Edge of the Heat 3

Edge of the Heat, Volume 3

Lisa Ladew

Published by Lisa Ladew, 2014.

Edge of the Heat 3

By Lisa Ladew

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons or

organizations, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Vivian ran as fast as she could, legs pumping, closing the distance between herself and the road in
record time. In all her years of high school track, she’d never run this fast. But she’d never been
chased by a madman before. Never been responsible for whether her sister lived or died before.
She listened for the gunshots behind her. Knowing if they came, she would again be sisterless. She
pushed herself harder, the dust from the cracked ground tearing at her throat. It didn’t matter.
Nothing would matter if her sister died because Vivian was too slow. Norman was crazy. He’d
kidnapped them both, drugged them, and hidden them under a bed in his RV, planning to somehow
get them across the Mexican border and then who knows what he had planned. That made him the
worst kind of crazy in Vivian’s mind.

The road! She’d made it. She almost overshot right into traffic, but managed to stop and start

waving her arms at the nearest car. It didn’t stop. She kept waving and ran in the road. Cars
swerved around her. She got so close to one car that its side mirror hit her left forearm. The pain
shook her.

Vivian dragged her eyes open, forcing herself to wake up before the gunshots came. Again she’d

had the nightmare. That made 4 times so far this week. She rubbed her eyes. Sunlight streamed in the
window. At least she’d made it to morning this time. Maybe she should go to Emma’s doctor. She
hadn’t told anyone about the dreams yet, hoping they’d go away, or at least lessen. Norman
kidnapping her and her sister had been the most traumatic experience of her life. Of course it was
going to bother her. But it had been almost a month and the dreams were coming more frequently.
Almost every night now.

Her left arm throbbed. She looked at it. A large bruise was forming on the forearm right where the

car had hit her in the dream. She must have hit it on the side table. Briefly, she thought about moving
the table away from the bed, but then thought better of it. She knew she flailed about during the
dreams. What if instead of hitting her arm she threw herself right off the bed? Maybe she should try to
sleep more in the middle of the bed, and pile up some pillows around her.

Unbidden, the events after she had reached the road in real life came to her mind. She couldn’t

seem to let them go.

In reality, the first car she had waved at had stopped. The woman inside let her use a cell phone.

She called 911, not knowing what police station her call would go to.

She’d been winded from the run, and it took her a few minutes to get the story out to the

dispatcher. The dispatcher put an officer on the line almost immediately and he said he was in touch
with Agents Masterson and Kinkaid who were in a helicopter a few minutes out from her location.
Vivian wept with relief, almost collapsing on the side of the road. But she hadn’t seen or heard a
helicopter yet. She looked back over the field and what she saw chilled her. Emma and Norman were
fighting. They were close together, but far enough away from her that she couldn’t tell who was who
or what was happening. She took a few steps in their direction, thinking she had to go back and try to
help Emma. But she couldn’t. Her legs wouldn’t take her. They were rubbery, jelly-like. She felt like
a newborn fawn trying to stand for the first time. She sat down in the dust, fear for her sister eating
her alive, and prayed. Prayed that Craig and Hawk would get there in time.

The whup-whup-whup noise of a helicopter made it to her ears. Please let them make it in time.

She saw it, flying closer to the ground than she’d ever seen one before, coming in over the overpass
to her left.

And then she heard a gunshot. Then two more. Purest terror shot through her. "NOOOOOOO!" she

screamed. In that instant, she knew her sister was dead. Knew she never should have left her sister to
die in the desert with a madman. Knew it was all her fault for running. For giving Emma the Narcan
that had woken her up under that bed, for picking the lock on their handcuffs and getting them out of
there in the first place. If she hadn’t done that, Emma would still be alive. They’d still be in danger,
yes, but still alive. There would still be a chance.

Vivian pushed herself to her useless legs and tried to run to Emma, tears streaming down her face.

Her legs wouldn’t go. So she crawled, the hot desert ground burning her hands. She crawled half the
distance back to Emma and Norman, sweat and tears and dust doubling and tripling her vision, her
own pulse beating in her ears loud enough to drown out any sound.

A shadow fell on her. She stopped and looked up. She couldn’t tell who it was, just that it was a

man. If it was Norman, so be it. She would accept her fate. But not before she spit in his face.

A silky, masculine voice reached her ears. “Vivian, are you hurt?” Hawk’s voice, soothing her as

he knelt beside her.

“Emma, where is Emma? Is she shot?” she wailed, not knowing if she was hurt or not.
Hawk had leaned down and taken her in his arms, picking her up effortlessly.
“No, Norman is shot. Emma shot Norman.”
Emma shot Norman? Emma was OK? Vivian’s brain couldn’t quite grasp this. She’d been so

sure that her sister was dead.

Hawk carried Vivian the rest of the 1/2 mile or so to get back to the helicopter. Vivian had taken

comfort in his hard-muscled chest under her head. His warm male scent of clean sweat and musky
cologne had filled her nose. Hawk wouldn’t lie to her. She knew it. Emma must really be OK.

Vivian saw Norman on the ground, the desert dust mixing with his blood, turning it orange. Police

officers swarmed around him.

Hawk carried her to the helicopter where he lifted her in gently. Emma was sitting there, Craig

pressing something against her side. Emma looked at her and burst into tears, pushing herself over to
reach Vivian. They had hugged and cried for what seemed like hours.

An ambulance took them both to the local hospital. Emma was x-rayed and treated for badly

bruised ribs, and Vivian was treated for 2nd degree burns to her hands from crawling across the hot
desert. She never even noticed the pain until Hawk had pointed out the blisters on her hands.

Vivian shook away the mental image of that horrible day and looked down at her hands. It had

been almost a month since that day and her hands were almost fully healed. She no longer had to
bandage them at all. She remembered Hawk grasping her hands gently and holding a cold compress to
them in the back of the ambulance.

Ugh, Hawk. He’d been so sweet after the incident, taking care of her, talking softly to her,

basically being a nice guy. Then she’d gone home for a few days to get her house in order there and
when she’d returned, he was back to his old ways of grunting and disappearing when she was around.
He hadn’t been downright mean in the last month, whenever they’d seen each other, so that was an
improvement, but the sweet, kind, caring Hawk she’d seen in the desert was gone.

Every time she thought of him her heart hurt. She knew she was falling for him. Vivian laughed a

disgusted laugh to herself and rolled over in bed, burying her face in her pillow. Scratch that. She’d
already fallen for him, head over heels, hook line and sinker - pick your cliche, she was living it. He
was just so ... manly. When he walked by, all the women turned their heads to look at him. She’d seen
it. He was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, and don’t forget broad through the shoulders and
chest with a slim waist that tapered perfectly above an amazing butt. All she wanted to do was put her
hands all over him every time she saw him. Or heard him. His voice was low and gruff usually when

she was around. It sent shivers down her spine every time.

Vivian got up and padded to the bathroom, silently berating herself for her superficial lust after

Hawk Kinkaid. She barely knew the man. She didn’t know if he was smart or stupid, funny or dull,
generous or stingy. Well, she did know he was brave. And she knew he was good at his job. And she
knew he was the best friend of her sister’s boyfriend.

Oh, and she knew that Hawk didn’t like her. That much was obvious. Not only did he obviously

not like her in that way, but he also seemed to think she was some kind of a jerk or something. She
didn’t know why. She’d never done anything to him. In fact, he’d seemed to dislike her the first time
he set eyes on her. She hadn’t even had a chance to irritate him. Unless it was her looks that had done
it.

Vivian sighed and turned on the shower. These circular thoughts about Hawk that never led her

anywhere but frustrated were as common as her nightmare.

Yep, definitely time to see a shrink.

***

After her shower, Vivian ate breakfast and then worked on unpacking boxes until it was time to go
meet Emma at the restaurant. She hadn’t wanted to put everything away until all her new furniture was
delivered, and the last piece had come in yesterday. She looked around at her new place, a feeling of
satisfaction making her happy. She was so glad she had found her sister and decided to move here to
live closer to her. Her adoptive parents were excited too and were planning a trip out to meet Emma.
She’d put in for a transfer at her job but they didn’t have anything in the area at the time so she
decided to just take an extended vacation. She’d been thinking about a vacation anyway, since she’d
found out that the tumor in her abdomen could be stress-related.

At 11:30 she called Emma to make sure she could still meet and then drove to Duci’s Restaurant.

Emma and Jerry were already at a table when she got there, both in uniform, taking a lunch break from
working on the ambulance.

She waved when she spotted them and ran up, giving Emma a big hug. She still couldn’t believe

she had a twin sister. She stared into Emma’s sapphire eyes, identical in color to her own, and
smiled. That was where the resemblance ended though. Where Emma was fair and strawberry-blond,
Vivian had more olive skin tones and dark brown hair. They were fraternal twins.

“Hi Viv, thanks for meeting us,” Emma said.
“Of course! Hi Jerry.”
Jerry stood and smiled. Vivian gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He was such a sweet guy.

She didn’t mind at all that he had broken off their short dating stint because her money and her
intellectual nature had put him off a bit. It had happened before and it would happen again. She
preferred buff, hard-working men and most of them liked to date her at first but for some reason
always ended up feeling like she was “out of their league” or something. She had tried to figure if it
was something she was doing but so far had come up short. Maybe she’d ask Jerry some day.

Briefly, she wondered if that was why Hawk didn’t like her too. Did she put on airs or come

across as arrogant and not know it? Maybe she’d ask Emma too. She sat down and picked up her
menu.

“You have to try the shrimp scampi here,” Jerry told her. “It’s delicious.”
“Sounds great,” she said, and put down her menu, ready to order.
After the waiter took their orders and served drinks they fell into a light, easy conversation.

A thought struck Vivian. “Hey Emma, whatever happened with you asking Craig and Hawk to

help us find our mom?”

Emma’s face lightened. “Oh my gosh, I haven’t thought of that since Craig was in the hospital! I

haven’t asked!”

“Well, maybe he won’t even need to. I should have the results back from my DNA search by

Friday. That may give us some names.”

“How does that work?” Jerry asked.
“Well, I ordered a kit on the Internet. I took a scraping from inside my cheek and mailed it back to

them. They are going to isolate my DNA and compare it with their database. If anyone in our family is
in the database for whatever reason, I will get back their names.”

“Wouldn’t that be awesome if we found our family through the database? I should have done that

a long time ago,” Emma said.

Vivian nodded. “Yeah, I never would have thought of it if it weren’t for my tumor. When my

doctor asked me about my family history and I said I didn’t have a clue, that was the first thing he
suggested. It’s just taken me a while to get to it, with everything else that was going on.”

The waiter brought their food and conversation stopped while everyone started eating.
Jerry looked at his watch. “Emma, we have 20 minutes.”
“Ok.” She dug into her chicken cacciatore and started telling Vivian about the party she and Craig

were hosting on Saturday to say goodbye to most of the FBI agents that had been undercover with
Craig.

“So does everyone have to go but Craig and Hawk?” Vivian asked.
“Yep, they are all being reassigned. Everyone’s cover was blown when they tried to arrest

Norman, so now they are all on to new assignments. They just don’t need that many investigators in
the new phase of the investigation.” Emma answered.

“So this Senator guy, can they arrest him yet?” Vivian lowered her voice, not wanting to be

overheard.

“No, apparently they haven’t found any real evidence linking Norman’s actions to the Senator yet.

Hawk is heading out to the prison hospital tomorrow to see if Norman will talk yet. So far he hasn’t
said a word.”

Vivian’s heart beat faster at the mention of Hawk.
“So Norman can talk?”
“Yeah, apparently. He’s paralyzed from T8 down so he can’t move his legs or do much with his

arms, but his face and neck are OK. My first bullet hit him in the left arm, and the other two went into
his chest, one of them grazing the 8th thoracic vertebrae, twisting it and putting pressure on the spinal
cord there.”

Jerry leaned over and placed a hand on Vivian’s back, right at the top of the bony part of her

shoulder blade. “This is where T8 is,” he told her.

Vivian nodded. “Ah.”
Vivian watched Emma’s face when she finished talking about shooting Norman. It remained calm.

The incident didn’t seem to bother her as much anymore. Vivian wondered if she was still having the
nightmares. She’d ask later.

For now, she smiled. She’d been worried about the consequences of Emma having to shoot

Norman. Would it scar her? Mar her sunny and sweet outlook? So far things seemed back to normal.
Sometimes though, Vivian wished Norman was dead, instead of paralyzed in a prison hospital. It
seemed to her that it would be easier not to be afraid of someone if they were dead and gone.

Chapter 2

The inside of Norman’s lip bled freely. The slightly metallic taste soothed him. He felt around with
his tongue for a new, smooth spot to bite and, finding one, chewed it to pieces. He tried to breathe
deeply. Goddamn nurses and doctors didn’t give a shit if he was paralyzed forever, or even if he
lived or died, Norman thought, imagining he could feel steam coming out of his own ears. He’d been
a Captain in the Westwood Harbor Police Department for fuck’s sake! And now they treated him like
he was lower than an ant, lower than dirt, worth nothing.

Norman could still smell, and that’s how he knew he’d soiled himself. The heavy aroma of his

own stink surrounded him. He didn’t recognize it as his own smell. It wasn’t the smell of a strong,
healthy man whose digestion worked fine. It was the smell of an invalid. A putrefying, decayed smell.

“GODDAMN IT GET DOWN HERE AND CLEAN ME UP!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

It hurt to do so. But someone needed to know he was still alive in here.

He held his breath and listened. No one was coming. Goddamn fucking shit piss fuck fucking

CUNT! he screamed, only in his mind. Emma had done this to him. Emma had shot him. Emma had put
him in this hellhole. This was all Emma’s fault. If she ever came to see him ... his mind went off on a
daydream. One he’d had many times before. He’d whisper to her, whisper quietly so she had to come
close, close enough for him to use his teeth. He’d bite something off and swallow it quicker then she
knew what was happening. Maybe her nose. Or a piece of her cheek. Or her lower lip. And then he’d
laugh and laugh.

Norman stared at the gray wall opposite him and felt his mind cracking under the strain. His arms

and legs were paralyzed. They never sat him up. He didn’t have a TV or books or even music. He’d
done nothing but lay on this bed for 24 hours a day for 28 days now. He’d memorized the crack
pattern in the concrete wall. He’d analyzed every thought in his head. He’d tried to recall books and
movies and stories - anything to pass the time. They only turned him once a day. His neck muscles
were incredibly sore from being in the same position for 24 hours, but nobody cared. His body was
wasting away to nothing. He wouldn’t eat so they fed him through a tube and an IV. They didn’t even
have to sit him up for that.

Black despair rolled over Norman like a wave. All he wanted at this point was to die. The

thought of being paralyzed and incarcerated forever settled a doom over his heart that left no room for
light, no room for hope, nothing to look forward to. If he couldn’t take Emma with him, so be it. As
long as he didn’t have to be here anymore.

Footsteps fell in the hall outside his room. Sometimes he could tell who it was by the sound of

their walk, but not this time.

“Norman, Norman, Norman, had a little accident did ya?”
It was Jensen, one of the easier nurses to deal with.
Norman shut his eyes, out of energy. He could hear Jensen behind him, gathering items. Jensen

ripped off Norman’s diaper from behind and roughly sprayed something on him. Norman could hear
the splash of the liquid hitting his skin, but he couldn’t feel it.

“Gotta get you cleaned up. You’re getting a visitor.”
Norman opened his eyes. A visitor. A doctor? A cop? He used to have a few friends, but none he

would want to come and see him like this. So far no one had visited him except a few doctors and that
FBI agent. The one whose sister he had killed.

Maybe if it was him, he could tell him. He could say hey asshole, I killed your sister, and then I

fucked her corpse. He hadn’t, well not the second part anyway, but maybe if he got the FBI agent to
believe it, the agent would kill him. Just pull out his gun and put Norman out of his considerable
misery.

“Who?” he croaked at Jensen.
“Don’t you worry your skinny little ass about it none. You’ll see soon.”
A slap rang through the room and Norman rocked a little bit in the bed. Had Jensen just slapped

him on the ass?

“You should really do something about these bedsores Norman. They get any bigger and they

gonna swallow you.”

Norman gritted his teeth, willing himself not to say anything. He knew better. Sassing the nurses

was a bad idea. He couldn’t feel the bedsores, so he really didn’t care. But he knew they must be
getting bad. The bastards should be turning him every few hours, not once a damn day.

Jensen finished whatever he was doing and pulled something across the floor. A chair?
“Gonna turn you over here so you can talk. You gonna talk today Norman?”
Jensen walked around to the side of the bed Norman was facing, undid Norman’s restraints, and

pushed Norman over so he was laying on his other side. He grabbed the pillows and propped him up.
Norman’s neck sighed in relief at the change in position.

Jensen refastened Norman’s restraints, then grabbed his garbage and disappeared out the door.
Norman had once asked why he had restraints. He was paralyzed for fuck’s sake. It’s not like he

could walk out or even hit anybody. The nurse had answered that all paralyzed prisoners had
restraints, in case they were faking, or in case they regained movement in their limbs. That had given
Norman hope at the time. But the hope had died over the last month. He wasn’t regaining anything.

Norman looked around, eying the layout of the room for the millionth time. Nothing was different,

except the gray chair that usually rested against the wall was now in the middle of the room. He
closed his eyes and waited. His left foot itched intensely, but Norman ignored it. It wasn’t the first
time he’d felt it, and it wasn’t like he could scratch it or anything.

***

Hawk walked down the plain gray corridor, listening to the screams and catcalls of the miserable
prisoners housed within. He quickened his pace, wanting to get this over and done with as soon as
possible. How anyone could stand to work here boggled his mind. This place sucked the life out of
him as soon as he pulled in the parking lot. By the time he made it into the lobby he felt 90 years old.

It was good, though, he told himself. It had to be doing the same to Norman, so maybe a new tactic

would convince Norman to talk. The last time he had come to see Norman, mostly just to find out if
being shot had caused Norman to want to confess to anything, Norman had refused to look at him or
talk to him.

This time, Hawk hoped things were different. Norman had had several weeks to wallow in his

own helplessness and hopelessness. Maybe now he’d be willing to spill.

Hawk approached the door to Norman’s room and stopped for a second, going over his plan in

his mind. Then he entered swiftly, taking in the room in one glance.

The room was stark, devoid of even a window, the walls that same horrible gray. There was no

TV, no artwork, nothing that might be pleasant. There were a few medical supply cabinets, and the
one, small, medical bed.

Norman lay in the middle, eyes closed, looking supremely uncomfortable. A tiny pillow propped

his head at an unnatural angle. A threadbare hospital gown covered his body. His legs and feet were
bare. Hawk could tell Norman had lost weight since he had last visited. Norman’s color was bad. His
face had lost that healthy glow and the padding of good nutrition. Now his cheekbones looked sharp

as razors, and his eyes were sunken to new depths.

Hawk almost felt sorry for him. He was sure this fate was worse than death for a man like

Norman. All of a sudden, he doubted his plan. If Norman were hoping to die, a little pain wouldn’t
scare him. He might enjoy being told what Hawk was about to tell him.

Hawk sat down in the flimsy chair and reevaluated. Well, the plan was the plan, and he wouldn’t

know until he tried it. If it didn’t work, he would wait another few weeks and come back with
something different.

“Norman, are you ready for your transfer?” Hawk put all the hard strength he had into his voice.
Norman opened his eyes.
Yes! thought Hawk.
Norman watched him silently, sizing him up. Trying to drink the knowledge from his soul.
Hawk waited. This part was crucial. Norman had to initiate the contact or this visit would go

nowhere fast. Hawk forced himself to relax. This would only work if Norman thought that Hawk
didn’t need anything from him, and if Norman decided that he needed something from Hawk. The
room though - the gray room with no window pressed in on Hawk and tried to steal his breath. If only
there were a window in the far wall! A glimpse of sunlight would have made this much easier.

Hawk stared into Norman’s eyes, but turned his mind’s eye to lighter things, happier things,

prettier things. Imagining sunlight streaming through the tree branches, warming his skin. A soft spring
breeze stirring the faint scent of jasmine. His old dog Bear, as a fluffy, black puppy, licking his face.
The smell of puppy breath. The delicious curve of a woman’s hips and breasts. The way Vivian’s
eyes crinkled when she laughed. The feel of a -

“What transfer?” Norman croaked, sounding weak and done to Hawk’s ears.
Norman heard it to. He lifted his head and cleared his throat.
“Last week your doctor told me he was thinking about clearing you for general population soon.”
“General population? But I’m a cop!”
Hawk nodded. “You were a cop, but this is a prison hospital, not a prison. The rule that keeps

former cops out of general population in prisons has never been instated here. They aren’t sure what
to do with you.”

Norman dropped his head and closed his eyes again. Hawk waited. Hawk and Norman both knew

what happens to former cops when they are put in the general population in a prison. Most don’t last
24 hours. None survive. The malice for former cops is strong in prison. That’s why the rule was put
into place, that former cops were kept separate from the rest of the prisoners. Without it, a prison
sentence is a death sentence for cops.

Norman spoke with his eyes closed. “But I’m paralyzed. Where would I go?”
“You would have a bed in an open ward with other prisoners with varying degrees of non-

medical problems. Some paralyzed like you, most not.”

Hawk let that sink in and then went on. “That’s a hard row to hoe for a former cop, I know. I

wouldn’t want to be there myself. So I thought I would see if something could be done for you. I
called the Governor. His office said he was deferring all decisions of that matter to the Senator. So I
called the Senator.”

Hawk waited a beat, then pushed forward with the lie. “The Senator said he didn’t care what

happened to you and he supported whatever your doctor decided.”

Hawk sat, studying Norman. This was where it all fell apart or came together. Either Norman

decided he wanted to die, and general population was the way to do that, or Norman decided he was
ready to live, and he needed to find a way to get out of it.

Norman’s jaw clenched. Hawk imagined he could hear the teeth grinding together.
“Which Senator?” Norman finally spat out, his voice hateful and tight.
“Oberlin.”
Norman’s teeth appeared and bit down onto his lower lip. Hawk watched a trickle of blood flow

slowly to the pillow. Norman wasn’t acting defeated. He didn’t look dead yet.

“I could talk to your doctor maybe. See if there was anything else he could do for you. Maybe a

semi-private room with another paralyzed inmate. No danger to you.”

Norman kept working his lip.
“I’d be happy to do it for you if you would cooperate with me, just a little bit.”
Norman’s teeth bit deeper. Hawk half stood, alarmed. He didn’t want to watch Norman bite off

his own lip.

“Norman, stop that!”
Norman opened his eyes and let go of his lip, looking alarmed. His tongue snaked out and tasted

the blood.

“I’m going to go get you a nurse. Will you think about what I said?”
Norman nodded, once.
Hawk left the room, hoping he’d just gotten his big break.

Chapter 3

Vivian sat in the patio swing on Emma and Craig’s back porch, enjoying the fading summer sunlight,
and watched her sister work the party. Emma was a true social butterfly. She loved people and
people loved her back. Men, especially, softened around her. Craig stood at the grill, flipping the
burgers, and Emma stood near him so she could sometimes put a hand on his arm or kiss him on the
cheek. Craig listened intently to every word she said, laughed at all of her jokes, and frequently
looked at her with all the love in the world in his eyes.

Vivian sighed. They were such an adorable and sweet couple. So obviously in love, and so

obviously right for each other. It was hard not to be jealous. Her own track record with men made her
sad. She was 31 years old and her longest relationship had been in college, but it had fallen flat like
all of the rest of her relationships. The problem with her was she liked her men big and brawny and
smart and sweet and that combination was hard to find. She liked the feeling of a solid wall of man
pressing up against her. A man she knew could protect her against anything. But a man who would
never, ever hurt her. She watched Craig nibble on her sister’s ear. Craig was that type of man. Big,
strong, smart, protective, kind, gentle. He was too fair-haired for her taste though. She liked darker
hair and smoldering eyes. Like Hawk. Where was he anyway?

She looked around but didn’t see him. Maybe he wasn’t coming. She didn’t know whether to be

glad or sad at the thought. On the one hand if he came she could enjoy watching his muscles move
under his shirt. But on the other hand if he didn’t, she didn’t have to be worried about his constant
rejection. It hurt.

The patio door opened and Jerry came out with a blond woman Vivian hadn’t seen before. Vivian

smiled. She got the idea that Jerry was something of a playboy. If he was, he was certainly sweet
about it. Not in a nasty, misogynistic way. He just liked women. A lot.

Jerry kissed Emma and shook Craig’s hand, then saw Vivian and waved. He made introductions

to the woman all around and Vivian thought she overheard ‘sister’. Jerry’s sister?

She got up and walked over, wanting to meet this sister.
As she got closer, she could tell that Jerry’s sister’s hair was pink, not blond. It was a light pink

on the top and to her ears, but the last 4 or 5 inches were a fluorescent, in-your-face pink. Emma was
already picking up a curl and exclaiming over it.

“Wow, your hair is gorgeous,” Vivian told her.
“Thanks!” the bouncy, gorgeous, surfer-girl said. She stuck out her hand and grabbed Vivian’s,

pumping it a few times. “I’m Jen, just Jen not Jennifer. Jerry’s my big brother.” She snuggled into
Jerry’s chest at this and he smiled down at her.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Vivian.”
Jerry interrupted. “Ooooh Emma, you’ll never guess who I saw working with the rest of the

peasants down in the E.R. yesterday after work.”

“Who?” Emma asked.
“Reece! Apparently he got a DUI and lost his head of department status and may even lose his job

altogether!”

Vivian saw her sister exclaim in surprise but she quickly swiveled to watch Craig’s face. His jaw

tightened and clenched, like he was trying to chew nails. He didn’t like Reece one bit.

Jerry turned to his sister. “Reece is a doctor who is a big fat jerk. He took Emma on a couple of

dates and decided that meant he could help himself to her body. She had to set him straight with a
head-butt to the nose.”

Jen’s eyes grew big as saucers and she put her hand on Emma’s arm. “Ohmigod that must have

been so scary!”

“Serves him right,” Craig said. “I keep meaning to go and visit him. Maybe on Monday.”
The group was interrupted by the patio door opening again. Three men came out to the porch at

once. Vivian didn’t recognize any of them, but guessed immediately they were the leaving FBI agents.
Everything about them said FBI. She was introduced to all of them but forgot their names as quickly
as they were spoken. Her mind just wanted to know where Hawk was and it wouldn’t focus on
anything else. She didn’t dare ask, not wanting to tip anyone off to her desperation.

The night wore on and although Vivian kept watch for Hawk, she stopped expecting him to show.

It’s just as well, she sighed inside her own head. With my luck I’d see him steal off with young,
lovely Jen and make out with her in the corner. The thought made her want to cry.

Dinner was burgers, hot dogs, steaks, brats, and chicken, with some watermelon and cake for

dessert. Vivian tried not to eat till she was stuffed but she couldn’t help it. Between courses she
caught Emma alone at the dessert table.

“Oh Emma, I got the results back from my DNA test. There were no matches,” Vivian told her,

disappointment leaking out in her voice.

“Oh no! I thought for sure you would find something.”
Craig came up beside them for seconds on cake. “What DNA test?”
“Vivian is looking for our family and she sent some DNA in to an online database to look for

matches.”

Craig smiled at Emma and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Oh, what database did it

search?”

Vivian shook her head. “I’m not sure. Just their own database I guess.”
Craig frowned. “You should let me test you. I can send it in to CODIS. It’s a nationwide database

and it’s huge. Anyone who has ever been arrested in the last 30 years or so is in it.”

Emma and Vivian exchanged a look. If criminals came back as their family, did they really want

to know about it?

Emma nodded slightly. “That’s a good idea Viv, I mean you need to know for your tumor right?”
“Yeah,” Vivian said. “It would be best if I could find an entire family line and my doctor could

examine it for illnesses like mine and see what their treatment and prognosis was."

Vivian rubbed her stomach directly over where she knew the tumor was sitting, slowly winding

itself around her intestines. The tumor didn’t scare her. Her doctor had given her a 95% chance of
completely eliminating it from her body within the next 5 years, but he’d said her best treatment
would be found only by studying her family history. That’s what had led her here to Westwood
Harbor, and partly how she had found Emma.

“Ok Craig, what do you need from me?”
“Let me ask Hawk. He’s the expert. We can go in tomorrow and get started on it. I’m sure he

won’t mind.”

Vivian startled at Hawk’s name. She looked around, but she still didn’t see him. “Where is he?”

she whispered to Craig.

“Oh he’ll be here. He got some information from Norman and he’s trying to figure out if it’s valid

or not.”

“What? Norman’s talking?”
“A little bit. Hawk went out to see him yesterday and Norman seems to be willing to give up a

little bit at a time in exchange for better accommodations. It sucks, but right now it’s all we can do.
Hawk is bent over his computer trying to see if the information is really true, before he gives Norman
what he wants.”

Vivian shivered at the thought of Norman, still out there, still affecting their lives.

Chapter 4

Emma sat on Craig’s lap and watched the fire send sparks into the night air. She snuggled into Craig’s
chest and listened contentedly to the crackle of the fire. The party was winding down. Jerry and Jen
had already left, and so had two of Craig’s friends. The only people left were Vivian and Dennis, the
handsome, dark-skinned FBI agent that Emma had once mistaken for the man in her vision. They were
across the fire talking. Emma wasn’t sure what about, but it seemed Dennis was sharing funny stories
from when he was on patrol.

“Too bad Hawk never came,” Emma told Craig. “I think Vivian was looking forward to seeing

him.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Craig asked, running his hand idly through her hair. “She was all

jumpy when I mentioned him before.”

“Well, you know, she likes him, but he doesn’t like her back.”
“She likes him?” Craig whispered, sitting up and looking interested all of a sudden.
Emma laughed. “Yeah, what are you blind? You haven’t noticed that she likes him?”
“Well, no, not really. I mean, when they first met she seemed like she might be interested in him,

but I haven’t seen anything lately.”

“She’s hiding it. She’s embarrassed because he doesn’t like her back.”
Craig sat silent for a minute and then asked, “Why do you think he doesn’t like her back?”
“Well he doesn’t does he? He’s always so mean to her.”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. Hawk’s kind of complicated, especially around women. I

think maybe that means he does like her.”

Emma laughed. “What, like back in elementary school where the boys pulled your hair if they

liked you?”

“Yeah, in a way I guess. Maybe he’s attracted to her and fighting it or something. He hasn’t had a

girlfriend in a long time and he won’t talk about it, but I think something happened to really mess him
up that I don’t know about. It could have been before we got close at 18 or when he got out of the
Army after 3 years. I signed up for another 2 and got sent to Germany so I didn’t talk to him much for
2 years. When my enlistment was done and I came home he was different somehow around women.
It’s been 11 years now and I’ve seen him date very casually, but he’s never gotten close with a
woman since then.”

“In 11 years? Could he be gay?” Emma asked. She expected Craig to laugh and say no way, but he

didn’t. Instead his face grew serious, contemplative.

“I’m pretty sure he’s not gay. I wondered that once but I thought about it and it’s not like he’s

leading some secret life somewhere that he hides from people. He just doesn’t date anyone. And those
women I’ve seen him date casually? They were actually one night stands. He’d meet a woman, bring
her home, but never see her again. He doesn’t do it often. Probably only when he feels like he can’t
stand to be alone in his bed for one more second.”

Emma nodded. “You’re right, it doesn’t sound like he’s gay. Just like he’s ruined for

relationships.”

“Did I ever tell you what he said when I asked him what his deal was, back when he ignored

Vivian that day in my hospital room?” Craig asked.

Emma shook her head.
“Well, he didn’t make a lot of sense, but he said something about her being rich and he implied

that she was probably not a very nice person because of it.”

Emma sat straight up, a little irritated. “Well that’s just silly. Vivian’s a wonderful person. He’s

just not giving her a chance! What does he have against people with money anyway?”

Craig chuckled. “Now I’m going to tell you something that will blow your mind.” He leaned in

and whispered into her ear, “Hawk is rich.”

“What?”
Craig leaned back, obviously pleased with himself. “Yep. Like I said, he’s a complicated guy.

His family is uber-rich and he grew up with that whole lifestyle. The mansion, the fancy cars, the prep
school, the country club. All of it. He’s always wanted to make his own way though, and he always
wanted to be some sort of law enforcement officer. His dad used to push him to be an attorney so he
could get into politics, but that’s not what Hawk wanted. He wanted to be in the trenches.”

“So his family is rich then? But not him.”
“Nope, he’s rich too, as far as I know. His grandpa set up a trust fund for him and his sister when

they were just babies. I’m not sure how much money we are talking about but I think it’s at least a
couple of million dollars. He got full access to the fund when he was 25, but he told me once he's
never touched it. He could just give it all to charity but I don’t think he’s done that. I’m not sure what
his plan is for it. He doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“Well now things really make no sense. So if he’s rich, and his family is rich, then what right does

he have to judge Vivian because she is rich?”

“Well, I got the idea that it had something to do with women in particular. Like maybe Vivian

reminds him of someone he dated who wasn’t very nice.”

Emma nodded. “Ahhhh, that makes more sense. And if she was rich then he’s just grasping at the

most obvious connection in order to not have to examine it or something.”

“You should have gone into psychiatry,” Craig teased.
“Yep, I would’ve made a great shrink. I wonder exactly what this woman did to him to put him off

dating for 11 years.”

“If Lucy was still here I’d ask her.” Craig said in a far-off voice.
Emma felt a little pang of emotion in her chest at the mention of Lucy. Was it jealousy? Pain?

Guilt? She wasn’t sure. Lucy was Hawk’s sister and had been Craig’s fiance when she was alive.
Lucy was the reason Craig and Hawk were here in Westwood Harbor investigating Norman. Their
only evidence said Norman had killed her. Emma sighed. Why did life have to be so complicated?

The patio door opened and Hawk, mouth perpetually set in a grim line, stepped over the

threshold. He already had a beer in his hand and big bags under his eyes.

“Hey man, good to see you,” Craig told him, holding out a hand.
Hawk shook it, but his eyes were drawn to the far side of the fire, where Vivian’s laugh rang

across the yard. Emma followed his gaze and saw Vivian put a hand on Dennis’ shoulder as she
laughed with her head thrown back, completely missing Hawk’s entrance.

Hawk’s eyes narrowed as he watched them.
Emma elbowed Craig in the gut and motioned to Hawk’s face. Craig made a shushing gesture

back to her.

Dennis noticed Hawk and put his hand in the air. “Hawk! You made it!”
Hawk raised his beer in greeting. Vivian didn’t move. She watched him with her wide eyes, but

never waved or said a word. Hawk watched her back. Dennis, oblivious to the tension turned back to
Vivian and continued with his story about the guy robbing the 7-11, wearing a dirty stocking over his
head. Vivian broke the eye contact and turned to Dennis, drinking in his words.

Hawk sat heavily in the chair next to Craig and Emma.
“Hawk, you look exhausted,” Emma said.
Hawk scrubbed his face with his hand. “Yeah, I haven’t gotten much sleep lately. I’m trying to

figure out if Norman is really playing ball, or if he is just stringing me along.”

“What’s his story?” Craig asked.
“Well, he was very careful. He gave me some names and dates of some people who were

threatened and had their car and house taken away by a judge he says is on the take. But he wouldn’t
say who is paying the judge, and he says he can’t show me proof unless I get him a computer. He also
wouldn’t say anything about working for Senator Oberlin.”

Craig grunted. “So he’s talking, but he’s not saying much.”
“Exactly. He told me something he knows that somebody else did, and not about the things we

really want to know about. I think I may have to actually have him put in general population and then
tell him I’ll pull him out but he has to answer my specific questions - not just tell me random stuff.”

“Yeah, and we need to find something before Senator Oberlin just finds someone else to do his

dirty work. That man is dangerous,” Craig added.

Hawk didn’t say anything, but he nodded, his eyes focused on Vivian and Dennis.

Chapter 5

Norman lay in his bed, as always, but today something was different. He fantasized he could feel
something in his left foot. He closed his eyes and focused. It was an incredibly strange feeling. He
thought he could feel the bottom of his left foot where it met his toes. But he couldn’t feel anything
else. It was like his foot, but floating out in space somewhere. He took a deep breath, scared to try,
but eager to try at the same time. Could he move it? He moved his head to the right, reminding himself
how to move his body. Then he sent the impulse to his foot.

Nothing happened.
But it felt different. Like something had changed. He tried again. The sensation in his foot

changed, like maybe his toes had wiggled and they were in a different position now?

He opened his mouth to scream for a nurse - anyone to come watch him try to move his foot and

tell him if it really moved or not - when a deep, dark, long-forgotten voice in his head said don’t do
it.

He shut his mouth closed with a snap and squeezed his eyes shut against the voice.
Don’t do it, the voice commanded again. Don’t give up your advantage. If they know you aren’t

paralyzed anymore, you lose your advantage.

But I am still paralyzed, he said to the voice.
Not for long.

***

The next day, Norman lay in his bed, contemplating what a return of function to his body might mean.
He didn’t dare think about maybe escaping, that seemed like too big of a dream, but being able to sit
up, and feed himself, and maybe walk, were all grand accomplishments in his mind right now.

He heard footsteps in the corridor. Strange footsteps. Light and clipped. He snapped his eyes

opened and watched. He was facing the door already and saw her as soon as she turned the corner.

She wore a long white coat, a red skirt, and red high heels, with a stethoscope around her neck.

Blond curls bounced around a pretty face and red-lipsticked mouth.

She stopped at the door and knocked on the outside of it. When she saw him looking at her she

smiled. Norman hadn’t seen a smile in over a month.

“Mr. Foster? Hi, I am Dr. Thorpe. I am the California prison system’s Neurologist. May I come in

and examine you?”

Norman wasn’t sure what to say. Someone was asking his permission? Treating him like a human

being? He nodded.

Dr. Thorpe walked in the room, bringing the scent of vanilla with her.
She walked to his bedside and put her hands on his side.
“How are you feeling today?”
“Like shit.”
Dr. Thorpe didn't raise an eyebrow but pushed on. “I’ve read your file and you have no feeling or

movement in your arms or legs, is that correct?”

“Yes.”
“But you can shrug your shoulders?” She lay a cool hand on his neck, where it met his shoulder.

Norman shivered at the kind touch.

“Yes.”
“I’m going to roll you onto your back for this exam. Is that OK?”
Norman nodded, swallowing around a lump in his throat.

Dr. Thorpe removed the pillows from behind Norman’s back and started to help his body gently

roll that way. Her eyebrows furrowed and she stopped and lifted up the side of his gown.

“Oh my Lord,” she exclaimed. “Do the nurses turn you Mr. Foster?”
“Yeah, in the morning.”
“They only turn you once a day?” Her gaze locked on his, and he saw fire in her eyes. But it

wasn’t meant for him. It was about him.

“Yeah, just once usually.”
Dr. Thorpe walked around to the other side of the bed and peeked under his gown there. She

sucked in her breath. Norman didn’t even want to know what it looked like.

Someone walked by the room. Dr. Thorpe spun around and ran out, calling for the person. “Hello,

guard? Nurse?” She caught up to him in the hall. Norman could hear pieces of the conversation.

“Bedsores ... horrible ... he deserves ... you must take care ... I insist... I’ll be filing...”
Norman stared at the ceiling, miserable in his waiting. How did things go so bad for him? Where

did he go wrong? He had been a police officer. He had been married to a lovely, sweet woman. He’d
been respected and even liked. And now he was here, in a hole, shot by that lovely, sweet woman,
charged with kidnapping and attempted murder, and covered with bedsores that made a prison doctor
gasp.

The doctor walked back and gave him a sweet smile. Norman read the truth in it, read her pity and

heartache for him, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. In his former life he would never have stood
for pity from anyone, but then he’d never needed or taken anyone’s help either.

“Mr Foster, I’ve spoken to the nurses. You are to be turned every 2 hours when you are awake,

without fail. It may take a few days for all of them to get the message, but I will ensure they do.”

He nodded, knowing he should thank her, but unable to bring himself to do it.
She walked back to the bed and started her examination. She grasped his hand and did something

to it that Norman couldn’t see.

“Can you feel that?”
“No.”
She talked as she worked. “Mr Foster, you are scheduled for an EMG to see if there is any

electrical activity left in your limbs at all. Your spinal cord was not severed, just injured, so it is
possible that someday you could regain partial function in at least some of your limbs. The 5 Western
state prisons have to share one EMG machine, and it won’t rotate over here for 2 more weeks. But
when it gets here, we will bring it to you.”

Methodically, she checked all four limbs. When she got to his left foot, Norman felt wings of

excitement beat in his chest. He could feel something! He could! A strange pressure. He knew she
was touching his left foot.

Dr. Thorpe clucked her tongue and said “Hmmmmm”. Then she asked, “Mr. Foster, can you feel

this?” Norman felt conflicted. He’d never had a problem lying in his life, but suddenly he didn’t want
to lie to this pretty doctor who’d been kind to him.

“No,” he finally said, hearing the final bar in the cell of his mind crash closed.

Chapter 6

Senator Frank Oberlin sat at his desk, eyes squeezed shut, sweat running down his back even though
the room was cold. He was lost in thought, trying desperately to think his way out of this mess. His
cell phone buzzed. He glanced at it. His wife wanted to know where he was. Working late, he texted
back to her. Don’t wait up for me.

If she had any idea what kind of trouble he was in she would be mortified. She would divorce him

in a second, he knew she would. She had known he had his eyes on the presidency 20 years ago, when
she’d married him, but she had never had any idea what kind of things he would do to get it.

She didn’t understand - no one did. People don’t become the president of the United States

because they are good at their job or because most of the country wants them to. People become the
president of the United States because they are in the right place at the right time and powerful outside
forces decide they are the most likely candidate to get elected.

Frank Oberlin was doing everything in his power to be in the right place at the right time and

everything he could do to be the most likely candidate to win the vote in the upcoming election. He
couldn’t stand the thought of another 4 year wait. This had to be his year.

He looked down at his desk at the collection of coded notes he’d gathered. He couldn’t write

anything down that anyone else could read, or put anything in his computer, because that would be
evidence. Evidence some high and mighty FBI agent could use to connect him to something.

FBI agent Holden Kinkaid III. Hate filled Oberlin at the thought of Agent Kinkaid and his tenacity

in the investigation of Norman Foster. If he could go back in time and undo his order to Foster to kill
Lucy Kinkaid he would do it in a second. He would have found another way to ensure the information
that Lucy unwittingly discovered never saw the light of day. For the hundredth time he wondered if
Kinkaid suspected who was behind Foster’s actions yet. For the hundredth time he wondered if
Foster was talking in that prison hospital yet. For the hundredth time he racked his brain to figure out
what he could do to stop this threat - this double threat.

Foster was the biggest threat, because Foster could tell anyone all of the jobs he had done for

Oberlin. He would be incriminating himself too, but sometimes people did stupid things.

Kinkaid was the second biggest threat, because even if Foster somehow disappeared tomorrow,

Kinkaid could continue the investigation, and possibly discover some threads that led back to
Oberlin.

Somehow, he had to eliminate both parts of this threat. He had an idea of how to eliminate Foster,

but Kinkaid? That was the hard part. No matter how many ways he thought about it, ordering a hit on
Kinkaid seemed like a bad idea. Besides, who would do it? Now that Foster was paralyzed, Oberlin
didn’t have anyone to turn to anymore. He needed a new contact.

Oberlin thought back to how he had found Foster. He’d needed a job done and he’d told his

nephew, the one who ran books in Vegas. Then Foster had called him.

Oberlin felt hope bloom in his chest for the first time in a month. Maybe there was a way out of

this double mess he was in. Maybe he could put his head together with a new contact and get some
boots on the ground to help him figure this out.

Senator Frank Oberlin pressed his lips together in a bloodless smile and started chewing up his

notes.

Chapter 7

Vivian’s phone rang. It was Craig wanting to know if she could come down to headquarters so Hawk
could take her DNA sample and send it off to CODIS.

“Ok, I’ll be there.” Vivian took down the directions and hung up the phone. Her belly fluttered at

the thought of seeing Hawk. She wondered if he would say anything to her.

She grabbed her purse and headed out into her car, hoping the traffic would be light.
As she pulled up to the building, the butterflies in her belly started up again. She bit her lip and

said a silent prayer that he would be nice. She didn’t know if she could take anymore attitude from
him.

At the building she pressed the button at the front door. Craig answered in a light voice, “Come on

in Vivian, just keep heading straight down the hallway.” The door buzzed and Vivian pushed it open.

At the far end of the hallway, Craig stuck his head out and waved her in. Her footfalls in the

empty corridor made her feel nervous. Like she was walking towards some horrible fate.

Once inside the large, open room, she blinked at all the electronics. The far wall was lined with

monitors that looked like they were watching several different rooms with people going about their
business in them.

“Wow,” Vivian breathed, taking it all in.
Craig smiled. “Sit down,” he told her, indicating an office chair.
Vivian did, looking around for Hawk. She didn’t see him.
“Hawk is getting a test kit, he’ll be right back.”
The door behind her opened and Vivian smelled him before she saw him. She couldn’t place his

cologne, but it always appealed to her. It smelled warm, and strong. He wore just the right amount.
Just enough to make her knees weak.

He came around the chair and nodded at her. “Vivian.” It was a statement.
She smiled a small disappointed smile and said “Hi Hawk.” Apparently he wasn’t thrilled to see

her today.

In his hands was a small, blue kit. He put it down on the desk and pulled two cylinders out of it.
“I just need to get some, uh, saliva and tissue from the inside of your cheek.”
She nodded. She knew what this entailed. First he’d scrape a little wire brush on her cheek, and

then he’d rub a big q-tip in there. She knew it wouldn’t hurt.

He came close with the cylinders in his hands and knelt on one knee before her. She watched his

powerful muscles move underneath his shirt. The butterflies in her stomach did somersaults at the
reality of Hawk being close enough to touch her.

She opened her mouth for him, her brain suddenly filling with erotic images. She felt her cheeks

flush red and between her legs flush warm. Quit it quit it quit it she admonished her body and mind,
shame making her blush.

He uncapped the first tube and gently rubbed the business end in her cheek, being very careful not

to touch her, then did the same with the second tube. Nice, she wailed inside her mind, closing her
mouth. You’re lusting over this man who won’t touch you or even hardly look at you. What is
wrong with you?

“That’s it,” he said. “We should have results in a week.”
“Ok, thanks a lot.” Vivian stood up, eager to get out in the sunshine and away from this man who

made her feel like a silly teenager with no control over her hormones.

Chapter 8

Hawk pulled out into the road, squinting against the afternoon sun, glad to be on his own for a bit. He
loved Craig like a brother, but Craig was always so damn happy, so damn upbeat. And he talked
constantly. Sometimes Hawk just wanted to be silent and hear his own thoughts for once. Not that they
were pleasant. But still, they were his, and sometimes he wanted to hear them.

Sometimes Hawk wondered how Craig had managed to keep his happy nature after Lucy’s

murder. Sure he grieved, but even during his grieving he was normally in a lighter mood than Hawk
on a good day. Hawk sighed. It was just a fundamental difference in their personalities, he guessed.
Craig just let things roll off his back. He accepted the good with the bad and didn’t make a big deal
out of either. Every day found him positive and thrilled to be alive. Hawk was more of a thinker. A
ponderer. He wanted to know why. And he wanted to be in charge of his own life, his own destiny.
When your sister is murdered by a dirty cop, it leaves no illusion that you actually are in control of
anything. Hawk hated that. He wanted to be in control of everything.

Hawk watched the traffic behind him in his rear view mirror. A black Chevy Tahoe had pulled

into traffic at the same time as he had and now was pacing him, 5 car lengths behind. He would have
to keep an eye on that.

This afternoon’s mission was simple. Tail the guy the Senator was having lunch with right now

and figure out who he was and if they should be watching him. Craig would call him on his cell if the
guy left the restaurant before he got there.

Hawk pulled into the parking lot of The Riverboat and waited to hear from Craig. He watched the

Tahoe drive past and figured it must have been a coincidence.

He watched the door to the restaurant and let his thoughts go. As usual they ran over everything he

had to do, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. Vivian’s DNA swabs had been sent to the CODIS
laboratory 3 days ago. Check. He had last seen Norman Foster 1 week ago and he was supposed to go
see him again tomorrow at 3 p.m. Check. He had talked to the warden this morning and arranged
putting Foster in general population overnight tonight, with a discreet guard. They wanted him to feel
threatened, but not actually be shanked by someone. Check.

Well that was his to-do list. Now he had to be a little more tight with his thoughts and keep them

under closer watch so they didn’t go off in some direction he didn’t want them to. Sometimes his mind
wanted to do stupid things, like think about women and get him all worked up, when he knew there
were no women in his life and there hadn’t been any for a long time.

Except Vivian. She’s in your life, she could be in your life more, some small part of his mind

whispered.

Hawk gritted his teeth and shut that part down quickly. That is exactly the kind of thing he didn’t

want to think about.

His phone rang, startling him.
He picked it up. “Go.”
“They are paying the check,” Craig said, relaying the information the hostess had given him.
“Got it, I’ll be watching for them.” Hawk hung up the phone and started his car, then hid behind a

newspaper.

The door opened and the Senator came out, alone. He got into his silver Bentley without a glance

Hawk’s way. Hawk saw his tail, a young agent from the local office, start up his car and follow him.
The door opened again and a man fitting the description they’d received came out. He was short, only
about 5 feet, 5 inches tall, but dressed better than the Senator in a gray, pinstriped, Brioni suit. Hawk
shook his head. His outfit probably cost $11,000 but it didn’t hide the holster and gun he wore under
his arm. That, plus the dark complexion, and quick, darting eyes screamed LA mobster to Hawk.

The man got into a flashy yellow Hummer H2. Well, at least he would be easy to follow. Hawk

jotted down the license plate number. The Hummer pulled out, and Hawk followed, staying back as
far as he dared. He looked in his rearview mirror and felt his blood pressure skyrocket. The black
Tahoe was pulling out into traffic from roadside parking. The bastard must have gone around the
block and parked where Hawk couldn’t see him.

He called Craig. “I’ve got the plate.”
“Shoot.”
Hawk read off the plate to Craig and waited, hearing the click of Craig’s keyboard in the

background.

Craig whistled in the phone and said, “You’re never gonna believe this one.”
“Let me guess, LA mob.”
“What? How did you know?”
Hawk laughed. “He fits the type. What’s the name?”
“Johnny Frabrazio, of Altopra Hills, Los Angeles.”
“Got it. We are heading west on Ridge Avenue. He’s not in a hurry. Now I’ve got something

you’re never gonna believe.”

“What?”
“I’m being followed. Black Tahoe. Since headquarters.”
“Shit. Got a plate?”
“Not yet. I’ll call you back when I do.” Hawk hung up, trying to watch the car in front of him and

the car behind him at the same time.

Hawk thought for a second and then decided to stop following Frabrazio. They knew his name,

they knew what he was driving. They didn’t know why he was visiting the Senator but things could
get really easy if the FBI was already watching Frabrazio for any reason. Maybe there was someone
undercover in the mob’s operation or maybe the FBI already had permission for a soft wiretap on
him. He made a mental note to have Craig contact the LA office and see as soon as he got back.

Now it was time to deal with this his tail. Why in the world would anyone be following him? He

was determined to find out.

He floored the accelerator and felt his truck jump forward underneath him. He watched the Tahoe

fall back, the driver probably surprised and wondering what in the heck he was doing.

Hawk smiled to himself, feeling satisfaction sweep over him. This was one of his favorite parts

of the job. Anything unexpected that got his adrenaline going made him happy.

Hawk flew through traffic, utilizing what he learned in numerous tactical driving courses, swiftly

losing the Tahoe. He changed lanes frequently, swerving left, then right, then bearing right quickly
down a side street and disappearing behind a parked RV next to a black warehouse building. He
waited. The black Tahoe flew past, never seeing him.

Hawk grinned and pulled out onto the road again. Now it was time to get this guy’s plate and go

home. He found the vehicle and came up slowly behind it until he could read the plate. Then he fell
back, hiding his truck as well as he could in traffic and turning around at the first opportunity.

Once back at headquarters he wrote the license plate number down and ran in to start his

investigations. Craig was on the phone. When he hung up Hawk turned to him.

“Call LA offices and see if we have any permissions on Frabrazio.”
“Already done. There’s nothing right now. He just went to trial for drug running, murder, and

money laundering but it ended in a mistrial. The prosecutor is deciding on whether to try him again
right now, but he’s been clean as a whistle for months and their soft tap has expired.”

“Damn,” Hawk swore, wondering why he would possibly be here in Westwood Harbor meeting

with Senator Oberlin. Was the Senator getting desperate? Was something big about to happen?

Hawk pushed that out of his mind and walked to his computer, intending to find out who had been

following him. He entered the license plate swiftly and blinked in confusion when the information
came back.

Craig came and looked over his shoulder. “What in the hell?”
Hawk stood up and paced. “Why in the world would Drug Enforcement be following me?”
Craig shook his head. “I don’t know man, but it can’t be good.”
Hawk grabbed his phone. “Don’t I know it,” he muttered under his breath. “Who do we know in

the DEA?”

Craig grabbed his phone and flipped through his contacts. “Mack, Bade, uh, that’s all I’ve got.”
“Ok, plus I’ve got Alexander and Trip. Who is highest ranking?”
“Mack I think, he’s the assistant special agent in charge of the whole western region.” Craig was

already dialing.

Hawk stepped away and tried to wrap his mind around this whole thing. There was no reason in

the world for the DEA to be following him. They only followed people they were investigating, and
they only investigated people suspected of running drugs. Suddenly, Hawk felt very claustrophobic in
the dimly-lit headquarters room, like the walls were closing in on him. He glanced at Craig, who had
someone on the phone and was jumping right into business. Then he turned and walked to the door
quickly, trying not to feel like he was fleeing from his life.

He walked down the corridor and pushed the door open into the bright sunshine. He blinked, and

checked his truck. It was right there where he left it. He looked up and down the road, half hoping to
see the Tahoe parked nearby. If he did, he could run to it and rip the door open and demand to know
why he was being followed.

Hawk leaned against the side of the building and fought the feeling that his world was crumbling.

In a few moments Craig pushed his way out the door.

“He wouldn’t tell me anything,” Craig said.
“Oh? So there is something to tell?”
“For sure. As soon as he heard who I was calling about his walls went up and he got defensive.”
“Shit. Shit! Do you think Bade would spill?”
“I don’t know Hawk, probably not, I don’t know him that well.”
“Ok, I’ll call Trip. He and I go way back.”
Hawk dialed the number, scared of what he would hear. His buddy, James Trip wasn’t in, so he

left a message and hung up.

“I guess we’re going to have to wait.” Hawk looked up and down the street again. “I feel like

checking to see if that guy magically shows up again if I leave. Want to go for a drive?” Hawk asked,
heading for his truck.

“Yep.” Craig locked the door and climbed in.
They pulled out onto the road slowly, peeling their eyes for any tail. After a mile they had to

admit they didn’t have one.

Chapter 9

“Hey, you should come to our house for dinner tonight,” Craig told Hawk.

“Well, I got some stuff to do at home.”
“Come on man, it will just be the three of us. Emma would love to have you over.”
Hawk thought for a second. Part of him didn’t want to go because he was afraid he would run into

Vivian. That part of him would love if Vivian moved back to where ever she moved here from and he
never saw her again. If he never saw her again he’d never have to think about why every time he saw
her, his heart started beating fast and his palms started sweating. Oh Lord, what is wrong with me,
Hawk thought, rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah, that would be great. What are we having?” Hawk asked, trying to keep the sudden

exhaustion he felt out of his voice.

“I don’t know, I’ve got to pick something up at the grocery store.”
“Ok, but I’m buying. I’ll drop you off at your truck and then we’ll meet at the Safeway by your

house?” Hawk asked, pulling into the parking lot of their Headquarters building.

“Yep. See you there. Keep an eye out for a tail.”
15 minutes later, Hawk and Craig met up together in the meat aisle of the grocery store. Hawk

picked out two t-bones for the grill and a 12 pack of Bud Light while Craig grabbed some side salad
fixings.

They went up to the self checkout lanes and scanned their items. Hawk slid his debit card and it

was denied. “That’s weird,” he said under his breath and tried his credit card. That card was denied
also. Panic seized Hawk around his midsection. The black cloud that had settled over him when the
license plate came back as belonging to the DEA suddenly exploded into a thunderstorm. Hawk tried
every card in his wallet and they all were denied.

Craig looked at him, identical fear on his face. They dropped their groceries and walked swiftly

to their trucks, eyes alert, watching for government agents with guns.

“Make sure you aren’t followed and pull into the garage. I’ll have it open for you,” Craig told

him.

Hawk nodded and climbed into his truck.
The ride to Craig’s house was uneventful. Every siren he heard or police car that went past him

made Hawk’s heart leap in his throat, but none of them were meant for him.

Hawk took a circuitous route through the neighborhood, and when he was satisfied no one was

following him he pulled onto Craig and Emma’s street. Immediately, he saw Vivian’s little Jaguar
parked out front. His heart started beating even faster than it already was.

He slowed and slid his truck right into the garage next to Emma’s car. Craig was already inside

the garage, and he put the door down immediately. He held an RF detector in his hands.

Craig and Hawk entered the little house through the garage, but they didn’t say a word. Hawk’s

mind tried to chatter, but Hawk very deliberately put a muzzle on it, determined not to think about
either Vivian, or this mess he had just found himself in.

Emma and Vivian were sitting at the little table in the kitchen, Emma still in her uniform. Emma

smiled and got up to give Craig a kiss. “Hi Hon, you brought Hawk, how wonderful. I hope you guys
brought dinner too.”

Craig pulled Emma close and whispered something into her ear. Emma’s brow furrowed. “Ok.”
“No, we didn’t get dinner, maybe we should order out.” Craig’s voice rang through the kitchen,

falsely cheery and loud. Vivian looked around, confused. She opened her mouth to say something and
then snapped it shut again.

The men walked up to the table and emptied their pockets, then did a check of each other’s

clothes, looking for small stickers - anything someone could have stuck on them that might be a bug,
but neither saw anything.

Hawk’s phone buzzed and he picked it up among the wallets and change and other things on the

table and looked at it. As he read the text message he felt the noose around his neck tighten further. It
felt like death to him.

Don’t text me back. Not my phone. Don’t call again either. I looked up your name and you are

on the wire. Meth and Heroin. Smuggling. Selling. Donahue SAC. Can’t tell where evidence came
from, files above my security level. That’s all I know.

Hawk showed the message to Craig. Craig’s eyes went wide. Then angry.
Craig got a notepad from a drawer and wrote Basement? on it. Hawk wrote back is there another

exit? Craig nodded.

Craig whispered again into Emma’s ear. Emma nodded and made to follow him. Craig shook his

head no and motioned that she and Vivian should stay in the kitchen. Emma’s face tightened and she
pointed at the basement and nodded her head yes, forcefully. We are going. Craig sighed, apparently
knowing to argue would be pointless. He motioned for them to empty their pockets on the table, which
they did, and they all headed downstairs.

Craig ran the RF detector around the entire basement, checking both rooms also. He didn’t find

any indication of any bugs. He turned on the TV and turned up the volume loud and then he sat on the
couch, pulling Emma next to him. He motioned that Hawk and Vivian should also come close. Vivian
sat on the couch next to Emma and Craig and Hawk went down on one knee in front of them.

“Hawk’s in trouble,” Craig started. “Someone from the DEA was following him today. Then

when we went to get dinner all of his accounts were frozen. He couldn’t use one credit card or bank
card. And just now he got a text from a DEA agent we know who said Hawk is being investigated for
drug smuggling.” Emma gasped and Vivian covered her hands with her mouth, eyes wide.

“What does that mean?” Emma asked.
Craig and Hawk exchanged a glance. “It means someone is trying to frame me for something.”
“But why?” Emma wanted to know.
“We don’t know why,” Craig said. “But we can guess, and if I had to guess right now I would say

to discredit him and to pull him off of the Oberlin investigation."

“That’s my guess too,” Hawk growled, his anger clearly registering on his face.
“But why would they freeze your accounts?” Emma looked distraught.
“Because then I can’t run. If I don’t have any money I can’t do anything.”
“Run? Where would you go?”
“Anywhere. If they manage to arrest me, my career is over, no matter if they bring charges against

me or not. If I stay free, maybe I can figure out who is doing this and why and beat them to the punch.
Obviously they are falsifying evidence somehow. It doesn’t go all the way to the top. It can’t. If I can
point out what this person is doing to his superiors, it will have to stop. Alternatively, I could pull
together the final pieces of the puzzle we need to arrest and convict Senator Oberlin. If he is behind
this arresting him with solid evidence would make this frame-up job useless and it would probably
disappear like smoke."

Everyone was silent for a few minutes. Vivian looked like she was going to cry. Emma’s face

registered shock and dismay.

Finally, Craig spoke. “I’ve got a few thousand I could lend you Hawk. We could buy you a car

with cash and you could just head south, or north, or wherever. Find a hotel room somewhere and do
what you can. I can investigate from here.”

Emma nodded. “I have some money too. It’s yours.”
Vivian finally spoke in a soft voice. “So they aren’t investigating Craig too?”
Again, Hawk and Craig exchanged glances. “I don’t think so,” Craig finally said. “I’m not on even

on the books as investigating this case yet, only Hawk is.”

Hawk nodded. If the DEA was trying to pin this on both of them they were sunk, but if it was only

him, they might have a chance. But he had to disappear, and quickly. Tonight even. He didn’t even
dare go back to his place to get clothes.

“Can you guys get access to your cash tonight?”
Craig nodded. “I can, well at least some of it. I think I can only take $400 out of any atm at a time,

so we will have to spread it around to a few different banks. I don’t know if there’s a total limit. But I
can wire you money tomorrow, wherever you are.”

“Yeah, me too,” Emma said.
“Do you know of any car lots that will still be open?” Hawk asked.
“No, but we can look on the Internet. Emma do you mind getting your computer?”
“Sure," Emma said, and started to stand up.
“I have a better idea,” Vivian said softly.
Everyone turned to look at her. She looked Hawk square in the eyes and said “I can take you.”

Chapter 10

In the bathroom, Vivian sat on the closed toilet lid and took some deep breaths to steady her nerves.
Had she really just volunteered to run away with Hawk, that big, sexy bear of a man who made her
knees weak just by flashing those smoldering eyes her way?

She got up and splashed her face. It really did make the most sense. She played back the list of

why it was a good idea in her mind, trying to convince herself that she didn’t just do it to be in the
same hotel room with Hawk, at night, alone.

They wouldn’t have to go buy a car right now, which would take a lot of time, they could just take

Vivian’s car. If the DEA wasn’t investigating Craig, then they wouldn’t know about Emma, and they
certainly wouldn’t know about Vivian. They could just drive off right now. Vivian had money, lots of
money, and they wouldn’t have to run around to 10 different banks and tip off the DEA that way. If
they had to check into a hotel, Vivian could go inside and get the room, Hawk would never even have
to show his face to anybody. And it’s not like she was in any danger. If the DEA did manage to find
and arrest Hawk they weren’t going to arrest Vivian. She could just pretend to be his girlfriend, and
not know anything about the DEA following him.

When she’d recited these reasons to everyone, Craig had nodded vigorously and said it was a

great idea. Emma hadn’t said anything, but her eyes had bored into Vivian’s brain, as if trying to see
her thoughts. Hawk had shook his head immediately and said no way. Vivian excused herself and ran
to the upstairs bathroom, practically crying. Her face burned at the memory. Fine, if he couldn’t stand
to look at her, touch her, or be in the same darn room with her for 2 seconds then he could just find his
own way out of this mess. Why in the world had she wanted to help him anyway?

She checked her face and took a few more deep breaths. She looked ok, but she felt horrible. She

needed to stay far away from Hawk Kinkaid. In fact, she’d be perfectly fine if she never saw him
again.

She left the bathroom, hoping Emma had come upstairs. She hadn’t. She tiptoed down the stairs

and peeked around the corner, hoping to get Emma’s attention. Emma was still sitting on the couch.
Hawk and Craig were behind it, talking intensely, but quietly.

She waved her arm, catching Emma’s eye, and motioned her over, backing up a few steps so the

men couldn’t see them. “I’m going to go home,” she whispered.

“No wait,” Emma whispered back. “Craig thinks it’s a good idea and he’s almost got Hawk

talked into it now.”

Vivian snorted out a derisive laugh. “Great, just what I want, Hawk to be convinced that he’s not

going to die if maybe he talks to me or gets in the car with me. Tell Craig forget it. I don’t know why I
wanted to help Hawk in the first place. He thinks I’m a jerk or something, that’s obvious.”

Emma put her arm around her sister and pulled her up two steps. “Sweetie, he doesn’t think

you’re a jerk. He’s just got some ... issues. You know, like all guys? Craig thinks he actually likes you
and that’s why he acts like that.”

A bolt of sweet longing shot through Vivian, tempered by the reality of a man Hawk’s age still

playing playground games. Her eyes opened wide. “Craig thinks he likes me? And that’s why he
treats me like crap? What are we, 8?”

Emma laughed. “That’s what I said. Craig thinks he’s got some deep dark secret that he just won’t

face or something, but none of that matters right now. What does matter is that he really does need
your help, and you were such a sweetheart to offer. Maybe you could see past his little boy actions
and still help him out?” Emma peered into her sister’s eyes, hoping she would say yes. Hawk was
becoming like a brother to her. She couldn’t bear to see him hurt. And if what they were saying was
true, he could be hurt pretty badly if the DEA managed to arrest him.

Vivian sagged against the wall. “Ok, you’re right. If he really needs and wants my help, I’ll take

him, but I’m not going to beg him.”

Emma nodded. “Of course.”
Vivian had time to wonder if she was making a big mistake, when Hawk pushed into the stairwell

and locked eyes with her. The contact scorched her brain. For a moment, his strong brown eyes held
her gaze like a magnet.

Right then, she knew she was making the biggest mistake of her life, but it was one she wanted

very badly to make.

Chapter 11

Hawk locked eyes with Vivian, and immediately felt his mistake, but he couldn’t drag his eyes away.
This woman was all his greatest fantasies rolled up into one. He loved flowing, wavy brown hair that
begged to be touched. He loved olive-kissed skin and exotic blue eyes and full lips. He even thought
the little scar over her eye and her slightly-long nose were sexy as hell. He longed to touch her skin,
run his fingers through her hair, and strip those smart casual blouses she always wore right off her
body - damnit man get yourself together! Hawk gritted his teeth and mentally shook himself. What
was he thinking?

“Thanks for offering to, uh, escort me and get me a hotel room and money Vivian. I know I said no

earlier, that was because I didn’t want to drag you into this mess that I’m in. And I didn’t want to
inconvenience you. And I, uh.”

Hawk stumbled over his words, not sure how to tell her he didn’t want to take her money and not

have it sound rude. But he didn’t! She shouldn’t be paying for him.

Vivian interrupted his hemming and hawing. “There’s no danger, right?”
“No, it’s not like the DEA is going to come in guns blazing. If they manage to find me I’m not

going to fight or run. That would make me a criminal.”

“Well then, you won’t be pulling me into any mess, and you won’t be inconveniencing me either. I

don’t have anything going on right now except trying to find my family here in Westwood Harbor, so I
would just be sitting around waiting for the results of my DNA test to come back anyway.”

“Ah, ok, and uh Vivian, I’ll pay you back, every cent, as soon as I can access my accounts again.”
She smiled gently. Hawk felt the force of that smile in his every cell. Suddenly he knew he would

do anything to see it again.

“I know you will Hawk.”
All thoughts fled out of his mind. He couldn’t hold on to them. He had tried so hard, until now, to

never look at her, so he could never be entranced, enthralled, enraptured by her looks. The first day
he had seen her he had loved everything about her, and hated it at the same time. Her looks reminded
him so much of Gianna. Gianna who was both the love of his life and the cause of the greatest pain he
had ever suffered.

Hawk stiffened. What was he doing? What was he thinking. He tore his gaze away from Vivian

and found his gruff, business voice again.

“Great, I appreciate it. We had better get out of here. I don’t want to be in Westwood Harbor if

the DEA decides to come for me.”

He motioned for everyone to head upstairs, then, looking at the steps, added, “When we get

upstairs, don’t talk about any of this. I doubt the house is bugged but they could have a parabolic mic
on the street. The plan is for you, Vivian to get in your car and drive away. Craig is going to follow
you in my truck. Drive to the gas station on 4th street and park by the bathrooms. If Craig parks next to
you that means you’ve been followed so you should go inside, buy something, and then drive back
here. If he drives past, that means you haven’t been followed. Leave your doors unlocked. I will slip
inside and then we can go. Any questions?”

Vivian shook her head no.
“Let’s go.”
They all climbed the stairs. Vivian went to the table to get her phone and purse. Silently, Hawk

put his hand over hers, gritting his teeth against the electricity that crackled between them. He mimed
emptying her purse out on the table. She did, questions filling her eyes. He examined every item one
at a time and gave them back to her. All except her cell phone. He put that on the table and shook his
head no, hoping she would be OK with leaving it.

He looked at Craig and nodded his head. Craig nodded back, kissed Emma on the cheek, and went

to the garage.

Hawk looked at Vivian and gave her a nod and motioned her towards the door. She walked out

and started her car. He waved goodbye to Emma, then stepped close to her and gave her a bone-
crushing hug. He hoped he’d see her soon and this would all be a bad dream.

He opened the back door into the yard and ran into the night, silently vaulting the back fence and

running through the neighbors’ yards towards the gas station.

He hoped they weren’t being watched at all, but if they were, he hoped their plan was good

enough to let him and Vivian slip out of Westwood Harbor unnoticed. Craig, wearing Hawk’s
baseball cap and driving Hawk’s truck, was going to drive back to headquarters, leave his truck
there, and then slip out, hopefully unnoticed, and have Emma pick him up in the neighborhood. That
way whoever was watching would think Hawk was there all night.

It took him almost 7 minutes to reach the gas station. He hadn’t seen any sign of DEA on his way.

Approaching from across the street, he immediately saw Vivian’s car near the restrooms, exactly like
he had said. He went straight to the car and got in.

“Ok, let’s go,” he told her.
“Which way?”
“Take a right, I’ll direct you. We are going to take side streets out of town.”
She pulled out onto the road, then said, “I have an idea. I didn’t want to tell you in front of Emma

and Craig because I know you didn’t want them to know where we were going in case they got
questioned - so they wouldn’t have to lie. We could go to my summer cabin in the Tetam Woods.
There’s dedicated Internet there and everything.”

Hawk thought about it for a second. Would it be better if they kept on the move? Or would this

work? This whole plan was hinging on the DEA not knowing Vivian existed, and if they did know
who she was and figure out that Hawk was with her, being on the move wouldn’t help them much.
Yes, maybe they should try it.

“Ok, good idea,” he said, without looking at her.
It really was a good idea. Admiration was beginning to bloom in his chest for this woman. She

was smart. Well, of course she was smart, she was a scientist. But she was street smart too. After
Norman had kidnapped her and Emma, Vivian was the one who got them out of the RV. Besides being
smart, she was caring and thoughtful too. She didn’t have to volunteer to do this. And she didn’t have
to offer up her cabin. Hawk felt his determination to hold her at arm’s length slipping. Which scared
him. Scared him badly. It had been a long time since he’d let himself feel anything for a woman. He
thought back at just how long. 10 years? Had it really been over 10 years since Gianna had ... Hawk
mentally ground that thought into the dust. He was done thinking about that.

He looked out the window, and mercilessly switched his thoughts to what needed to be done now.
“Once we get out of town, we’ll need to stop at a mall or a Target or something and pick up some

things. I’ll need clothes and a computer and some food and cell phones.”

“OK, but I have a computer at the cabin. A nice one.”
“Perfect.”
The drive took almost 6 hours. The silences became more and more uncomfortable. By the time

they got to the cabin, Hawk was ready to jump out of his skin. It was after 3 in the morning, so there
was nothing for them to do but get some sleep. After they brought in the groceries and bags, Vivian
showed Hawk to the guest room. He was careful not to touch her or look at her.

In the guest room, Hawk lay awake on the bed, unbidden images of Vivian on a bed just a door

away filling his brain. He did his mental trick of destroying the thought, but it didn’t work. When he
finally slept, his sleep was uneasy, filled with dreams of a soft, beautiful woman dancing just out of
his reach.

Chapter 12

Craig hit 75 mph on the freeway and turned on his cruise control. He loved long drives. They were a
great time to think. He let his mind wander. It knew what it needed to think about.

He was on his way out to see Norman Foster. It had been three days since Hawk and Vivian had

taken off. The day after they had left, a Special Agent Donahue had come to Headquarters, alone, and
asked to speak to Hawk. Craig’s guard had been up, but not too far up. At this point he had no idea if
Donahue was a bad guy, or just following orders. So he was friendly. They spoke outside in the
parking lot.

“He’s not here,” Craig had told him.
“When do you expect him back?” Donahue asked.
“Not sure.”
“Isn’t that his truck?”
“Yep. Maybe he’s driving our work truck.” Craig knew the work truck was in the hospital parking

lot; he hoped Donahue didn’t know that.

“What’s he doing?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t usually tell me what he’s doing. Sometimes he doesn’t come in to

headquarters for days. I just come in and do my job. If he wants me to do something he calls me.”

“What is your job?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”
Donahue’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“Our current investigation is classified.”
“I could get a court order and you’d have to share it with me.”
Craig smiled easily. He didn’t care one way or the other, unless, this guy was working for

Oberlin. “Yeah, well, if you do I’ll share it with you. So why are you looking for Hawk?”

Donahue didn’t smile. “Also classified.”
Craig nodded brusquely. “I gotta get back to work.”
He had turned on his heel and pushed in the building, leaving Donahue staring at his back.
Hawk, you’re a lucky bastard, he thought as his truck barreled down the road. Lucky that he and

Vivian had left when they did.

Craig had talked to Hawk last night. They had both bought pay-as-you-go cell phones in case

either one of their phones had a wiretap. Craig smiled to himself at Hawk’s ingenious plan to get him
the new phone number, without having to text his phone. Hawk had gone onto an image sharing
website and uploaded an obscure image of the flagpole in front of the DEA building, knowing it
would be completely ignored by the regular users. The caption was his new phone number. Craig
searched the submissions for the image and sure enough, there it was. He called Hawk and Hawk then
deleted the image. That was just the kind of clever thing Hawk was good at thinking up. If he wanted
to, he could be a great criminal, but luckily Hawk was one of the good guys.

Hawk had meant to head out to the prison hospital to see Foster himself two days ago, but

obviously he couldn’t, being on the run. Craig hadn’t been able to get to it until today. He needed to
see how general population was treating Foster and if Foster was ready to talk yet.

As he pulled up to the gate he was waved away by the guard. Craig ignored him and pulled

forward.

The guard stuck his head out of the bunkhouse and yelled “No visitors today, we’re on

lockdown!”

Craig pulled out his badge. The guard looked at it and made a phone call. After a few minutes he

waved Craig through.

Craig hadn’t been out to the prison hospital yet. Hawk had always come before. He wasn’t sure

what it usually looked like, but today it was full of frenetic activity. There were guards with rifles
patrolling the parking lot and the perimeter and guards with guns strapped to their hips standing in
groups and walking around. Idly, Craig wondered if they’d had an escape. That would suck, he
thought.

He entered the front door, showed his badge and ID and was buzzed through the first large, clear

door. A guard met him in between the two doors. “I’m sorry Agent Masterson, but an inmate escaped
last night. Security is at it’s highest level today. Everyone entering gets patted down. Can you face the
wall please.

Craig shrugged his shoulders. “I’m carrying.”
“You’ll have to check your piece with the desk.”
Craig pulled his gun out of the shoulder holster under his jacket, checked the safety, and slid it in

the small window under the bulletproof glass. He received a token back. He pocketed it and turned
around, spreading his arms and legs and placing his hands against the wall. The guard did a thorough
pat-down, then gave a signal to the man behind the glass. The inside door buzzed open.

Craig walked in, checked the sign, and headed left, towards the neurology unit. He spotted the

desk and addressed the first person he saw there, a dark-haired man wearing green scrubs. “Hi, I’m
Agent Masterson, here to see Norman Foster.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Hold on sir,” he said, and grabbed the phone.
Craig’s stomach dropped as if he were on a roller coaster. Oh shit, he thought. His hands

squeezed into fists. For a moment he couldn’t think of anything. His thoughts deserted him. Then, they
slammed back into his head with the force of a ton of bricks. If they let Norman Foster escape, so
help me -

Craig’s thoughts were interrupted by a guard in full brown uniform practically sprinting down the

corridor towards him. Craig turned to him.

The guard extended his hand. “Agent Masterson, Hi I am Sergeant Coleman. Could you follow me

to my office please?”

Craig searched his heavily-lined face for clues.
“Did Norman Foster escape?”
Sergeant Coleman bowed his head slightly, his eyes never leaving Craigs’.
“Yes, last night, sometime after 1 a.m. He was discovered missing at 6:10 a.m. We hope he never

left the grounds. They are searching for him now.”

Craig’s blood pounded in his ears. “How? How could a paralyzed man escape?”
“That’s the thing. He’s not paralyzed anymore. He must have recovered his mobility sometime in

the last 5 weeks, but played possum and not told anyone.”

Craig had heard enough. Suddenly he was on autopilot, and the only program playing in his brain

was Emma, Emma, get to Emma. The need to see her safe was so great that he felt he would die if he
stood here for one more second. He took off at a dead run back the way he had came. He buzzed
through the doors, got the heavy, satisfactory weight of his gun back, and ran for his car.

They didn’t even search his truck on the way out. Craig shook his head, knowing Norman was

long gone already. He just prayed Norman wasn’t in Westwood Harbor.

Chapter 13

Craig had a dozen phone calls to make, but he didn’t dare make any of them while he was pushing his
truck over 100 mph back to Westwood Harbor. He slowed down long enough to call Emma, who
didn’t answer, so he called dispatch, who said she was at a vehicle accident on the Westwood
Bridge.

Craig’s mind showed him horrible images of Norman grabbing her in a dozen different ways. Or

worse, just driving by and filling her body with bullets. Craig debated calling her boss and trying to
have her pulled off of work detail after the car accident but he never did do it. He just kept praying.

The road flew by for over an hour, and when he reached the foothills of town he tried her cell

again, and again it went right to voicemail. He turned on his scanner, hoping to catch her voice. Voice
traffic on the radio was heavy. The accident had been a bad one and multiple units had been called to
the scene for extrication and transport. Cars heading on the bridge in both directions were at a
standstill and no foot traffic was allowed on the bridge, so that meant Norman couldn’t to get her if
she was still there. Craig called dispatch again and she was still at the accident.

He wanted to head right to where she was and stand guard over her for the rest of the day, but he

knew it would take forever for him to get through the backed up traffic on the bridge, so he drove to a
point where he knew she’d have to drive past to get to the hospital when she was done, and found a
parking lot to park in where he could see the road.

Then he started making his phone calls.
Call one was to Hawk, who answered on the first ring. “Hawk, you’re not going to believe this. I

went out to see Norman Foster today and he escaped.”

“What?” Hawk roared, and Craig heard something clatter in the background.
Craig pinched his forehead right between his brows and squeezed his eyes shut. “They let him

escape. I don’t know much more than that right now. I drove back into town to make sure Emma was
OK. I’m going to call out there and find out the details now. I’ll call you back. I wanted to call you so
you could get that brain working on where he might go or what his plan might be.”

“I’m on it.” Hawk’s voice was gruff, solid, dependable.
Craig nodded, still squeezing his forehead, leaving nail marks on his skin. “Bye.”
Call two was to Sergeant Coleman at the hospital. “Sergeant Coleman, I’m sorry I left like that. I

needed to make sure the woman who shot Foster and put him in the hospital was safe. Now, give me
the details.”

Sergeant Coleman laid out everything they knew. Norman had been put in general population

several days ago, but in a room that housed other paralyzed or neurological patients. Two days before
there had been an actual attempt on Norman’s life by a prisoner from a different ward who was on a
work detail in that ward. Norman had been sliced on the neck with a makeshift knife but the wounds
the assailant had made before guards got to him had only been superficial. Somehow Norman had
ended up on the ground, but guards just thought he had fallen or been pulled out of the bed. The
assailant had been put in solitary confinement and wouldn’t say why he had done it. Coleman had
interviewed the man himself, and was convinced he was going to try again if he got a chance.
Coleman didn’t think it was because Norman was a cop, but rather because someone had bribed the
guy to do it.

After that incident, they had to move Norman back into a private room, but his old room had

already been taken. Because of overcrowding they had nowhere left to put him and so they put him in
a nonstandard room. Meaning one that wasn’t meant for prisoners. There was no camera watching
him and the room wasn’t secure. The desk Sergeant who made the decision didn’t think it would be a
problem because Norman was paralyzed. A guard was supposed to check on him every 30 minutes,

but there had been a riot in another area of the hospital and all guards had been called to the riot,
leaving only a desk guard to watch the cameras. The desk guard didn’t even know anyone was in that
little room. Basically, it was a communications breakdown and a logistical nightmare.

He had gotten out of his room through the ceiling. When they did finally check on him, his bed was

empty, his restraints were cut through, and a sturdy plastic shelving unit had been pushed into the
corner. A guard climbed up the shelving unit, pushed aside the ceiling tile, and peeked in, seeing no
Norman, but a large open area that led all over the hospital. Basically, he could have gone anywhere.

Coleman tried to assure him that Norman must still be on the grounds though, because there was

no way for him to get outside the fence. Craig sneered silently. What a royal fuck up this was. Craig
was convinced Norman was long gone.

Coleman was droning on about how there was no way Norman had “breached the grounds”. Craig

interrupted him.

“Have you notified the state police?”
“Yes, it’s standard protocol for an escapee.”
“How about the Westwood Harbor police?”
“No.”
“When does protocol say you start searching for him outside of the grounds of the prison

hospital?”

“A team is being assembled now. I am not sure when and how they will start.”
“I want the name of that team leader.”
Coleman assured Craig he would immediately call him if any new information was discovered

and that he would get him the name of the team leader. Craig hung up. He sat there for a second, idly
watching the traffic go by, feeling defeated. Norman could be anywhere by now.

Craig called Hawk back and gave him the details.
“That doesn’t give us much to go on at this point,” Hawk said.
“Don’t I know it.”
“Someone should go talk to his buddies at P.D.”
“Yep, I will, but not until I take Emma somewhere.”
Craig hung up, and started making the rest of his phone calls. He was mostly done when he heard

Emma clear the scene. He watched for her ambulance and followed them to the hospital.

He sat in his truck in the parking lot and watched her and Jerry unload their patient. He watched

her come back outside and clean up the ambulance. He saw her finally check her phone and then
heard his phone ring almost immediately.

“Hey babe.”
“Hi, how're you?”
“Emma, is your shift almost over?”
She sat silent for a second. “What’s wrong?”
Craig’s heart hurt at the words he had to say. “Norman’s escaped Emma, I’m afraid you are in

danger. Can I pick you up after your shift?”

Emma sucked in a breath. “Escaped? How? Why?”
“They think he’s not paralyzed anymore and he just didn’t tell anyone. He got out of the room

through a ceiling tile but they don’t know anything after that.”

“Oh my God.”
Craig heard Jerry talking in the background, then Emma telling him what had happened, then Jerry

swearing a blue streak and calling the California prison system a few choice names.

If Craig hadn’t been so scared, he would have laughed.

***

Craig waited for Emma at the ambulance bay after her shift, leaning against the hood of his truck.
When she walked out, he pulled her into a crushing embrace that was born from nothing but love and
fear, but soon stirred his passion.

“Why you gotta be so beautiful?” he asked her, burying his hands in her hair and nuzzling her

neck, her midsection pressing deliciously against his growing length.

Emma laughed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, don’t ever be sorry. I’ll live.” He pulled her hair just a little bit in that way he

knew she liked and kissed her neck one more time before he pushed her gently off of him and
motioned for her to get in the truck.

“So what happened?” she asked, once they were driving.
Craig relayed everything he had been told.
“I can’t believe it! I can’t believe they could be so stupid!”
“I know. I’ve been having a hard time with it all day.”
Emma looked around. “Where are we going?”
“We’re here actually.” Craig turned into a parking lot.
Emma read the sign. “Rifle and Gun Club. What are we doing here?”
Craig pulled into a stall and killed the engine, turning to Emma. “I talked to the Chief of Police

and got you a concealed carry permit.”

Emma watched him, her brow furrowed. “You think Norman is going to come after me?”
“I’m almost positive he is. Don’t you think so?”
“No, I think he’s halfway to Mexico already, or Canada, or anywhere but Westwood Harbor.”
Craig sighed. “I’d like to believe that, but we can’t count on it. You have to protect yourself.”
Emma nodded. “Ok.”
“And Emma, this time, shoot to kill OK?”
Emma just looked at him, chewing on her lower lip slightly, and obviously making up her own

mind.

Inside the gun club, Craig pointed out all the guns that would be best for a concealed carry, and

asked Emma to pick one. He could sense her excitement. She was a crackerjack shot for sure, and just
like anyone who is naturally and exceptionally talented at something, she was drawn to shooting. But
she’d never pursued it. Craig didn’t have to wonder why. Guns are taboo in many facets of society,
especially in cities, for some reason. Especially in liberal cities like Westwood Harbor. People
judge people who carry a gun or shoot a gun as a certain type of person. He just wished it didn’t take
a madman hunting her for her to loosen up about what could be a perfectly innocent hobby.

She picked a compact Beretta storm. Craig paid for it and several boxes of ammo and took her

into the indoor fighting range to get good with it. As she reloaded and fired over and over again Craig
stood in awe of the shooting skills of his girlfriend. She hit the bullseye on the man-shaped target
almost every time. Even after firing over 100 rounds, she was still hitting center mass almost dead-
on.

She burned through all her bullets in 45 minutes, and Craig knew she could shoot Norman

anywhere she chose if he stood still. Maybe this weekend they’d head out to the mountains and try
some skeet shooting at moving targets. He had no doubt she’d excel at that too.

Back in his truck, Craig explained they needed to go to the police station to pick up her concealed

carry permit.

“We also should head by the fire department and see what needs to be done so you can carry at

work.”

“Carry at work? Wait a minute, I can’t carry at work. I’m a paramedic, not a cop.”
“I get that babe, but you’re in danger. Norman might decide that while you are working is the best

time to get to you.”

“I don’t think so. There’s so many people around all the time. And cops and firefighters.”
“Emma, you don’t have cops at 50 percent of your calls, or more. Someone has to have a gun.”
Emma fell silent. Craig could tell she was upset, and thinking hard.
“Look Craig, I won’t carry at work. You can’t imagine the kind of ethical dilemmas that could put

me in. And it would make my patients more aggressive if they saw it. And what if someone tried to
take it from me? It’s just too much of a powder keg. But you don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be
fine. Norman is probably not even after me, and if he is, he’ll try to catch me off guard, alone. Not at
work.”

Craig thought hard. What Emma was saying made sense, but she was wrong about Norman.

Norman was smart, and Norman probably knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t carry at work.
If Norman was going to come after her, he would almost certainly do it while she was working.

He glanced at Emma and could tell her mind was completely made up and there would be little he

could do to convince her. Damn stubborn woman, he thought. Damn strong-minded woman, another
part of his mind threw at him. That’s why you love her.

Craig switched gears. How could he keep Emma protected at work, even if she wouldn’t carry?

And that’s when the perfect idea hit him. He almost sat back and cooed in delight at his genius idea,
but he caught himself. Normally he would never lie to Emma, but he didn’t care what the cost of this
little omission was, as long as it kept her alive.

Chapter 14

Vivian stopped reading for a second and listened to the click-clack of Hawk’s keyboard in the other
room. The clicks and clacks sped up, to an almost frantic pace. She wished she could go in and ask
him what was going on, did he find something? But she knew if she did she would hit a brick wall. He
never shared anything with her. In the past 4 days, he had barely said 4 words to her. Since they’d
arrived he’d spent all day and most of every night on the computer, or poring over his notes. Now that
Norman had escaped, things seemed even worse. He was on the computer when she went to bed, and
he was on it again when she woke up. She wasn’t sure if he was sleeping at all. But he had to be,
didn’t he? He did most of his eating at night too, probably concerned that he would run into her if he
entered the kitchen in the daytime.

But things weren’t all bad. This evening, she’d taken a walk in the forest and listened to the birds

chirping good night to each other. She was enjoying having the time to just sit and read on her tablet.
She’d already caught up on her 2 year backlog of professional journals and she’d even finished a few
books that were strictly pleasure reads - for the first time in years.

She’d also gone to the grocery store yesterday after seeing how much Hawk ate. She had made a

large casserole the day before, eaten a small portion, and when she’d woken up yesterday morning the
glass dish had been washed and put away. Mouth open, she had wanted to go in and ask if he really
ate the entire casserole, but she couldn’t stand the way he refused to look at her or say more than one
word at a time to her. So she just went shopping and bought more food.

Besides, if she stayed out here she could pretend they were getting along and that maybe there was

even something between them. She could imagine his muscular body in the other room just waiting till
his work was done so he could come in and sit down next to her. She would lean into his chest and
smell his cologne. He would caress her hair and say something sweet to her, then lean in and kiss her
gently. She imagined his kisses would start out gentle, but become more and more fervent while his
hands roamed around her body. Eyes closed, she saw herself rip off his shirt and cover his chest in
kisses. She felt the hard denim of his jeans under her hands as she yanked at his zipper. And when he
finally sprung free her breath caught in her throat at the sight -

Vivian’s tablet dropped out of her limp fingers and hit the floor, startling her. Her cheeks blushed

crimson when she realized she’d been doing it again. Day and night she‘d been fantasizing about
Hawk. In fact, she’d been so busy dreaming of Hawk she hadn’t had one of her nightmares about
Norman since their first night here. The day they’d gotten the news that Norman had escaped she’d
been certain that her sleep would be filled with horrible images of running from Norman, or of
Norman taking her from her apartment and shooting her up with that drug.

She was quite irritated at herself, not only because she couldn’t seem to control the erotic picture

show in her brain, but also because she hadn’t had the nightmares. Was it really that her mind was just
too busy getting busy to dream about Norman? Or was there more to it? Did Hawk somehow make her
feel safe? Safer then she felt alone? Because that was ridiculous. She was a modern woman. She
didn’t need a man to keep her safe.

Idly, Vivian thought about Emma carrying a gun now. She wondered if she should get a gun.

Maybe Hawk would teach her how to use one. Yeah right, and maybe Hawk would get down on one
knee and propose to her. She laughed out loud at the thought and heard the clickety clack in the other
room stop. She covered her mouth and giggled again, silently. Sorry to disturb you Hawk.

After a few beats, the keyboard noise started up again and Vivian picked up her tablet. Well, he’d

have to talk to her sometime today. She had some things she wanted to discuss with him about
Norman.

She looked at her tablet one last time, and put it down for the day. God hates a coward. It was

time to talk to Hawk.

She walked into the computer room and sat down behind Hawk on the short, black, leather couch.
He ignored her and kept typing.
“Hawk, I need to talk to you.”
“What?” Clickety clack, clickety clack.
Vivian waited. She didn’t want to compete with whatever was on the screen.
He kept typing and the room filled up with the noise.
“Hawk. Can you listen to me please?”
He stopped typing. Vivian waited, but he didn’t turn around. She felt her blood getting hot. Did

this man have no common manners? Had no one ever told him that it was rude to expect someone to
talk to your back? She tried to push through.

“Uh, I’ve been thinking about Norman, and remember that RV that he had us in? Where did it

come from? I mean, I’ve seen pictures of his house, and he didn’t have RV storage, so he had to store
it somewhere, right? What if he’s got a drive-in storage locker in Westwood Harbor? They can’t
auction those things off for a few months after no one pays for them. And I’ve heard that people live
in them sometimes. If he had a combination lock on one he wouldn’t even have needed a key - all he
would have needed to do was get there.”

Hawk didn’t say a word. Didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t say “that’s a stupid idea,” or “leave the

detecting to the detectives.” Nothing. He just ignored her, like he’d been doing for days. No, for
weeks now. No, actually for months. Since the first day she’d met him, he’d never properly looked
her in the face once, or shook her hand, or given her a hug. Nothing. Vivian felt her blood go right past
the boiling point. It went nuclear.

She stood up. Fury making her breathe heavily, she shouted at his back, “You know what? I’ve

had enough of your shit! I am not some goddamn, insignificant bug you found on your shoe! I am a
living, breathing human being and I deserve the respect you’d show anyone else, even a goddamn
criminal! I have never been anything but nice, and decent, and caring towards you, and yet you act like
I don’t even exist. Well that’s it, I’m done trying to be nice to you Hawk Kinkaid. You sit in here and
you do your work, and you keep acting like I don’t exist. I’ll make it real easy for you. I’m leaving in
the morning! I’ll give Craig the address and he can drive up and get you when you are ready to go
home. But when you do, you just stay away from me, understand?”

Hawk’s chair swung around slowly and he stared at her, open-mouthed. But he still didn’t say

anything.

Vivian fled to her room and started looking for things to pack.

Chapter 15

Hawk sat in his chair, stunned. She was right. Every word she’d said was right and true. He was an
ass. A jerk. The lowest form of life. He’d been treating her like crap, for no reason other than he liked
her, and that she reminded him slightly of someone who’d once hurt him very badly. But that didn’t
excuse it. Didn’t excuse it for a second. You don’t treat other people like crap because of your own
fucked-up feelings that you’ve never dealt with.

Hawk sat in the chair and stared at the doorway, wishing she’d come back in. Wondering how he

could fix it. Hoping she wouldn’t leave. God he was bad at this! He hadn’t been in a relationship with
a woman in over 10 years, and he didn’t remember how things were done. Should he apologize?
Would she even listen? She was pretty pissed.

And her idea! Hawk kicked himself in the head internally for not thinking of it himself. A storage

unit? Or an RV and boat parking business? That was gold! He grabbed his phone and texted Craig.
Vivian had great idea. Check storage units that take RVs. Or any and all storage units. If Foster
was a customer he could be living inside one now, no money needed. I will gather list of storage
units in Westwood Harbor. You may need to get warrant in morning to pull records.

That done, his mind turned back to Vivian. He could apologize. You didn’t have to be good at

apologizing to do it. He got up and took a step towards the door, but stopped, suddenly scared. More
scared than he’d ever been with a gun pointed at him. How was it that Vivian did this to him? He
wondered if she had any idea the kind of effect she had on him.

He heard her moving around in the kitchen. He took a deep breath, internally screwed up his

courage, and went out.

“Vivian.”
She stopped walking, small suitcase in hand, and looked at him.
“I’m sorry. You are right. I was a jerk. I’ve been treating you poorly and there’s no cause for it. I

just. I just. I. I guess I don’t have any excuses. Please forgive me. Please don’t leave. I promise I will
be on my best behavior from now on.”

He strode to her side and took the suitcase from her hand. He smiled what he hoped was a

repentant smile, and held up the suitcase.

“Let me carry this. Where do you want it?”
Vivian stared at him, her eyes wide, face lined with shock.
Suddenly she sprinted out of the room to her bedroom and slammed the door.
Damn, he thought to himself. I guess I’m even worse at apologizing than I thought.
He retreated back to the computer room, thinking furiously about how to get her to stay.

Chapter 16

Vivian leaned against the closed door, her eyes squeezed together, heart slamming against her chest.
She had just run out of the room without saying anything to Hawk. She had just done exactly what
she’d lit into him for doing. But she’d had to. Regular, grumpy Hawk was hot. But sweet Hawk? He
was unbearably sexy. And Hawk with a smile on his face? She thought back - yes that was the first
time she’d seen him smile. Smiling Hawk made her want to run to him, jump in his arms, wrap her
legs around his waist, and maul him with her mouth.

The smile made his dark eyes turn from brooding to inviting, and the dangerous angles in his face

turn innocent and kissable. He was pure man-candy and she couldn’t take it.

Vivian slid her back down the door and sat down, face in her hands. She felt like a teenager. Like

a sex-crazy, hormones-running-wild teenager. What was wrong with her? How could this one man
have such an effect on her? And he hadn’t even done anything but smiled.

Suddenly, she was glad he’d never talked to her before. Because surely she would have done

something embarrassing by now if he had. She could barely contain herself when he was a big fat
jerk. How would she behave if he was nice?

And now she had to decide whether to stay or go. She didn’t want to go, she was enjoying this

‘vacation’. She hadn’t taken time for herself to just relax since before college, and that was almost 10
years now. And since Hawk had apologized, she didn’t have to make good on her threat to him to
leave. But she did have to face him after running out of the room like that. And apologize herself?
Oooooh, what a mess, girly.

Vivian took some deep breaths to try to still her mind and calm her heart. She didn’t want to

leave, even though she knew she should. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself by doing
something stupid. If he paid attention to her now, he might notice exactly how close she was to being
halfway in love with him, even though he’d never given her the time of day. Maybe she could just stay
away from him. He was busy. He never came out of the room anyway. If she just did stayed out of his
way, things would be fine. Wouldn’t they?

She made up her mind. She was staying.
She heard movement outside her door. “Vivian, um, sorry about earlier again. Craig just called.

Can I talk to you?”

Vivian scrambled to her feet. “Sure, I’ll be out in a second.”
She ran to the bathroom and checked her face. She looked ok, she hadn’t been crying or anything.

A few more deep breaths and she was ready.

The hallway was empty so she walked carefully and quietly to the computer room. Hawk was

sitting in the computer chair and he smiled at her again when she walked in. She wished he would
stop doing that. She sat on the couch.

“I’m going to put Craig on speaker,” Hawk said. He pressed a button and put the phone down on

the table between them.

“Vivian can hear you now.”
“Vivian, I got your CODIS results back. Do you want me to open them now? Or do you want to

wait till you get home?” Craig’s voice was loud and clear out of the cheap cell phone.

“Open them, open them!” Excitement grabbed Vivian. “Wait, where’s Emma?”
“I’m here, we’re opening it.” Emma’s voice was also filled with excitement.
Vivian heard papers rustling. She sat on her hands and leaned forward, staring at the phone.
Craig spoke. “There’s a result. It says it matched you with an uncle, and his name ...” Craig’s

voice trailed off. Then he spoke again. “What the hell?”

“What, what?” Vivian couldn’t contain herself. An uncle!

Craig’s voice came through again, sounding almost indecisive. “It says your uncle is Tim

Oberlin.”

Hawk shot his head forward, eyebrows touching in confusion. He echoed Craig. “What the hell?”
Vivian thought for a second. Oberlin. She knew that name but didn’t place it right away. She heard

Emma say something in the background. “Oberlin, as in Senator Oberlin? Is his first name Tim?”

Vivian grasped it suddenly. Oberlin was the name of the Senator who Craig and Hawk were

investigating. The Senator who they believed had ordered the hit on Hawk’s sister. The Senator who
had used Norman to do all his dirty work.”

Craig’s voice came through the line again. He sounded weird, defeated. “No, his first name is

Frank. Tim Oberlin is his brother.”

Denial speared through Vivian. No. No way. She shook her head. It couldn’t be. In front of her,

Hawk flipped around in his chair and his fingers flew over the keyboard. Emma said one more thing.
“Does Tim have any other brothers or sisters?”

Hawk spun back in his chair, facing towards Vivian and the phone once again. This time he spoke.

“No, I just checked. Tim Oberlin’s only sibling is Frank Oberlin.”

Vivian felt like that sentence spelled doom for her. Frank Oberlin was her father? The monster the

guys were investigating was her father? She was related to Senator Frank Oberlin? Not just related to
but descended from? Her stomach felt woozy, like maybe she was going to throw up or pass out. She
sat up straight and tried to steel herself against the feeling. It didn’t work.

Emma’s voice cut through her reverie. “Wait, wait, wait. This is all too much of a coincidence!

How in the hell are me and Vivian related to Senator Oberlin. It just can’t be! There must have been
some mistake.”

Vivian heard rustling near the phone, like maybe Craig was taking her hand. “It does seem like a

pretty big coincidence,” he told her. “And we can redo the test, but it seems unlikely that the CODIS
results are wrong.”

“I can’t believe it,” Vivian said to know one in particular. “Hawk, I want to see a picture of

Senator Oberlin.”

Hawk spun around again and pressed a few buttons. A picture of a middle-aged man stared out of

the monitor at Vivian. He looked perfectly nondescript, just like any other older, white man. Except
for one thing. His sapphire blue eyes. They bore out of the monitor directly at Vivian and told her to
smarten up. She knew how rare eyes that color were. Besides Emma, she’d never met anyone with
blue eyes as light as hers. She’d seen some pictures, yes. But never anyone in real life. She was
starting to believe it could be true. And believing didn’t feel good.

She put her hands in her face. She seemed to be doing this a lot lately. And to think, just a few

hours ago she had felt good, happy.

Hawk leaned toward the phone, his face painted in intense lines. “Emma, how did you meet

Norman?”

“What? What does that have to do with anything?” Emma squeaked.
“Just humor me, would you? Tell us exactly how you met Norman.”
“I met him on a call, and then he just started showing up all the time.”
“Was it the type of call a cop normally would have gone on?”
Emma was silent for a beat.
“No wait. I’m wrong. I didn’t meet him on a call. He came to the ambulance bay once at the

beginning of my shift. I thought it was weird because we almost never get cops in there. He came over
and said hi and told me he liked my uniform. I thought it was silly, but sweet, and after that he kept

showing up on my calls. And he asked me out after a call a week later.”

Vivian stared at the phone, and then at Hawk. What was he getting at?
Hawk leaned forward even farther. “Ok, hear me out here. Who is to say that the Senator doesn’t

know you two are his children? And what if he gave some sort of a job to Norman that had something
to do with you? And Norman found you, or looked you up out of curiosity, and decided he liked you.
So it was no accident that you met.”

Vivian heard someone pound the table through the phone. Craig spoke, excitement in his voice “I

bet you’re right! Shit Emma, I bet Senator Oberlin is your father.”

Bile rose in Vivian’s throat. She didn’t know what Emma was feeling at this news, but she

imagined it wasn’t good. How does anyone deal with the knowledge that their father is a monster?

Emma’s voice rang through the phone, sounding small, defeated. “You OK Viv?”
“No.” And she wasn’t. She was horrible. She was disgusted. She wished it was all still a

mystery. “What about you Emma, are you OK?”

“No.”
Vivian looked up at Hawk. He was looking at her with some new emotion in his eyes. It didn’t

seem to be contempt. What was it?

“Maybe we should arrange a meeting,” Hawk said.
“A meeting?” Emma and Vivian said together.
Craig came through the phone again. “Yes! You two could go meet him. See what he says. This

could be our big break - the big event that starts to tie the rest of the story together.”

Vivian couldn’t believe her ears. Sure, she knew their investigation was a big deal. But they’d

only known that this guy, this murderer was their father for 2 minutes and now the guys wanted them
to meet him? She glanced at Hawk again. He was still gazing at her with that look in his eyes.
Suddenly she figured it out. He was looking at her with interest, with curiosity. Like she was a new
kind of bug under a piece of glass. Step right up! Stare at the monster’s daughter! she thought,
feeling like her mind was about to crack in two. Vivian stood up and ran to the hallway and locked
herself in her room for the second time that day.

This time she did cry.

Chapter 17

Hawk watched Vivian go. He scrubbed his face with his hand. “God I’m an idiot.”

“What, what happened?” Emma asked, her voice strained.
“Vivian just ran out of here, upset.”
“Yeah, you didn’t really give us much time to deal with the fact that that jerkwater was our dad

before you started in,” Emma accused.

“I know. I’m sorry Emma. That was stupid of me.” Guilt ate at Hawk’s gut.
“Yeah, maybe you should apologize to my sister too.”
Hawk glanced out the doorway, but the hall was still empty. Vivian must have retreated to her

room. He hoped he could make it up to her.

“You’re right, I should. I will. I’ll call you guys later.”
Hawk hung up the phone and stood up, trying to get his mind to work. He already knew he sucked

at apologizing, and now he had to do it again.

At Vivian’s door, he knocked gently. “Vivian? I’m really sorry. Are you OK?”
He heard movement inside. “Yeah. Ok.” Her voice sounded muffled. And then he heard the

bathroom door close inside her room.

Hawk sighed. He didn’t understand women, but this didn’t need a whole lot of understanding.

Imagine if he’d found out his father was someone like Senator Oberlin. That would have upset him
pretty badly too.

He walked back out to the living room and sat on the couch. He wanted to make it up to her. What

could he do? He looked around the small cabin. It was spotless. His eyes landed on the kitchen.
Maybe he could cook her something. Most people didn’t know he was an excellent cook. Well, it was
time for Vivian to find out.

He started opening cabinets to see what there was. He found spices, flour, sugar, and condiments.

In the fridge he found chicken breasts, eggs, milk, butter, and a few different types of sausage and
vegetables. Perfect. He knew exactly what he was going to make.

One hour later, he hadn’t heard a peep from Vivian, but he was confident she’d be coming out

soon. The smell from the rosemary garlic chicken was making his mouth water, and his crumb cake
was just about to go in the oven.

Living on his own for so long had given him plenty of time and desire to learn how to cook stuff

that tasted good enough to actually be eaten. He’d cooked for his buddies a few times at get-togethers,
but he hadn’t cooked for a woman ever. Well no matter, just because he was cooking for her didn’t
mean they were getting married or anything. They were just two friends, and they had to eat.

He searched the house for candles and finally found a few. He wanted to make the house warm

and inviting to maybe take some of the edge off of how much of a jerk he’d been. He looked for wine
or beer but found none. Oh well, juice would have to do. Tomorrow maybe he would go out and get
some beer and wine if Vivian liked wine. Did he really not know if she liked wine or not? He thought
back. Nope. He’d been avoiding looking at her for so long that he didn’t have a clue. Stupid, he
thought. He didn’t have to avoid her. He could just be himself and she’d run from him.

He lit the last candle on the table and dimmed the lights a bit. He got the chicken out of the oven

and stared down the hallway, wondering if he should take it down and try to blow the smell under her
door. No, then he would just look like a fool if she caught him.

He set two plates and took the meat and home-fried potatoes to the table. He tried to send Vivian

mental telepathy images that she should come out and eat. It didn’t seem to be working. He debated
knocking on the door, but he didn’t want to scare her off. Damn! Why didn’t somebody write a book
or something to tell you what to do in these situations!

As he stared at his food thinking, the door finally opened. He swiveled his head in her direction.

“Hi!”

“Hi,” she said cautiously.
“I made us dinner,” he said, smiling.
She gave him a tentative smile back. “It smells wonderful.”
“Sit, sit.” He motioned for her to sit across from him. She did, but seemed on edge, like a rabbit

ready to bolt. Just don’t mention Senator Oberlin, and don’t mention how you’ve been treating her,
and you’ll be fine. He served her up chicken and fries and wracked his brain for something to say.

Anything.
She took a small bite of the chicken and closed her eyes in appreciation. “Oh this is so good!

Where did you learn how to cook?”

“I taught myself. Sometimes I watch Rachael Ray and follow along with the recipes. Sometimes I

watch youtube videos. Or I just try new recipes and see what happens.”

She ate more chicken and tried the fries. “Oh, wow, these are good too.” She smiled at him, a real

5000 megawatt smile.

Her beauty pierced him and he felt a little pang in his heart. The back of his neck prickled and his

heart started beating faster. Which usually was his body trying to tell him he was in danger. He told
the feeling on his neck to fuck off. He wasn’t going to go all Neanderthal on Vivian again just because
he found her pretty. He could have a conversation with a pretty woman and not be scared of where it
was going to go. They could have dinner and not a romantic relationship. Besides, Vivian might look
a little bit like Gianna, but inside, Vivian was nothing like Gianna. Vivian was sweet and kind and
caring and thoughtful. And she didn’t seem to be pretending or pretentious about anything. She’s not
Gianna, he told his brain and his body, not sure which one needed to hear it.

“Vivian, I uh, wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have pressed you to meet with Senator Oberlin. It

must have been hard for you to hear that he’s probably your father.”

Vivian dropped her glance to her food. “Yeah, really hard. Wait, what do you mean, probably?”

Her eyes speared into him.

“Well, a match of an uncle is not foolproof. I doubt CODIS made a mistake matching you with

Tim Oberlin, but it’s a possibility. And what if Tim does have siblings and he just doesn’t know it?
Unless you and Frank Oberlin are tested and come back as a father/daughter match no one can say
with 100% certainty that he is your father.”

Vivian nodded, eyes far away like she was lost in thought.
“So what was Tim Oberlin in the criminal database for anyway?” she finally asked.
“He was arrested for a DUI and possession of cocaine 5 years ago.”
“Lovely family tree I have. Wonder what Mom’s like?” Vivian muttered.
Hawk smiled. “Hey, we all have skeletons in our family closet. Don’t let it get to you.”
“It doesn’t bother you that, well, that...” Vivian couldn’t bring herself to mention Hawk’s sister.

She’d seen before how much it hurt him to talk about it. How hard and resistant he became when her
name was mentioned.

“That you are related to the man I think killed my sister?” Hawk finished for her, his voice soft.

She looked him in the eyes and nodded.

“No, it doesn’t matter to me. How could it? It has nothing to do with you or Emma.”
He gave Vivian another sweet smile and she melted a little bit inside. How did this man do such a

complete 180 in the last few hours? She didn’t understand it, but she felt herself falling under a spell
he wasn’t even aware he was casting. She’d known he was drop-dead gorgeous since she’d first laid

eyes on him. She learned over time that he was smart as could be and truly dedicated and hard-
working. Now she was coming to learn that he was kind, sweet, thoughtful, and open to criticism. Oh,
and he could cook like a dream. Hawk Kinkaid was turning out to be every single thing she’d ever
wanted in a man. But would he ever want her back?

Chapter 18

Craig ran over his to-do list in his mind on the way to work. His first order of business was to get the
warrant needed to pull the records of all the self-storage outfits in the city. Then he’d serve them. If
that search turned up nothing he’d have to go back for a second warrant for nearby cities. Then he was
headed out to the prison hospital to question the prisoner who had tried to kill Norman Foster.
Hopefully he’d also have a look at the progress on the search for Foster. Not that he expected much
there.

Thinking about Norman made his stomach go queasy. But what could he do? He couldn’t stand

watch over Emma all day, every day. Luckily, she carried her gun constantly now, except at work. But
he’d found a way to still feel like she was safe at work. Hopefully she didn’t get too mad when she
found out. And he was certain she’d find out eventually.

He pulled into Headquarters’ parking lot and was surprised to see it full of cars already, with a

gathering of people by the door. What the hell?

He got out of his truck, scanning the group. Agent Donahue broke off from the pack and strode his

way. There goes my day, Craig thought.

“Agent Masterson,” he began, a snide smile on his face. He thrust a paper into Craig’s hands.

“Here’s my warrant. Open the door and let my men in.”

Craig looked over the warrant. It was signed by a judge and gave them permission to investigate

Hawk’s quarters, his truck, and the main headquarters room, plus take a few items. It stated Hawk
was being investigated for transport and sale of cocaine, crack-cocaine, and methamphetamines, plus
he was using his position in the FBI to assist drug trafficking organizations in Venezuela and
Colombia.

Craig shook his head. What a load of crap. Who made this shit up? It was a good thing he didn’t

know if Donahue was just taking orders from someone or not. If he thought Donahue might be the one
who was creating this lie about Hawk, he would have a hard time not throttling him here in the
parking lot.

Craig handed the paper back. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He pushed past Donahue

and unlocked the door without a word.

He pointed out the two rooms and stood back. The 5 men got to work quickly. In Hawk’s room

they dumped the dresser drawers, the bathroom drawers, checked every pocket of all his clothes,
checked every inch of the mattress for rips, and even tore up the carpet. Craig knew better than to
protest.

In the main room, agents packed up Hawk’s computer and took all of the digital surveillance tapes

they’d been working on for months. That’s weird, Craig thought. Why would they want our
surveillance tapes? Hawk doesn’t watch himself. They also went through every file in the filing
cabinet and every number in the rolodex, one agent painstakingly taking pictures of all of it.

Craig kept notes of exactly what they were doing and even took some video with his phone.

Trouble was, they were 100% by the book. There wasn’t a thing Craig could say.

Special Agent Donahue approached Craig and asked, “Have you heard from Agent Kinkaid?”
This was the tricky part. Craig wished he had asked ‘do you know where Agent Kinkaid is?’

because Craig didn’t. But this direct question put Craig at risk of lying to a federal agent during the
cause of an official investigation (even if it was a bullshit investigation), which could lose him his
job, or worse, get him arrested. He decided to go the direct route.

“Yes.”
Donahue raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really? Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“Is he on vacation?”
“No.” Craig wasn’t going to lie, but he wasn’t going to volunteer anything either.
“Oh? Does he make it a habit to disappear in the middle of the week when he is supposed to be

working?”

“No.”
“Does his boss know where he is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who is his boss?”
Craig thought hard. Did he have to answer this? He didn’t want to piss Donahue off enough that

Donahue’s sights fell on him, but he didn’t want to play ball either. He didn’t think Hawk had notified
his boss, Richard Carr, Regional Director, about the situation here yet. They’d been hoping to get
more of a handle on it first. Right now though, there was no handle.

“I report to Agent Kinkaid. I’m not exactly sure who he reports to.”
Donahue sneered. “Well what’s your best guess then?”
“Richard Carr.”
Donahue nodded and made a notation on his pad.
“Why isn’t Kinkaid here?”
Craig sighed. This is where things got tricky. “He says that he caught wind of your investigation.

He says he’s completely innocent and someone created this case out of thin air to keep him from
investigating his current caseload. He said it worked, because he’s off investigating your
investigation right now and you’ll be hearing from him soon.”

Donahue raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Well why don’t you take my card and tell him to call

me.” Donahue fished a card out of his pocket and gave it to Craig. Craig took it. Neither man spoke
while they eye-wrestled for supremacy.

One of Donahue’s agents came out. “Sir, we are done inside. All that’s left is the truck.”
Donahue smiled again. “Tell me you don’t have the keys.”
“I don’t.” Craig’s anger flared. Why was Donahue taking personal enjoyment in this?
“Great.” Donahue sauntered over to the truck slowly, then put his fist through the driver’s side

window.

Craig’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t even checked to see if the truck was unlocked!
Craig shook his head and turned around. He’d seen enough. This was a flame job if he’d ever

seen one and there was nothing he could do here. He headed for his truck before he hit something. Or
someone.

Donahue’s voice rang over the pavement. “Innocent huh? This doesn’t look too innocent.”
Craig didn’t turn around. He knew if there was something in Hawk’s truck it was planted there.

And if something was planted in Hawk’s truck it was done by one of these officers. Craig knew he
had to get out of there quick, before he lost it. There was very little he hated more than corrupt law
enforcement officers. And he’d been running into way too many of them lately.

He threw himself in the driver’s seat and peeled out quickly, not sparing Donahue another glance.

He’d come back when they left and salvage what he could.

Craig didn’t even trust himself to call Hawk and tell him what had just happened. Instead, he hit

the highway out to the hospital prison and prayed the road would calm him. By the time he got to his
destination, he could almost think of calling Hawk and telling him what happened without
immediately wanting to punch something. Almost.

The gate guard opened up for him immediately. No lockdown today. After jumping through the

hoops at the front he met with Sergeant Coleman again, expecting Coleman to take him to an
interrogation room. On the way he checked his file for the prisoner’s name again. Keen. Jayden Keen.

Instead of an interrogation room he ended up in Coleman’s office. Craig looked around, noting the

plaques on the wall. Coleman was highly trained and decorated.

“Have a seat please, Agent Masterson.” Coleman indicated a dark, leather chair opposite his

desk. Craig raised an eyebrow, but did. He’d find out soon enough what this was about.

Coleman sat behind his desk and steepled his fingers, as if he were stalling or about to say

something difficult.

“You are here to see Keen, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And you are looking for news on the search for Foster?”
Craig nodded.
“I have a report for you. There’s nothing new in it. So far, no trace has been found of him. There

are some theories as to how he got out of the grounds, but nothing concrete. They are all in the
report.”

Craig nodded again and tucked it away. He’d read it later.
“As for Keen, I’m afraid I have some bad news. He’s dead.”
Craig’s anger returned in a second. He shook his head, wondering if he was running up against

another wall of corruption, or if this prison hospital was just fantastically inept.

“Have you ever worked in a prison, Agent Masterson?”
“I haven’t,” Craig admitted, almost under his breath.
“Then you are unlikely to understand what has happened here. But please try. Prisons are full of

the people society has thrown away. You know this. Most of them come in here without a shred of
dignity or hope left. Society would say they don’t deserve to have dignity, or hope. I don’t judge, but I
do see what this does to a person. It’s not pretty. It leads to high rates of suicide, and homicide within
the prison. These people just don’t care anymore. They are already in jail. Why do they care if their 4
life sentences are turned into 8 life sentences. They are in prison till they die. Why not get it over
with? These are the attitudes I see every day. Prison hospitals are a bit different, but we actually have
higher rates of certain crimes. Basically, what I am trying to say is, unless we had a 1 to 1 guard to
prison ratio these kinds of things could not be prevented. But we don’t. Most prisons say they have a
1 to 5 ratio. 1 guard per 5 prisoners. But when you factor in supervisors and sick leave and vacations,
that is usually 1 pair of boots on the ground per every 10 prisoners. Here in the hospital it’s worse.
We have an ratio of 1 guard to almost 25 prisoners most days. Think about that very carefully while I
tell you what happened to Keen.”

Coleman paused, looking to Craig for acknowledgment. Craig nodded. Those numbers were

sobering.

“Keen was here for a tumor in his left armpit. Early stages of cancer. That arm was almost

completely useless. But he was still strong and his right arm still worked fine. He was in an
ambulatory ward. Which is just a big open bay with cots. He received local radiation treatment to the
tumor weekly. He’d been here for 6 weeks and was expected to be here for at least another 6 for
continuing treatment. Up until the incident with Foster, he’d been a model prisoner. After the incident
we put him in the lockdown ward. Which means he had a cell, but still attended meals with other
lockdown prisoners. A prisoner named Madras followed him into the bathroom and beat him to death
with a metal pipe he had removed from a piece of physical therapy equipment in the gym.”

Craig nodded again with a little more understanding. “Motive?”

“None according to the official investigation. But I have done some checking and found something

I know you will be interested in. I will show it to you soon.”

“Ok. I would like to interview this Madras.”
Coleman steepled his fingers together again and looked down. When he finally spoke, the words

chilled Craig’s spine. “Madras is dead.”

Craig blinked in disbelief. Coleman had almost convinced him he was judging the hospital too

harshly.

“He’s dead too?”
“Yes. Officers tried to subdue him after he attacked Keen and he went crazy. They handcuffed him

and he was still biting and punching and kicking. They tazed him and he barely felt it. It took 7 of them
to hold him down and when he finally stopped fighting he was dead. Preliminary autopsy results
suggest ingestion of bath salts.”

Craig sat, dazed, unable to think of a single question. He needed a few minutes of quiet to sort

through this.

“Which brings me to what I want to show you.” Coleman opened a folder and pulled out 2 black

and white pictures taken from an overhead camera. “I pulled the visitor file for both prisoners. This
man visited Keen the day before the attack on Norman, and this man visited Madras the very next day,
which was three days before the attack on Keen.” Coleman slid the pictures across the desk to Craig.

Both pictures were Frabrazio, Senator Oberlin’s new friend from the LA mob.

Chapter 19

Vivian pulled her nose out of her book and watched Hawk’s strong back as he bent over the
computer. He was working hard as usual, but when she wandered out of her room this morning and
said good morning he had smiled at her, which was definitely unusual. She had made him breakfast
and again he had smiled and said thanks. She had sat down on the couch behind him instead of the
couch in the other room and he hadn’t protested at all. She could get used to this.

“Hmmm,” he said under his breath.
She wanted to ask what he was working on, but she didn’t want to bother him, so she stayed

silent.

“Crap,” he said, a little louder.
“What?” Vivian asked. She grimaced. It had slipped out.
“I’m not finding any record of your birth.”
“You’re looking up my birth records?”
He swiveled around in his chair and faced her. “Yep. I’m trying to find a connection between

Norman and Oberlin right now, and your birth seems like it might be our key. But there’s no record of
it. Do you have a birth certificate?”

“Yes, but mine has my adoptive parents names on it.”
“Oh.” Hawk’s face fell.
“But I’ve seen Emma’s,” Vivian added quickly.
“Do you remember what it said?”
“It had her name and under father it said unknown and her mother was named Jane Doe. Place of

birth was Westwood General Hospital.”

Hawk was silent. He chewed slightly on his bottom lip and stared off into space. Vivian stared at

his bottom lip, thinking she’d like to chew on it too.

His head turned to her quickly and she jumped a little and blushed. Quit it! she chastised herself.
“So you guys weren’t dropped off somewhere like an orphanage or a church. You were born in

the hospital but they didn’t know your mother’s name? How is that possible?”

“My guess is she died in childbirth. Like she came in while in labor and for some reason they

didn’t get her name and she died. Or maybe she came in unconscious and we were delivered by c-
section and she never came to.”

Vivian felt flat while she said this. She’d thought of her birth mother many times, but never been

able to conjure up any emotion for her. She wanted to, but without a name or an image it just didn’t
work. Whenever she tried to think of her mother, a picture of her adoptive mother filled her brain. She
loved her adoptive mother. The woman still treated her like gold.

Hawk watched her closely. “You OK?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m good. It doesn’t bother me to talk about it.”
He smiled and spun back to his computer, working the keyboard.
“So, maybe Norman got rid of your birth record in the hospital files. I’ll check death records.”
Vivian sat and waited. She was amazed at what this man could do with a computer and an Internet

connection. For a moment she wondered if what he was doing was legal.

“Hmmm, no Jane Doe death records on your birth-date. I’ll go out a few days.”
A few moments later, “Nothing.”
He spun around and rubbed his hands together, with a big grin on his face. She laughed. “You

seem happy that you’ve found nothing.”

“I am. Because this means the records have been deleted. And if we can figure out who deleted

them and how, we’ve got our first connection. It could have been Norman, but I don’t think it was. I

bet he paid someone to do it. This is advanced stuff here and nothing I’ve found on Norman indicates
he would know how to do it.”

Hawk spun back around and went to work. She didn’t hear from him again for over an hour. She

was in the kitchen, thinking about what to make them for lunch when he let out a whoop in the other
room. She ran back in.

“What, what?”
“I found it! I haven’t found an actual record of your births yet, but I bet I’ve found your mom.” He

read from the screen. “Jane Doe, died from hemorrhage during labor, September 13th, 1983.”

He read off the description given of her in the chart. “5 foot, 6 inches tall. 142 pounds. Long,

curly brown hair, blue eyes. Approximately 16 years old.”

Vivian felt like she’d been punched in the stomach at the last part of that. 16 years old?
“My mother was 16?”
“That’s how old she looked apparently.”
“How can you be sure this is my mother?” Vivian asked.
“Well, I can’t,” Hawk answered, stretching backwards. “But I’m searching any deleted records in

the correct time period because I am assuming that Oberlin had them deleted for some reason. There’s
something about this that he doesn’t want anyone to know. And since I actually found a deleted entry, I
think it’s a fair connection to make. Why else would anyone delete any of these entries, unless a
mistake was made during data entry? From what I can tell, all the records from 1900 to 1985 or so
were inputted into their digital database sometime in the year 2000. If they had made a mistake, they
would have re-input the information somewhere else. I already searched. This entry is nowhere else.
And it wasn’t corrected during data entry, it was deleted later. I can tell because of this.”

He pointed to the screen and Vivian saw this: i./
“I period slash? What is that?”
“I don’t know. Probably nothing. Just some random characters that were put in the first cell in the

row, otherwise the computer wouldn’t let the information be deleted. It’s a failsafe to avoid
accidental deletions.”

Vivian frowned. “How can you even read information that has been deleted?”
“There’s several different ways, although none of them work all of the time. In this case, I

assumed they made one backup when the initial data entry was done, and I was right. I was able to
access the backup file and read what was originally put in there.”

“Wow.” Vivian was impressed. Hawk knew what he was doing.
Hawk smiled at her again and bent back over his keyboard. “Now to try to figure out when it was

changed, and with what access, and how.” He squinted at the screen and practically whispered, “I’m
on the hunt for a hacker.”

Vivian backed out of the room and went back to thinking about lunch. She had complete faith that

Hawk would figure it out.

As she chopped and prepared she thought about her mother. She did some quick math and figured

Senator Oberlin would have had to have been at least 40 in 1983, so what was he doing with a 16
year old? She shuddered. God she hated the thought that he was her father.

She prepared two plates of BLT sandwiches with strawberries on the side. When she took them

back in to Hawk he was frowning at the screen. She slid a sandwich down next to him and sat down
on the couch to eat hers, waiting to hear from him what was upsetting him.

“Well, I haven’t found anything else. This guy covered his tracks really well. We actually were

quite lucky he didn’t think of the backup copy or we would have been out of luck.

“Darn. Now what?”
Hawk grabbed a half a sandwich, smelled it, and took a bite that wiped out half of it. I should

have made him two, Vivian thought.

“Well, the way I see it, we have to figure out two things. Who your mom was, so we can do an

investigation about what exactly happened to her. I’m going to check into missing person reports
shortly. And we have to find out who the hacker is, so what else we can connect him to and find him
and arrest him. My brain is fried right now though. I might need to take a walk or something.”

Vivian nodded. She sat and let the situation run through her brain, idly thinking about it. She

grabbed her tablet and typed i./ into Google. The search engine didn’t recognize it. She twirled a lock
of hair around her finger, thinking but not thinking.

She typed in iperiod/, i period slash. Nothing that made sense.
Hawk finished his sandwich in three more bites and went back to work. The strawberries

disappeared just as quickly.

“The police department’s database is different, he told her over his shoulder. They’ve been

computerized since the 1970s, but on Wang computers, which they actually still use for certain
functions, even though the company that made them doesn’t even exist anymore. I can get in there and
search but the interface is so different than modern databases I don’t know how much luck I’ll have.”

He was quiet for several more minutes. Vivian lay her head back on the couch and closed her

eyes, letting her mind run freely. It was the way that she had always thought about difficult things and
it worked well for her.

In several moments he spoke again. “Well, there aren’t any missing person reports in Westwood

Harbor during that entire year that I can find that match who we are looking for.”

“What about runaways?” Vivian said idly.
“Runaways! Good thinking.” The keyboard sang out his search.
Suddenly, Hawk sucked in his breath. Vivian sat straight up and looked at him. He bolted to his

feet, sending his chair backwards.

“I found her! I’ve got a name! Christie Callahan! Vivian we did it!” He ran to Vivian and pulled

her to a standing position, grabbing both her hands and pulling her around in a little circle. To Vivian,
the whole act seemed in slow motion. She could feel the roughened callousness of his large hands
against her skin. She lost herself in it, trying to memorize every sensation. Tonight, when she thought
of him, she’d think of this moment.

“We did it! We found her!” His smile split his face practically in two.
Hawk’s exuberant display startled Vivian. She had never seen him act anything like this. She

wouldn’t call him surly, but he was always more reserved, quiet even. It turned him from a big,
brawny bear of a man to a sweet, innocent boy. She laughed and whirled around with him. When he
stopped and stared in her eyes, for just a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Her breath
caught in her throat at the thought. But the moment fled.

Instead, he dropped her hands and started talking a mile a minute, pacing back and forth in front of

her. About who Callahan was and how now that they had a name they could find and interview her
family. About how this could be the biggest break they’d ever had. About how this might be the piece
of evidence that broke everything wide open. If he could put all of this together and plug the pieces in
that connected Norman to the Senator, Norman could be convicted, the Senator could be convicted,
justice would be served, and Hawk could clear his name and they could go home.

Vivian sat back down and watched him with a smile on her face. She loved seeing him excited.

She loved being his confidante. She loved - his phone rang.

Hawk looked at it pressed the pick up button. “Craig, you aren’t going to believe this, man. I’ve

got some amazing news!”

Hawk stopped talking, his face screwed up in confusion. “Ok, you go ahead then.”
Vivian watched the excitement slip off his face to be replaced by first anger, then confusion, then

anger again. Craig was talking loud enough that she could make out a little bit of what he was saying.
Something about Hawk’s truck being searched by the DEA and a prisoner dying.

Craig stopped talking. Hawk made some notations on his notepad. “Ok, I’m going to see if I can

get a look at the results of that warrant when it’s filed. What’s your plan now?”

Hawk listened a bit more and then said, “Sounds good. Ready for my news yet?” He listened, then

went on. “We’ve got a name on Vivian and Emma’s mother. Christie Callahan. This should take
precedence I think. See if you can find her.”

Hawk explained the rest of the story to Craig and hung up, his enthusiasm gone.
He turned to Vivian. “Well, we’ve had a lot of setbacks today, but it doesn’t matter. You know

what I need? A really big white board. If we go buy one can I hang it up on one of your walls?”

“Of course.”
They took the car to the town and he filled her in on the details that Craig had shared. But she only

listened with half an ear. What she was really thinking about was that one moment when it seemed he
might lean his face down and kiss her. That moment that she wanted with all her being.

Chapter 20

When they returned, Vivian helped Hawk hang the whiteboard on the long wall of the living room, but
instead of using it he mumbled something about “checking something” and darted back to the
computer. Curious, Vivian followed.

Hawk stared at the screen and clicked away with his mouse, obviously deep in thought. Vivian sat

down and picked up her tablet to read.

“I just want to see if I can find any more instances of that I period slash. Maybe it does mean

something. Maybe the hacker marked his jobs with it.”

“Why would he do that?”
“Arrogance. Or just stupidness. It happens a lot more often than you’d think. Usually arrogance.”
Vivian shook her head. That would be a pretty stupid thing to do.
45 minutes later he pushed his chair back again. Slowly he turned to her with a huge grin on his

face for the second time that day. This one was different though. It didn’t look like a happy grin to her,
but more predatory. Like he was a lion closing in on a gazelle. It excited her and scared her at the
same time.

“I period slash is not in any of the other city databases that I can find, except for the police

incident database. And it’s in there nineteen times.”

Vivian put her tablet down and thought about this. “Does that mean-?”
Hawk cut her off. “Yes, it is almost guaranteed that this is what we are looking for. I am positive

that we are breathing down Oberlin’s neck right now.”

Hawk pushed out of the chair and strode back to the whiteboard. He wrote 1983 in the upper left

hand corner and, beneath it, Christie Callahan - died in childbirth, and beneath that, Senator
Oberlin’s children.

He looked at Vivian. “Now we fill in all the deleted information we can find, and see how it fits

together.”

Hawk worked intently for the rest of the afternoon. Vivian made them lasagna and brought it to

him. He shoved fork-fulls in his mouth while still clicking and typing with the other hand. With each
date and deleted investigation or incident he put another piece of Senator Oberlin and Norman
Foster’s last 5 years of mayhem together. Every time he put a piece of information up he starred it
with either a red star or a blue star. Red meant they already had information on this and he needed to
pull their files. Blue meant he’d never heard of it or connected it with Foster or Oberlin before and
Craig needed to investigate.

When he had all nineteen instances on the board, he turned back to his computer. “Now, to see if

we can put a face to this hacker.” He typed i./ into a text bar and the screen filled with characters. To
Vivian, it looked like some sort of a high-speed search program.

After a few moments the searching stopped. “Nothing,” Hawk said.
“What are you hoping to find?”
“I’m searching the Internet and 826 public databases, looking for iperiodslash. If this is something

this hacker uses in public, maybe we can put a username or a picture to the phrase. And then we can
find him. Maybe some variation will work.”

He typed in i period /, and then i period slash with no results.
Vivian spoke up. “What about eye. E-y-e. Or dot. D-o-t.”
Hawk shot her a smile that made Vivian’s insides quiver. “Good thinking. You should have been

a detective,” he told her.

“Science is about solving puzzles too. In fact we work a lot like this.” She sounded a little

breathless to herself. Spending all day near him was taking its toll on her. She felt like she was

holding herself back from her true feelings constantly. She couldn’t kiss him, sit on his lap, tell him
how gorgeous he was, or run her fingers through his hair. She couldn’t bite his lower lip or his ear ...
or his chest muscles.

Exhaustion piled high on Vivian’s shoulders suddenly. She needed to take a little break from

being in his presence.

“I’m going to go lay down for a few minutes. I don’t think I slept well last night.” He shot her a

concerned look as she stood up.

“Are you OK?”
“Yep, fine, I just need a little rest.” Vivian practically ran down the hallway to her room. She

didn’t lock the door this time, but did close it. She lay on the bed and let her mind run back over the
day. Hawk’s manly smell, the feel of his hands when he touched her, the warmth in his eyes when he
smiled at her. Vivian felt her entire body grow warm, and between her legs began to throb. Vivian
shifted positions, trying to deny it. But it wouldn’t go away. Her mind filled with images of Hawk and
her body responded. Her body wanted nothing more than to run down the hall and jump on Hawk and
insist he take her. But her mind overrode her body. She could insist all she wanted, but that didn’t
mean he would want the same thing.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaah, Vivian screamed inside her head and writhed on the bed in frustration. She

couldn’t believe how much this man turned her on, how ready her body was for him, even though he
obviously didn’t want her back that way. She looked at the lock on the door, her mind working. She
contemplated locking it and taking care of herself. She didn’t have any tools, but she had her hand. It
was better that way anyway, she could be completely silent. She was afraid if she didn’t she wouldn’t
be able to be around him for the rest of the evening without jumping on him. Her cheeks flamed red
and hot at the thought of masturbating with Hawk 15 feet away. Her mind told her, Don’t lock the
door, maybe he’ll walk in on you, and join you. An erotic image flashed through her mind. Hawk,
bare-chested, jeans unbuttoned, eyes fiery, walking toward her with that predatory grin on his lips.
Vivian whimpered and her hands went to the button of her jeans.

Outside her door, a loud clattering noise rang though the small house. Hawk roared her name.

“Vivian!”

Vivian leaped out of bed, her heart hammering, her cheeks on fire. She smoothed her hair and

jerked the door open, wondering if the house was burning down. Hawk, running her way, skidded into
her, and grabbed her upper arms to keep her from falling. She could taste his excitement. Their bodies
were so close she could feel the heat coming off of him.

“You did it again Vivian! I found him! Eyedotslash, all spelled out. I even found a website that

might be his. I can have Craig serve a warrant to the host and we can get an address for him!”

Vivian gaped at him. It all seemed to good to be true. But she couldn’t hardly think about it

because he was so close, and touching her. She stared into his eyes. His smile faltered as he stared
back. She saw his eyes go to her lips. She leaned in just a little bit and lowered her lashes, her body
betraying what her mind said to do. Hawk’s head came forward slowly and his lips met hers. A shock
of sensation shot through her body, whipsawing her hips forward. The throbbing between her legs
intensified. She whimpered again into his mouth and leaned into his body, trying to press every inch
of herself against him. She wondered for a second if this was a dream. But it couldn’t be. She
dreamed of him every night and it was never this good. This solid. This real.

Hawk’s mouth touched hers gently at first, the warm, wet sensation thrilling her. His tongue slid

into her mouth and when she met it with her own, every nerve in her body cried out for more. She
snaked her arms around his waist and pressed her body to his with more force, unashamedly grinding

her pelvis against his. His skin practically seared her through their clothes. She sought the heat,
wanting to be consumed in it.

He pulled back and looked in her eyes. She whimpered again and tried to catch his escaping lips

with her own, her entire being crying out for more. He took her face in his hands gently, and brought
his lips to hers again, with more intensity. Greedily, she welcomed him.

Hips pressed against his, she felt his hard length growing and pressing against her. She dropped a

hand down to his butt, rock hard in his jeans. The other hand she slipped forward and grasped his
cock through his pants. He moaned slightly into her mouth, the sound spurring her on. She fumbled for
the button on his jeans.

Suddenly he stopped. He pulled his head back and grasped her by the upper arms, pushing her

body away from his. “Vivian.” His voice sounded strangled and gruff. And commanding. He was
telling her no.

He turned around and stormed out of the house through the front door, leaving Vivian wilted and

confused behind him.

Chapter 21

Hawk pushed out the door and strode into the yard, the evening damp cooling his skin. What had he
done? He had kissed Vivian? What was he thinking?

A little voice pushed through his consciousness, She kissed you back, a lot. He thought for a

second. She did kiss him back, hard. The thought made his still-standing erection pulse. And there
was that. She had done a lot more than kiss him - did she want him?

Suddenly understanding coursed through him. She did want him. He remembered glances and

looks and kind words, and in the last few days, soft touches on his arm or back when she brought him
a plate of food. He shook his head and laughed at himself. God he was an idiot. The stupidest kind of
idiot. So blinded by his own past and his own hangups and the fear of his own feelings that he had
completely missed that she had feelings too.

He wondered at it all for a second. How was it that he had been a complete asshole to her for so

long and she still felt positively towards him? Why would a woman like her, gorgeous, sweet,
sophisticated yet down-to-earth, and whip-smart be interested in him? Could it be just a physical
thing? He guessed it could be, but that didn’t seem very likely. Vivian didn’t seem like that type of
woman to him.

Gravel crunched under his feet as he quickly walked in circles under the wide canopy of

evergreens surrounding the yard, trying to work through his thoughts.

It’s time to come clean, he thought. Do you want Vivian? Do you like Vivian? Are you prepared

for the complications of going back in there and following through on whatever almost happened
between you two? Are you prepared for a relationship again, if it leads to that? Hawk ground his
hands into fists, determined not to run from the questions.

Do you want Vivian? He thought back to the feel of her lips on his and knew he wanted her. More

than that. He desired her. He desired her with ever cell in his body.

Did he like her? That was a little more difficult. It wasn’t just a matter of feeling what his body

wanted. It required a level of openness with himself that he hadn’t had for years. Since Gianna had -
done what she did. Just the thought of that hurt him. And not because of Gianna, not anymore. But the
rest of it. Even after 11 years, it still hurt him badly to think about it. But thinking of it was just a
distraction wasn’t it? Because Gianna had nothing to do with Vivian. He had felt like his life had
ended the day the private investigator had come back with the news of her incredible dishonesty, but
it hadn’t. Here he was, more than a decade later, still alive. And for the first time in that long, he was
contemplating what a woman meant to him. So contemplate it, he growled inside his head. Yes, he
did like Vivian. A lot. In fact, he couldn’t think of anything that he didn’t like about her right now.

Was he prepared for the complications of just sex if that’s all it turned out to be? No. He

wasn’t. Not with her. 10 years ago he would have said hell yeah, why not, but he’d learned a thing or
two in the last decade. For one, he’d learned just sex was almost never worth it with people in your
social circle. No matter how much he wanted her. At least that’s what he told himself, out here, in the
cool night air, with no warm, soft Vivian within his reach.

Was he prepared for a relationship again? Nothing came to his mind. He asked the question

again, expecting protest. Am I prepared to be in a relationship, with a woman? But the protest didn’t
materialize. He didn’t feel fear. His mind wasn’t rebelling. In fact, did he feel a faint sense of
excitement? A sense of being alive?

Hawk shook his head. Man he was difficult sometimes. He glanced back towards the cabin,

wondering if Vivian was packing again. He’d better get in there quickly. He screwed up his courage.
Now for the harder part.

He strode quickly toward the house, scanning the room once he got inside. Vivian was sitting on

the couch with her tablet. She didn’t look up when he came in.

He walked to the table and sat down, slightly out of her view. This might be easier if she wasn’t

looking at him. He studied her. The curve of her neck. The way her hair cascaded over her shoulder.
He felt his wilting erection jerk slightly again, but told it to calm down.

“Vivian, please accept my apology again. I... Your... Our kiss sparked some old feelings in me

that I had to work out before we went any farther.”

“Oh, and did you?” Her voice was cool, her eyes still on her tablet.
“I did. I think. I tried anyway. It’s not so easy when you’ve been avoiding your feelings for over a

decade like I have.”

She looked at him now, concern in her eyes, but didn’t say anything.
“I think you deserve to know why I’ve been such an ass to you in the past, and why I pulled away

from you today.”

She nodded slightly.
He sighed. “Do you mind if I get a beer out of the fridge? This might take a while.”
She didn’t say anything. He took that as a yes and grabbed himself a beer, bringing her one too, in

case. If she didn’t want it, he’d get to it soon enough. She took it though. He took a long swallow of
his and jumped in with both feet.

“Did you know I haven’t been in a relationship for 11 years?”
He steeled himself for her to say “I’m not looking for a relationship, I just want to fuck,” or

something like that. He had no idea if she would say something like that, ever, but if she did, it was
all over for him. The thought of those words coming out of her refined mouth made him crazy. He
wouldn’t be able to help himself, consequences be damned. From some women those words would
be a turn-off. A sure sign that they jumped into bed with every dog that sniffed ‘round their door.
From someone like Vivian though, words like that would mean something special was about to
happen. Something a man just didn’t turn down because it might complicate things.

She didn’t say it though, she only blinked and stared at him with those big, gorgeous eyes.
“11 years is a long time,” She finally said, spurring him to go on.
“Yeah.” Hawk took another long swallow and rubbed his face. He needed a shave.
“There was a woman,” he started. “She hurt me pretty badly,” he managed to say before his throat

squeezed shut.

He looked up at her, looking for help to go on.
“Do I remind you of her?” Vivian asked softly, encouragingly.
He smiled a small smile, relieved. “You did. You look a bit like her, your hair, your body type.

There’s something in the way you carry yourself that’s a bit like her. But the more I get to know you,
the more I realize you aren’t anything like her.” He had to stop again. He took a few swallows of
beer, trying to loosen his throat muscles.

Vivian smiled back. “Tell me about her. Tell me what she did that hurt you so badly.”
Hawk tried. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He’d never told anyone this. He’d never

talked about it after he left home for good in 2003. His parents knew the full story, he thought, but not
because he’d told them. His heart hurt. Hurt so bad he thought he was having some sort of an attack.
The thought of telling Vivian terrified him. But the thought of not telling her terrified him more. He
suddenly became afraid that if he didn’t get this out now, he’d live like he’d been living for the last
11 years for the rest of his life. Half-dead. Scared to love. Unable to move on.

“She left me,” he said quietly, startling himself. He took a deep breath and pushed forward. “But

that wasn’t the worst of it.”

Now that he had started, the words tumbled out like he couldn’t tell it fast enough. He told about

knowing Gianna all through high school but not really liking her or getting to know her then. When he
came home from the Army they met one night at a mutual friends house and started dating. He liked
her a lot. They dated for almost a year and there were occasional talks about marriage but they both
felt they were too young for marriage. They were both in school, Hawk trying to finish his degree so
he could become an FBI agent, and Gianna was studying History. She didn’t have any specific goal in
mind. She had a trust fund that she had gained access to the year before so she was just taking it easy.
They were close. And then her birth control had failed and as luck would have it, she had gotten
pregnant. When she told Hawk that she had missed her period, he was scared. But when she took the
test and confirmed that yes, she had a baby growing inside her - his baby, he had become jubilant. A
baby. He was going to be a father. Every day he became more and more excited. His mother’s sister
had young grandkids that she had brought by the house a few times and he loved playing with them.
One of his buddies from high school had just had a baby too, and whenever he held that beautiful baby
girl with the head full of jet black hair and her dark, watchful eyes he felt peaceful, different. Like she
was fresh from Heaven and had brought a bit of magic with her.

Gianna had seemed excited too, at first. They had told all their friends and their parents. Hawk

had bought the most expensive cigars he could find and popped one into his dad’s mouth, saying,
“Have a cigar, grandpa.” They had started to talk and plan. Should they get married before the baby
was born? Should they buy a house? Maybe they should wait until he got into the FBI so he knew
where he was going to be stationed. Mostly they just lived. Hawk took Gianna to all of her doctor’s
appointments, missing school to do so. But when he first heard the baby's heartbeat he knew he or she
was the most important thing in the world. He would never miss any of his or her events.

When Gianna hit 20 weeks, and was starting to get a belly, they had gone for her first ultrasound.

They discovered they were having a boy. A boy! All Hawk could think of was names. He found
himself considering every boy name he heard, weighing it with his last name, deciding if it was good
enough for his son. Over the next week, Gianna seemed different. Distant. She never wanted to talk
about their future or about names anymore. They hadn’t come to any true decisions yet and hadn’t
even bought anything for the baby. Hawk didn’t want to push her, but he did mention they were
halfway there and should figure some stuff out.

And then Gianna had disappeared. Hawk went to her house and she wasn’t there. He went to her

parent’s house and they wouldn’t talk to him. The butler told him that Miss Gianna had taken a
vacation. His face and voice while he was saying it scared Hawk badly. He called her cell phone for
days, but eventually it was turned off. He called her parents for days too. Finally, he caught Gianna’s
mother. “Please, Ariella, just tell me where she is.” He felt like he was in a movie, or a soap opera.
How in the world could she just take off and leave with his baby and not say anything? Gianna’s
mother hung up the phone on him.

Finally, he got a letter from her. She didn’t want to see him ever again. She had moved and didn’t

want to hear from him. She had lost the baby and she didn’t know how to tell him. She was sorry.

Hawk had read the letter countless times. She had lost the baby? Their baby? Did that mean the

baby was dead? That she had had a miscarriage? At 22 weeks pregnant? He was on complete
autopilot for a few days. The letter had come from Virginia, all the way on the other side of the
country. He seriously considered flying out there to find her. But he knew if he did he wouldn’t
graduate on time. He weighed this very carefully. He wrote back and said please Gianna, please call
me. She didn’t.

He kept going to school, and did the best he could under the circumstances. Which wasn’t very

well. Finally, he hired a private detective and gave him the P.O. Box from the letter. The private
detective had found her in three days. The first thing he reported was that no, she wasn’t pregnant.
Hawk knew the next thing he was going to ask for was a violation of Gianna’s privacy, but he didn’t
care. He asked the private detective if there was any way he could find out what made Gianna lose
the baby. The private detective thought for a moment and said probably, but it will cost you another
$2500. Hawk said the check is in the mail.

Here, Hawk stopped talking and looked at Vivian. This was the hard part to share. This was the

part that he could barely share with himself. He thought back to that day when the detective called him
the final time. He’d been pretending to study. But really what he was doing was waiting for his phone
to ring. He’d been waiting for a week. He was sitting in a chair with his books open in front of him,
and his phone face up on the desk within reach. He’d read the same sentence over and over again but
couldn’t work out what it meant.

Vivian stood up, startling Hawk back to reality. He must have been sitting there, not speaking for

a while. She walked around the couch to him, entwined her fingers with his, and pulled him into a
standing position. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

“You don’t have to say the rest. I can guess what happened,” she told him.
Hawk stayed silent for a beat and tried to let that sink in. Could she really guess what happened?

Could she really see the horrible reality?

“I do have to say what happened. Or I should try anyway. I want to.”
“Ok.” She stepped back one step and looked into his eyes, but didn’t drop his hand. She waited

patiently.

“She had an abortion.”
Vivian pressed her lips together, but didn’t seem surprised. “What a dreadful betrayal.”
Hawk couldn’t breathe suddenly. A betrayal. That’s part of what it had been for sure. The feeling

of not being able to breathe was very similar to the feeling he’d had when he’d finally gotten the news
from the private detective. He’d lost it, yelling and screaming in the phone. She’d had an abortion at
22 or 23 weeks? Who did that? That was almost 5 months pregnant for God’s sake. That hadn’t
been a blob, a fish-like thing, or a bundle of cells, that had been his son in there! And she’d killed
it? And some doctor had let her do it? If she didn’t want the baby, she could have had it and given
it to him! She didn’t have to kill it.

Hawk had hung up the phone, knowing the private dick didn’t have any more answers for him.

He’d lain on the floor in his room for days, trying not to think. He probably slept a little. He drank
some water. He didn’t eat. Some part of him had known though. Some part of him had known as soon
as he got the letter that she’d had an abortion. He couldn’t fathom why. And now he didn’t want to
know. He didn’t ever want to see Gianna again. He was scared of what he would do if he did. He
finally managed to pull himself off the floor and formulated a plan. He went to his teachers and told
them all he’d had a death in the family and needed to leave school early. He certainly looked the part,
and since they were only a month out from the end of the year and Hawk had been an excellent
student, they all agreed to let him test out early. He took his tests, then packed up and left home and
never went back.

Hawk let out his breath through pursed lips and looked down at Vivian. A single tear slid down

her right cheek. He touched it with his thumb.

She grasped his hand to her cheek and spoke. “That must have torn you apart.”
He dropped his head and looked at the ground, pushing his other hand into his eyes, holding

himself together. He didn’t feel any different or better.

Vivian put her hands in his hair and pulled him close to her. “Hawk?” Her voice was tender,

sweet, and full of concern.

He didn’t reply. His throat was locked up.
“Hawk, I hope you know I would never think any less of you if you cried. If you just got it all

out.”

He shook a little, but didn’t cry.

Chapter 22

Vivian had known as soon as she had seen Hawk pacing in the driveway that he had some deep
personal issues to work through. The knowledge made what seemed like his rejection of her hurt a
little less. But when he came in and opened up, laid it out for her? That erased every time he’d ever
been distant, cold, and brusque with her. Every time he’d left her wondering or pained. Now, with his
head in her hands, her mind opened with understanding and her heart broke with his anguish.

Vivian ran her fingers through Hawk’s short dark hair, thrilling at the way his military haircut felt

under her fingers. She tried to give him comfort with her touches, hoping he could receive it. No
wonder he was so closed up, closed off. She could tell that a part of him had walled off that
experience and never examined it again. And there it sat in his mind and body, subtly affecting his
every word, his every experience. Grieving is always hard, but it’s the hardest when you don’t do it.
She didn’t think Hawk had.

He was an incredibly sensitive man, she thought. Most people probably had no idea how sensitive

though, because when you looked at him, all you saw was strength, and brawn. Plus, he must have
developed vast coping mechanisms over his lifetime, so much so that he probably didn’t even know
how sensitive he was. Sensitive men had to wall off that part of themselves in this day and age. But
she could see it in his eyes, and in his heart, hear it in his voice and in his pain. Her mind, body and
soul opened up to him while he was not-crying her arms. She knew at once that she loved him, and
she didn’t care how it all turned out. All that mattered was that she had this opportunity to try to make
things better for him, right now, just a little bit. No matter how things turned out in the end, and no
matter how he felt or didn’t feel about her, she was determined to be here for him now.

His body stilled under her touches. His shoulders relaxed and his breathing slowed. Good, she

thought as she pet him like a cat.

Finally he stood straight up, new steel and resolve in his eyes. And something else. A little bit of

healing? A piece of himself he had lost? Something. He gave her a soft smile. “About that kiss. I think
maybe we did it for the wrong reasons.”

Vivian let that sink in, totally bypassing the flashing, insecure thought that said he doesn’t want

me! Of course he wanted her. He had kissed her like he wanted her as much as she wanted him. He
was just scared, nervous, not wanting to do the wrong thing.

She smiled a coy smile up at him and teased, “oh, what are the right reasons to kiss?”
His mouth dropped in a perfect O of surprise and she almost laughed at him. He thought she was

just going to say “OK” and retreat to her room to contemplate his wisdom. Well she wasn’t. She had
pledged, in her own mind, to be there for him, no matter what he needed. And right now she couldn’t
think of anything he needed more than some hot and rough sex with a woman who loved him. Or
maybe some slow and sweet sex. She didn’t care how it happened. She liked both ways. And after,
when this heat between them was burned off, maybe she could get him to talk a little more. Open up a
little more. Heal a little more.

“Can you think of any good reasons to kiss?” she asked him again. “Because I sure do want to kiss

you again.” She felt a blush creep up her throat to her hairline. She had never talked like this to a man
before; generally she was the quiet, reserved type. But she kept her eyes glued to his and told him
with every cell in her body that she wanted him and she would be good for him. Now he just need to
make his choice.

He stammered. “Well, I uh, I just don’t think casual sex between friends is a good idea.”
Vivian imagined she could feel the heat coming off his body even from a few feet away, like they

were standing right now. She felt the fire between her legs return and burn the rest of her. Suddenly
she knew this was happening. There would be no backing out or backing down. Hawk was hers for

the night, it was just a matter of time.

“Maybe you should ask me out on a date then.” Vivian couldn’t believe the confident words out of

her mouth. It was like the filter between her brain and her mouth was gone, maybe incinerated, from
her heat or from Hawk’s, and now she immediately said everything she was thinking.

She reconsidered. “Never mind that. It’s not 1960 anymore. I don’t need a Sadie Hawkins dance

to ask a man out. Hawk, would you go out on a date with me? I would really like to get to know you
better.”

Understanding finally clicked into Hawk’s eyes. And with it came raw passion. His eyes swept

down her body quickly, then back up to her face. Vivian nodded. Now he’s getting it. He licked his
lips. “Yes,” he said, his voice deep and quiet.

“There, now we’re dating,” she answered back, her own voice suddenly husky sounding to her

ears. She reached out and grasped his hand, threading her fingers through his and pulling him slightly
towards her.

“I guess we are.” He moved in swiftly and reclaimed the position he’d fled from in the hall. He

lowered his mouth to hers and lingered, half an inch away. She could feel his breath on her face. It
smelled slightly of beer. “Thank you for listening to me,” he said, voice still low and deep. He snaked
his tongue out and licked the union of her lips.

“Ahhhhh,” she sighed, as the ripples of sensation from his intentional contact slipped down her

spine. In that instant, Hawk took charge, and Vivian welcomed it. She knew he would steer her right
where she wanted so much to be.

Slowly, he closed the half inch gap to her mouth and kissed her like he had all the time in the

world, their tongues meeting gently. His hands skimmed her sides and up to her breasts. She drew in a
breath as his thumbs slid over both her nipples simultaneously, the raw friction delicious and
maddening at the same time. She wanted her shirt off and his skin against her skin. She wanted to be
in the bedroom, away from all these windows.

As if reading her mind, he slid an arm behind her and picked her up suddenly, his lips never

leaving hers. She squeaked into his mouth at being so easily picked up, as if she weighed nothing, and
then relaxed into his hold. He took three steps around the table and into the hallway, turning sideways
so as not to bang her head.

Beside her bed, he gently put her down on her feet. He broke contact with her lips and looked at

her, as if to say, Are you sure you want this? She was more than sure, so she took the opportunity to
rid herself of her bothersome blouse. He looked down at her breasts, still covered by her white, lace
bra and smiled. Slowly, he moved a hand to one and ran his thumb over the nipple again. She arched
her back, wanting more. Wanting both hands. His mouth. Wanting everything he had to give.

He was skillful; swiftly her bra ended up on the floor and she got all of her wishes. Vivian pulled

at his ears and ran her fingernails down his neck, then pulled at his shirt. In a flash, it was gone too.

Vivian’s eyes saucered. His bare chest was a work of art. Sculpted muscles and just so big. She

ran her hands down the front of him and felt each individual ab muscle with her fingers. “Oh Mr.
Kinkaid, do you work out?” she said, in a mock coquette voice.

He chuckled lightly and pulled her close. “Yes Miss Dashell, I do. My work is demanding, you

know.”

He lowered his lips to hers again, cutting off any reply, then bent her backwards over the bed with

his body, slowing their fall with an outstretched arm.

Vivian’s shoes were kicked off long before, but now Hawk kicked his off and Vivian heard them

thump to the carpet. She waited for him to come close, her eyes gazing at him hungrily. She ran her

nails lightly down his left arm, marveling at the solidity of the muscles underneath.

Again he kissed her, greedily, his stubble deliciously scraping her chin and cheeks. “You are so

beautiful,” he said an instant before his mouth closed on her nipple. His words enflamed her passion
and spurred her to new heights of desire. She arched her back and pulled him down onto her. He
alternated between laving her breasts and kissing her mouth, seemingly unable to choose between just
one, his breathing coming rough and fast.

Vivian reached her hands down, unable to wait any longer, wanting to feel if he was as big as he

had felt when she’d had the one opportunity to touch him before. She popped his jeans open and slid
one hand inside, dividing her attention between what he was doing to her, and what she wanted to do
to him.

Her fingertips grazed him and he jumped just a little. Her hands explored him and he groaned into

her mouth. “Take your pants off,” she whispered. They hit the floor in 2 seconds.

She’d been imagining his body for weeks, but she hadn’t come close to it’s actual magnificence.

He was tan and strong, and his erection stood out from his body in a bold exclamation, hard as steel
and twice as wide as she’d imagined. She took ahold of it with both hands. She had no plans, but she
did have a goal: for the two of them to become one.

He moaned. “Easy Miss Dashell, it’s been a long time for me, if you don’t want this over before

it’s begun, be easy.”

She smiled, glad at the thought that it had been a long time for him. He was hers, truly hers.
“Ok, I’ll be easy.” She lightened her touch, but didn’t let go. His intensity doubled under her

touch, his tongue reaching farther and faster into her mouth, his thumbs expertly teasing her breasts
into full submission. This ratcheted up her desire even more. Between her legs throbbed and called.
She shed her pants and underwear, practically ripping them off and sailing them across the room.

Now he pinched one nipple, a little hard, just as hard as she liked it and she groaned, the feeling

spearing all the way to her womb, almost setting her over the edge. She strained into his hand and
rolled her head from side to side. He pinched the other, then palmed her with more vigor than he had
been. She loved it, pulling him on top of her and keening her approval.

“Mmmmm, I think Miss Dashell likes it a little bit rough?” he breathed into her mouth.
“Just a little. Don’t hurt me,” she breathed back.
He nuzzled down her cheek to her neck. “I. Will. Never. Hurt. You,” he said between kisses.
Her heart was glad to hear it. This was a man who could hurt her in a heartbeat, but who she knew

never would.

She tried to pull him on top of her, wanting nothing more than to have him inside of her.
“Vivian,” he stopped and looked at her. “I was serious about it being a long time. I don’t even

have any condoms. Do you?” His voice was hopeful.

She thought for a second then shook her head, almost frantically. “Noooo,” she wailed.
He frowned, thinking. “No matter,” he said. “We’ll get some in the morning. For now, we can just

play.” He lowered his head to her breasts and played. Then he trailed kisses down her stomach, then
her right thigh. He urged her legs apart and she gasped, not believing this was happening. She felt his
fingers gently touch her. She lifted her head to look at him, and he locked eyes with her at the same
time as he licked her most intimate and sensitive spot with the flat of his tongue. Her eyes widened
and she lost control, flopping her head to the bed. She lost herself completely, becoming only
sensation. In under a minute, the fire that had been teasing her all night exploded outward from her
core and pulsed throughout her body. She screamed, not able to help herself. When the fire finally
stopped pulsing and she was able to open her eyes, he was there, looking at her thoughtfully and

smelling like sex.

He smiled. “That was quick.”
She drew her eyebrows together, in a teasing scold. “Well you’ve been teasing me for weeks.”
His mouth dropped open in protest and she laughed. “Is that what you call playing?”
“Yep. Fun, huh?”
“Oh yes, and now it’s my turn to play.”
She slid down the bed and climbed on top of his legs, intending to return the favor. He held one

arm. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know, I want to,” and with that she closed her mouth over the head of his cock. His hand fell off

her arm and he laid back in the bed, sucking in a deep breath.

This wasn’t always her favorite thing to do, but with Hawk, it seemed like exactly the thing she

most wanted to do in the world. She loved the slightly salty taste of him and the feel of pure man in
her hands and mouth. He gasped and shuddered underneath her and came as quickly as she did.

As soon as he went limp in the bed, a small smile on his face, she ran off to the small bathroom to

her right and cleaned up quickly. His eyes were still closed when she climbed back into bed. She
peered into his face and told him “That was quick,” a smile in her voice.

He laughed, eyes still closed. “Yeah, well, you’ve been teasing me for weeks too.”
She smiled and wrestled the covers out from underneath them, then nestled in the crook in his arm,

feeling good, sated, happy.

He caressed her hair. She pressed against his warmth and watched the stars twinkle in the sky, out

the small window.

She dozed with a feeling of lightness in her heart, then woke abruptly to a soft noise from Hawk.

She lifted her head to look at him. He was sleeping, his face contorted as if in pain, or grief. As she
watched a tear slid down his cheek. She kissed it away, not having to wonder what he was dreaming
about.

His expression smoothed out and she settled back down to the pillow of his chest.

Chapter 23

Craig nuzzled Emma’s neck, then pulled out her ponytail with his fingers and spread her hair around
his face. He loved the smell of it.

“Don’t go. Stay here with me all day. We could get you out of that uniform and into something soft

and see-through,” he told her, his voice muffled by her skin.

“Mmmmm, don’t tempt me. I can’t miss any more work.” She threw her head back and let him kiss

her neck a dozen more times, then tore herself away from him, slipping quickly into the driver’s seat
of her car and plucking her hair tie out of his fingers through the open window.

He closed her door and kissed her one more time. “Please be careful,” he told her. “Please don’t

let your guard down. I know we haven’t heard anything about Norman in over a week now, but that
doesn’t mean he’s not out there, waiting for the perfect moment.”

“Don’t worry about me. I won’t let my guard down. She patted her side, where the gun she would

wear on the way to work and then store in a firearms locker until she got off of work, was in a
holster. “Me ‘n Betsy’ll keep our eyes peeled.”

He snorted laughter, in spite of his attempts to stay serious. “You named your gun Betsy?”
“Sure, why not? What’s your gun’s name? Lemme guess. Brock?”
Craig shook his head at Emma’s silliness. “My gun doesn’t have a name.”
“Ok, I’ll think of a good one for you. Bye!” She reversed out of the driveway and sped off down

the road in the direction of the ambulance bay.

Craig watched her go, saying a little prayer that she would be safe. He knew the gun would only

help Emma in certain situations. If Norman plowed into her on the street with his car, that gun
wouldn’t help her at all.

God he felt helpless. And the worst part was he wasn’t even working on finding Norman today.

His department was spread so thin by Hawk having to disappear that it seemed like nothing was
getting done. He’d served the search warrants on all the RV and storage places in town but Norman
had never rented any of them. Now he had to wait a day for the warrants to come back signed so he
could contact companies outside of Westwood Harbor. So far, neither the state police nor the prison
investigators had found one clue regarding Norman’s whereabouts. They had found a dozen ways that
he could have made it off the grounds before being discovered though, like in the back of the truck that
delivered meals and food for the day. He could have sneaked on while it sat in the loading bay and
the driver filled out paperwork at the desk. The prison hospital had a lot of policy changes to make,
thanks to Norman. Craig just hoped Emma wouldn’t have to pay the price of those changes being too
late to keep Norman incarcerated.

Down the road, Emma’s car took a turn and disappeared from view. Craig sighed, said one more

prayer and pulled his own keys out of his pocket. Even though he wouldn’t be tracking down Norman
today, he was excited about what he would be doing. He’d found an address on the hacker Hawk and
Vivian had uncovered, and he was going to go talk to the guy.

Craig turned the opposite way on the street as Emma had and headed to the courthouse. It was a

quick drive and didn’t give him much time to think about the day. First he stopped in to the Federal
judge’s office. The receptionist was expecting him and handed him an envelope containing his signed
warrant. Yes, he thought and scooted down the hall to the FBI’s official office.

He opened the door and found Dennis sitting behind a desk.
“Hey Dennis! I sure am glad you are still in town. I don’t know who would be going with me if

you weren’t,” Craig told him.

“Yeah? Well, I’m glad to help, but not glad I’m still here. This assignment is proving a bitch to

close.” Dennis shrugged his broad shoulders and rolled his head in a wide circle, trying to ease the

kinks in his neck. Craig noted his hair was a touch too long and his eyes bloodshot, like he’d been too
busy to sleep or take care of himself.

“Sorry man, maybe I can help you if you are still here when we find Foster.”
“We? You still working with Hawk?” Dennis’s eyebrows rose.
“What?” Craig wasn’t sure what Dennis had heard.
“Word around the office is that Hawk is about to get busted by the DEA.”
“You believe that shit?” Craig growled, his body becoming rigid. Crap. He couldn’t serve a

warrant by himself, but he wasn’t going to serve it with someone who believed Hawk was a smuggler
either.

Dennis dropped his eyes. “Well, it did seem out of character for him.”
Relief coursed through Craig. “Damn right it’s out of character. Someone’s planting evidence and

creating the investigation out of thin air.”

Dennis’ face showed a stunned interest. “Who?”
A cynical smile rose on Craig’s lips. “If I knew that, it would be over already. Come on, we’ve

got to get going.”

On the way to the basement apartment, Craig filled Dennis in.
“His name is Lionel Vincent Erwin, he’s 22 years old, and apparently some sort of a

homeschooled computer prodigy, but not able to hold down a job. He was courted by Amazon and
Microsoft, but he won’t leave home to go to work.”

Dennis whistled. “22 huh? That’s awfully young to be hacking into government systems.”
Craig nodded.
“And what are we looking for?”
“We want to know what kind of jobs he did for Norman Foster. We’ll be taking his main

computer, regardless, but if he cooperates fully, we won’t be arresting him. He will, however, be
offered protection and relocation since Foster is loose. I’m not sure if he’ll take it, but even if he
doesn’t I’ll have to keep an eye on him. I hope he does, it will just be easier that way. I go back and
forth about the arresting though. I feel like he’s still young enough that maybe he could be scared
straight.”

Dennis nodded as they pulled up to the house. “Who lives up top?”
“2 guesses.”
Dennis looked at him, eyebrows skyhigh. “Not his parents?”
Craig threw his head back and laughed. “Yep. Just his mom. Dad hadn’t been in the picture for

years. But he’s got his own entrance so hopefully we don’t have to deal with mom.”

Craig blocked the driveway with the big FBI truck and they got out, alert for anything.
“I’ll call PD. They were supposed to have a support car here 10 minutes ago, you check around

back for another exit. If there is one stay back there and I’ll call you. Got your phone?”

Dennis patted his hip and walked around the red, brick, partially-sunken level disappearing

around the back of the house.

Craig put in his call to the police department’s receiving desk, inquiring about his police escort.

FBI didn’t have to have local police on the scene, but they generally liked to. It just made things
easier. The Sergeant at the receiving desk was pleasant, but noncommittal. They were busy. They
were slammed. Someone could come by in 45 minutes, maybe.

Craig hung up and called Dennis’ phone. “We’re not waiting 45 minutes for the cops. You got an

exit back there?”

“Yep.”

“Ok, work on it. I’m going in the front right now.”
Craig hung up, dropped his phone in his pocket and the lanyard holding his ID and badge into his

shirt, just in case. He didn’t need to be strangled with it. He looked over the white, wooden door and
door frame leading to the basement apartment first, and then knocked. “FBI, we have a warrant for the
arrest of Lionel Erwin. Open the door,” he called loudly.

He listened and when he didn’t hear anything he counted to 20. Then he pulled his gun from his

holster and tried the knob. Locked. He pulled his weight back on his left foot and heaved one kick
with his right just below the door knob. The frame splintered with a satisfactory splitting sound. Craig
tried the door again and when it wouldn’t open he gave it another kick. It swung inward. He entered
the room, weapon held out before him, index finger on the trigger guard.

The basement opened up into one large room, dimly-lit and full of computers. It looked like all the

monitors were off, except for one. Craig only spared it a glance; he took in that the computer seemed
to be running a sequence of commands. He hoped it wasn’t deleting files. Oh well if it was. He
wouldn’t touch it until he cleared the entire apartment.

He checked all the spaces behind furniture and in the one closet. “Clear,” he yelled, not knowing

if Dennis could hear him or not. He checked the bathroom in the back and went around the corner to
find one bedroom with sliding glass door. He unlocked it for Dennis and cleared the closet. “Clear,”
he said again and went back out to the main room.

He holstered his gun and sized up the one computer that was running. Dennis came in, weapon out.

Craig nodded to the computer he was looking at and said, “We seem clear. Block both entrances
while I check this out.”

“Rear blocked already, I’ll do front.”
On the monitor was a never-ending screen of file names. Craig pressed escape on the keyboard

but got no response. He typed kill and stop but still nothing. He looked at the tower associated with
this monitor and his finger moved toward the power button. He caressed it, thinking furiously, but
didn’t press it.

When Dennis came back in Craig told him, “I think there’s a bolt-hole somewhere.”
Dennis nodded and retrieved his gun from his holster again. Craig did the same. They looked

around. Craig zeroed in on the closet. He opened the door again and ripped out all the clothes and
jackets hanging on the bar. He pulled a flashlight out of his pocket and examined the inside. “Got it,
cover me” he told Dennis, who came right over.

Craig holstered his gun and, using his penknife, pried around the piece of wood fit snuggly into the

4 foot by 3 foot hole in the back wall of the closet. It wiggled, but wouldn’t come out.

“Lionel, let go of it! We know you’re in there,” he called.
He tried again with no success.
He did his weight shift trick again and kicked the board hard with the flat of his boot. The board

bent slightly and splintered just a bit, but ended up about 2 inches farther in than it began. A strangled
cry rose from behind it.

“Lionel, just come out, Craig said quietly.
The board pulsed outwards and dropped to the floor. A too-thin boy squatted apologetically

behind it, cradling his hands to his middle.

Craig sized him up, hope and excitement flaring in his belly. This was Lionel for sure, this

version in front of him matched the version on his driver’s license picture, but he sure didn’t look old
enough to drink legally. Craig could tell though, Lionel didn’t have any fight left in him, and digital-
genius, was the key to so many things. Norman, Oberlin, and clearing Hawk’s name, if Craig could

play him just right.

“Lionel, step out here, and let’s talk.”

Chapter 24

Mid-morning sun streamed through the window, playing with the shadows in the bedroom. Vivian
woke to a strange noise somewhere. She rolled over, but Hawk was no longer in her bed.

The noise that woke her came again. Whistling. She pulled some clothes on and padded silently

down the hall finding Hawk in the kitchen. His back was to her. Bacon and eggs sizzled in a pan on
the stove. He was whistling and even dancing a little to the tune in his head.

Vivian watched him, feeling surreal. She’d never heard him whistle, never really seen him look

happy. He looked happy this morning. Lighter somehow. She peeked around the corner, feeling shy
and guilty at the same time, but wanting to place the song he was whistling before he noticed her.

“Don’t worry,” he sang.
She almost laughed. It was Don’t Worry, Be Happy. If that wasn’t out of character she didn’t

know what was. She quickly turned and ran back to the bedroom, thinking she’d go out again and
make a lot more noise this time. She did her business in the little bathroom and when she came back
out he was waiting for her just inside the door, a tray of food in his hands.

“Hi,” he grinned.
“Hi yourself,” she grinned back, relief and love filling her chest. “Oooh, am I about to get

breakfast in bed?” She flopped on the bed in anticipation.

He laughed. “Yes beautiful, I hope you like it.” He sat the tray down in front of her. Bacon, eggs,

toast, orange juice and a single red rose in a tiny vase.

“Thank you.” She took a bite of bacon and asked “Where did you get the rose?”
“I’ve already been out this morning. In fact, that’s not all I picked up.” He tossed something small

and gray onto the bed next to her.

She picked it up and started to giggle when she realized what it was. “Ahhh, no wonder you got

up and went shopping so early. You men, that’s all you can think about.” She bounced the condom
wrapper in her hand and grinned at him.

He raised one eyebrow at her as if to say, I don’t think I’m the only one thinking about it. She

giggled again, caught in her own dirty thoughts.

“I’ll be right back.” He ran out the door and returned a moment later with his own food on a plate.

He sat on the chair next to her and shoveled in three times as much food as he had brought her, still
finishing before her. She marveled at his metabolism.

Vivian was just finishing the last of her orange juice when her cell phone buzzed on the

nightstand.

“Ooooh, it’s my mom!” She slid the screen to the right and got up to pace the room and down the

hallway like she liked to do when she talked on the phone. “Hi Mom!”

Hawk looked up nervously at the mention of Mom and quickly gathered the dishes to take to the

sink. Then he disappeared into the computer room, wanting to see if there had been any news from
Craig. He had sent his notes to Craig regarding the hacker and he knew Craig had attempted to pull an
emergency warrant, wanting to move as fast as possible.

Vivian talked to her mom for an hour, and at the end of the conversation asked if she could talk to

her dad, wanting a favor. Her dad said he would do what he could and Vivian hung up after telling
them both she loved them. She sighed. Her adoptive parents were great and she knew she was lucky
to have them. She couldn’t wait for them to meet Emma. And now Hawk. Her boyfriend? Was he her
boyfriend? She shook her head, smiling to herself. She’d ask him later. Right now she could hear him
click clacking away on his computer and she didn’t want to disturb him until she was ... ready.

She took a shower, allowing her mind to wander as she relaxed under the hot spray. She hoped he

wasn’t planning on making her wait till this evening to use the condoms he had bought. Condoms,

plural. At least she hoped he had bought more than one. She laughed and bet herself $100 that he did.

When she got out of the shower she took some extra time, setting her hair to dry in soft ringlets,

lotioning her entire body in sweet smelling lotion, and putting on some light makeup. She explored her
closet, knowing she didn’t have the kind of clothes she wanted here. All she had was shorts and t-
shirts and light summer skirts. No lingerie. Nothing sexy at all, really. She settled finally on a long,
flowy, skirt she knew needed a slip, but she wore it without a slip or underwear, plus a lacy tank top
with no bra.

She stood in the mirror, looking at herself, trying to decide if she was being foolish or not. No

underwear? Really Vivian?

Really, she decided. She felt sexy and free, and she was determined not to ruin it by second-

guessing herself. She went out to read on the couch and wait for a good moment to interrupt him,
thinking about her seductive secret.

Her phone rang again. She checked the caller ID. “Hi Dad,” she said softly, pacing the hall again.

He had gotten what she wanted.

“Thank you so much Dad.” She hung up the phone, checked her hair, and went in to see Hawk.
She stood at the door, waiting for him to look up. When he did, smiling, she went to him, threw

one leg over his lap, and sat down straddling him, the long skirt flowing around her legs.

“Guess what.”
He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on her chin. “What?”
Vivian gave him a carnal smile. “I secured an invite for me and a date to the campaign fundraiser

at Senator Oberlin’s mansion tomorrow night.”

“You’re kidding! How did you do that?”
“I asked daddy to make a large contribution to his campaign to get me an invite.”
“And he did that for you? Just like that?”
“Of course, my daddy loves me. I’m his princess.” Vivian said with a fake pout she quickly

replaced with a real smile. “No really, he didn’t mind. I told him it was important.”

“Did you tell him why it was important?”
Vivian’s smile slipped. “Not yet.”
Hawk thought for a second. “So are you planning on going? I shouldn’t be seen in Westwood

Harbor but you could take Craig.”

Vivian leaned forward and pressed her body against Hawk’s, and nuzzled his ear. His stubble

was thicker this morning, sexy as hell, but rough on her cheek. “I thought Emma could go as me. No
reason for me to go at all.”

Hawk nodded. “That might work, have you asked her?”
“Not yet. She’s at work. I have a message in to her to call me. Besides, I have plans tomorrow

night.”

“You do?” Hawk raised that eyebrow again, making all the planes of his face hard and angular.

Vivian felt a sudden urge to lick his jawline like an ice cream cone.

“Yep, big plans.” She tapped the side of her face like she was thinking. “How many condoms did

you buy?”

A grin spread across Hawk’s face. “200”
Vivian threw her head back and laughed. He bought 200 condoms! “Well, I guess I know exactly

what I’ll be doing tomorrow night.”

Hawk palmed her waist and gave her an appraising look. “Yeah, that might keep us through the

week.”

She laughed again, gently grinding her hips into his lap, but being very careful with her most

delicate skin that was completely unprotected against his rough jeans. “You talk big. But do you walk
big?” she teased him, hoping to pull him away from the computer.

“I don’t know. It’s been so long, I may have forgotten how,” he breathed softly into her ear, then

began to trail kisses down her collarbone.

Vivian felt excitement flare through her, and she also felt Hawk’s excitement straining against her

through his jeans. I guess I’m going to be able to pull him away from the computer after all, she
thought, and then she gave herself to him. Mentally, she made the switch from being her own person,
to being his woman. Somehow he must have felt it, because his kisses on her chest became rougher,
like he knew she liked it. His stubble scratched her deliciously and she heard soft noises of approval
escape her throat.

His kisses trailed back up to her face and his lips caught hers, demanding, seeking. She gave him

everything she had to give, kissing him with fervor and intensity. Their tongues meeting, exploring,
learning each fold and channel.

His hands slipped down her waist to her thighs, then under her skirt, finding only bare skin. His

fingers faltered for a second at the discovery, then found their confidence and explored fully. One of
his thumbs, or a finger, she couldn’t tell what, skimmed over that bundle of precious nerves at the top
of her sex, sending sweet thrills of pleasure through her body. Her mouth went slack and she moaned
into his mouth. “Yes Hawk, oh yes. Please,” she asked, she begged. Please more, please everything,
please just keep doing what you are doing and keep being you.

“Lift up for a second hon,” he told her softly. She planted her feet on the ground and did as he

asked, her mouth exploring his again, her eyes closed, waiting for the moment when she could connect
with his core again. She heard his hand touch the table briefly, then both hands disposed of his belt
buckle and his pants quickly. His strong hands came around her waist again and pulled her back to
him. She came down to bare flesh, hot enough to burn her but cool enough to sooth the burn. She
straddled him, feeling the length of his hard, hot cock beneath her, sitting flat against him. He was
pushed back in the office chair so that he was more laying down than sitting up, which gave her this
delicious angle, but still held his head up high enough to meet her easily. She knew the chair was
strong, she just hoped it was strong enough for what was about to happen.

He must have read her thoughts because he suddenly kicked out of his pants and picked her up,

holding her under her thighs. She wrapped her legs around him so their middles stayed joined
together. “Bed or couch?” he asked in a low, throaty growl.

“Couch.” It was closer, but really it didn’t matter where they ended up, if she had her way they

would do it on every flat surface of her cozy cabin before they left. He walked her to the couch and
laid her down gently. She lost contact with him briefly and cried out as the cold air replaced the hot
pulsing skin. He dropped on top of her and pressed himself to her again. Her flesh cried out in joy at
the reunion.

He kissed her and kissed her until she felt crazy with desire. She reached a hand down and found

him, hot, hard, and ready for her. She tried to guide him to her but he told her, “Hold on hon.”

Oh yeah, condom. damn. I almost forgot. She opened her eyes and looked at him worriedly. Was

he going to have to get up and go get one? He held up his hand which had one in it, and smiled at her.
“I had one in my pocket.”

She smiled and he ripped it open, then slid it on quickly. He leaned back in to her and she felt

relief again as he pressed his body against hers once more. “Shirt,” she told him, tugging at it. He
pulled it over his head and flung it on the floor. She smiled and touched his chest, then rid herself of

her own shirt so their skin could touch. All she had left on was her long flowy skirt, which puddled
around her waist. Kneeling over her, she felt his cock nudging at her sex. His eyes locked on hers, and
she felt lost at the heat she saw in them. He reached down with one hand and touched her again,
gently, softly, like a breath, or a ghost. She felt her eyes closing with pleasure, but forced them open,
wanting to stay lost in his gaze forever.

He entered her slowly, while rubbing her gently. Soft waves of pleasure began to overtake her,

building up then receding, building up, then receding, but never receding quite as far as they did
before. He continued on so slowly, stretching her deliciously, until he could go no farther. The tension
was at a crescendo for her. Her body cried out for release. She knew they were only getting started
though, and didn’t want to give in.

“Jesus Vivian, you are so perfect,” he told her, taking her in with all his senses. His words sent

her over the edge and she came, a soft wail building in her throat with the pulsing contractions that
shook her mind free from its foundations for a few lovely moments.

He held perfectly still, spearing her, stroking her at gently as possible with his thumb, and

enjoying the feeling of her innermost muscles clamping down on him and then gently releasing.

When she was done, returned to this world, she looked at him shyly. “Sorry,” she said.
He smiled. “Sorry for what? For being perfect? For enjoying yourself? For showing me how

much I please you? Those are not things to be sorry for Vivian.”

Again, Vivian was struck by his sensitivity, his thoughtfulness. What man talks like this? None that

she had ever known. None that looked like him. God he was perfect. And with that thought, her fire
returned, like it had never left, never been released. She didn’t know how many of those she had in
her, but she bucked her hips fiercely against him, guessing at least one more.

He bent forward, meeting her resolve with his. He thrust into her, creating that perfect sensation

of fullness, too-much-ness, again and again. He bent forward and caught her nipple with his lips,
making low noises of approval in the back of his throat.

Suddenly Vivian felt ... animalistic. Dirty. Raw. Powerful. Like she wanted to bite him and make

him bleed. The primalness of this act with this man was enough to push her to the edge of her
humanity and untether what was left of her civilized nature. She fought the feeling and welcomed it at
the same time, baring her teeth at him and nipping at his shoulder. She met each thrust with her own,
feeling the tension inside her build again.

He thrust faster and harder, sweat beginning to form at his temple. Vivian watched it, fascinated,

loving him and loving his strong body with everything she had.

“Vivian. not much longer,” he forced out. “Can you come again? With me?”
She tensed her legs and pushed towards that edge, falling over it almost immediately. This one

was just as forceful as the last which caught her unaware. The wail built and discharged from her
throat again, her eyes rolling back and her whole body tensing. Hawk gave a final, mighty thrust
which made her gasp and then his head dropped too. She could feel his pulsing release inside of her,
even through the condom.

“Unnngh,” came through his gritted teeth and then he collapsed on top of her, his hot breath

moving her hair.

Vivian knew he’d have to get up and she’d lose his heat in a few short minutes, but for now, she

smiled. They’d been one for a precious time and it had been better by far than she’d ever been able to
imagine.

Chapter 25

Craig was right; Lionel didn’t have any fight left in him. In fact, Lionel seemed absurdly eager to help
them, eager to do the right thing. Craig wondered for the 5th time how exactly this polite, mild guy
had gotten mixed up with Norman Foster. Well, they’d get to that.

Once he had figured out the computer wasn’t booby trapped, and wasn’t even erasing files, but

just basically had been meant as a sort of distraction, he had sat Lionel down and gotten right to
business. It was obvious Lionel wasn’t going to give him any trouble, so he’d released Dennis back to
his mountain of closing work, turned on a camera to record everything they were doing, and had
Lionel take him step by step through every job he’d pulled for Foster.

Craig felt his excitement mount higher as more pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Lionel didn’t

know who Foster had been working for, but Lionel was a smart guy (obviously). He’d taken to
keeping an electronic journal of exactly what he had done for Foster each time, plus things Foster had
said or alluded to. When Craig asked him why he shrugged his shoulders and said “I was always
afraid I was doing something worse than just erasing a few files, like he said. I wanted to remember
everything in case I had to pay for it one day.”

Craig mulled this over. It was an awfully moral statement for someone who was hacking police

files to make. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

But he didn’t think about it long. Excitingly, he finally had positive evidence of several of Norman

Foster’s misdeeds. Foster had erased files pertaining to the disappearance of a few vehicles and
several hundred thousand dollars in cash from the impound lot and evidence locker. Those may or
may not have had anything to do with Oberlin though. What Craig was really interested in were the 14
cases where Foster had tampered with files that pertained to the repeated arrest of a thug named
Wayne Serg. Serg was a gun runner, but somehow he evaded federal prison again and again. Craig
and Hawk’s investigation of Oberlin had yielded numerous indications of money laundering and
bribery and some extortion and reasonable (they thought) ties to a few murders, but they’d always
known there was something bigger, something more that was going on and until now, they hadn’t been
able to find it.

Looking at these bits of information that had been snipped here, cut there, Craig had a pretty big

hunch that the pièce de résistance to these horrors was going to be guns. And that made his stomach
curdle, since he knew the Senator was running for president on an anti-gun platform. In fact, he was
crying from the rooftops that he would bring about the strictest gun regulations the country had ever
seen. And that under his rule, gun crime would become a thing of the past.

Of course, those in law enforcement could see that his policies would do nothing but explode the

black market for guns. Americans loved their guns, and they would have them, regulations or no
regulations, policies or no policies. Especially criminals. What the hell did a criminal care about
regulations, registrations, and policies? Not a fig, that’s what. Craig wandered idly behind Lionel,
who was digging into a secret database to restore some exact wording he had deleted 8 months ago,
and thought about what all this meant. Money. It all came down to money for Oberlin. That much was
obvious. But why would he care about the gun runner Serg? Unless? Craig thought hard and deep
about Oberlin’s policies, and how they could benefit him outside of possibly riding them to the
presidency. The dichotomy between protecting a gun runner, and pushing tougher gun laws. And then
he knew. The pieces fell in to place. He thought of Lucy, and wondered for the billionth time, exactly
what she’d seen, exactly what she’d run across that had cost her her life. He didn’t have the finer
details, but he knew Oberlin was somehow profiting off the run on illegal guns. This was Oberlin’s
big game soon to become bigger game if he managed to push through all of his policies. Everything
else was secondary.

Craig peeked over Lionel’s shoulder. He didn’t know as much as Hawk about computers, but it

seemed to him Lionel was doing exactly what he asked him to. Good. He needed to call Hawk.

He got out his throwaway phone, his only link to Hawk, and dialed. 7 rings, 8 rings, 9 rings. What

in the world was Hawk doing that he was so far from his phone? A tiny worm of worry niggled into
Craig’s chest. Hawk picked up finally at 12 rings, and he sounded out of breath.

“You ok?”
“Yeah. Sorry. Busy. What’s up?” Hawk was uncharacteristically short, even for him.
Craig relayed what he had found so far, and spelled out his theory.
Hawk livened up at once, taking the ball and running with it. “I bet you’re right. And here we’ve

been focusing on what’s been going on in town forever. When it’s all likely small fry. No wonder we
could never figure out where the money was coming from.” Hawk’s voice was taking on new
excitement. But then it fell.

“Now that we’re starting from square 1 again, we’re going to have to uncover something big, fast,

or we’ll never be able to put together a coherent, convictable case before he’s elected president,
assuming that happens.”

Craig nodded. “Yeah, and if he does get elected it’s all over for us. We’ll be fired or dead before

he finishes his inauguration speech."

“Don’t I know it, partner. I sure would like to talk to him, interview him. Knowing his character, I

think he’d fold pretty quickly. But I know that’s not going to happen any times soon. Ok, it’s time to
get serious. I’ve got some angles to look up, but I can do that from here. What are you going to do
with Erwin?”

“Lionel? Don’t worry, I’m going to take good care of him,” Craig said, and hung up.
Lionel called him over, showing Craig the latest results of what he had asked for.
“Lionel, how’d you get caught up doing Norman Foster’s dirty work, anyway?” Craig asked,

generally curious. Lionel seemed like a nice kid. A good kid. Not a criminal.

Lionel shook his head, his lips pressed painfully together, dismay painfully etched on his face.

Craig didn’t push. Not now. The kid looked like he was going to break if he asked again.

Instead, Craig looked around. The dark room was painfully devoid of anything except

technological gadgets. There was one small couch, then two long tables with laptops and computers
lining them. There were a few pictures on the wall right in front of Lionel but no other decorations.
The first picture was of what looked to be a happy family. Lionel at 15 or so, and his mother, plus a
young girl of about 7 in front of a picturesque mountain. Lionel’s sister? All had happy smiles on their
faces. Another picture of Lionel and the girl when they were a few years older, the girl 11 or 12, with
beautiful doe eyes and long brown hair. Lionel had his arm slung around her shoulders and she was
looking at him with obvious affection and maybe a little hero worship. The lowest picture, right at
eye level was a picture of just the girl, looking wasted and thin but with a sad smile on her face, in a
hospital bed.

Craig’s heart hurt a little bit. He hoped desperately that he hadn’t just found the reason Lionel was

caught up in this mess.

Craig walked over to the camera and pressed stop. He wanted to ask one more thing from Lionel

before he talked to him about putting him in protective custody, at least until Norman was caught
again. He couldn’t have the camera record this part though. Not unless he wanted to be put in jail
himself. He’d thought long and hard on this over the last few days and had decided yes, it was worth
the risk. Now he just had to see if Lionel would agree to it. He hoped so, for all their sakes.

Chapter 26

Craig paced the floor outside of their headquarters building, willing his phone to ring. He’d been on
the line all day, alternating, with the DEA deputy administrator, and Hawk’s boss, the Western
Regional Director of the FBI. He checked the time. 5:15. Emma was going to start freaking out soon.
They were supposed to be at the Senator’s mansion in an hour and a half, and he hadn’t even left work
yet. But he couldn’t leave. He was so close to getting the heat off Hawk completely.

Lionel had done great work the day before, assuring him that getting a peek into Special Agent

Donahue’s personal banking records was no problem, and even that gaining access to his DEA files
was doable. Then he’d proved it. Lionel hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary going on in his
banking files. Craig was only partially discouraged by this. He could have easily been paid off in
cash, if indeed he was the rat who had planted evidence and created files on Hawk. But Lionel had
given him another idea.

Craig shook his head. Lionel was truly a genius, and what he could do with a computer was

amazing. When Lionel figured out what Craig was looking for he wrote a program on the fly to search
all available databases for a company or trust started by Donahue or Donahue’s wife in the last month
in any state. After a few minutes of searching, his program reported that Donahue had started a
corporation in Delaware called Arsenal Incorporated and $290,000 in cash was the only asset the
company had. Craig had wanted him to see where the money came from, but Lionel hadn’t been able
to figure that out. So far. Craig and Hawk owed him one already. Craig tried to start paying up by
taking him to a safe house, with his computer, instead of just carting him off to jail for his protective
custody. An FBI safe house that Norman probably didn’t know about, and if he did, he wouldn’t be
able to get in. Craig almost liked Lionel, and when he had more time, he planned on finding out
exactly what had turned him into a criminal.

Lionel also had spent most of the night working on getting in to the DEA files. Craig had almost

called him off around 2 in the morning, but Lionel wouldn’t stop. He had asked a few questions early
on, and when Craig told him that this was part of an investigation into a dirty cop, Lionel seemed
driven.

Craig had experienced a few moments of explosive irony and guilt inside his head, using the same

hacker he was going to bust Norman Foster and Frank Oberlin with to dig into a few files illegally
himself, but he squashed them. They would get the stuff legally once they knew what they were
looking for, and if not doing it meant Hawk losing his job or going to jail, Craig knew the risk was
worth it. He wasn’t beating people up or stealing their possessions or their lives. Anyone who wasn’t
breaking the law and trying to personally screw over his best friend had nothing to fear from him.

At 4 in the morning he had called Hawk with what Lionel had found. He didn’t want to wake

Hawk at that hour, but time was of the essence. Craig was about to sneak off and grab 4 or 5 hours of
sleep and by the time he woke up he needed whatever Hawk had been able to drum up via legal
channels. Hawk was on top of it as usual and had emailed him a ton of stuff.

Craig’s phone buzzed, yanking him back to reality. Richard Carr, Western Regional Director of

the FBI. Craig said a little prayer and answered. “Hello Sir.”

“Masterson, I’ve just finished with the DEA. Kinkaid won’t have any more trouble with Donahue.

His accounts are clear. And Donahue’s going to take permanent unpaid vacation, starting yesterday.
Now you tell Kinkaid to get his ass back to work!”

“Yes sir,” Craig smiled, hoping that vacation was somewhere gray and dark and full of clanging

bars, little rooms, and bad food. When he had more time (when Oberlin and Foster were behind bars)
he would check in to see exactly what the DEA did to officers who were on the take.

The phone clicked in his ear. He grabbed his throwaway out of his pocket and called Hawk.

“’Lo?” Hawk answered, sounding relaxed and happy. Craig wondered if he already knew.
“Hey buddy, Carr says get your ass back to work. He took care of the DEA.”
Hawk didn’t reply, but Craig thought he heard Hawk whispering to Vivian with the phone

covered.

Craig tried again. “You can come home man! Come home tonight! We’ll be at the Senator’s

mansion by the time you get here but we’ll come see you when it’s over.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s great.” Hawk said into the phone, but he didn’t sound as happy as Craig

thought he would. He sounded almost, disappointed? Well maybe he’s just tired. I did wake him at 4
in the morning, Craig thought.

“Ok, see you in a few hours.” Craig hung up, happy, but exhausted. Dealing with the brass always

made him feel worn out like a used-up sponge. He climbed into his truck, wondering if tonight was
going to be fun, or a total bore. He had no idea what politicians did at parties. He bet himself that it
would be a snoozer and they’d never even get to talk to Oberlin.

Later, he would have time to think about that bet and desperately wish it had been true.

Chapter 27

Emma twirled in front of her only full-length mirror, unable to believe her transformation. She felt
like Cinderella in this incredible gown. The color was an exquisite fuchsia with a halter top and a
straight, flowing skirt under a diamond-sparkled silver belt. The gown dropped to the floor, but the
very front came up to her knees, opening in a V and revealing a lovely cream color on the inside back
of the skirt. The shoes matched the belt, also diamond-sparkled and silver. Vivian had bought it for
her and had it sent to the house. Emma took one look and knew it was too elegant for her, but when
she got it on, it took her breath away. How much had this thing cost?

Now to figure something out with her hair and makeup. She wished suddenly Vivian had sent her

a stylist too. She sent Craig a quick text - Where are you? and then watched a youtube video on how
to do an updo. She found one called Easier than it Looks Updo and gave it a go, elated when she
managed it and her hair actually looked pretty. She wished someone were around to high-five, but
Craig still wasn’t home. Good thing men didn’t take much primping. Makeup. She didn’t want to
press her luck so she just did her normal eyebrows, eyelashes, and a bit of eyeliner, plus a red
lipstick. She never did red lipstick and thought it made her look like a clown but Vivian had
specifically said she should wear red lipstick, so she did. She was more concerned about looking out
of place at this gala or whatever it was than looking like a clown right now.

She heard Craig’s truck pull in the driveway and ran out of the bathroom to meet him, holding up

her skirt so she wouldn’t fall over it. He opened the door, and saw her, his eyes going wide. Her
scolding we’re going to be late! died on her lips when she saw his face.

“What?” she said, taking a step backwards.
“Nothing. Just. You look amazing.” He stepped forward and grabbed her around the waist, pulling

her to him.

“Really? Are you sure? I don’t look like a clown?”
“You look like a princess,” he told her, bending and kissing her neck softly.
Emma shivered deliciously at his words and his kisses, relaxing into his arms.
A honk startled them both. She pushed the drapes open. “The limousine!”
“Uh oh, I guess we’re late. What am I wearing?”
“Here. Vivian rented you a tux.” Emma pushed a package into Craig’s hands and pushed him

towards the bathroom.

She ran into the bedroom to grab her only clutch and saw her gun, in it’s holster, on the bed. She

couldn’t wear it tonight, that was for sure. But she’d be with Craig so she’d be fine.

She ran out again, then stopped herself and took a deep breath. She was going to break her ankle if

she kept trying to run in these heels. A knock sounded at the door. Damn.

She forced herself to walk to the door and tried not to feel too guilty for making the limo driver

wait. A young man waited on her steps, dressed in a dark suit. He even had the limo driver hat, she
noticed, smiling inwardly. “Sorry, we’re late, we’ll be out in a second,” she told him, then closed the
door and headed to the bathroom to see if Craig needed help.

Finally in the limo, Emma relaxed against the leather seat and took another deep breath, trying to

chase away her nervousness. She knew it was useless though. There was too much to be nervous
about! She was headed to a mansion, for the first time in her life. She was going to meet her father, for
the first time in her life. And she was going to some sort of a fancy, black tie event, for the first time
in her life. She scooted closer to Craig. Boy did he look scrumptious in that tux. All of a sudden, she
couldn’t wait to get him home and get that tux off of him. She snuggled into him and her nervousness
abated a little at the thought.

“So are you going to tell Oberlin?” Craig asked her.

“I’m not sure. I guess I’ll just wait and see how it plays out. For all I know I’ll never even get a

chance to talk to him.”

Craig nodded. “That’s what I was thinking too. We have no idea what this is going to be like.”
“I should have asked Vivian.” Emma mused.
“Yeah. Too late now! Let’s just try to have fun, no matter what.”
Emma nodded, “Good idea.”
The evening darkened into twilight, and the limo wound them just outside of town into a

subdivision that Emma didn’t even know existed. Craig seemed very interested also and they both
watched out the window, admiring the large, stately homes they were passing.

“Wow,” Emma breathed, as they drove past a well-lit up, palatial home towering over a wrought-

iron fence.

Craig took her hand and ran his thumb across her palm, perhaps reminding her that money could

buy a house like this, but that didn’t mean it bought the people inside happiness.

The big car pulled into the last drive on the road, and they both craned their necks to catch a full

glimpse of their home for the evening. What Emma wanted was to get all of her ooohing and ahhhing
out before she got out of the car. She was supposed to be Vivian, and Vivian probably grew up in a
house just as gorgeous.

The driveway was circular, and lined with limousines already. The house itself was red brick,

three stories, covered with ivy, and looked squat, elegant, and timeless. Emma wondered how many
people it took to clean something this big.

Their limo pulled up to the front and the driver ran around to open the door for Emma, who was

already climbing out.

“I’ll be waiting out here for you until you are done,” he told them.
Craig took Emma’s hand and led her into the mansion. At the door, they were stopped by security.

Emma’s breath caught in her throat. Was she going to be discovered as a fraud already? Thrown out?
Her cheeks flushed red. But the two security officer just waved her through a metal detector at the
door.

Emma waited nervously for Craig on the other side, wondering what would happen when his gun

tripped the detector. But it didn’t. He came through clean.

She asked him with her eyes how he managed that. He grasped her arm and whispered into her

ear, “I didn’t bring it. I knew there would be security.”

A man arrived in front of them, one Emma could only describe as a butler, looking exactly like

they do in the movies. He asked them for their invite. Emma handed it over. He nodded slightly and
said “Miss Dashell, right this way please.” Now that Emma wasn’t terrified they were about to get
thrown out, she looked around curiously. Just the foyer was gorgeous enough to blow her away. She
took in the chandeliers and tiled floors, plus ornate fireplaces and elaborate rugs, and the bright pink-
lined-with-gold runner heading up the marble stairs. Everywhere she looked screamed wealth,
money, opulence. She had nothing to compare it to, but she wondered if all Senators had houses this
... grand. She’d been curious so she’d done some research into what United States Senators make and
it was only about $175,000 a year. Certainly more than enough to live comfortably, but not near
enough to afford this kind of luxury.

She made a mental note to ask Craig where his money came from when she got a chance. For now,

she just concentrated on not tripping over her own two feet. A small voice in the back of her head told
her he’s your dad, this should be your money too. She pushed it away. Not only did she not want any
part of this money, she didn’t even want to acknowledge that he was her dad. If she had her way, she

would have just forgotten they ever found out about it. But she didn’t have it her way. There was too
much at stake for people she cared about.

The butler led them down a long hallway to a dining room that easily matched the rest of the

house. There were already people sitting and chatting, and Emma saw with relief that all the men
were wearing tuxedos and all the women were wearing gowns as fancy or fancier then hers. She blew
out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding and sat in the chair the butler was holding out for
her.

Emma looked around, wondering who would be in the empty seat to her left. Her heart still beat

madly in her chest, feeding her nervousness. One part of her wished Vivian had been available to
come to this dinner, but another part felt excited, not scared, and was thrilled she was here.

She took a drink of her water and glanced at Craig. His mouth was open slightly as he looked

about the room. She giggled to herself, glad she wasn’t the only one overwhelmed by all of this.

The seats started to fill swiftly now, and Emma found herself next to a young, gorgeous woman of

about 22 she didn’t recognize, but across the table from her sat Sandra Delano, an older, very well-
known soap opera star. Emma wasn’t star struck, but it did give her a new appreciation of the people
who might be at this dinner. Up until now, Emma had imagined mostly stuffy old men, quite like the
Senator himself. She noticed Craig was also extremely interested in everyone else at the table. He is
probably mentally checking off which ones are criminals though, she thought, covering a smile with
her napkin.

Several waiters of both genders brought out drinks and bread and fruit trays. Emma asked only for

more water, and Craig ordered a coke. The first course was served, artichoke canapes, she was told.
What it looked like was a little cracker with some goop on it. Emma tried it and it was ok. Not her
favorite. She looked around and didn’t see the Senator.

“Where is he?” she whispered to Craig.
“I don’t know. There’s still some empty seats at the far end so maybe he’s coming,” he whispered

back.

The courses kept filing out and by the time they got to the 4th course, the Senator swooped into the

dining area, at the far end of the table. Emma couldn’t see him very well. He got right down to
business and picked up a microphone that was waiting for them.

“Friends, thank you all for coming tonight.”
Everyone clapped, including Emma and Craig. Standing at the head of the table, wearing a

perfect, black tuxedo and holding up his hands to quiet the applause, he looked very presidential.
Emma was impressed, in spite of herself.

“I know that every person here is fully aware just how important this evening is.” He paused for

effect and looked over the people at the table. Emma felt his eyes lock with hers, and then slide on to
the next person. The contact chilled her. She glanced at Craig. His mouth was drawn in a tight line,
his face full of jagged angles and his eyes like steel. She touched his shoulder, hoping to soften him a
bit. This had all happened so fast she never got a chance to ask him if he’d be OK. Well, she knew
he’d have to see the Senator sometime.

“The road to the presidency is long, hard, and full of opposition!” The Senator’s voice rose, and

Emma could tell he was just getting started.

“But I have the strength, the foresight, the character, and the tools to win.” Now his voice got soft,

and he again met everyone’s eyes at the table. “All I need is support. Your support. You, who are
smart enough to pick the right candidate. You, who are brave enough to stand tall over the opposition.
You, who are strong enough to give what you have to give. You, who are the hardest working people

in the country and have the rewards to prove it. Without your support, I will go nowhere. I know this.
I will remember this always.”

The Senator pulled himself up even straighter and yelled into the microphone, startling Emma. “I

will stomp out every opponent; victory will be ours!”

One person at the back of the table applauded and then everyone started. There were even

whistles and catcalls. The man seated next to the Senator got up and slapped him on the back. Emma
looked around and clapped half-heartedly. Craig however, sat motionless, his eyes boring holes into
the Senator. Emma noticed one of the security guards who had checked them at the door was now
standing, hands folded, near the wall, watching Craig closely. She slipped her hand under the table
and pinched his knee, then clapped heartily. He got the hint, wiped his face, and did his best to
emulate the crowd.

The Senator sat down, and everyone resumed eating. Men came around on both sides of the tables

with baskets, almost like the kind you see in church. The ones on sticks that they shove down the rows
looking for money. Emma felt frantic. They had to donate again? She watched carefully and although
many people did put in what looked like checks or cash, the soap opera star just waved them away.
Perfect. When they came by her, she also waved them away, her heart hammering at her chest. Craig
just ignored them and shoveled his beef medallions with crème fraiche into his mouth.

Dessert was tiramisu, but Emma wasn’t hungry. She just picked at hers, wondering what was next.

So far, no opportunity to talk to the Senator had presented itself. Emma half hoped it never did. She
was starting to have a very bad feeling about being here.

Chapter 28

After dinner, Senator Oberlin stood, thanked everyone, and reminded them again how long and hard
the road to the presidency was. He then pleaded with them all to talk to their friends about supporting
the cause. Finally, he hung up his microphone and invited everyone out to the yard for drinks.

Excitement and incredible nervousness speared Emma at the same time. Here was her chance to

talk to the man who was supposed to be her father. This man who was supposed to be a great man, but
in fact was a very bad man who put on a great public face. Fear that he might actually become
president suddenly gripped Emma hard enough to pin her to her seat. She trembled a little and Craig
noticed.

“You OK?” He leaned in, rubbing her shoulders. “Do you want my jacket?”
“No, I’m OK. Let’s go out.”
They followed the crowd outside, into the backyard, which had been decorated heavily with

colored lights and lanterns. The bar stood open and that’s where everyone headed, but Emma and
Craig. They walked down a stone path to a wooden bench and sat down, Emma trying to find the
Senator.

“I want to try to talk to him before I lose my nerve,” she told Craig. “I’m going to find him, but

you stay super close ok?”

He nodded and followed her.
Emma wound through the crowd but didn’t see the Senator anywhere. Was he not going to come

out? Finally, she spotted him in the breezeway, on the phone. His posture was stiff, his head bent. He
gesticulated angrily while he talked.

She watched him hang up, and stay stock-still for a moment. Then he stood up straight, and

composed himself. She watched him shake the anger from his body, place a smile on his face, and
walk out into the courtyard, head held high. Neat trick, she thought.

She walked towards him, both hands gripping her clutch, fingers buried in it. She put on her own

smile. He saw her coming and looked her up and down, a real smile now replacing the fake one. To
her, he looked like a lech. Like a dirty old man. Her smile tried to slip into a frown, but she covered
by faking a cough.

They met on the path. “Senator, could I have a private word with you?” she asked softly.
“Of course my dear, I’m always happy to speak with my constituents.” He motioned down another

path and grasped her elbow, lightly steering her on to a different wooden bench.

They sat down, Emma scooting as far away from him as she could. He wore that same indulgent

smile. She looked toward the crowd and saw Craig’s silhouette watching them. That made her feel
better. She took a deep breath and plunged right in.

“Uh, Senator. I don’t know how to say this, but, uh, my name is Emma Hill and I have DNA

results that suggest you’re my father.”

She watched him closely, wanting to burn his reaction into her memory. She wondered if Craig

could hear what they were saying.

He sat blank for a moment, not reacting at all. As he processed the information she saw several

emotions slip across his face, so quickly she almost missed them. He was good. Before he spoke, he
composed his face into a perfect mask of blankness. No emotion whatsoever. He pushed himself to
the other side of the seat, placing distance now that he knew what she wanted.

“That’s impossible,” he said flatly. “I am unable to have children. It’s not something I have ever

shared with the public though.” He raised an eyebrow here, and the pucker of his mouth suggested that
she was lying and he knew she was lying, probably trying to grab at fame or money now that he was
on his way to the presidency.

Emma felt her cheeks flame red at his inference. The monster dared imply that she was lying? And

he was a monster. She could see it. She could see it in the sudden, cold, flatness of his eyes. She saw
it in his blank, unmoving stare. She could almost feel the evil coming off him in waves. She’d felt
scared of people before, frequently in her childhood, but as an adult, mostly at work. People upset
and hurting, who believed they had nothing left to lose. But she’d never felt anything like this. She’d
never seen a man so perfectly under control, so calm and collected, who still gave off that huge,
dangerous vibe. To her, it felt like she was sitting on the bench with a hungry anaconda.

She’d once tried to watch Silence of the Lambs, but she couldn’t finish it, because it scared her so

badly. Blood and gore didn’t bother her at all, but flat evil and malevolent intentions terrified her.
That’s who Senator Oberlin reminded her of right now. Hannibal Lecter, just without the charm.
Emma shivered. It wasn’t right. People like that weren’t supposed to exist in the real world. In the
real world, everyone you met was supposed to just want to be happy, just like you. And if they were
clumsy about it, or stupid about it, that was excusable. But evil? She glanced up again to be sure
Craig was still there. He was, and that gave her the strength to get this over with. She didn’t know
what was going to happen next, but she knew she would never try to see this man again, father or not.

Emma squared her shoulders and screwed up her courage. “My birthdate is September 13th,

1983.”

The reaction was instant, like she had actually kicked him in the balls instead of reciting a

number. His eyes bugged out of his head and his mouth popped open. The blood drained from his face
so completely she thought he was going to pass out. She pulled back, feeling the rough arm of the
bench jab her in her lower back.

“You. But. She.” He sputtered and stammered, all control fled. He raised a disbelieving hand to

his temple and rubbed it. “He said you were dead,” Oberlin spat out, his voice laced with fear.

Terror and disgust snaked around Emma’s heart. Of all the reactions she had expected, this wasn’t

one of them. Who said she was dead? Norman? Why would Norman tell Oberlin she was dead? It
didn’t make sense. And why was Oberlin so afraid all of a sudden? Had he wanted her dead? Had he
in fact, tried to kill her before her life even got started?

She watched him wide-eyed, not sure what to say to that. Too scared to even ask him who he was

talking about or why he would think she was dead. His mask dropped back on his face, slowly, but
completely. The emotion was gone, but his color was still bone white. She saw resolve in his eyes
suddenly. A decision was made. He looked around the yard at his party. She saw him make a gesture
and followed his line of sight. One of his security guards was heading over, almost running. She stood
up quickly and looked for Craig. He was typing something into his phone, but striding towards them
quickly.

Craig reached them first. “Vivian, there you are. We’ve got to get home. The babysitter called and

said Jimmy is sick.” He took her hand and pulled her into the grass towards the throng of people and
the bar but away from the stone path before she could say a a word.

The security guard came running down the path. Emma peeked behind her and saw Oberlin tell

him something and point at them. The guard said something into his walkie-talkie and then followed
them, not running anymore.

“Craig, the guard is following us,” she hissed to him.
Craig shot a look over his shoulder and changed direction, pulling Emma with him. “If we go

through the house they’re going to gang up on us. If we go this way maybe we can beat him to the car.”

Emma ran as fast as she could in the heels to keep up with Craig. Why had she worn these things?

She kicked them off, feeling the cool grass under her feet and ran faster. She heard the man behind

them say something into his radio.

“He’s got a walkie Craig.”
“Then we’re screwed,” Craig said, as they rounded the corner of the house. Emma could see the

driveway, but she knew their limo was on the other side of it, out of their line of sight. They both ran
faster.

Before they reached the driveway, two security guards turned the corner of the house, coming

right at them. Emma looked behind her. The other guy was still coming. They were caught. A cold
sweat broke out on her forehead. Should they run? Should they fight? She squeezed Craig’s hand,
trying to tell him she would follow his lead. This was his territory.

Craig slowed down, and struck off to the left a bit, like he was going to walk around the two

coming their way. They corrected their course to meet him head on. Emma and Craig stopped,
waiting.

The two men in front stopped four feet from them, one of them holding up his hands to tell them to

stop. The man following them from the back arrived, a little out of breath, and told them “You two,
come with me.” They all wore simple dark khakis and dark shirts with dark sport coats over the top,
but this one also had an ear piece, like a secret service agent. Emma decided he was the leader.

“Why? Where?” Craig said. “We are going home. Our babysitter just called. She needs us.”

Emma pressed up against his side.

“Senator wants to talk to you,” the first man said.
Craig drew himself up to his full height and turned up the volume. “You must not have heard me.

We have to go. We have someone waiting for us. The Senator can call us later.” Holding Emma’s
arm, he barreled forward, right between the first two men. They both stepped back and let Craig and
Emma through. Emma breathed a sigh of relief. Craig pulled her urgently to the driveway.

“They can’t go. Stop them.” The leader's voice rang out and Emma heard movement behind them.

The three men came on a run and got in front of them. Emma shook her head in disbelief. She opened
her mouth to say Craig was an FBI agent and they better let them go, but Craig squeezed her upper
arm and shook his head when she glanced at him. Emma closed her mouth.

“We’re not going with you,” Craig said, looking around. For witnesses? Emma wondered.
The leader spoke up. “You are going with us. I hate to sound like a cliche, but there’s two ways

you can go. You can walk with me; that’s the easy way. Or we can carry you; that’s the hard way.”

Emma felt sick.
“Are you threatening us?” Craig asked lightly, like he was asking about the weather.
“I’m not threatening. I’m just telling you. It’s very important to the Senator that you meet him in his

office and I am going to make sure that you do.”

“And what happens to us once we get in the office?”
“You talk to the Senator, that’s all.”
Craig pushed forward and leaned into the guy’s face. “You sure that’s all? Can you guarantee we

will leave this house tonight, in our own car, still alive?”

The leader flicked his eyes to the other two men nervously, then back to Craig. “Of course you’ll

get to leave.”

Craig shook his head slowly, his eyes steely. “I just wanted to hear you say it.” Then he held out a

hand, as if to say “After you then.”

As a group, they started towards the house, Emma’s fingers wound around Craig’s arm and in his

shirt. She wasn’t letting go for anything.

A fourth security guard walked over carrying something. “I believe these are yours?” He handed

them to Emma.

Her shoes.

Chapter 29

Craig didn’t like this at all. When he’d seen Oberlin motion for his security, he thought Emma was
about to get thrown out, and he’d rushed forward to make sure the guards weren’t rough with her.
When the guards cut them off and said they couldn’t leave, he started worrying, and worrying hard.
What exactly was so bad about what Emma had said that Oberlin would now risk kidnapping
charges? Craig couldn’t believe the man was that stupid and reckless, but even so, he was starting to
wish they had never come.

One thing was sure, Oberlin knew he had kids, and he thought they were dead. Craig had seen his

face when Emma gave her birthdate. Oberlin had almost fainted.

The four security guards escorted them thorough the house, up the stairs with the pink and gold

runner, and into what appeared to be a large study, or office. They didn’t pass one person on the way
up. Everyone was outside still. The walls of the study were lined with shelves filled with books. A
door opened out onto a veranda between two of these shelves. The room was long and rectangular,
and there were several couches and chairs placed strategically throughout it. At the far end was one
lone desk, with a chair in front of it. The Senator was already sitting at the desk, with a man seated in
the chair in front of him. They could only see the back of the man’s head.

“You may go, but Dean, you stay outside the door,” the Senator said. The leader nodded and the

team turned to go. They filed out and closed the double doors behind them.

“Please, come closer, sit down.” The Senator held out his hand to some leather chairs to the left

of the one in front of his desk.

“We’ll stand.” Craig said. “Are you aware that we don’t want to be here? That we tried to leave

and your security guards wouldn’t let us? That they threatened us?”

Oberlin raised an eyebrow. “Really? Are you sure they weren’t just very persuasive? Mr.?”
Craig was torn. He’d never talked with Oberlin before and on one hand this was a great

opportunity, but on the other hand, Emma was here, he didn’t have his gun, and Oberlin had the upper
hand. That’s what will get him to talk, a voice in head said. Craig shoved it aside. If Emma weren’t
here, maybe, but he wasn’t going to put her through that.

“We’re leaving now. Our babysitter called and said she needs us.” He put his hand in his pocket

and pulled out his phone, sending another quick text message as he pulled Emma to the door.

“Stay, please, I have some questions,” Senator Oberlin said, and suddenly the man from the chair

was between them and the door. He leaned against it, pulling his jacket open. Craig could clearly see
a gun in a shoulder holster. Emma must have seen it too. Her grip tightened on his arm. He pushed her
behind him and backed away from the man who wore a soft, evil smile. The man was Johnny
Frabrazio.

“Thank you,” Oberlin said, as if they had a choice. “Now Miss, what did you say your name was

again?”

“V-Vivian Dashell,” Emma said.
“And what makes you think that I am your father?” Oberlin’s color was back, and he seemed fully

in control of himself again.

“I took a DNA test and it came back telling me that Tim Oberlin is my uncle. His only sibling is

you, so ...”

Senator Oberlin leaned back and smiled. “So you just assumed I was your father. Well that’s

really simple isn’t it? There couldn’t possibly have been a mistake somewhere?”

Emma shook her head but didn’t say anything.
“I suppose now you want me to submit to a DNA test to prove or disprove it, is that correct?”

Oberlin said amiably, calmly.

Emma shook her head again.
“Oh really, then what did you come here for Miss Dashell?”
Emma didn’t say anything. Craig wondered where this was going.
Oberlin sat forward suddenly, intently. “Who have you told?” he barked, his voice no longer

friendly.

“No one.” Emma said.
Craig jumped in. “That’s not true, we’ve told friends, and coworkers. I told everyone that my

wife’s father was going to be the next President of the United States as soon as we found out.”

The Senator narrowed his eyes at this. “Really?” Then he sat back again. “Johnny, get them out of

here. I need some time to think. Keep them close by. And take their phones and wallets.”

As Frabrazio started to step forward, a loud crash rang from somewhere in the house. Craig

cocked his head and listened and so did Frabrazio. A knock on the door startled Frabrazio and he
whirled around, his hand under his jacket. It was the security guard.

“Uh Senator, there’s some guys yelling FBI on the main floor.”
Relief flooded through Craig. He knew Hawk was coming since he had first texted him. He just

didn’t know if Hawk would make it on time or not. He took another step back, giving Frabrazio lots
of room and keeping Emma behind him.

“Fuck.” Frabrazio’s voice was high and reedy, and didn’t fit him at all. In three steps he was at

the door to the veranda, pulling it open and disappearing into the night.

“Johnny!” Oberlin called out to him, standing up. Oberlin’s face was white again. “Dean, what’s

going on?”

But Dean didn’t answer either.
Craig faced Oberlin, and almost apologetically said, “I called the FBI Senator. You might as well

give up, come quietly as the saying goes. They know about you and your guns. They know you
murdered Lucy Kinkaid. They know you blew up the factory in Westwood Harbor. They know you
had Norman Foster help Wayne Serg go free so he could continue unloading guns for you and
laundering the money through various Westwood Harbor governmental agencies and businesses. And
they know you killed this woman’s mother in 1983.”

That last part wasn’t true, but he said it anyway just to see what Oberlin would say about it.
Oberlin seemed to shrink. He dropped back to his chair, his eyes wide and glassy. He stared at

the ceiling and his throat worked convulsively. His tongue shot out and tried to wet his lips, but the
tongue looked as dry and cracked as the desert, even from 15 feet away.

Oberlin put his hand in his right desk drawer and it came out with a revolver. Craig’s heart

slammed painfully against his ribs at the sight of the gun and he fell back a step, his eyes flicking to
the furniture closest to him. He was about to dive behind a couch, pulling Emma with him, but he
needn’t have bothered.

The gun followed a smooth track from the drawer into Oberlin’s waiting mouth. He pointed it

straight up towards the roof of his mouth like he was an expert and didn’t hesitate. The shot boomed
loudly in the room and Emma screamed.

Craig pulled her to him and hugged her tight, hiding her eyes in his chest. He watched, as

Oberlin’s hand fell to the side and the gun fell out of it and his head lolled first backwards and then
forwards onto the desk, making a wet sound as it hit. From this angle, Craig could see the large hole
in the back of his head. And he didn’t know whether to be glad or disgusted.

Chapter 30

Emma sat on a fancy chair in the foyer, feeling exhausted and slightly dirty. Her dress was sticking to
her and her feet hurt. It was 3 in the morning, and the police were still interviewing people. In fact,
three different cops had interviewed her already, 2 of them more than once. She knew this was going
to be a huge scandal, but at this point she didn’t care. All she wanted was to get some sleep.

Hawk came over and brought her a bottle of water. She wrinkled her nose at it. “Is this from his

fridge?” she said, knowing she sounded stupid and petty.

“Nah, one of the cops brought up a cooler of drinks. They are all going to be here for days.” He

smiled at her and she felt like maybe he understood.

“Where’s Vivian, at home?”
“No, I had her taken up to the FBI safe house. I didn’t want to take her home since Norman is still

loose and I didn’t know how long we’d be up here.”

“Good idea. Are you guys getting along OK?”
Hawk smiled again. “We worked out our differences.”
“Oh good!” Emma was thrilled to hear it. She bet that made Vivian very happy.
“Where’s Craig?”
“He’s upstairs still. He’s drawing a diagram and being interviewed for the hundredth or so time.”
“Wow, I guess I got off easy.” Emma drank some of her water and then asked, “So what happens

now?”

“We’ll get to go soon. Craig and I will have to come back, but we aren’t staying here all night.

Maybe I’ll have someone bring Vivian here. She said she wouldn’t sleep.”

“So what happens now?” Emma asked.
“We’ll have to get a warrant to search anything, and once we do Craig and I will be back here

every day. “We’ll close the house off and no one will be allowed in or out till we are done.”

Emma nodded. “But what happens now with you and Craig, now that Oberlin is dead?”
“Oh. Well, we’ve got clean up. And there are other people involved that we need to complete our

investigations on, then arrest and convict. It will be a good 6 months to a year before we’re done in
Westwood Harbor. Plus we need to find Foster.”

Emma nodded, remembering Craig’s promise to quit the FBI once this investigation was

complete. She wondered where Hawk would end up. She yawned, and she felt her left ear pop. “I’d
curl up in one of these chairs and go to sleep right now if they didn’t all belong to ... to him.”

“He made a bad impression on you, huh?”
“The worst.”
Hawk nodded. “I’ll check on Craig and Vivian and come back and let you know.”
Despite herself, and despite the noise and lights, Emma dosed a little, bent over in the chair,

propped with her hand. She dreamed a little too, a scary dream where Norman chased her down a
long hallway for days.

When she opened her eyes again she saw Vivian sitting in a chair next to her, watching her. “Oh!

What time is it?”

“It’s almost 6 a.m.” Vivian told her.
“How long have you been here?” Emma got up and ran to her sister and hugged her. “I missed you

so much!”

“I missed you too. I only just got here. An FBI agent brought me.” Vivian looked around and

hugged herself. Emma sat down with her on the same chair.

“Was it horrible?”
Emma nodded. “It was horrible. He put the gun in his mouth and shot himself right in front of us.”

Vivian shuddered. “But you’ve seen that before?”
Emma shook her head. “I’ve seen the bodies before, but I’ve never seen anyone do it.”
Vivian hugged her again, in the chair, and Emma drew comfort from her sister.
They pulled back. “So Hawk told me you guys are getting along now. I guess that was a good

thing that you took him ... wherever you took him.”

Vivian smiled. “I have a cabin up in the Tetam woods. That’s where we’ve been the whole time.”

She opened her mouth to say something else, but Emma was suddenly waving across the room.

Hawk and Craig strode their way. Emma had never been happier to see anyone in her life. She

jumped up and put her arms around Craig. “Can we go home now?” He leaned forward and kissed
her upturned mouth sweetly. “Yep. You OK?”

She nodded, and looked at her sister. Vivian had also jumped up, and was now hugging Hawk.

Their bodies were pressed together and Hawk was whispering something intimately in her ear, his
hand cupping her lower back.

Emma took a step towards them, still holding on to Craig. “Are you ...?” Her voice trailed off as

she saw Vivian turn to her and smile, and Hawk’s mouth stay pressed against Vivian’s neck as she
turned, his face covered by her hair.

She dropped Craig’s hand and took another step. “Oh my God you are!” She jumped up and down

in her silver heels like a little girl. She ran to her sister and hugged her, pulling her away from Hawk.
“What happened? How did it happen? Tell me everything.”

Vivian laughed and pulled Emma with her so she could snuggle back up with Hawk as they all

walked out the door together.

Chapter 31

Norman left the big bus in the early morning light and looked around, placing his hands in the small of
his back and stretching, feeling satisfaction at the crackle of his spine. The bus was warm and dry,
and he had food, a camping stove, books, room to work out, flashlights, and an old mattress, which
made living like a homeless man as comfortable as possible, but still not very comfortable. He
walked a bit and stretched his legs and chest, then climbed the steps of the bus to take down the sheets
from the windows and stow all of his gear in the tub under the hole in the floor.

He’d been in the far corner of the police impound lot, living in this bus for 3 weeks now. He

knew this lot well, having stored vehicles in it and stolen vehicles from it countless times. Before the
police department had taken it over, it had been a junkyard, housing probably 300 decrepit cars that
no one had touched in years. When the police department bought the land, they left the junkyard, put a
few miles of fence around the outside, and over the years carted in several thousand more vehicles.
Once a year they had a police vehicle auction, where they sold 30 to 40% of the cars that still ran.
Once every 3 years they sold the rest for scrap metal. But this corner of vehicles was never touched.
It was like the city had forgotten about it. No one ever came down this way, and these cars never
moved.

When Norman had first escaped from the prison, with only about half or less of his normal

strength, he was desperate to find cover. Somewhere to hunker down in and take the time he needed to
heal. He had no money, and certainly couldn’t go to his house. He knew they would look for him
there.

He’d climbed up into the ceiling of that hateful prison hospital and found his way into the kitchen

where he slipped out a door into the yellow lights of the parking lot outside. If he hadn’t been so
weak, feeling like a just-born calf, he would have laughed at how easy it was. Instead, once outside,
sweat running down his face in rivers, he puked in his mouth but swallowed it again so as not to leave
a trail to follow. Then he crawled between the rows of cars in the parking lot, looking for a way out.
Thinking like a cop, he made sure not to touch one car or let his head be seen above them. He scanned
the fence but knew without looking that it would not be his way out. He watched the gate guard, slow
and almost sleeping at his post. But since Norman was as weak as a kitten he knew he couldn’t
overpower him. Besides, what then? Would he walk? Hitchhike? He looked down at his orange
hospital gown, wishing he’d found a uniform or regular clothes on the way out.

Really, he had only one choice and he knew it. First he had to find some clothes. Second, he had

to get a ride out the gate in either one of these cars or in another vehicle. From behind him came the
wail of the siren, advertising the chaos that was going on inside the prison/hospital, whatever it was.
Norman wondered how long till they discovered him gone. If it happened soon, he might be screwed.
But if it didn’t happen for a few hours, he knew he might be OK. He searched cars for an open door
and found surprisingly many of them. In a blue Nissan he found a dark green sweatshirt. In a white
truck he found some heavy work boots that were only a size too big for him. And in the bed of an
unlikely, neon-green, lifted Ford F150 pick up truck he found an old pair of khaki pants, somehow
split down the crotch, but still better than the gown he was wearing. They were big, but came with a
belt so he could cinch them. Someone had split them, and bought or found a new pair, then thrown
them in the truck instead of on the ground. Lucky for Norman.

Norman crouched behind, and practically under this ridiculous vehicle and thought about how to

get out. He looked up at the bed and then at the gate guard, a clear target in his lighted little booth (if
only he’d had a gun) again. The bed of the truck was higher than the gate guard’s line of sight. Maybe
he could catch a ride to where ever it’s owner was going, and then regroup from there.

Norman hitched himself up onto the back bumper of the truck, grunting and sweating bullets. He

was wrong. He didn’t have half his former strength, he had only less than quarter of it. Just this little
run out into the yard had used up any of that and now he felt like a wet piece of paper, about to split
right down the middle. He hung on for dear life to the back of the truck and tried to hoist himself over,
his legs and arms quivering like jello. He couldn’t do it. He was falling. His hand was giving way
and down he was about to go in a heap. The guards would find him in a few hours, poor Norman, so
close, and yet so fucking far away that he would be in prison forever, or until another prisoner
succeeded in sticking a shank in his neck.

Norman felt his fingers slipping. He closed his eyes and waited to hit the ground in defeat. Then a

voice exploded in his head.

HAUL YOURSELF OVER MISTER! OR IS THE ITTY BITTY BABY GOIN TA LAY DOWN

AND DIE? His mother’s voice rang between his ears and his hand jerked spasmodically shut again
over the tailgate. With every last ounce of strength he had left in him he hauled. And landed in the bed
of the truck where he immediately passed out.

He didn’t wake again until the morning light was spreading across the sky. Terrified, he pulled

himself closer to the front of the bed. In the location he had been in, the driver of the truck would be
able to see him in his rear-view mirror.

At the front of the bed was a large, silver tool box that spread the entire width of the bed of the

truck, easily big enough for a man to fit inside. Laying on his back, he pushed on the lid with one
shaky foot. Not locked. He stared up at the lightening sky and wondered if he dared climb in the box.
It would mean exposing himself. He decided to risk it though. He peeked just his eyes over the side of
the truck and figured they hadn’t even found him missing yet, because the parking lot was empty. He
climbed slowly into the tool box and promptly fell asleep. When he came to again the truck was
moving beneath him. The next 12 hours or so was spotty in his memory. He had dozed a lot, not
feeling strong enough to move. He was weak and didn’t want to move from his perfect hidey-hole, but
one time when he woke up, stiff and aching, to a not-moving truck he had a thought that chilled his
blood. What if he had slept the whole day away and the man was back at work, back inside the prison
fence.

His muscles had convulsed him into a sitting position and he pushed the lid on the tool box up,

peeking out. He wasn’t in the prison. He was in a dark garage. He climbed out, feeling a little more
strength than he’d had in the prison parking lot, and made his way to the outside door in the garage.
No people were around so he pushed it open and walked down the street, trying to act like he
belonged there.

He had figured out where he was swiftly, and why shouldn’t he? He’d been a cop on these streets

for 13 years. He knew every nook and cranny of Westwood Harbor. Now he just needed a good place
to hide out. He’d considered some abandoned buildings he knew of, but decided against them because
he’d have to compete with homeless people, some of whom might recognize him. He needed a place
that had shelter and wasn’t too far from a way to get food, but that no one would ever think of looking
for him at. He’d looked around and tried to imagine what was near him. His legs were already getting
shaky and he knew he wouldn’t get far before he collapsed in a heap. He’d realized he was less than
a mile from the impound lot and walked toward it, planning on just finding an old car to curl up in for
a few days. The gate was closed, like always; it only opened when a tow truck brought a car in or out,
but he’d found a place to climb it.

Once he realized how perfect it was he decided to stay. The first day he’d just slept. But hunger

and thirst drove him out soon enough. He’d walked the fence until he found a loose board in the back
where the fence was still wood, and he’d loosened the one next to it, marking an easy hole for him to

get in and out of. He’d walked the neighborhood closest to the yard and found several houses that
looked like the owners had already gone to work. Perfect. He tried garage doors until he found an
open one and hit a jackpot almost immediately. A freezer in the garage held popsicles, meat, whipped
cream, and a big box of pre-cooked, frozen mexican burritos. He’d taken the popsicles and the
burritos and headed back to the yard. He ate the whole box of popsicles while he was waiting for the
burritos to thaw. After all the popsicles were gone, he’d actually started to feel human again and
examined his situation.

All he knew was at this point, he had to regain his strength. And he needed to do it somewhere

that no one would be looking for him. He had vague notions of taking care of the bitch, once and for
all, and a faraway dream of crossing a border somewhere and living a free life where he didn’t have
to look over his shoulder all day, but all of that was in the future. For now, survival was the only plan
he could make.

Norman looked around his bus and thought he’d done a pretty good job surviving. He still wasn’t

at 100%, and in fact, he’d since realized he didn’t think he ever would be. His reflexes were way
slower than they used to be, his right hand wouldn’t close all the way - when he tried it closed
partially and then just relaxed at a certain point, the fingers refusing to curl any farther - and his body
didn’t always do exactly what he wanted it to. He was getting stronger, but these things weren’t
changing. No matter. It wasn’t like he was ever going to be a cop again. He did have one thing to do
though, that was going to require a lot of strength and quickness, and the ability to close his hand. Or
the ability to shoot a gun with his left hand.

Now that he was no longer in danger of falling down on his feet Norman had some decisions to

make. He couldn’t stay here forever. He didn’t want to live in a bus forever for sure. He didn’t want
to stay in Westwood Harbor any longer either, but he didn’t want to go far. He needed to find a place
to survive close by, but far enough away that he didn’t have to look over his shoulder so much if he
ventured out into public. It was time to start making his real plans.

The first plan involved taking care of the bitch, Emma. There were times, at night especially,

when he thought about what she had the gall to do to him, and he couldn’t believe. Couldn’t believe
that a woman had shot him. Couldn’t believe that a woman had dared run from him, fight him, stand up
to him, and finally shoot him cold in the dessert. She’d bested him, his divided mind would argue. But
no, she hadn’t, because it wasn’t over. And if she didn’t know that yet she would, soon.

There was no way he was going to let what she had done to him slide. She would pay. Pay hard.

He thought about it every night, and had decided that he couldn’t watch her, stalk her, surveil her. It
was too dangerous. And if he couldn’t do that, the only time he could guarantee she wouldn’t be with
that FBI agent was when she was at work. So that’s when he planned to take her. But still, he had a
problem. Because of her partner, Jerry. Jerry was smart, strong, and devoted to Emma, as much as the
fucking FBI dick, so Norman would have to take him out first. It was the only way. Norman smiled.
Sure Jerry would fight, but no matter what, he was less dangerous than the FBI agent. Norman was
sure he could take him.

Norman walked down the steps of his bus and out to the hole in the fence. He hadn’t been to get

food or water for 4 days, and he was totally out. He was starting to get a bad feeling about the
neighborhood he’d been hitting though. It was time to find a new one. Luckily, he felt like he could
walk for miles today. He set out on the sidewalk, ratty hood from his sweatshirt covering his face.
The morning coolness would fade soon, and he’d have to lose the hood, or be marked as suspicious,
but that was OK. He looked very different these days. His hair was long, his beard was full, and both
were gray, thanks to gray hair dye. His body was skinnier than it had ever been but he wore loose,

too-large clothes, and a roll of cloth around his middle, giving him the illusion of being much heavier
than he was or ever had been. He looked soft, slow. It was a good disguise and had served him well
so far.

As he walked he contemplated his second plan. Mexico? Or Canada? Or just down South or the

East Coast? They might be watching for him on the Mexican border, but since he’d be alone he didn’t
have to take a car. He could walk over in one of the same places the Mexicans crossed illegally every
day to get to the U.S. But then what? He walked and thought hard for 45 minutes.

Eventually, he found a likely neighborhood and assessed the houses as he walked by them on the

sidewalk. The road dumped him into a park so he decided to sit on a bench and rest, enjoying the
feeling of the sun on his face. A large recycle bin squatted in the corner of the parking lot. He trotted
over and pulled out a handful of newspapers from the week, returning to the bench to read.

One with large block letters spread across the front, taking up the entire top fold of the newspaper

caught his eye.

PRESIDENT-ELECT HOPEFUL SUICIDE LEADS TO QUESTIONS ABOUT POSSIBLE

CRIMINAL ACTIVITY

Norman read that over 4 times, knowing exactly who it was talking about. Oberlin? Suicide?

Norman had briefly considered going to the Senator for help when he first escaped, but he didn’t,
some small part of him knowing the Senator probably just wanted him dead now that he was nothing
but a liability. (In fact he’d occasionally wondered about the attempted hit in the prison hospital.)
Now he congratulated himself on making a good choice by not going to him.

He turned the paper over and saw a smiling picture of Oberlin on the campaign trail, and then next

to it a picture of the front of Oberlin’s house, door wide open, police and FBI cars scattered in front.

He read the story carefully, looking for clues into exactly what had happened, but the reporters

were chasing their own tails in frustration. They’d been told absolutely nothing so far and all they
could do was guess.

Norman sat on the bench and thought. Thought for a long time. Was this a sign to him? Everything

he had been involved in for the last 10 years had fallen apart about as much as possible. Maybe he
should make a clean break now. Forget this revenge. Maybe it would turn out as badly as everything
else had. He’d been bested by the bitch once already. The only way he should even consider going
through with this was if there were no way in the world he could fail this time. But was he willing to
give up his tenuous freedom just to get back at her?

Freedom. It was a funny thing. His body might be free, but he knew his mind was chained to

Emma Hill and what she’d succeeded in doing to him. Was there a way out of that jail that didn’t
involve killing her? He didn’t know.

Chapter 32

Emma sat in the driver’s seat of the ambulance, stewing. It was 2 months ago already since Oberlin
shot himself, so that meant it was almost 2 and a half months since Norman escaped. And she’d only
just now discovered Jerry’s little secret!

She thought back to the call they’d just come from, damning Jerry for his temerity. Damning both

Jerry and Craig for their gall. Right under her nose! And never said a word to her!

It had been a chest pain call in a small bathroom. The patient, a 66 year old man taking a shower,

had experienced chest pain bad enough that he’d stumbled out of the shower and fallen on the floor.
His wife called 911. When Emma and Jerry showed up, he was still wet and on the floor, but his wife
had managed to struggle a pair of shorts onto him. Thank goodness for small favors.

The bathroom was tiny, and very hard for three grown adults to be in at the same time. Emma and

Jerry had gotten the heart monitor on him, seen he was in stable ventricular tachycardia, and went to
work right there on the floor, the firefighters only able to peek in and watch from the doorway. Jerry
had started an IV and Emma prepared the Lidocaine. Once they got the Lidocaine in and his heart
rhythm had smoothed out, Jerry felt good enough about his condition to try to move him. The board
wouldn’t fit in the bathroom though and neither would the gurney, so Emma and Jerry had to just pick
him up and carry him out of the bathroom. While they were trying to figure the best way to do it in the
cramped bathroom, Emma had passed behind Jerry and lost her balance, pressing a hand into the
small of his back. And that’s when she felt it. The gun. Jerry was carrying. And Emma could think of
only one reason why Jerry would be carrying. Craig had put him up to it. What she wouldn’t do, he
talked Jerry into doing, regardless of all the reasons she had given for not doing it. Emma’s blood got
hotter just thinking about it. It was a good thing she hadn’t noticed the gun until the patient was stable,
because once she had she had lost the ability to think rationally. She was just pissed. And Jerry knew
it.

Emma watched the hospital exit, waiting for Jerry to come out. She hadn’t said a word to him as

they drove to the hospital or while she helped him wheel his patient inside. Then she’d bailed once
they had him in a room. She needed privacy to give him a piece of her mind.

The doors opened and he stepped out. She’d expected him to come out like a whipped puppy, tail

between his legs, head sagging. But his head was held high, and he was smiling, like he hadn’t done a
damn thing wrong.

He walked in front of the ambulance and Emma burned holes through him the whole time, until he

pulled his door open and climbed in. Then she didn’t want to look at him any longer.

He climbed in and buckled his seatbelt. And didn’t speak.
“You’re carrying,” Emma accused, her tone damning.
“Yep, Craig asked me to and got me set up with the permit and the class, plus he talked to the

brass.” Jerry sounded typically happy, upbeat. Not phased at all by Emma’s anger.

“You didn’t tell me.”
“Craig said you’d probably be angry so he left it up to me if I wanted to tell you or not. I decided

it would be easier if I didn’t. Besides, I hoped Norman would be caught quickly and I would be able
to give it up.”

“Without me ever knowing.” Emma fired off the words, not sure in her own heart what she was

most upset about. Was it the fact that Craig had ignored her list of reasons why paramedics shouldn’t
carry guns? Was it the fact that he went behind her back? Or because Jerry went behind her back? Or
because Jerry didn’t have the same problem with carrying a gun on duty? She didn’t know, but she did
know that anger ran hot through her veins still.

Jerry sighed and turned to her. “Look Emma, I know you think this is an ethics breach and maybe

even dangerous, Craig told me. But it doesn’t change the fact that there is a madman loose somewhere
who already tried to kidnap and maybe kill you once. He could be watching us right now. It bothers
me to carry this gun, and it’s a pain in the ass to strap it on every morning, but you know what? It
would bother me a hell of a lot more if Norman showed up and ripped you out of the ambulance in
front of me and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it except watch him go. Do you know what
that would do to me? It would kill me. It would destroy me. If carrying a gun means I have more of an
opportunity to stop him from doing that I’ll do it from now until the day I die, gladly, regardless of
how mad you get at me or how much the stinking holster makes my back itch.”

His eyes flashed but his face was soft, his gaze hopeful. “Please Emma, I don’t want to fight with

you, and neither does Craig. We just want you to be safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” Emma said, but the fire had gone out of her words.
Jerry boomed a laugh. Emma almost snarled at him.
He held his hands up. “No, no, I’m not laughing because I don’t think you can take care of

yourself. I’m laughing because it’s too damn obvious that you can take care of yourself, we all know
it. We all see it every day. You are the strongest woman I know. But just because you can take care of
yourself doesn’t mean your friends will stop trying to take care of you too.”

He reached across the gap and took Emma’s hand. “I love you Emma. Craig loves you. We just

want to make sure you are safe. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you. Pine away
and die an unhappy old man, probably. You’re my best friend.” He smiled gently at her.

Emma felt her eyes fill with tears and her anger disappear. “Thanks Jerry, you’re my best friend

too. Ok.”

“Ok? You’re not mad?”
“No.”
“How about at Craig? Are you mad at him.”
Jerry saw steel come back into Emma’s face and he laughed again. “Uh oh, I shouldn’t have

asked.” He took out his phone.

“What are you doing?” Emma asked.
Jerry raised an eyebrow at her.
“Don’t text him!”
“Too late,” Jerry said. Sorry Em, but he needs to know if you’re going to come home pissed off.

Have you guys even had a fight yet?”

“No,” Emma grumped, not sure what that had to do with anything.
“I didn’t think so. That’s why I’m warning him. You go in there guns blazing and he’s not even

going to know what hit him. When you’re mad you can get a little mean.”

Emma sulked at this. Mean? She wasn’t mean. Besides, he was a fricking FBI agent, shouldn’t he

be able to handle it?

Jerry grabbed the radio and put them back in service. “Come on sweetheart, let’s go save some

lives.”

Emma grinned at Jerry’s favorite line. She took a deep breath and rolled the tension out of her

shoulders, then put the ambulance in drive.

She’d try not to be mean, but Craig still needed to know it wasn’t OK to go behind her back.

Chapter 33

Emma pulled up in front of her house after a long, demanding shift, happy to see Craig’s truck home.
She wanted to get this over with. The more she thought about being angry at Craig, the more she felt
sick to her stomach. What Jerry said had really gotten to her, softening her, but she still didn’t want to
let it go completely. But she did want to get it over with. They had dinner plans and she didn’t want to
spoil them with animosity or unsaid issues.

She walked in the front door and headed straight for her bedroom, shedding her uniform and the

gun she wore home. She threw it on the bed. Damn thing. She was sick of wearing it and prayed daily
that Norman would be caught so she could stop. Trouble was no one even seemed to be looking for
him anymore. That thought made her grumpier than ever. What if he was dead or out of the country
already and no one ever found him? Was she going to have to wear that damn thing forever?

“You home?” She heard Craig’s voice call through the house.
“Yeah,” she yelled back and slipped a comfy blouse on over her head, then went to find him.
He was in the kitchen. “Hi,” he smiled at her.
“Hi,” she grumped back, no smile.
He gave her a quick, one-armed hug, and went back to putting sodas in the fridge. Emma frowned.

This was nothing like his normal full body hugs and long, soul-kisses that frequently turned into
stress-relieving and satisfying afternoon sex.

She stood and watched him, waiting for him to say something. He didn’t. When he was done with

the sodas, he picked up the sponge out of the sink and began wiping the counters. Emma crossed her
arms and leaned against the stove. She would wait him out.

She didn’t last long though. “You went behind my back!”
He nodded, turned away from her, wiping the table. “I did. I’m sorry.”
That caught her by surprise and flagged her argument a little bit. But she wasn’t ready to back

down yet. “I told you I didn’t want to carry a gun at work so you got Jerry to do it. You lied to me!”

He turned and looked at her. “I didn’t exactly lie. I just didn’t tell you. I was hoping that Norman

would be caught quickly and maybe we never would even have to have this conversation. Your safety
was more important to me than your anger, but I still wanted to avoid it if I could. And I am sorry. But
I would do it again.”

He looked at her steadily. She blinked her eyes. She didn’t even know if she had anything else to

say. He had admitted to everything and apologized, but not backed down a bit. For the second time in
a day the wind flew right out of her angry sails.

“I don’t like it when you go behind my back,” she sulked.
“I know, and I won’t do it again. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” He crossed the

room in three quick steps and took her in his arms.

Emma sighed, knowing there hadn’t been a winner or a loser, but thinking that was probably just

fine. Maybe this was what good relationships were really like. Mistakes were still made, and
disagreements still sprang up, but love and caring were more important.

She looked up at him, hoping he’d kiss her. And he did.
He broke the kiss and told her, “I just want you to remember that Norman is still out there.”
“I know, but I don’t want to live my life in fear.”
“I don’t think we are living in fear. I think we are just being prepared.”
Emma gazed at his handsome, calm face and realized that this was how cops and agents lived all

the time. Never in fear, but always prepared. They walked around all day every day, prepared to
protect, prepared to kill, prepared to die, so that ordinary people didn’t have to feel that way and
could live normal, mostly-crime-free lives. She snuggled up against his chest and felt deep

appreciation run through her for the men and women who did that. She sighed, and kissed her man
again.

“Ok.”
“Ok. Get dressed ok? I have a surprise for you.”
The last vestiges of Emma’s anger fled and a smile spread across her face. “What?”
“You’ll see, at dinner.” He looked at his watch. “We have 35 minutes to get there.”
“Ooooh! Ok!” She planted one last kiss on his lips and ran down the hall to get dressed,

wondering in her mind what the surprise was. Maybe he bought her something. Maybe they were
going to do something fun.

***

Half an hour later, Emma and Craig pulled into Blaine’s drive-in, an American food diner that Emma
hadn’t been to yet.

“Is this the surprise? Dinner at Blaine’s?” Emma asked.
“Nope. Your surprise is inside.”
Emma jumped out of the truck quickly, excitement coursing through her. What in the world would

be inside for her?

They walked inside and Craig led her to a table in the far back of the restaurant. Emma thought he

would steer her towards the empty one, but he walked to the one with a woman sitting in it. She was
at least 60 years old, small and bent with age, but with pretty, soft white hair and a sweet smile. She
had a large hard-bound book in front of her on the table. Emma liked her at once.

“Emma, this is your grandmother, Maisie Callahan.”
Tears sprang immediately to Emma’s eyes. Her hand went to her mouth. Grandmother?
Maisie stood up and took Emma’s hand, looking into her eyes.
“Ah sweet girl, don’t cry.” Her voice was light, and musical, and so young-sounding. Emma was

entranced at once.

“Let me see those pretty eyes. And that hair!” Maisie ran her hands over Emma’s hair.

“Strawberry blond, just like your mother. You look just like I imagine she would have if she lived so
long.”

The tears flowed down Emma’s cheeks and she didn’t trust herself to talk. She had a sister, and

now she had a grandmother too. And her grandmother seemed kind and good.

Maisie slipped into the booth and pulled Emma in with her. “Come now, sit down and tell me all

about yourself. I hear you are a fireman even!”

Emma laughed. “Yes, I’m a firefighter/paramedic. But I prefer to work as a paramedic.”
Maisie’s mouth made a perfect O and she grasped the scarf around her neck. “My word,

practically a doctor. Christie always wanted to be a doctor.”

Emma’s brain startled at the sound of her mother’s name. She felt brittle, weak. “She did?”
“Sure she did. Studied hard every day, did my Christie. She was a straight A student too, until her

daddy got in the accident and started drinking ‘cause of the pain. Things were rough on the whole
family for a while. Roughest on Christie. A few months after that she ran away and we never saw her
again.

The old woman’s eyes filled with tears now. She wiped them and straightened herself. “But let’s

not talk bout the sad stuff first. You’re lovely as spring and I want to hear all about you.”

Emma nodded. There were decades worth of good news and bad news to share. And Maisie

(grandma? Should I call her grandma?) was right. No need to start with the painful stuff.

They talked and talked and laughed and cried. At some point Grandma Maisie opened up the

photo album she had brought along and showed Emma pages and pages of cousins and uncles and
nieces and nephews. Emma pointed out three little girls who all looked alike, and looked very much
like Vivian in their face and with their long curly hair.

“Yep, that’s Ashley, Amanda, and Abigail. They would be your second cousins. Triplets, them.”
“Triplets?”
“Oh yes child, triplets and twins run in the family way back. See Uncle Jimmie and Uncle Aiden

here, they’s twins too, just not the kind that look alike.”

Emma nodded and looked at Craig in the booth opposite, who hadn’t said a word, but who smiled

broadly, like he was quite pleased with himself for bringing these two together. She tapped him on the
hand. “Does Vivian know we’re here?”

“Yep, but she thought you might like to meet your grandma alone the first time. Besides ...” he

trailed off and cocked his head at her. Emma knew exactly what he meant and she held back a giggle.
Vivian and Hawk, when not at work, had rarely been seen outside the bedroom for weeks.

After all the food was eaten and Emma had talked till her throat went scratchy, her eyes started to

grow heavy. Her brain was whirling with her new-found family, but exhaustion from this amazing day
was setting in anyway.

“Grandma Maisie, I need your phone number, we have to get together again soon.”
“Oh yes girl, we will. We’ll have a grand old reunion and everyone will come to meet you.”

Grandma Maisie wrote her number down on a napkin for Emma and kissed her on the cheek. “You
call me tomorrow.”

Craig spoke then, for the first time. “Grandma Maisie, I have something I want to ask Emma, and

I’m glad you’re here to witness it. Would you wait just a moment before you leave?”

Maisie nodded and waited.
Craig stood up and pulled Emma up out of the booth. He gave her a soft kiss on the lips and pulled

away. Emma watched him with interest. He seemed nervous. She’d sworn he was even trembling
when he touched her. But she’d never seen him nervous before.

“Emma, I know we’ve only known each other for a few months.” He stopped and took a deep

breath, and pulled something out of his pocket. Realization struck Emma and her tiredness fled. Her
hands went to the side of her cheeks, which felt flushed and hot.

“Oh my ...” she heard herself say. Grandma Maisie tittered behind her, the giggle of a young girl.
Craig pushed himself on. “We’ve only known each other a few months, but I knew from the

moment I saw you that you were someone special. And I’ve known since the moment I first kissed you
that we were meant for each other.”

He dropped to one knee and held out the box to Emma. “Emma, would you do me the incredible

honor of becoming my wife?”

His eyes searched hers, and she almost laughed in spite of herself. His earnest pleading came

through loud and clear, like he was scared she would say no. He needn’t have worried for a second.
He was the man from the vision wasn’t he? She’d never loved anyone like she loved him. She’d
known this day would come someday. She didn’t know it would be so soon, but she was glad. She
grabbed the box without even looking at what it contained, threw her arms around his neck and told
him “Of course I will Craig.” Dimly she heard applause, and lightly she felt her grandmother’s hands
on her upper back, a congratulatory pat.

She held him for a long time, almost unable to believe her fortune and happiness.

Chapter 34

Emma sat in the passenger seat of the ambulance and watched the world go by, a gentle smile on her
face. It had been 5 days since Craig’s proposal and she still hadn’t floated down to earth. From the
corner of her eye, she saw Jerry look at her.

“I still can’t believe that rock you got from Craig, he must have saved his pennies for a long

time.”

Emma laughed and looked at her French-Set Halo diamond. She thought she’d never seen anything

so beautiful.

The radio crackled. “Unit 17, respond to Timber Street, the backside of the police impound lot.

Sprained ankle.” The way the dispatcher said it relayed that she knew she shouldn’t be sending an
ambulance to a call that silly, but what could she do?

“Here we go,” Jerry said, grinning. I hope that program that lets us hand out bus passes or taxi cab

tickets gets pushed through soon.

Emma didn’t care. She was just happy to be alive. She was going to get married. Probably in the

summer. Maybe outside. She imagined what kind of flowers they should have, and how many people
to invite. She’d have to ask Craig -

Her thoughts were cut off by Jerry’s voice. “Earth to Emma, we’re almost there.”
Emma sat up straighter and tried to remember what the call was for.
Jerry turned right onto Timber street, which was empty, no houses, no buildings, no people. All he

saw was the mile long impound fence, and one car idling on the side of the road, with a man sitting
next to it holding his leg. The man’s back was to them.

Jerry parked the ambulance a few feet behind the man’s car and Emma grabbed for the door

handle.

“Wait.” Jerry’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm. “This feels wrong.”
He grabbed the radio and told dispatch they had arrived on scene, then asked if the reporting party

gave a name or shared circumstances.

“Negative. He just said he needed an ambulance for a sprained ankle and hung up.”
Emma watched Jerry then looked back at the man, her own sense of danger starting to ping.
He handed her the radio. “Tell em we want a cop here. I’m going to back up.”
Emma opened her mouth and depressed the radio button, but as soon as Jerry put the ambulance in

reverse and stepped lightly on the gas, the man was up and moving.

Two loud cracks split the air and the windshield of the ambulance cracked in a million

spiderwebs. Jerry made a gut-wrenching, gagging yell and pitched forward. Emma screamed, seeing
blood fly and cover the driver’s side window.

“Jerry! Jerry!” She tried to push Jerry backwards but already her door was yanked open and

Norman was there. Emma still had the radio in her hand. She depressed the button and shouted for
help, even as Norman was ripping her out of the seat. “Central send cops! Jerry shot!”

She screamed again and held on to the radio cord as Norman pulled her down the sidewalk

towards his car. The cord went taut, and snapped. She found her feet and tried to pull away from
Norman.

“Not this time bitch.”
He hit her across the temple with the butt of his gun. The pain was instant, infinite, and huge. She

fell to her knees, her hands pressed to her face. Norman kept dragging her and shoved her into the
passenger seat of his car. She wanted to fight, tried to fight, but the pain in her head was all-
encompassing. Her stomach revolted, threatening to spill its contents.

Another gunshot rang out and the car listed to the driver's side, like a tire had popped. She looked

up at Norman but he was as startled as she was. Jerry. Was he shooting? Was he alive? Her head
throbbed again and she fell forward, dry-heaving.

Norman fumbled with her hand, holding it over her head, and she heard metal scraping against

metal. He slammed the door and ran around to the other side. She heard two more gunshots, one of
them shattering the driver's side window next to Norman. Then Norman jumped in the car and
slammed it in reverse. As he backed up, Emma knew he meant to run Jerry over.

“No!” she screamed and wrenched the wheel to the right. They were both thrown backwards as

the car slammed into the ambulance. Norman turned to her, murder written clearly on his face. The
gun butt raised and fell again.

And all she knew was blackness.

***

She came to slowly, not sure where she was. Then she remembered. “Jerry!” she screamed, her eyes
flying open. Only one eye opened though. The other was crusted shut with blood and swelling. Her
head pounded. She whipped around, looking. Norman was driving, calmly, even though one of his
tires was flat. She could hear it thumping on the blacktop. She was in the passenger seat, with her
right hand handcuffed to the overhead handle that some cars have so you can hold on while getting in
and out. Or was it so you could hold on when a crazy driver was taking turns too fast? Emma shook
her head. Crazy thoughts at a time like this.

Norman looked different, so different. The beard obscuring most of his face. But still she could

tell he was painfully thin. And white. He looked like he had no circulating blood in his body at all.
Then she saw it. The spray of blood on his door. And his driver’s side window was shot completely
out. His left hand sat uselessly in his lap, blood dripping slowly down it from his shoulder.

“Norman, you are losing a lot of blood. You should let me look at it,” she croaked. Water. I could

use some water. And a gun. Craig was right. Craig was right. Craig was right.

Norman ignored her. She hoped he could still hear. She looked around at their surroundings. They

were close to the harbor. So they’d been driving for 10 minutes or so. She couldn’t believe that no
cop had seen him driving on his flat tire yet and pulled him over.

Even as she thought it, she heard sirens in the distance. Coming for them? Looking for this car?

Was Jerry alive to give them the description?

Norman heard it too and checked his rear-view mirror. Emma wanted to look but her head hurt

too badly.

“Just gotta get out of the city,” Norman muttered to himself.
Westwood Harbor Bridge, the only way across the bay to the cities on the other side, loomed

large before them. Emma felt in her pocket with the hand that wasn’t handcuffed for her phone. She
didn’t feel it. Had it fallen out? Did she dare even try to use it? She didn’t want to get hit in the head
again. But she had to try something. He probably had much worse plans for her once he got wherever
he was going.

Norman turned onto the bridge and the sirens got louder. He checked his mirrors again and

swore. This time Emma had to look. Police cars coming up fast behind them. Oh thank God.

Norman punched the gas and shot between two cars, switching lanes. Emma pulled her seatbelt on

quickly with her free hand, her head jerking around with the movement and causing bright pain to
flash behind her eyes.

Ahead of them, a semi trailer hit his brakes and started slowing, trying to fall back in line with

another semi, which would effectively block Norman from getting anywhere. If they were listening to
the scanner and heard the pursuit in progress, they could be doing this on purpose. Emma had heard of
it happening before. Norman swore again, and jerked the car to the left, trying to ease past the semi on
the shoulder. But there was no shoulder. This was the bridge. Norman must have thought he could
make it though. He slammed the gas again and tried to shoot through the narrow gap between bridge
and truck. Metal and metal.

Emma screamed, knowing they were about to be sandwiched. Blood pounded in her head, terror

muting the pain.

The car clipped an abutment and shot up on its side, then flew through the air and over the

boundary of the bridge.

The air bags all popped in the car, and Emma slammed forward and to the side into hers. Norman

wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, and although he hit his airbags, he also shot up and hit the roof of the car
with his head. Emma heard the crunch, but didn’t know what it was at first.

The car hit the water with a horrible splash and heart-stopping wrench. The airbags were all dead

and limp now, but Emma’s seatbelt held her in place. Norman hit the front windshield, then rolled
onto Emma as the car lurched sickeningly to the passenger side.

Emma shrieked and pulled at the handcuffs and the handle she was tethered to with all her might.

Drown. Gonna drown, beat through her sore head. Norman’s dead weight pressed her against her
door. He lay still, unconscious, his left arm caked with blood, and more blood leaking from his ear.

She felt the complete hopelessness of the situation. She watched for the water to enter the car,

knowing it meant her death. She felt it first, around her ankles. Then it came quickly, almost up to her
knees. It was icy and smelled like mortality to her.

No babe, don’t give up. You fight! Craig’s voice rang through her head. She felt her own tears on

her cheeks and heard a strange, keening noise coming from her mouth. She looked up at the handcuffs
and yanked again. If she could pull her hand free and get Norman off her she could escape through his
window. She pulled, hard, but it wouldn’t budge. The water was up to her waist now, and the car was
sinking faster.

Norman floated in his mind. There was something he wanted to do, had wanted to do for a long

time, but it didn't seem quite so important right now. He felt good, at peace. He had an idea that he
hadn't felt at peace in a long time, but he couldn't quite grasp why that would be. He heard someone
call to him. Emma. It was Emma. Sweet and lovely Emma. He'd never been the husband that she
deserved. He knew that now. But Emma didn't hold it against him. He could tell by her voice. He
tried to tell her that he had to go. That he wanted to go. That she wasn't going to see him again. He felt
sorry that he wouldn't see her again, sorry that he wouldn't see anyone again. But he had somewhere
more important to be. Someone to apologize to. Someone to make things right with. But Emma was
insistent.

Emma watched the rising water and screamed again, unable to help herself.
“Norman!” She cried, tears in her voice, her very sanity threatening to split. “Help me!”
The icy water or her cry seemed to rouse him. He raised his head and looked around. She

watched as the water rose to his neck. He gazed at her, eternity in his eyes. Then something broke
behind them. She didn’t know what. Just that it was big.

Frantic now, knowing Norman was getting exactly what he wanted, she pulled with every ounce

of strength she had in her one arm and felt something in her back give way. Then Norman was
reaching up with her. He grabbed the handle itself and heaved. She could see the muscles of his
forearm strain and stand out.

The handle gave way with a pop. And water covered their faces. Emma held her breath, but the

window was so far away, and Norman was still on top of her, dead weight. She could see him
through the water, shimmery, blurry. He gave her a sad smile, and lifted his body off of hers, then
pulled and pushed her towards the light. She grabbed the steering wheel and shot her body out of the
window, handcuffs and handle trailing. She looked back, and Norman lay still in the car. She watched
him go down, down, without a breath of protest.

Emma swam with all her might towards the surface, fighting the suction from the car. The suction

held her powerfully, then gave her up, and she shot towards the surface on a large bubble of air that
floated up from the car.

Her head broke the water’s edge and she sucked in great lungfuls of oxygen.
He had helped her. In the end, he had helped her.
She swam towards shore.

Chapter 35

“How’s Jerry?” Vivian asked Emma, as she and Craig sat in their chairs at the restaurant.

Emma and Craig had just come from the hospital, where Jerry had been for 3 days, since Norman

had shot him and tried to crush him between the ambulance and his car.

“He’s great. The bullet in his shoulder was a through and through, and didn’t hit anything vital.

His leg is worse off but the doctors say surgery went well and he shouldn’t even have a limp after a
year of physical therapy.”

“A year?” Vivian hissed, astonishment on her face.
Emma hung her head. For everything she had to be happy about, she had something to feel sad and

guilty about too. “I know,” she said, her voice glum.

“Will he be able to go back to work?”
“Not for a while. It happened at work though so the department will be paying him till he can. He

says he’s going to Vegas to meet some ladies.” Emma smiled and Vivian laughed at that.

Emma glanced at Craig. He was talking intently to Hawk, both of them pulled back from the table

a bit.

Vivian leaned forward. “How are you, Sis?” she asked, concern on her face.
Emma sighed. “I don’t know really. I probably should go see Dr. Anderson again. She helped me

so much after the first incident with Norman.”

“Yeah, you should. Are you having bad dreams?”
“Not so far. But I feel different. Heavier. Like I’m still carrying Norman around in my mind.”
Emma’s eye was still black and blue, although much of the swelling had gone down. She’d spent

another night in the hospital too, thanks to a concussion Norman gave her.

“Maybe you should think about postponing the wedding.”
“No!” Emma had set a wedding date the first night after Norman’s death. As soon as she’d gotten

the word from Craig that Norman was actually dead, and his body had been pulled from the car, she’d
made up her mind. She wanted to be married in three months time, before fall came. Craig had
agreed, happily. He’d said he would marry her tomorrow if that’s what she wanted.

“I mean, I can’t imagine anything right now that would make me happier than the wedding. It’s my

light right now. I want so much to get married, and this can be the big reunion that all of our new
family members come into town for. I just can’t wait.”

Vivian nodded. “Ok, it was just a thought. When are we going to pick out your dress?”
“Next week, I have an appointment. Tuesday at 10.” She touched her hand to her eye. “Hopefully

this is faded by then.”

Emma heard the name Frabrazio drift their way. Craig had said it.
“What, was he caught yet?”
Craig nodded. He and Hawk moved in to the table. “They caught him in LA on a traffic stop. He’s

at the Federal detention center down there on charges that have nothing to do with our case. But we’ll
add what we can to the pile.”

Emma nodded. “So now that Norman is dead, and the Senator is dead, and that guy is being

detained, there’s no danger to me anymore, right?”

Hawk nodded. “Frabrazio’s not a danger to you anyway. He was just doing more dirty work for

Oberlin and probably never even heard your name.”

Emma smiled thinly. “Ok good. I hope this doesn’t offend you guys, but I don’t want to hear

anymore about the investigation for now, OK? I’ve had enough of the whole mess for a long time.”

Craig put his arm around her. “Sure babe. Sorry.” He kissed her temple gently and clung to her.
Vivian stood up. “Sorry guys, but I have to go. I wanted to stay for lunch but Lionel just messaged

me and said Irina is waking up. I really want to be there.”

She ran around the table and hugged Emma, then Craig, then stopped at Hawk and sat on his lap.

“I’ll see you tonight,” she whispered in his ear then gave him a kiss passionate enough to make Emma
squirm and Craig look away. Those two are something else, Emma thought. Then Vivian hurried out
of the restaurant without looking back.

“Lionel?” Emma asked Hawk.
“You know, the hacker guy. Vivian met him the night I sent her out to the safe house. She didn’t

know who he was and started talking to him. She said she wanted to talk to him because he looked so
sad, like a lost puppy. Turns out his baby sister is in the hospital with leukemia. That’s why he did
those jobs for Foster. He needed a lot of money fast, because she wasn’t responding to treatment. He
was afraid she was going to die and he wanted to try some experimental treatment options. Some of
the things he tried helped, but then he ran out of money. Vivian’s paying for it now. In fact, she met
Irina the same night you were in the hospital for the concussion. Says she’s a sweet girl.”

“Wow,” Emma breathed. She’d missed so much in the last few days.
Hawk’s expression broke and he leaned forward. “Emma I need your help.”
“What?”
“I want to. Well. I. Um. Vivian. She.” Hawk looked down and played with his napkin, his cheeks

stained red.

“Hawk are you blushing?” She looked at Craig, eyes wide. He shrugged his shoulders.
“Yeah man, you ok? Is Vivian OK?”
“I want to ask her to marry me. But I don’t know how to do it.” The words fell blunt, and heavy.
Excitement speared through Emma. Her sister was getting married too. They were going to be

married to best friends. Emma couldn’t believe it. She felt the weight of Norman roll off her mind, at
least for a little bit. All of a sudden, she had too much energy to just sit still. She reached out and
grabbed his hands. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” She got up and ran around the table and sat back
down. “I can’t believe it!” She put her hands up in a football cheer and stomped her feet on the floor.
“Oh my God!” She ran to the bathroom and turned around and ran around the table again, leaving
Hawk and Craig to stare after her, open-mouthed.

She sat down and grabbed Hawk’s hands again. Solemnly, she stared into his eyes. Her voice low

and serious, she said, “Double wedding.”

“What?”
“Double wedding! We’re twins! You’re best friends! We can get married together and throw

twice the party!”

Hawk sat back and scratched his head. “Maybe, but we’d have to see if Vivian-”
Emma cut him off. “Vivian! Ok, we have to think of something super romantic and awesome. Is

that what you need help with?”

“Yeah,” Hawk grinned, relieved.
“Ok, ok, let me think.” Emma thought, relieved to have something life-affirming to fill her mind

with.

***

On Tuesday, Emma met Vivian at the bridal shop, and they tried on dress after dress, until she found
the one that Vivian said made her look like a princess. She twirled and whirled and felt her elation
reach new heights. The fever she’d felt in her brain since Norman had taken her a second time

couldn’t withstand that elation. It fizzled out slowly, a piece at a time.

When they were done, her gloves and veil packed securely in her bag, but her dress left behind

for alterations, she pulled Vivian to her car. “You should just ride with me Viv. I know I said we
were doing more shopping, but the guys want to do something cool.”

“Ooooh, what?”
“It’s a surprise silly, just get in.”
They got in the car and Emma drove to a big field on the west end of town. In the center of the

field was a hot air balloon, standing tall and colorful. Vivian sucked in a huge gasp of air.

“Oh! I’ve always wanted to go on a hot air balloon!”
“Really?” Emma said, with a teasing smile. She knew this was something Vivian had been

wanting to try for a long time, but just never gotten around to.

“Oh my gosh, the sun is about to set too. Are we going to see the sunset?”
“I think so,” Emma said, and they pushed out of the car.
Vivian saw Hawk across the field at the balloon and she ran for him, jumping at him and

wrapping her legs around him.

Emma lagged behind, but smiled when she heard Viv’s excited cries.
Craig came out from behind Hawk, and gathered Emma to the balloon with a kiss on her cheek

and an arm around her shoulders.

They climbed into the basket and received a short safety briefing, then their balloon inflated and

lifted off.

Emma watched the view closely as the balloon rose higher. The city loomed off to one side. It

doesn’t look like such a bad place anymore, she decided. Not with Norman gone, and Oberlin
gone. She could believe in her heart that the majority of the corruption had belonged to those sad men.
And with them gone, the city could breathe fresh air, repair itself from within.

She smiled at the city, which she no longer wanted to escape from. She’d found her sister. She

had her man, and yet she still wanted to stay. Her family was here, and family was important to her.

Emma felt tension behind her and turned around in time to see Hawk go down on one knee.

Vivian, standing in front of him, covered her mouth with her hands in that age old gesture all women
perform when they are being promised love for eternity.

“Vivian,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Vivian, These last few months with you have

been the best of my life. All I want is for this feeling to go on forever. Vivian, will you marry me?”

Vivian fell upon his neck, tears spilling from her eyes and wetting his shirt. Her voice was

muffled, but Emma knew what she’d said.

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes
Double wedding, shot through her mind, and she knew she’d plucked it out of her twin’s thoughts.

She smiled. A big one, she sent back.

The End

Book 4 (The Wedding) is free on Amazon and other retailers

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About the Author

I live in Idaho. I have been married for 18 years to the only man on this planet who will put up with
me (I'm a handful) and we have two amazing boys (10 years old and 1 year old at the time of this
writing). We have a 7 year old husky/golden retriever mix (dog) who is just awesome and gorgeous. I
love computers and the internet. I love my facebook friends. I love books and I love my google nexus.
I only buy ebooks these days - they are SO convenient! I like to walk for exercise as much as
possible, which hasn't been often since the baby was born. Hmmmm, what else do you want to know?
:)

I always, always, always wanted to write when I was a little girl. Stephen King was my favorite

author. I stopped being able to read him when my first son was born though (too many kids getting
hurt). These days you can probably find me reading Julie Ann Walker or H.M. Ward instead. I
published my first book at 41 years old. I'm not sure how it took me so long to do what I really
wanted to do since I was a kid. I love writing and I love interacting with my readers.

Dedication/Acknowledgements

Again, This book is dedicated to my husband, a rock of a man who has supported me for 18 years.

I also want to thank my beta readers, Nicki Small, Lisa Howard, and Joan Adams. I don't think

they will every comprehend how much they have helped me. That is, unless they someday write their
own books and find awesome beta readers. Then they'll get it.

Oh, and as always Cover design is by

http://www.stunningbookcovers.com/

Also by Lisa Ladew

Edge of the Heat

Edge of the Heat

Edge of the Heat 3
Edge of the Heat 4

Document Outline

Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
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Could You Help Me Out?
Stay Connected
About the Author
Dedication/Acknowledgements
Also By Lisa Ladew

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