroom. "I won't be needing your services any further," I told the bodyguards. "You are dismissed." The two men looked at one another, then at me. It was clear they thought I had lost my mind. I couldn't argue with them. I wasn't certain that I hadn't. What I was about to do was profoundly dangerous and I knew it. The taxi pulled up. I walked out of the house, without a backward glance. Until today, I had thought it was Hernandez who was behind this. Now, I wasn't sure whom I could trust. I had to force the person's hand. The only way to do that was to make myself vulnerable. It would be an understatement to say I was frightened. Terrified came much closer to the truth. And that word didn't even come close to expressing it. I dropped the suitcase off at the motel, and walked down to the Church. A few months ago there had been started a perpetual adoration of the Blessed Sacrament, so there were always people there. I'd be as safe at the Church as I would be anywhere else. It was an old Church, done in a true Gothic style. The parish council had wisely opted to keep its statues, stations, stained glass, and tabernacle at the main altar. The only hint of modernity was that the altar had been moved out from the wall. The air was faintly scented with incense. Stepping into the Church was like greeting an old friend. I crossed myself with holy water, genuflected, and slid into the back pew. The ancient rhythm of the words of the rosary came unbidden by long practice even as my fingers worked the chain of beads. Yet, my mind was anywhere except on the mysteries of the faith on which I was supposed to be meditating. Someone slid into the pew beside me. I looked over. It was Father Douglass. "Do you want to talk?" he asked. I shook my head. "Not now." "I'm here whenever you need me," he said quietly. "I know. Thank you." I finished one set of mysteries and moved on to the next set of fifty-four prayers. People came and went. I forced myself to appear to be paying attention to my prayers even though I was quite too aware of them as they came and went.

Soon, I had moved on to the last set of mysteries. "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you..." Geoff slid into the pew beside me. "Just what do you think you are doing?" he demanded in a harsh whisper. -------*Chapter 42* _Geoff_ At first, I thought it had been a joke. A tape of 'Licia's voice and Phil's was in the mail drop at my office. I had played it, and wrote it off as another part of the psychological games being played with us by whoever was behind all this. Yet, I couldn't put the taped conversation out of my mind. Had 'Licia slept with Phil? I couldn't believe that, yet, the doubt ate at me. Doubt and jealousy. The caterer called me for a confirmation that the wedding reception had been called off. Then I had gone home, the bodyguards were there with their story of 'Licia dismissing them. Finally, I had found the note and the engagement ring. As explanations went, this one was woefully inadequate. She had written that she was calling off the wedding. That she couldn't marry me, and she was sorry for all the trouble that this caused. However, she couldn't marry me because she didn't love me. That last part was not unexpected. She had never professed to love me. I went to look for her. She wasn't at her office. She wasn't at the motel, although she had checked in. The clerk said that she had seen 'Licia walking towards the Church. Sure enough, there she was, on her knees with her old rosary in her hand. "Just what do you think you are doing?" I demanded of her. "I'm trying to pray," she told me as she rose from her knees and took a seat in the pew. "So, you just up and cancel the wedding without even talking to me about it," I

demanded. She sighed tightly. "It takes two to make a marriage. You deserve better than me. I can't be what you need, Geoff. I'm too broken." "We can work it out, 'Licia," I told her. "No, we can't. I tried to tell myself that we could. But, it won't work, Geoff. We'd just end up hating one another, living our own lives, and being coldly civil to each other. We both deserve more than that." "Are you in love with Phil?" I demanded of her. "That's not an issue, Geoff," she told me. "I believe that it is. Are you sleeping with my best friend?" I demanded, my voice rising such that we were drawing the attention of the rest of the people in the Church. It was probably the best entertainment most of them had in some time. There was no helping it. The way gossip spread through this little town, the tale would be all over by tomorrow anyway. "No!" she denied. There was a time I thought I knew her. Now, I wasn't even sure if she was telling me the truth. All I knew is that there was nothing soft about her. She was as hard and resolute as I had ever seen her. It was over. There was nothing I could say to make this right. "It's not you," she said, her voice full of pain. "Geoff, I just can't be the wife you need. I care about you too much to want you to be as miserable as you would be with me. You need a woman who loves you with all her heart. I don't. And I never will." "At least, take back the bodyguards, 'Licia," I demanded. She shook her head negatively. "No, Geoff. I have to face this. I have to draw this person out of hiding and make him strike at me openly. I can't do that unless I'm standing alone," she said. "And then it will be over. One way or another, it will be over." "You are going to get yourself killed," I told her, trying to keep my horror out of my voice. She had to know how dangerous this was. She did know how dangerous this was. And it filled me with fear for her. "That's a possibility," she told me, absolutely no emotion in her voice. "It's a real possibility. But it is going to end one way or another. At this point, I don't much

care how it ends, as long as it ends." "You don't mean that," I told her, unable to reconcile this cold woman with the kind and lovely 'Licia. "Yes, I do," she said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, it's my turn to go to confession. There's a good chance I might not survive this. I need to get back into a state of grace." She rose and walked to the now available confessional. I just watched her go. I put my head down on the pew and sighed. Then, I said a prayer for her safety and for her sanity. With no other option, I left the Church. She had made her decision. She would have to live with it, or die with it. I felt about a thousand years old. Leaving the Church, I walked took off walking. I needed to clear my head and work off this anger. I walked past Glenna's clinic. She was just coming out. She looked at me shyly. "Hello, Geoff," she said. "Glenna," I acknowledged. She was uneasy, clearly wanting to say something. "Geoff," she began. "Just spit it out, Glenna," I told her. She smiled at me and sighed. "Oh, Geoffrey! I heard about the wedding. Come on, I'll buy you a coffee. Haven't I always been a sympathetic ear?" "Yes," I said. "You have always been here for me. And I've always taken you for granted." "Now, that's an improvement. Don't be too humble, Geoffrey, or I won't know what to do with you," she replied. "I still make a fine cup of coffee. Do you want to talk?" "Do you want to listen?" I asked her. She smiled at me. "I have broad, strong, shoulders, Geoff. Let me help you through this." "A cup of coffee would be nice." --------

*Chapter 43* _Alicia_ I tried to meditate on the psalms Father had assigned me for my penance. But, the words kept swimming before my eyes. I sank to my knees and buried my face in my hands as my forehead rested on the pew in front of me. I didn't want to die. When I made the decision to make myself this vulnerable, I had made it with my emotions frozen. Now, I was beginning to feel the fear again. I heard someone slid into the pew beside me. The click of pistol being cocked brought my head up and around. The woman beside me appeared to be quite elderly, until I looked at her eyes. My breath caught in my throat. "Sarah?" I asked in a tone little over a whisper. She reached into my waistband and removed my Walther and holster. With an economy of movements, she dropped the weapon into her own handbag. "You will come with me, now," she said lowly. "Do not call attention to yourself or you will die right here." "You're going to kill me anyway," I told her lowly. "Where doesn't make a difference." "Ah, but if you come with me quietly, I'll let the brat live," Sarah replied on a whisper. "Joanie?" "If you don't come with me right now and do exactly as I tell you, I will see that she dies. If I don't make a telephone call in the next two minutes, telling them that I have you, and that we are on our way, the brat dies. Now are you coming with me?" Sarah replied at a level which was not loud enough to draw attention. I sighed. "I'll come." What choice did I have; certain death for at least one of either Joanie or I, or a chance that she might slip up enough to give me an advantage? "My car is parked just outside. When we get there, you will drive. Any false move and I'll shoot you. And then the brat will get it between the eyes. Understand?" Sarah asked. "Absolutely."

**** The car had been a driver-training vehicle. Sarah had dual controls for the brake and the ignition. The only thing that I was grateful for was we had been seen. Sister Mary Clare had seen us. Realizing that she had seen us, I dropped my purse and bent over. Hopefully, Sister would have seen the gun in Sarah's hand when my body was out of the way. I only hoped that the good Sister had enough of her wits about her to report it. Inside the car, Sarah started the car and turned on the air conditioning. "Drive. Down Main Street, stay within the posted speed limits, do not draw attention to yourself, and then make a left onto Oak and drive out of town," she instructed, never taking either her eyes or her weapon from me. I pulled up to a stop sign in front of the courthouse as Phil crossed from the probation office over to the courthouse. I knew that he had seen me. But, he gave no sign of that. I only hoped he understood something was very wrong. The drive seemed as though it took forever. In reality it was only something more than about fifteen minutes from town, down winding country roads, to a run-down farm house. It was a small house, probably originally a house for a hired hand. Most of the paint on the walls had long since perished. It was a lonely looking place. Rows of Osage Orange trees flanked the property. A scraggly overgrown stand of cherry and apple trees was on the Northeast. A garage leaned in on itself to the Southeast. An ultralight plane put-putted overhead. "Get inside," Sarah ordered as she waved the gun. I decided to wait until I had a good opportunity to overpower her. If I could get the gun away from her, I knew that I would stand a decent chance. If she would get within striking range again, I would take the chance. The interior of the little house was no better than the exterior. We went in through the back porch into a bare-bones kitchen. The cracks in the plaster had given way to great gapping holes all the way down to the lathe. "Sit down, Sister," Sarah instructed. A rickety wooden table and a pair of old chairs with nearly half the caning gone on the seats was the only furniture in the room. There wasn't even a refrigerator or

stove. "Eat out a lot?" I asked. "Sit down!" she ordered. "It's time to die, Sister." Sitting was the last thing I wanted. I needed the possibility of moving. "You don't want to do that, Sarah." Sarah Quinn laughed, deep and rich. "Oh, I definitely do. I've lived for this moment for a very long time." "Why, Sarah?" "Why, Sister?" She cleared her throat, angrily, and brought out a tape recorder from her shoulder bag as she held on with one hand to the small pistol that was still trained on me. "Is your tame police chief any good in bed?" she asked. "Is that why he has bent over backwards to give you an alibi for Raoul's death and for the brat's kidnapping? Are you that good in bed, Sister? But, no, you can't be. You aren't even sleeping with your loving fiancee. That man who is about to escape the fate of being married to you is almost as bad as you are. I was really tempted to let this happen. You both deserve one another." "You're too late, if you want to stop the marriage. I broke of the engagement myself today," I told her. "You're a liar. No one would walk away from that kind of money," Sarah stated. "I've hated you for years, more so lately because you've landed into a gracious life. It isn't fair. Evil should not triumph. "You might be interested to know that the baby whom you lost wasn't Samson's. He can't father a child. But, he didn't tell you that. No, it was convenient for him to keep that information to himself." She pressed the play button on the tape recorder. "God, please, just let her live," Geoff's voice begged. "I swear that I'll tell her about the vasectomy and about how I bribed the doctor to do the artificial insemination switch. Just let her live. Please!" Sarah shut off the tape. "You have a talent for piecing together unrelated words and making new tapes out of them, don't you? That's how you put together the new telephone calls which I received, wasn't it?"

Sarah laughed boldly. "Sure. I took some courses in radio and television production when I was an undergraduate. I learned all about editing tapes." "Why, Sarah? Why have you done this? If you are going to kill me, don't I deserve to know the reason?" "You know the reason." "No. I don't understand why you hate me this way. Why are you doing this to me, after all I have done for you?" "Done to me, you mean! You seduced the man I loved and his brother. You killed both of them, lied about it, made yourself look like the heroine of the hour, seduced Raoul, then killed a nun, lied some more, and made almost three million dollars on royalties from the book that you wrote and the options for the screenplay. You ruined my life. Totally. You blew up my little problems into an excuse for your actions. Then you gave away the Hernandez baby!" My mind boggled at the construction that she had placed on the events of my life. "All you've done for me?" she shrieked. "Done for me? You haven't done shit for me, Sister. Pretending to be holy and above reproach. Prepare for a painful eternity, Sister. If you don't believe in Hell, now, you will in a few minutes when you experience it first hand." "Sarah. Just wait a minute. Remember the night that you came to the shelter? You were crying and afraid of Luis. You said that he wanted to kill you, remember? We gave you sanctuary." "Sanctuary. Right. You called my parents and told them to come get me." "You needed someone who loved you to look after you. You were fourteen, Sarah, and pregnant, living on the streets, with most of our money being taken from you by your pimp." "They made me get an abortion. It wasn't bad enough that you killed Luis. But, they made me lose his baby, all that I had left of him. It's your fault. I loved him ... and you didn't care! You didn't care! For all your talk about love, you didn't love me. I can't forgive you for that. Your ruined my life, and you did it for your own gain." "We did what we thought was best for you. None of us sought to profit by it." "Yeah, right! Like suddenly everyone is an expert on what is best for Sarah. Luis would have come around. I had just told him that I was pregnant. Of course, he was upset. So what if he knocked me around a little. It wasn't the first time in my life that I was knocked around. You didn't have to kill him!"

"Did you kill Joanie?" "The brat? No, she's still alive. Alive and sleeping off a large dose of Demerol. She's in the bedroom. She's been heavily sedated most of the time, except when we needed her awake. Raoul couldn't make the casts for the head we planted in your freezer, or the manikins we used for the video we sent her adoptive parents without her. I think that he got off on that. Getting even with you was the one thing that he lived for. Too bad that he also had to die for it." "Do you really think that you can get away with this?" "Sure." "You and Hernandez were in this together?" "Sure." "And you killed him?" "Then planted the body in your car with enough circumstantial evidence to lead to your arrest. But, then your tame cop decided that he had to speak up for you. I could kill him for that." "No. I'm the one whom you want. Your quarrel is with me. No one else is involved." "So touching: the hen protecting her brood." "Did you kill the deputy sheriff?" I demanded. The she smiled at me. It was an expression that made my blood run cold. She waved the gun around. "Hell, yes. And moved the body away from the place that it had been. He was getting too close." "And you were behind the rattlesnake, and the poison in my tea?" "The tea was sheer brilliance. Your fiancee owns a vacuum sealer. It was just a matter of cutting off the seal, adding the oil, then resealing it. Simple. You never even suspected. Too bad that it didn't kill you. Then I could have gotten away clear." "You still could have gotten away, Sarah. If you hadn't come after me, you could have gotten away." "No. I tipped my hand. That photograph. It tied me to the area. Sooner or later, someone would have found the brat. When I wasn't there, someone would have

decided that I must have killed Raoul. It's that simple. When the police wouldn't do the work for me, I had to finish the job myself. Prepare to die, Sister." "Sarah, please." "Go ahead, beg for your life," Sarah said with relish in her voice. "I'd like to hear you beg." "I wouldn't give you the satisfaction," I told her. "Then sit down and write, Sister. The better you make it, the longer you will live." "What am I supposed to write?" I demanded. "A full confession couched as a suicide note," Sarah told me with an ungodly amount of glee in her voice. "Now, sit down. I would rather play this out as a suicide, than to put a bullet in your brain. But, I will shoot you, if you don't cooperate." -------*Chapter 44* _Phil_ I had seen Alicia drive past in the company of that elderly woman. As soon as they passed, the radio crackled with the report that Alicia had been kidnapped at gun-point and had driven off in a car matching that description. It was all I could do not to jump on my motorcycle and follow them. I called in the report of sighting and flagged down an off-duty deputy, sending him to follow the car. When it became apparent that the car was going some distance into the country, I telephoned Sam Ulrich, who lives at that edge of town and flies an ultralight plane. It was his day off, so I figured he'd be up in the plane. And I knew that he would have his cell phone with him. I was right on both counts. And he wasn't far from the road that the car was heading down. So, he was able to locate her quickly. He put the ultralight down on a grass waterway in the middle of a cornfield about a quarter mile down the road from the house where Alicia was being held. Doug Webb, three deputies, and I met Sam and another deputy on patrol at the waterway. We then drove down near the house and made our way to the house using the cover of the trees and outbuilding. An ambulance accompanied us quietly. Peering through the windows, we determined that the Houston girl was in the back

bedroom unconscious. The child had an IV drip of some sort attached. She appeared to be naked under the sheet. The raised voice of a female told us that someone was in the adjacent room. "Write, damn you!" the voice said. "I swear, Sister, that if you don't write exactly what I tell you I will shoot you, then I will shoot the brat. Do what I say, and I will let her live!" A quick peep through the kitchen window told me all I needed to know. A woman had a Colt Government .45 caliber pistol trained on Al. Al was seated at the table writing from the armed woman's dictation. The woman's gray wig had come off and lay upon the counter. It was clear that the woman was Sarah Quinn. Al briefly looked up and met my eyes at the window, and then she returned her attention to the paper before her. She put down the pen and rubbed her hand. "Hand hurting?" Sarah demanded, at a level audible outside. I couldn't hear her answer. "Keep writing!" Sarah demanded. "Write, or I kill the brat!" Al picked up the pen and resumed writing from dictation. Figuring that we had a little time, we withdrew behind the garage in order to form the attack plan. Two minutes later, everyone knowing where he was to position for action, we took our places at the house. Sarah had placed a large bottle of pills on the table before Al with a 2-liter bottle of spring water. "Take them, one at a time with a big swig of water after each," she commanded. I looked at my watch. One minute till we were to crash in on her. I popped my head up at the window. I motioned to Al to hit the floor. She took a swig on the bottle of water. I only hoped that the drug wasn't a lethal dose in one pill. "No one will believe this," Al said. Sarah laughed. "It will be just enough doubt to tar your memory. I'll be happy with that." We crashed into the house from different directions just as Al hurled the water bottle at Sarah, hitting her on the bridge of the nose with the almost full 2-liter bottle, knocking her glasses off her face, and sending her reeling backwards. Blood spurted from Sarah's nose. Al hit the floor and took cover.

"Drop the weapon!" all of the police officers demanded in virtual chorus. It was obvious that Sarah couldn't see any distance at all without her glasses. Sam Ulrich walked up behind Sarah. He reached around and removed the pistol from her hand. Sarah Quinn began to cry and collapsed into a heap on the floor. "It isn't fair. It isn't fair. It just isn't fair..." she babbled as she searched for her now broken eyeglasses. "Al?" I asked as I went to her. "Are you injured?" Al rose from the floor and brushed herself off. "I'm fine." "We'll get you into the hospital and have your stomach pumped," I told her. "Unnecessary," Al said. "I palmed the pill instead of swallowing it." Sarah raised her head and looked in Al's direction. Sarah's expression was one of such utter hatred that the woman's face was truly a mask of evil. Almost before any of us could register that she had risen, Sarah was across the room and was going after Al. Two of the deputies moved to control her. Al sidestepped left, kicked Sarah's legs out from under her, as she grabbed hold of the shoulder of Sarah's dress, and flung her into the kitchen wall just behind them. The ancient plaster crumbled with the impact and stirred up a cloud of dust. With a bloodcurdling scream, Sarah turned and lunged once more at Al, hands raised as if to go for Al's throat. Al performed a double inside block, knocking Sarah's hands apart. Then Al applied a double knife hand blow, the edge of one hand coming down smartly upon each of Sarah's shoulders at the clavicle. I heard the distinctive snap of broken bones, just before Sarah screamed out in pain. Sarah crumpled into a heap on the floor. "You'll live, Sarah," Al stated as she backed away from her tormentor. Sarah cursed vehemently. One of the deputies got out his cuffs and cuffed her hands in front, afraid of further aggravating the obviously broken collarbones. I watched as Al walked into the bedroom. I followed her. She stood there beside the bed looking at the child. Tears fell from Al's eyes as she sank down to her knees and began to pray. -------*Chapter 45* _Geoff_

I looked at Phil for the longest moment without saying anything. I had arrived at the station to serve as Al's counsel during the process of giving her statement. "Are you in love with 'Licia?" "What?" Phil demanded. "You and she appear to be getting along much better than you used to." "We had some time to talk. Really talk. She was scared that night that you were hurt. She didn't want to be confined to a small bedroom. So we sat up and talked for hours. That's some lady you have, Geoff. I would suggest that you hang onto her." I shook my head negatively. "She broke the engagement. She doesn't want me. But, she might want you. If she does, I want her to be happy, Phil. Are you in love with her?" "Chief?" Sam said as he stuck his head in the door. "We've gotten word on the Houston girl." "What kind of shape is she in?" I asked, breaking into the conversation. "Heavily sedated, still. But, it doesn't look like she's been beaten or abused," Sam replied. "Thank God," Phil said. I could echo those sentiments. "Thanks, Sam. How's the process going?" I asked. "Ms. Quinn is under guard at the hospital being treated for her injuries. When she is done there, she'll be brought back to one of the women's cells at the county lock-up," Sam told me. "Too bad they can't just throw away the damned key," I said. "Now, Counselor, that's fine talk for an officer of the Court," Phil said. "What happened to innocent until proven guilty?" I told him in no uncertain terms what he could do with that comment. It was physiologically impossible. Then I continued, "You and I both know that this woman will never have a judgment of guilty leveled against her. The psychologists will never declare her competent to stand trial. She'll be locked away in some mental institution until the doctors there think that she's better. That woman is never going

to do any jail time over this. And she's never going to see death row. Let's be realistic." "For once," the voice of the county's State's Attorney, Charlotte Ross, said from the door. "You may be right, Counselor. But, I'm going to do my damnedest to make sure that doesn't happen. This looks like murder one, in the Hernandez matter, to me, clearly premeditated as evidenced by her diary that was in her handbag. With kidnapping, arson, and conspiracy all thrown in for good measure, it should be very interesting to try. There's even a confession about having killed the deputy, then having moved his body, that's another count of murder, albeit second degree. I'm going to sink my teeth into this one. Defense counsel is not going to have an easy time of this. I promise you that, Counselor." "Just don't try to build your reputation on this case, Charlie," I warned tightly. "This will be your first big case since you stepped up from being the Assistant States' Attorney." "Just relax. For a change, I'm on your side. Try to remember that, can you?" Charlotte Ross said. "And you are just hovering around trying to build your case?" I asked. Charlotte shrugged. "I don't have to build a case, Counselor. It's pretty well cut and dried. We are talking capital murder here. I intend to go for the maximum penalty." "Do you have any idea of who will be defending her?" I asked lowly. "McCauley," Charlotte replied with a small smile. "His Honor appointed him after Sarah Quinn demanded an attorney. Let's just say that he isn't especially thrilled." I had seen that smile before, usually before our esteemed States' Attorney went in for the kill. With the rumors flying around about Charlie Ross and Rafe McCauley, I knew that this trial was going to generate heat. "Don't you dare politicize these proceedings. I'll have you before the Disciplinary Commission before you can blink an eye, Counselor, if I see you abusing the process for your own political gain," I said. "You don't have to lecture me on ethics," Charlie Ross stated. "I'm well aware of exactly where the lines are drawn." 'Licia stood at the doorway. She looked tired and drawn. "'Licia," I greeted her. "Geoff," she said in a tone devoid of emotion.

I wondered if she had just shut down her emotions so she could get through this. "We can get your statement out of the way in a few minutes," I advised her. "Then you can rest." "Can I?" she asked. "Perhaps." -------*Chapter 46* _Alicia_ I stood just outside the room where I had just given my statement. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the wall. It seemed like forever, instead of just seven weeks, since I had walked into the police department seeking aid. I had been trembling that noon. The cause of my current trembling wasn't fear. Well, not the same kind of fear, at least. When I opened my eyes, Phil stood there. He smiled at me. "Philip," I greeted him. "Understand that you have called off the wedding?" he asked. I sighed and confessed quietly. "I just couldn't go through with it. I couldn't marry a man I didn't love. Geoff and I would have had a comfortable enough life together, but it would never have been a great marriage." "I think you have made the right decision," Phil told me. I sighed. "Thanks." He touched my face gently. "I was so scared for you," he confessed. "That makes two of us," I told him, biting my lip to keep it from trembling. He pulled me into his arms. I didn't resist. Instead, I buried my face in his shoulder. The tears fell freely. When I stopped sobbing long minutes later, Phil wiped my face with his handkerchief. "I'm sorry," I said in embarrassment. He smiled at me tenderly. "It's okay. I'm glad that you trust me enough to cry on my

shoulder." "I trust you with my life," I told him. His eyes darkened slightly. I knew that he was going to kiss me. The kiss started gently, tenderly, and stayed that way for all of a split second. There it was again, that need, that desire, which threatened to swamp me. He broke off the kiss and looked at me. "Am I going to have to marry you to keep you safe?" Phil teased. I laughed in spite of myself. "You think that would do it?" -- THE END -----------------------Visit www.fictionworks.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.