**********

Despite the late hours from the night before, Tom was only five minutes later than normal pulling into the Palm Beach PD parking lot. He grimaced as he caught site of Cassy's Porsche already in place. A quick check of the hood proved she'd arrived not too long before him. That was good. Morton had promised the lab reports for first thing this morning. With luck, he'd be able to get his hands on them first. He headed straight for his desk, hoping to find the autopsy folder when a voice carried loudly through the squad room. "Ryan, my office, now."

Tom didn't miss a stride as he twirled toward the captain's office. "Harry, I'm not that--" His words stopped as he caught sight of Cassy standing by the window and two strangers seated in front of Harry Lipschitz's desk.

"Nice of you to join us, Ryan. This is Ned Daniels and Michael Murray from Miami PD. Gentlemen, this is Sergeant Tom Ryan. He and Sergeant St. John are the primaries on the Miller case. Or should I say were?"

"Now just a minute, Harry." Cassy was losing control fast. "That's our case. You can't just pull us off of it."

"St. John, you seem to have forgotten that I am the captain." He held up his hand to forestall another protest. "I wouldn't normally do this but Detectives Daniels and Murray are requesting our assistance."

Tom had moved closer to his partner as Harry spoke. "We're all ears, Captain."

Harry eyed him suspiciously then motioned for Daniels to speak.

The older man with salt and pepper hair looked at his hands for a moment, then began. "This is the fourth case in the last six months where the killer has murdered one spouse and injured the other. In the first two, it was the husband who was the victim. In the third case, the wife died."

Cassy looked shocked. "And you think the same person killed Victor Miller? Why?"

"So far we have an edge in that the press hasn't connected the killings. Some of the details were left out of the official reports given to the media. The Kabuki mask to be exact. All the other victims were killed by someone wearing a Kabuki mask. I believe you're familiar with them."

Tom's voice was grim. "We certainly are, but in our cases, it was the husband who died and the wives who were the perpetrators. How can we help?"

"I'll be honest. If it hadn't been for the mask, we might never have connected the crimes. We've been monitoring all reports of murders within a couple of hundred mile radius for those damn masks. So far your homicide is the only one outside of Miami, but even it has a Miami connection."

"You don't think Victor Miller was the intended victim, do you?"

"No, Sergeant Ryan. We don't. The couple that own the house share a common thread with the other three couples. They're starting divorce proceedings. Turns out that Mr. and Mrs. Carlson are seeing the same group of marriage counselors as the other victims."

"And you think that the marriage counselor is involved?" Cassy asked quietly.

"Counselors, plural. The group has six counselors specializing in marital difficulties and another six that work exclusively with troubled teens."

"Was the counselor the same in all four cases?"

"No, that's what makes it tough, but it's too much of a coincidence for us not to investigate. That's where you and Sergeant Ryan come in."

"What do you want us to do?"

Harry uncrossed his arms and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Well kids, you two are going undercover."

Tom and Cassy exchanged confused, and concerned, looks. "Doing what, exactly?" Cassy asked quietly.

"Why, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Reynolds of Miami are in dire need of marital counseling."

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part - 02 ↑

The stunned detectives stared first at Harry, then at each other. Finally Cassy recovered enough to speak. "That's insane."

Michael Murray grinned at the Palm Beach officers. "Actually, Sergeant St. John, it's one of the best ideas we've had lately."

"Why us? Why not a couple of your Miami detectives?"

"Several reasons. The main one being that you're not know in Miami. Then there's the history."

Cassy practically snarled. "Our personal history has nothing to do with this case."

Detectives Daniels and Murray exchanged confused glances before Daniels spoke up. "I'm not quite sure what you mean. Michael was referring to your case with the Kabuki masks. Granted, it's not the same group doing the killing, they're in prison, but enough similarities appear to make us think our killer may have known your, uh, ladies. Add in the fourth victim here in Palm Beach and we thought you'd want to help. And as partners we thought you could pull off being unhappily married for a short time."

For once Cassy was speechless. Tom smiled briefly before taking the plunge. "I take it Captain Lipschitz hasn't told you everything. Right, Harry?"

"No. I thought it'd be better coming from you."

A glimmer of irritation crossed Daniels' face. "What is going on?"

Tom sighed. "What you don't know is that Cassy and I were married. We've been divorced for quite some time now."

"Oh, my God. That's perfect. You shouldn't have any problems pretending to be a couple in need of counseling. Matter of fact you shouldn't even have to pretend. This is fantastic." Murray paused for a moment. "How can you partner together?"

Tom beat Cassy to the punch. "Oh, uh, we manage. My turn for a question. Where did this idea originate?"

Ned Daniels smiled. "Actually Mike and I thought of it after we got here and found out who the investigating officers were. As soon as we get your consent, we'll contact our office for approval in Miami."

"Cass?" Tom watched his unusually silent partner with some concern.

"You think you're dealing with a serial killer, don't you?"

"Yes, Sergeant St. John, we do. We just can't find a connection other than FamiliesRUs and the mask."

"FamiliesRUs?"

"Sorry, the counseling service in Miami. Stupid name. How about it? Are you two in?"

Cassy looked briefly at Tom, then turned to face Daniels. "Yes, we're in."

"Fantastic. Captain, is there somewhere we can call our commander?"

"Yes, you can use--"

"The phone on my desk." Cassy interrupted sweetly. "Captain Lipschitz, Tom and I have some business to attend to."

**********

The murder made the front page. Victor Miller's picture was positioned just beneath the latest world news from the Ukraine. A scream of "Noooooo!" accompanied a vicious thrust of a butcher knife into the paper. "You're not the right one. HE was the guilty party. She hadn't done anything wrong. HE was supposed to die. HE will die. Who were you? Why were you there?" The knife sliced its way around the picture. A thin hand shot out to catch the photo as it fell free of the paper. A large question mark was drawn over the victim's face in red magic marker. The photo then joined a growing gallery of others, all marked with X's. The hand gently traced the name under the photo. "Don't worry, Victor. He was a coward to let you die in his place. He will pay for that soon. Very soon. I promise you."

**********

"Well?" Michael Murray asked impatiently. "Did he go for it?"

"Yeah. The captain's gonna get approval from the powers that be but he doesn't see any problem with it. He already has a car, and thinks he can get the use of a house."

"What kind of car? They've got to appear at least upper-middle class."

"How does a Mercedes convertible sound? Just confiscated in a drug bust."

"That'll do." Murray glanced toward Harry's office. "Wonder what they're doing?" The pair watched in fascination as the obviously upset female detective held the attention of her captain. Her partner maintained a carefully neutral expression, at least when she looked in his direction.

"Who cares? But I would like to know how Ryan let a babe like St. John get away from him. I'd give a month's pay for a romp in the hay with her."

"She is a looker, that's for sure. You suppose Ryan's, uh, well, uh,"

"What for heaven's sake?"

"Not interested in girls?"

"We may never know, but watch what you say, the door's opening."

Harry motioned the detectives back into his office. "Did your captain approve it?"

"Yes, Captain Lipschitz. He's doing the paperwork but the Reynolds' should be on target for counseling in the next couple of days."

"What's the game plan?" Tom decided to ignore his partner's irritation and get on with the assignment.

"Simple. You go in, talk to a few shrinks, see what shakes out."

"Okay. When do we get to the bait part?" Tom's voice was cold.

"Bait?"

The word died in Murray's throat as Cassy glared at him. "Detective Murray. Palm Beach may not be as big as Miami, but we're not exactly backwards here. Tom and I are going in as bait. Pure and simple. Correct?"

The surprised Miami detectives nodded silently.

"And," Tom added, "You don't even know how the killer selects his victims, do you?"

"Well, no, but we'll have you under observation at all times."

"That's comforting."

"Now look Sergeant Ryan-"

Harry leaned forward, arms braced on his desk. "No, you look, Detective Daniels. These are two of my best officers. Your department had better be watching their backs at all times. If I even suspect they are not being supported, then they will be yanked out so fast you'll never know what happened."

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part - 03 ↑

Cassy restlessly paced the ornate office, wandering between the fifty-five gallon aquarium and the display of miniature lighthouses on the opposite wall. Her spouse sat stiffly in one of the leather chairs placed for client comfort. "Cass, will you please sit down. I'm getting dizzy."

"I'll pace if I want to, Thomas."

"Oh, it's Thomas today, is it? This was a bad idea."

"Only because you didn't think of it first."

"I suggested-" Tom paused as the office door opened.

"Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds, I'm Doctor Benjamin Wilson. I'm the director of FamiliesRUs." He smiled as he spoke, tucked a pair of manila folders under his arm, and held out a hand to Tom, who pointedly ignored it. The man moved on to greet Cassy, pretending he hadn't noticed the slight.

"Stupid name."

"Excuse me?" Director Wilson was stunned by the comment.

Tom repeated himself. "FamiliesRUs - stupid name for a counseling service. Sounds like a damn toy store."

Cassy broke in immediately. "Thomas, please, you said you'd try."

"I am trying."

She snapped back. "Doesn't sound like it."

"Mrs. Reynolds, Mr. Reynolds." The director's voice had turned to steel as he moved to stand behind his desk. "Perhaps I should skip the pleasantries and go straight to the rules."

"Fine. You do that." Tom glared at Cassy as he spoke.

Cassy smiled at the doctor. "Forgive my husband, please. He's always a little testy before his third cup of coffee. Now you were mentioning rules?"

The director returned her smile, his blue eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. "Yes, Mrs. Reynolds-"

"Cassy and he's Tom."

"Fine, Cassy. The primary rule is to refrain from cutting remarks, particularly those directed at a spouse. However, that also applies to those directed at this organization and its staff. Are we clear?"

"Certainly, Doctor. We'll behave."

"I'd like to have the same assurance from Tom."

"I'll make an effort."

The director looked at him sternly. "That will be fine, for now, but be aware that we can terminate your contract at any point. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's review your psychological profiles." Slipping into his large leather office chair, he studied the folders in front of him.

Tom looked curiously at the papers on the desk. "See anything interesting, like maybe murderous tendencies?"

Wilson grinned. "No, the tests you took weren't that kind of test. We at FamiliesRUs try not to have preconceived notions about our clients. Hence, we don't do the same sort of testing many other services give. Our tests are really designed to pair the family with the correct counselor. Looks like two of our people are a match for you."

"Is that unusual?" Cassy asked curiously.

"Not at all. You'll meet separately with both, and then the counselors will compare notes to decide which one will work with you."

"We don't get to choose?"

"No, Tom. We've found that couples contemplating a divorce aren't usually getting along well enough to even agree on a counselor. Therefore we make the decision for you."

"I see. Has that worked well?"

"Tom, I assume you're aware that our service has a ninety percent success rate in keeping couples together."

"He never looked at the brochure, Dr. Wilson."

"Indeed? I thought you were interested in saving your marriage, Tom."

The young man met the director's eyes. "Let's be clear on one thing. The only reason I'm here is to satisfy my mother."

"I don't understand."

"For some reason, Mother thinks of Cassy as the daughter she never had. She made me promise to give this an honest try before I file for divorce."

"I see. Well, let's go meet the first of the counselors."

*********

Four exhausting hours later, Tom and Cassy Reynolds walked out the doors of the clinic. Sliding into the Mercedes convertible, the pair didn't speak until they were out of sight of the clinic.

"Murderous tendencies? Where did that come from?"

Tom grinned sheepishly. "I'm not sure. It just came out."

"Well, Mr. Reynolds, you'd better be careful. We're dealing with shrinks here. Words are their game."

"Thanks, I'll remember that."

"Uh, Tom, the house is south of here."

"I know, but I'm starving. I thought we'd get takeout and then go back home."

"Fine with me. I just want a salad."

"And fries."

"I don't want fries."

"Look, I'm getting fries."

"So?"

"You'll eat mine."

"I will not."

"You always do."

"Do not."

"Have it your way. What'd you think of Wilson?"

"Smooth, very professional."

"Smith and Young?"

Cassy thought for a moment. "Well, she seems sincerely interested in saving our marriage."

"What about Young?"

"He was watching my legs the entire time we talked."

"He was?"

She snorted in disgust. "You know, you never noticed those things when we were married, either."

*********

Three pairs of eyes watched as the Reynolds drove away. Ben Wilson was the first to break the silence. "Well, what do you think? Can their marriage be saved or do we drop them from the start as a lost cause? We've lost two couples this year to divorce. I don't want the percentages to go down any further than ninety."

"Don't forget the three that were killed. All of those were fixing to file." Carol Smith replied grimly.

"They don't count."

"Why not?" Bill Young asked curiously.

"They never actually got around to filing, so they don't affect our success rate. Now about the Reynolds, are they keepers?"

"I'd say yes." Bill replied without hesitation.

"Carol?"

"Yes. It'll take work, but I think we can help them."

"Good. Let me know which one of you will be their counselor and get Judy to set up an appointment as soon as possible." Ben turned and walked back to his office.

"Bill, I'd like this pair, if you don't mind."

"No problem. Let me know if you fail though. I'd like to catch Mrs. Reynolds on the rebound."

Her retort was cutoff by the arrival of her husband. "Ready for lunch Carol?"

Bill laughed at her discomfort. "Go ahead, Carol. I'll take care of getting with Judy on the appointment."

"Thanks Bill." She took her husband's arm as they walked toward the parking lot.

George Smith watched his wife carefully. "Okay, give. What's wrong?"

She looked startled. "Oh, probably nothing."

"Sweetie, you forget, I'm a shrink too. Combine that with a twenty year marriage and you don't get around me that easy."

Carol smiled at her spouse. "Sorry, darling. Well, we've got a new couple in for marital counseling. I'm gonna work with them, but something is really strange."

"Spill it, woman."

"Well, man, in the interviews the husband comes across as just wanting out and the wife wants to keep the marriage alive."

"So?"

"It's just a feeling, but if I had to guess, I'd say that Mr. Reynolds is not the one that wants out."



----------------------------------------------------------------------

part - 04 ↑

The black Mercedes convertible eased out of the parking lot. Cassy suspiciously eyed the paper bags on the back seat. "What'd you get?"

"I told you, it's a surprise."

"I wanted a salad."

"I got you a salad."

Cassy turned around, sniffed the air and reluctantly replied. "It smells good."

Tom grinned. "The aroma belongs to my food."

"I see." She sat silently for a short moment, then asked, "Why do you think the victims were killed?"

"I don't know." Tom admitted. "From all the reports I've read, the only thing the victims had in common was that they were getting divorced."

"Do you really think someone at the center's involved?"

"Daniels and Murray sure seem to think so."

"I realize that. That's why we're here. What do you think?"

Tom remained silent as he maneuvered the car across the lanes of traffic and headed down the exit ramp. "I think it's too much of a coincidence to be anything else. We know the murders were committed weeks apart, in a variety of locations, in a variety of ways. If it wasn't for the masks and the surviving spouse, they probably wouldn't have tied the killings together at all. Add in marital counseling at the same firm and I'd say yes, someone at the center's involved. Why? What's bothering you?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that. I know you too well. Now what's bothering you?"

She sighed heavily. "The way all the murders were committed. The killer hid behind a Kabuki mask, killed one spouse and injured the other."

"So? Someone's imitating our Black Widows case. We knew that. Why are you just now concerned about it?"

"I guess it's the shrink factor."

"What?"

"They deal in mind games. If this is truly a serial killer, can you think of anything more dangerous than a shrink as the perp?"

**********

Michael Murray flashed his badge at the guard on the door. "Homicide. Is Detective Daniels here yet?"

"Yes, sir. He's with the wife, first door on the right."

Murray nodded and headed down the hall. The recent foot traffic had taken a heavy toll on the once white carpet. Mike slowed to allow two lab technicians room to pass. Glancing into the living area, he grimaced at the blood that was splattered over the white furnishings. He heard his partner's voice coming from the other room, but instinct drew him toward the murder scene. "What've we got, Henderson?"

The pathologist nodded permission for the lab techs to close the body bag. "Probable cause of death was head trauma. Someone laid his skull open with the ceramic sculpture over there."

"Could the wife have done it?" Michael was praying for an open and shut case.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because the killer broke her arm."

"Shit." He turned and hurried to find his partner.

**********

The woman's shoulders shook violently as the blanket was draped over her. "I..I d..didn't want him d..dead."

"Please Ma'am, you need to be quiet." The paramedic tightened the straps and nodded to his partner. "She's going into shock. Detective, we need to transport. Now."

Ned Daniels was leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest as Mike entered the room. "Go ahead." The paramedics quickly moved their burden out the door.

"Ned? How is she?"

"Just peachy. Broken arm, shock, witness to her husband's murder. Dammit to hell, this wasn't supposed to happen."

"What happened?"

"Some dude in a what could only have been a Kabuki mask caved in the husband's skull and swung at his wife when she tried to stop him."

"Him?"

"Well, she's not sure. Hopefully she'll be able to put more details on it later."

***********

"Reynolds' residence." The slender brunette balanced the phone on her shoulder as she peered through the curtains.

"May I speak with Mr. or Mrs. Reynolds, please?"

"I'm sorry, they are not available. May I take a message?"

"Yes, will you let them know that Carol can see them tomorrow at ten if that's convenient?"

"I'll give them the message. Is there a number where they can reach her?"

"They already have it. Thank you." The young female voice had no sooner disconnected than the phone rang again.

The brunette sighed then answered. "Reynolds' residence."

"Hi Evie, Tom and Cassy back yet?"

"No, Mike. They should've been back ten minutes ago. Juan's going looking if they don't... wait, they just pulled in. I'll get them for you." Before the man could respond, she placed the phone on the table and hurried out the front door. In keeping with the housekeeper role she'd assumed, the young Miami cop nodded at her employers. "Mr. Murray on the line for you, sir. May I take those bags for you?"

Tom smiled and relinquished control of the paper bags. "Thank you, Evie. Don't let Mrs. Reynolds get to these just yet."

The pretty brunette carefully hid her own smile as Cassy stuck her tongue out at Tom. Noting the delightful aroma coming from the bags, she responded sweetly. "Certainly, sir. I'll put them in the dining room."

The Palm Beach detective lifted the handset to his ear. "Reynolds."

"Tom, we have a problem. Put me on speaker. Is Evie still in the room?"

Tom pushed the speaker button and replied. "She's right here and Juan just came in from the garden. What's wrong?"

"Norman Carlson was murdered this afternoon. His wife's on the way to the hospital with a broken arm."

Juan Lopez slammed his gardening gloves into the door frame in frustration. "I thought they were in a safe house under guard. Where was their protection?"

"Burglar alarm went off next door, followed by a woman's screams. Our boy decided to play super cop and went to investigate without calling it in. By the time he realized he'd been had, it was too late."

Cassy asked quickly, "The killer went after the next door neighbor?"

Murray's voice was grim. "Not exactly. Both the alarm and the screams turned out to be a tape recording. And before you ask, we don't know how our killer knew exactly where to find the Carlsons."

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part - 05 ↑

Evelyn McLellan moved closer to the phone. "Has our security been breached?"

"I'll be honest. We just don't know. Tom, Cassy, if you want to back out, there'll be no hard feelings here in Miami."

Tom met Cassy's eyes seconds before she responded. "No. We're gonna see this through. The only concrete tie is the center and this jerk's up to five victims. That's five too many."

"I was hoping you'd see it that way. Evie, if you can break away from your domestic duties, I'd like you to interview Mrs. Carlson. She was in shock while we were there but something tells me she might talk better to a woman."

"No problem." The young brunette's grin was infectious. "My employers brought home take-out. I won't need to cook."

Murray laughed loudly. "Fine. Do the interview then file your report." As the phone line went dead, a poorly suppressed laugh caused all heads to turn toward the gardner.

"What's so funny, Lopez?"

"The idea of you cooking for the Ry..Reynolds. Ludicrous."

"Exactly why is that funny?"

"You forget, I've eaten your cooking. Those brownies you made last Christmas gave everyone the runs." Still laughing the gardener disappeared out the front door.

Tom's hazel eyes danced with suppressed laughter as Evie walked toward the door. "Ex-lax?"

She grinned. "How'd you know?"

"I saw the same movie. Come on, Cass, we've got files to review and supper to eat."

**********

The mask joined the others in a neat row. Under each mask lay a photo of the surviving spouse. One display held a news photo instead of a photograph. Victor Miller and his wife, now widow, Miriam, smiled out of a cruise ship photo taken years before. "I'm sorry, Victor, but he paid for his crimes. He's dead now. But there's more where he came from. Too many more. That's okay. I've got plenty of masks."

***********

Evelyn McLellan slipped quietly into the emergency room. Flashing her id at the duty nurse, she asked. "Jennifer Carlson?"

"Down the hall, third room on the right. She's conscious but not for long. The doctor's given her some pretty heavy medication."

Evie nodded and moved unobtrusively out of the way of an elderly couple attempting to deal with the reams of insurance paperwork confronting them. She walked quickly down the hall, pausing outside the room housing Jennifer Carlson. Stepping inside, she stated, "Mrs. Carlson, I'm Evelyn McLellan, Miami PD. I'd like to ask you some questions, if you feel up to it."

"He's dead, you know."

"Yes, ma'am. Can you tell me what happened?"

"The man in the mask killed him. He hit him on the head. Over and over."

"He? The intruder was male?"

"I guess so."

"But you can't be sure?"

"N..No. So tired. Didn't want him dead. At least not really."

Evie's eyes widened at the woman's comment. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"I hoped he'd die when he said he wanted a divorce, but I didn't really mean it. We went for counseling, Sue was so nice. She tried, she really tried, but once Norman made up his mind, it couldn't be changed."

"So you were going through with the divorce."

As the dazed woman looked blankly around, she muttered. "Uhhuh. Norman called the center and canceled the rest of the sessions. Told Sue, our counselor, it wasn't any good beating a dead horse."

Evie struggled to conceal the urgency in her tone. "When, Mrs. Carlson? When did he call?"

Sleepy eyes, still dull with shock, blinked heavily as she replied. "Today. He called them today."

**************

"Cassy, hurry up! It's almost 9:30. We're going to be late."

"No we're not, it's only a fifteen minute drive."

"That's after you get in the car, Cassy. It doesn't include time spent on the stairs. Now what?" Tom stared in amazement as Cassy checked her hair in the mirror by the front door of their home.

She caught him shaking his head in disbelief as she turned to join him. "What?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"That look was not 'nothing'. Now, gimmee."

"Well, we're going to the counseling session in a convertible."

"Yes?"

"Why are you checking your hair? It's just gonna blow out of shape."

Cassy wore a Cheshire cat grin as she brushed past him on her way to the car. "Don't be silly, Thomas. If it's not laying right to start with, I'll never get it right when we get there. Besides, I'm wearing a scarf."

"Oh. I see." The perplexed look on his face gave him away but Cassy refused to elaborate further as the handsome detective slid behind the steering wheel.

**************

Carol Smith smiled as she entered the small office. "I'm delighted that you were able to begin our sessions this quickly." She studied the young couple sitting across from her. "Tom, you seem a little tense."

"I'm not used to doing this."

"This?"

"Spilling my guts to a total stranger. Isn't that what we're supposed to do?"

"Well, yes, but I don't expect you to reveal anything you don't want to share. Is that fair?"

"Tom doesn't like to reveal too much of himself to anyone."

"Cassy, I was talking to Tom. Now Tom, as I was saying, does that sound fair?"

"I suppose, but I know shrinks. They're as bad as lawyers, always looking to trip you up."

"Tom, please, you promised you'd really give this a try."

"I am trying."

Cassy snapped angrily, "It doesn't sound like it."

Carol interrupted quickly. "Tom, Cassy, perhaps it would be best if I started the session with some questions. Tom, how long have you wanted out of the marriage?"

"He started asking for a divorce about three months ago."

"Cassy, my question was addressed to Tom."

"About seven months."

Carol ignored Cassy's gasp of dismay. "Tom, according to the records you've only been married for four years."

"That's right."

"So from your point of view you were happy for about three years?"

"I suppose so."

"What happened to change that?"

"I don't know, Carol. He never mentioned being miserable."

"Cassy, please. Tom?"

"I finally got tired of her answering for me. It's obvious to me that she doesn't think I have a brain in my head."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

part - 06 ↑

"How can you say that? I don't think you're stupid."

"Oh really." Sarcasm vied with incredulity in Tom's voice. "Then why do you answer for me?"

"I don't."

"Bull shit. It's constant, particularly out in public."

"You're exaggerating."

"No, I'm not. You just did it."

"That was different."

"How?"

"You know you don't let out what you really feel."

"And you're an expert on how I feel."

"Well, I do have a handle on your emotions."

"And I don't? See, you think I'm stupid."

"No. You're just not..." Cassy's voice trailed off.

"Not what, Cassy?" Carol asked.

"N..Nothing."

Tom slid forward in his chair and pointed an accusing finger at his wife. "Oh, now who's not revealing her true feelings."

"Tom, please. Let me talk to Cassy." Carol turned her attention to the blond. "You didn't finish the rest of your statement."

"That's because I didn't want to hurt Tom's feelings."

"Since when?"

"FINE. I was going to say I don't think Tom's stupid, he's just not very bright."

"Not very bright? I'm bright enough to keep you supplied with clothes and shoes." He addressed his next comment to Carol. "She has enough shoes to outfit half of Miami."

"Now who's exaggerating?"

"Carol, ask her how many pairs of shoes she has. Go ahead, I dare you."

Sighing in resignation, the counselor replied. "All right, I will. Cassy, how many pairs of shoes do you have?"

"Not as many as I used to. I only have sixty now."

Carol gulped as Tom replied triumphantly, "You see?"

"Tom, please. I'm talking to Cassy. You did say sixty?"

"Yes, but I gave some away to charity just the other day."

"How many pairs?" Carol couldn't restrain her curiosity.

"I don't know. A few."

Tom stood up and whirled on his wife angrily. "You don't know? You don't KNOW? I haven't known you to spend less than eighty dollars on a pair. How the hell am I supposed to put it down as a charitable deduction, if you don't know how many pairs? I bet you didn't even get a receipt for the shoes."

"Well, no, I just dropped them in the box, and-"

"Now who's stupid?"

Before Cassy could reply, the door swung open and a short red-head stuck her head in. "Mrs. Smith, Ms. Edwards needs to see you."

"Right now, Judy? I'm in a session. Can it wait?"

The girl shrugged. "I suppose. All I know is that she's in the ladies room crying. What'll I tell her?"

"What? Excuse me, Tom, Cassy, I've got to check this out."

"No problem. Didn't wanta talk anymore, anyhow."

"Me either." Frost laced Cassy's tones as she spoke.

"Judy, will you set up an appointment for Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds, say

day after tomorrow?" Receiving nods from the couple across the desk, she continued. "Fine, let's call it a day. Judy will see you out." Carol rose quickly and headed for the ladies room.

Judy Kelly eyed the male occupant of the room with undisguised admiration. "If you'll come with me, I'll get you an appointment card."

"Tom, why don't you get the card and I'll meet you at the car."

"Where will you be?"

"I've got to use the ladies room."

The young man barely stifled a grin. "Fine, but don't be too long. I've got work to do at the house."

"Work, work, work. That's all you think of."

"Don't knock it lady, it keeps you in shoes."

"Oh, Pleeeze." The angry blond stalked off toward the restroom, pretending she didn't see the smug look on Judy Kelly's pretty face.

**********

"Sue, honey, what's wrong?" Carol placed a hand on the trembling shoulder of her co-worker.

Gasping, the younger woman attempted to stop her sobs. Neither woman heard the outer door of the ladies room open. Cassy eased herself inside, and breathed a sigh of relief that the area was divided between a lounge and a restroom. Slipping quietly to the inner door, she listened as the two counselors talked.

"That's it, Sue. Take a deep breath. Good girl. Now tell me what's happened?"

"N..Norman Carlson's d..dead. Ben just told me."

"What? How?" Carol's shock was evident in her tones.

"H..He was murdered."

"Murdered!"

"Ahha. Just like Stephen Hendricks, Roger Moultrie and Amy Walker. Carol, do you suppose there's some sort of connection?"

"It has to be a coincidence. Just a horrible coincidence. It is strange that they were all coming here for counseling. I know the Hendricks were working with Ben and the Moultries with Debbie, but what about the Walkers?"

"Bill, they were seeing Bill."

"So see. Nothing in common there."

"But there was. I checked after I heard about Norman."

"Sue, I'm sure-"

"No, listen. All of the couples had decided to go through with their divorces."

"No, Sue. I know the Hendricks were, but the other two-"

"No! I checked with Debbie and Bill a few weeks ago." She smiled briefly. "Just being nosy, I guess, but they said their couples were about to break off counseling and file too."

Carol gulped. "And the Carlsons?"

"Norman called in yesterday and told me to forget it, they'd decided that it just wasn't working."

"Have you told anyone?"

"Just you. Why?"

"I..I'm not sure. Just don't. Okay?"

"Okay."

So engrossed was Cassy in the conversation that she almost missed their footsteps heading for the door. She darted quickly out of the lounge and up the hall. Tom stood checking his watch and crossing and uncrossing his arms. Spying Cassy, he groused. "Where the hell were you? I thought maybe you'd fallen in."

"Time to go, Thomas. We're outta here."

The handsome detective stared in astonishment as the blond shoved past him on the way to the parking lot. "What? Cassy?" Running to catch up, he was stunned to find her already behind the wheel.

"Keys. Gimme. And don't just stand there. Get in."

Tom tossed her the keys. The young man was barely in the passenger seat when the car flew out of the parking lot. "Geez, Cassy. What's happened?"

"I know how the victims are being selected."

"How?"

"Well, from what I just heard, all the couples had given up on counseling and were going to file for divorce."

"Had they filed?"

"I don't know. That's what we're gonna find out. Either way we know how to play it."

Tom closed his eyes as the Miami landscape flew by. "Uh, Cassy, two things."

"What?"

"One, slow down, and two, supposing you're right about how the couple is chosen, have you figured out how the victim is selected?"

"Uh, not exactly."

Tightening the strap on his seatbelt, Tom sighed. "Didn't think so."

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part - 07 ↑

"Reynolds' residence."

"Hi Evie, it's conference time."

"Okay, I'll put you on hold and get everyone into the office." The young cop quickly used the buzzer to summon the gardener/cop then called Cassy in her room via the intercom. "Conference call with downtown. Have you seen Tom?"

"Out by the pool, soaking up rays. Bet I'm there before he is."

Evie grinned as she snapped off the intercom. The past few days had shown her that the incessant one-upmanship between the Palm Beach detectives was all in fun. She strongly suspected, however, that the relationship could get ugly. As she went in search of the handsome detective, she mentally reviewed the scene from the day before.

The scream of tires on pavement caused both Juan and Evie to rush for the front of the house. The driver's door slammed shut as an obviously angry blond stalked away from the car. Her equally angry partner didn't bother to open the door as he exited the vehicle.

"I said I was sorry, dammit. It just slipped out."

"There's no such thing as a slip. You know that the script had you miserable for three months, but no, you had to say seven. What else am I supposed to think?"

"Cass, I screwed up. Seven just came out, somehow. I don't know how."

"Oh, really. Let me enlighten you. Seven months is exactly how long we were married. I thought you were happy at least part of the time. Looks like I was sadly mistaken."

"If we're down to enlightenment, Cassandra, let me remind you that you walked out on me, not the other way around. So who was miserable?"

Cassy continued her tirade as if she'd never heard him. "And what was that crack about the shoes? It wasn't in the script, either. I never knew you thought I had too many."

"I don't care how many shoes you have. It just came out. It seemed to fit into the conversation, sort of."

"Sort of? Thomas Patrick Ryan, sort of doesn't cut it. Stick with the script and leave my shoes out of it." Before he could reply she stormed through the front door and slammed it in his face.

Tom pulled up before he hit the door and muttered. "Well, they did take up a lot of room in the closet."

The rest of the afternoon saw the Palm Beach pair interacting on case details, but not much else. Much to the relief of the Miami cops, by morning, things appeared to be back to normal. Evie walked out onto the patio and quickly spotted Tom swimming the length of the pool. She ran her eyes admiringly over his figure, and wondered again how Sergeant St. John could ever have let him go. Suddenly remembering that her boss was on hold, she called out. "Tom, conference call, in the office."

"On my way." A few quick strokes brought him to the edge of the pool. Strong arms tensed as he pulled himself easily from the water to the pool's edge. Evie watched discretely from the French doors in the den before moving hurriedly into the office. Cassy sat on the edge of the desk and Juan looked comfortable in the over-stuffed side chair. Evie plopped into the desk chair as Tom Ryan wandered in, a towel wrapped around his slender waist. He used another to dry his hair. Frowning as he saw Cassy's position in the room, he muttered. "Let's get this show on the road."

"Right." Evie pressed the speaker button. "Sorry Ned, had to round up the crew. What's up?"

The speaker crackled to life. "Well, Cassy's right. We've gone back and spoken with close friends and relatives of the victims. All of the couples were fixing to stop counseling and formally file for divorce."

Cassy looked smug. "I'm glad to have Sue and Carol's conversation verified."

"Any idea how the victims were chosen?"

Ned's voice was tense. "Maybe. At least two of the victims would have been considered the party at fault in the divorce. Hendricks apparently abused his wife for years before she finally had enough and the Walker woman had been having an affair with the pool man. We're still checking on the other two."

Tom sat thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. "So, if I'm understanding things correctly, since we decided to go for me being the victim, I guess now would be a good time for the other woman to surface in the sessions."

"It would seem so. I'll let you know if we find out the other two victims were also the guilty parties." The phone disconnected leaving the foursome staring at each other.

Cassy finally broke the silence. "Well, looks like the next session won't be any trouble at all."

"Cass."

"It's okay, Tom. I'm ready for the dirty details to emerge. It's probably well past time for that." With that, the blond hurriedly left the office, Tom on her heels, trying without success to talk to her.

Evie looked at Juan. "You know, those two are still carrying a lot of emotional baggage around."

"Yea. Hope it doesn't get in the way of the case. This nut has got to be stopped."

************

The only light in the room came from an old portable television. The barely functional VCR played a muted tape of old news footage. A sad voice spoke softly. "They had the right idea. They just did it wrong. Now they're in jail, but that's what stupid people deserve. The Kabuki masks were the best part of their plan. The ladies just weren't patient enough. Had to get rid of their husbands too fast. Not like me, I take my time. Savor the moment." Three young women in handcuffs crossed the screen on their way to the prison van. "It's a shame they caught you, but I would have expected no less from him." A finger slowly pressed the pause button, bringing all motion on the old tape to a halt. The same finger gently traced an image on the screen, before being kissed by the watcher. Slowly but deliberately the finger returned to the screen to be placed lovingly on Tom Ryan's face.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

part - 08 ↑

"Well, they're off. How were they this morning?" Juan Lopez turned worried eyes toward his partner.

Evie sighed. "Not good. Cassy's barely speaking to Tom and I don't think it's an act."

"Maybe they're just getting psyched up for today's session. I mean they've got to make the philandering husband deal sound real."

The brunette detective shook her head. "Don't think so. Tom let it slip last night that he'd accidentally strayed from the script."

"How?"

"Seems they were married for about seven months and he made the mistake of using seven rather than three for the amount of time he'd been miserable with Mrs. Reynolds."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." She noticed the wires in his hands for the first time. "Juan, what are you doing?"

"Installing some additional security of my own. I'm gonna put a hidden camera in the den."

"Why the den?"

The older man shrugged. "I'm not really sure. Just gotta feeling."

********

Carol Smith frowned at the unexpected knock on her office door. "Come in."

Judy poked her head around the door, checking for clients.

"It's okay, Judy, the Blacks left a little early and the Reynolds aren't due for about thirty minutes."

"Actually they're here now."

"What! Early? I wonder why?"

"I don't know and they sure haven't said but I thought I ought to warn you. I don't know what's going on, but those two are really pissed. They're sitting on opposite sides of the waiting room. They're not even talking, but every time one of them looks at the other one, it's like they're shooting daggers."

"In other words, it's a little tense out there."

"That's one way to put it."

Carol sighed. She'd really thought that she'd been making progress in the last session. She glanced at her watch. "Well, go ahead and bring them in here. No sense making everyone that comes into the center uncomfortable just because they're early."

Judy nodded and closed the door, leaving Carol wondering just what had happened and hoping she could deal with it. Reaching into her desk drawer, she opened a small bottle and popped two blue pain-killers. She grimaced as she swallowed them dry, then washed the taste out of her mouth with a couple of sips of water. "Hopefully," she thought, "that'll keep that damn headache from coming back."

*******

"Murray, homicide." The man spoke absently into the mouthpiece of the phone, his attention glued to the lab report on his desk. His eyes widened and he suddenly sat bolt upright as he listened to the caller.

Ned Daniels noticed his partner's sudden change in demeanor, and plunking his coffee cup down by the empty pot, crossed the squad room to join Murray. He mouthed a quiet "What?" as Murray jotted information down on his pad. Michael waved his partner into silence, then spoke back into the mouthpiece. "It'll take us about twenty minutes to get there. Fine and thank you for calling." Ned was standing with his arms crossed, waiting impatiently for Michael to speak. Michael grinned at his friend. "We have a shop owner down in the Keys that just got back from vacation and found our notice about the Kabuki masks."

"And..."

"Seems he sold an unusually large number of the masks a few months back."

"Does he-"

"Yes! He had to special order the masks so he's sure he can identify the couple that bought them."

"That's great! Couple, did you say couple?"

Ignoring his stunned partner's expression, Michael headed for the door. "Yes, couple. Coming?"

Grabbing his jacket, Ned enthusiastically followed his partner out of the room.

*******

Tom, ever the gentleman, held the door for his wife as they entered Carol's office. The counselor grimaced inwardly as the pair took seats as far away from each other as possible. "Ouch," she thought, "this is gonna be fun." Turning to her clients, she spoke firmly. "Tom, Cassy, who wants to tell me what's happened?"

The handsome brunette sank lower into the over-stuffed chair. "Ask her."

"Cassy?"

Tears of rage threatened to fall as the pretty blond struggled for control. "I'm sorry, Carol. I'm gonna file for divorce first thing tomorrow, after I talk to my attorney."

"Why, Cassy? You wanted to save your marriage."

"T..That was before I found out about, about her."

"Her?" Carol had a really bad feeling about this.

"Yes, he's got a girlfriend. That's why he wants out of the marriage so badly."

"Is this true Tom?"

The man grew defensive as both woman stared at him. "Yes, dammit. I told you I wanted out of the marriage, but no, you had to come for counseling."

"Why didn't you tell me about the other woman, Tom?"

"Wasn't anyone's business but mine."

"I trusted you, Tom, and you betrayed me."

"Oh, please. Don't be so melodramatic. You haven't been there for me in a long time."

"I'm always there for you. I make sure everything's just right for you. The house, your clothes, everything."

"Everything but you. Hell, Cassy, you're never even home. I don't see you anymore."

The blond rose from her chair. "I'm never home! YOU'RE never home and even when you are you don't even look at me. Then I find out you're sleeping with my best friend."

Carol interrupted quickly. "Tom, Cassy, I think a cooling down period-"

"Enough!" The fury in Tom's voice took both women by surprise. "I've found someone I can talk to. Someone who doesn't think I'm stupid and will listen to my side of everything. Why wouldn't I want out of this marriage?" Rising swiftly, he stalked out of the office, pushing angrily past a confused Ben Wilson. The squeal of tires out of the parking lot was evidence of Tom Reynolds' anger. An equally angry blond raced past Ben, screaming 'that the son-of-a-bitch better not leave without her and demanding that Judy Kelly call her a cab.'

Concerned, Ben entered Carol's office without knocking. Looking at the stunned counselor, he asked, "What just happened?"

Carol looked at him blankly for a moment before responding. "Looks like our profiles need some work. Mr. Reynolds," Ben was quick to notice the chill in her voice as she said his name, "Mr. Reynolds has a girlfriend. Cassy's seeing a divorce attorney tomorrow. I'm really sorry, Ben. I thought I could help them."

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part - 09 ↑

Tom stalked into the mansion and tossed the car keys angrily onto the console in the foyer. He ignored the jangle of metal as they slid across the wooden surface towards the edge, wobbled once, then dropped off into the Oriental vase filled with ferns. Ignoring Evie's concerned gaze, he mumbled. "I'll be in the den if she decides to come home, uh, here."

"Right." Evie replied weakly. Unable to think of anything to add, she gave a low whistle and disappeared into the kitchen knowing as she went that somehow, the day had just gotten much, much longer.

Juan had been checking the surveillance cameras in the back of the house and missed Tom's arrival. He watched with surprise as a cab pulled up and deposited Cassy at the front door. She paid the driver sweetly then allowed him to open the passenger door. As the cab drove away, Juan was quick to note that the woman was angry. No. More than angry. Livid might be a better word. He winced as the front door slammed shut behind her.

"Thomas! Where are you?" The lack of response made her blood boil. Den, he was probably in the den.

"Well that little stunt with the car certainly wasn't in the script. It's a damn good thing I had enough cash on me for the cab fare. A credit card from Cassy St. John might have just screwed up the case." Cassy's voice was tight with suppressed emotion as she glared at her partner. Tom sat, stiff and silent, in the over-stuffed chair, watching the room through the liquid in his glass.

Tom's hands tightened convulsively on the glass. "No, it wasn't. I..I guess I kinda lost it back there, but I really didn't expect you just to blurt it out like that. Talk about not in the script." The tension in his voice spoke volumes for his mood. "Look, Cass, I'm really sorry. I-"

"Don't!"

"Huh?" Tom cast a confused look in her direction.

"I've had to work really hard to get a good 'mad' up and if you apologize I'll lose it."

A touch of anger edged his tones. "Are you telling me you weren't really angry? That I've spent the better part of two days practically groveling and you weren't really angry?"

"Oh no. I wasn't mad at you at all yesterday, just the day before."

"Would you mind telling me what the hell you think you're doing?"

"The way I figured it, if I could fool you, I could fool Carol. And it was really important for her to believe that I'm filing for divorce over your i..infidelity."

Tom noticed the slight stutter, but chose to ignore it. "You realize that Evie and Juan probably think we're about ready to kill each other."

"Works for me."

"Fine."

"Now you're mad."

"No, I'm not."

"Tom, don't lie. I can always tell when you're mad."

"Cannot."

"Can too."

"Look, Cassy, I'm not going to argue with you here. Just answer one question for me."

"What?"

"How long have I been seeing the other woman? Just in case Carol calls for details."

"You mean in the script or real life?"

"Cassy!"

"Okay, okay. Two months."

"Thank you." His tone was stiff with suppressed displeasure.

"You're welcome. I'm going to change, with any luck our killer will strike tonight and I want to be ready."

Tom sighed. "Right, tonight. I'll go check with Juan on the security cameras."

As he left the room, Cassy couldn't resist getting in the last word. "I still say you're mad."

**************

The sun was beginning to set by the time Tom was completely satisfied with the security wiring. Juan was more than a little frustrated with the Palm Beach detective's insistence on checking all the wiring himself, but finally decided it was more to stay out of Cassy's way than anything else.

"Well, that looks good. Guess I better get back inside and wait." Tom sighed. "I really hate waiting."

The Miami cop looked somberly at the other man. "I can only imagine. Don't worry, you and Cassy just relax, have a drink, argue a little. Evie and I will watch your backs."

"Gee, thanks, I feel ever so much better."

"Any time, Tom, any time." He watched silently as the other man walked back toward the house, then returned to the front yard to put away the lawn mower. It wouldn't do for the device to be left out in front, at least not in this neighborhood. Juan had just closed the doors on the small shed when a small voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Excuse me, mister?"

Juan looked up in surprise to find the little girl from across the street staring at him. "Well, hi there."

"I'm Cindy. My momma makes really good cookies."

Confused, the young undercover cop replied, "That's nice."

The ten-year-old giggled. "What I meant is that these are for you." She handed him a sealed paper sack of freshly made cookies.

"Why, thank you, they smell delicious."

She grinned at him. "Well I gotta go. Hope you like them."

Juan watched as the child ran down the driveway and vanished behind the shrubs which separated the grounds from the sidewalk. Unable to ignore the delightful smells coming from the bag, he retrieved a sugar cookie and took a large bite.

Cindy carefully looked both ways before crossing the street. She ran to her mailbox and yanked down the door. "YES!" she exclaimed with delight as she pulled out the twenty dollar bill. "I've almost got enough for Madonna's new CD set."

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part - 10 ↑

The hinges creaked dramatically as the ancient door opened. The jangle of the door chimes echoed loudly through the shop. Michael Murray and Ned Daniels stopped just inside the door and stared with amazement. The pale pink concrete building was an absolute wreck on the outside. A putrid green peaked through layers of peeling paint, revealing the color that the shop had had in a previous life. Mauve shutters were barely attached to the walls next to the windows and Michael suspected it wouldn't take hurricane force winds to remove them from the walls.

Inside was a different matter, altogether. The shop was a collector's dream, carefully hidden by the nightmare façade out front. Shelf after shelf was neatly lined with collectibles from around the world. Glass storage units neatly lined one wall, protecting their delicate wares from clumsy fingers, both small, and large. The floors were made of hardwood, highly polished and protected by Oriental throw rugs.

"May I help, you?" A thick Spanish accent drew both men's attention to a heavy-set man behind the counter. Cigar smoke circled his head as he smiled a wary greeting.

"Yes, I'm Michael Murray of Miami PD, this is my partner Ned Daniels. We spoke on the phone."

"Ah, yes, Detective Murray. Forgive me if I don't offer you gentlemen a cigar." The proprietor casually slipped a container of cigars under the counter. Daniels suppressed a grin as he caught sight of the word 'Havana' on the side of the box.

Michael was also smiling. "No problem, sir, we don't smoke. I assume you are Hector Ramirez?"

"Indeed, you are most correct, Detective Murray. I believe that you have come about the masks?"

"Yes. What can you tell us?"

Ramirez leafed through a small stack of paper. "Two dozen masks were ordered. It took about three weeks for the delivery, but the buyers seemed most pleased with their quality."

"I don't suppose they used a credit card or a check?" Ned asked hopefully.

"Not at all, they paid cash. It was a pleasant surprise, and yet another reason for remembering them."

"I see. We'll need copies of your records, Mr. Ramirez."

"I have already taken the liberty of having our local copy shop do the work for you. I hope that is satisfactory."

"Most satisfactory, thank you. You did say you could describe the purchaser?"

"Oh, yes, but would not a picture be of more use?"

Ned gulped and glanced at his equally stunned partner. "Oh, much more use."

"Good, I am pleased. My wife, Lorena, is a fine artist. Her paintings are for sale on the boardwalk. She was here also that day and has drawn their picture."

Trying to suppress his desire to get hold of the picture, Michael said, "Thank your wife for us. It was kind of her to go to that much trouble. May we, uh, see the drawing, now?"

"Yes, my wife went to recover it after we spoke."

"I'm sorry? I don't understand."

"I have not explained? I apologize. The portrait was so enchanting that one of our local clubs purchased it for their lobby."

"You mean you didn't have it drawn after we spoke?" Confusion laced Michael's tones.

"Oh, no. They were such a handsome pair. It is not often that you see such affection. The older gentleman was very fond of the young man. A blind man could see that."

Ned took a deep breath. "You did say couple?"

"Was this not the right word? The two men were together."

"Two ... men?"

"Yes, Detective Murray, have I not said so?"

"Uh, yes, well, uh, will your wife be back soon?"

"Most assuredly. The club is not far away. Will you need to keep the painting long?"

Ned recovered his voice. "No, just long enough to take some pictures of these ... men."

Ramirez noticed the hesitation in his voice. "OH, I am sorry. I seem to have misled you. I do not believe the men to be lovers."

"You don't?"

"No, they are so similar in appearance. I have no doubt that they are father and son."

************

"Juan?"

"Back here, Evie."

"Good news, Tom and Cassy are talking in normal tones to each other ag... Where'd the cookies come from?"

"Kid across the street."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why did she bring you cookies?"

Juan looked thoughtful. "She actually didn't say, but I'm betting her mom sent them because I helped her get her car started the other morning."

"They smell good."

"Don't they."

"Juan."

"Yes, Evie?"

"You're gonna make me beg, aren't you?"

"Yep."

************

"Don't say it." Ned refused to look at his partner.

"Say what?"

"You know ... it."

"I'm not."

"Good."

Silence lay heavily on the car for a moment before Ned spoke again. "You thought so too, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I'm over that now."

"Me too."

"Really?"

"YES! Now if we just knew who they are. Shit!"

***********

Cassy was already curled up on the sofa, nose stuck in a novel, as Tom came into the room. The pretty blond shifted slightly on the sofa, hoping to get the jacket of the book out of her partner's sight.

"Watcha reading, Cass?"

"Oh, nothing you'd like."

"What makes you say that?"

"It's not about football."

"Funny."

She smiled sweetly at him then, anticipating his move, quickly turned the novel toward the far wall.

Frustrated, he commented. "It's a trashy romance novel, isn't it?"

"Nope."

"Sure it is."

Irritated, Cassy closed the book and slipped it into the tote bag on the floor beside her. "Actually, it's a murder mystery about a killer that gets off on a..."

A crash from the kitchen brought both detectives to their feet. Cassy glanced at Tom. "I thought Evie was upstairs."

"She was."

"Maybe Juan?"

"Maybe. Haven't seen him since dinner."

"Or maybe," she grinned, "our killer has decided to join us."

"Very funny, Cass. Let's check it out."

"Tom, aren't you being a little overcautious. Juan's got this place rigged to the max and..."

A piercing wail from the hall doorway caused both detectives to whirl, forgetting their argument. "What the..." Tom took a quick step toward the hall, reaching for his gun as he went. The sound of the French doors shattering was the next indication that all was not well. A slight figure in a Kabuki mask flew through the remnants of the doors, heading straight for Tom. Cassy dove for the tote to retrieve her weapon as the figure bore down on her startled partner.

A shriek of "NOT YOU!" was followed by a heavy clay flowerpot impacting with Tom's gun arm, sending the pistol flying across the room and Tom into a heap on the floor. The figure retreated back through the decimated doors. Cassy hurried in pursuit, hesitating just long enough for Tom to gasp out a pain-filled, "I'm okay. Get him!"

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part - 11 ↑

Tom staggered to his feet, arm hugged tightly to his chest. Moving as quickly as he could, he bent to pick up his gun, wondering as he did so if he could use it with his right hand. A sound on the stairway captured his attention, but the turn toward the noise cost him his balance. He landed painfully on one knee, as Evelyn McLellan descended the stairs, clinging to the handrail as she went.

"Where the hell..." The words were out before Tom could digest the glazed expression on the woman's face.

"C..Called for b..back-up." She gasped. "S..sorry, d..drugged." Missing the last step, she landed with a loud 'ooomph' that made Tom wince in sympathy. "C..Cassy?"

"She's in pursuit."

"Not anymore. The jerk got away." An irate blond stood in the hallway door surveying her injured partner and the Miami cop. Ice was warmer than her tones as she asked, "Where's Juan?"

************

The mask shattered as it hit the wall. "DAMN HIM!" With shaking hands, a videotape was shoved into the old VCR. Scrambled images flashed by in a distorted display, until a finger slammed down hard on the play button. "Not Reynolds, Ryan. Almost made another mistake. Almost killed you. I'm sorry, so sorry. SHE's the one who must pay, not you. Next time. Promise. Next time."

************

The ambulance turned on its sirens as it pulled into the street, bearing its cargo toward the hospital, and a stomach pump. Cassy had defrosted only slightly when Tom had found the Miami detective unconscious by the back door. Evie sat at the dining room table, head in hands, desperately wishing that Ned would stop shouting. Well, maybe he wasn't quite shouting, but his voice was much louder than usual. Of course, he wasn't nearly as loud as St. John. Evie was not overly thrilled to find she'd been right about the Palm Beach detective's temper.

Tom Ryan leaned wearily against the door frame, his injured arm in a hastily applied sling. He'd refused the paramedics' advice to ride with them to the hospital, thus adding fuel to Cassy's already fired up temper. Listening to his partner's furious tirade made him feel almost sorry for the Miami officers. Almost.

"Detective St. John, I realize that you're upset..."

"Upset! Upset doesn't even begin to cover it. Tom could have been killed! What were you people thinking? I assumed," she spoke the word with scorn, "that the surveillance equipment was being monitored from outside this house."

"We thought having McLellan and Lopez on site was enough."

"And that lack of thought process, Detective Daniels, almost got them killed." Cassy's index finger punctuated her words on the older man's chest.

Tom sighed. It was definitely time to intervene before the house really did become a murder scene. "Cassy, I really think..."

She whirled, her anger once again focused on him. "And you should be on the way to the hospital to have that arm x-rayed."

"It's not broken, Cass."

"Exactly how do you know that, Dr. Ryan?"

Wincing at her sarcasm, he replied. "I had enough broken bones in college to know this probably isn't broken. Besides, the bone's not moving." He continued hastily before she could interrupt. "We need to know how the drugs were administered."

"The cookies."

All eyes turned toward the pale face of Evelyn McLellan.

Michael's voice had a slight edge to it as he asked. "What cookies?"

"Sugar cookies. They're the only food items that Ryan and St. John didn't have too. I only had a couple. Juan had the rest of the bag."

"Where'd they come from?"

"The little girl across the street. Juan said she brought them to him."

*************

"Mrs. Higgins, please, it's very important that we speak with Cindy."

"Detective Murray, it's eleven-thirty. Cindy has been asleep for the past two hours. Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"Ma'am, the people across the street were assaulted in their home tonight by an intruder..."

"Oh, my God."

"And we think Cindy may know something."

"Excuse me?" The woman's voice was skeptical.

"Please, Ma'am." Michael smiled what he hoped was his most endearing smile.

The angry woman glared at him for a moment. "Fine. You're fortunate that tomorrow is not a school day. Otherwise you would be waiting until after school."

Ten minutes later Detectives Daniels and Murray were facing a sleepy ten-year-old. Murray smiled encouragingly at the little girl. "Cindy, we understand from the housekeeper that you brought Mr. Lopez some sugar cookies earlier this evening."

"Why didn't you ask me that? Of course she didn't take any cookies to their gardener."

"Mrs. Higgins, please. Cindy?" Murray frowned at the expression in the child's eyes. "Did you take cookies to Mr. Lopez?"

"Can I take the fifth?"

"Cynthia!"

"Actually, yes you can, but I don't think you want to, do you?"

The child looked nervously from the officers to her mother, then leaned forward and whispered, "Does Mom have to be here?"

Murray put on his best stern officer's face and replied, "Yes, Cindy, she does. Now about those cookies."

The little girl stared at her feet for a long moment. "Great, I'm dead. Yeah, I took him some cookies."

"That's Yes Sir, young lady. Where did you get the cookies?"

"Please, Mrs. Higgins, let me ask the questions."

"Fine. I'll do that."

"Now, Cindy, I want you to tell me what happened and please, tell me the truth."

Not daring to look at her furious mother, the words started to tumble out of the child's mouth. "Oh, I never lie. I got paid twenty dollars to take the bag of cookies to Mr. Lopez. I was supposed to say that they were from my mom, but that would've been lying so I just told him that my mom made really good cookies and he thought she made them so he took them and I left and the twenty dollars was in the mailbox for me, but I haven't bought Madonna's CD set yet, and I don't have to give the money back, do I?"

Michael sat back on his heels for a moment as he tried to digest what she'd said. "Cindy, do you think you can describe the man who gave you the cookies?"

"Ah ha, but it was a lady."

Ned and Michael exchanged looks. "I see. Thank you, Cindy."

"Mrs. Higgins, I hate to intrude on your evening any longer, but I really need the police sketch artist to work with Cindy tonight on the description."

"Of course, Detective. Cynthia will be glad to help. How soon will the artist arrive?"

"We can have one here in about an hour."

"Thank you, Officers. That will be plenty of time."

"Uh, yes Ma'am. We'll be going now." Michael nodded at Ned and the two of them headed for the kitchen door.

Mrs. Higgins stood perfectly still, arms crossed, with her left foot tapping the floor angrily as the men backed away. "Oh, Detective Murray?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Would you mind handing me the wooden spoon in the utensils jar? The one with the wide bowl? That's right, the one on the left."

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part - 12 ↑

"Thank you, that's great news." Tom hung up the phone and turned to face Cassy and Evie. "Well, the paramedics were right, Juan's gonna be just fine. Pissed, but fine. He ended up with a mild concussion when he collapsed, but it could have been much, much worse."

"I'm glad." Cassy's anger had dissipated soon after the main Miami team had gone across the street. She was, she realized, just as angry that Evie and Juan could have been hurt or killed as she was about the lack of decent precautions. Harry, she was sure, would have a great deal to say to Murray's and Daniel's Captain and Cassy planned to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. Tom's injured arm was another problem altogether. The way her partner kept absently rubbing his forearm caused Cassy to suspect a hairline fracture, but she knew she had no chance of getting him to an x-ray machine until this case was solved. "Damn it."

"Cass?" Tom eyed his too-silent partner with growing concern. A silent Cassandra was not a good sign.

"What? Oh, sorry. Tom, when we were attacked, did anything seem wrong to you?"

"It happened kinda fast, but he went straight for me like he was supposed to."

"He?" Evie asked quietly.

"He/she, couldn't really tell." Tom smiled reassuringly at the young woman.

"Right, but why didn't the attacker go for the kill? He had the clay flowerpot. Why didn't he cave your skull in?"

"I had my gun out. It probably scared him."

"No, Tom. You'd just drawn it. He had plenty of time to hit you in the head with that pot."

"But Cassy," Evie said, "You were diving for your gun. That's what you said in your statement."

"Right, but he wouldn't have known that, his back was to me. Tom, what was it he screamed?"

"Not you." Tom replied, his forehead furrowing in confusion, "He screamed 'not you'. I wonder what that meant? But you're right, by then he was close enough to take a swing at my head. Instead, he smashed the damned flowerpot into my arm and ran like hell."

************

The bedroom was darker than average, opaque shades blocked out what little light might have filtered in from the outdoors. The rocking chair squeaked annoyingly as it tried to keep time with the snores coming from the bed. A startled snort brought the bed's occupant fully awake. "W..What?"

"You lied."

"What are you doing here?" The light on the bedside table clicked on to reveal a distraught figure in the rocking chair.

"You lied."

The occupant of the bed slid to the floor and slipped into a lightweight robe. "You're not supposed to be here."

"You lied."

"Okay, exactly what did I lie about?"

"Reynolds being bad."

"Well, he is bad, he's leaving his wife."

"Not anymore."

"Ahh, good. You taught him a lesson. Good."

"No. You lied."

"This is getting ridiculous. Did Reynolds die or not?"

"He isn't dead."

"You missed?" Incredulity mixed with rage in the sharp tones.

"No."

"Then what?"

"SHE must die."

"Who, who must die?"

"Cassandra St. John, of course. She used to be his wife."

"Oh. You mean Cassandra Reynolds, married to Tom Reynolds?"

"No. Not Reynolds, Ryan from Palm Beach. SHE broke up their marriage so she'll have to die."

"Ryan? Who the hell's Ryan?"

"Thomas Patrick Ryan - Sergeant, Palm Beach Police Department. He's the one who caught them."

"Them?" The voice was now weak with confusion and fear.

"The ladies in the masks. You knooooow... The ones that killed their husbands."

************

"Just a minute. I'm coming." George fumbled with the tie on his robe. "God, I hate screaming at the door. Shit! It's only six am."

"Get the door and make them go away." Carol moaned as she pulled his pillow over her head.

"Right." Heading for the bedroom door, he called out again. "I'm coming, already."

George Smith unsnapped the dead bolt, and pulled the door open as far as the safety chain would allow. "It's six am. This had better be good."

"Michael Murray and Ned Daniels, Miami PD. Is that good enough?"

Wide eyes disappeared as the door slammed shut. Ned was about to pound on the wooden surface again when he heard the safety chain clatter against the wood. The door swung wide. "Wh..what can I do for you gentlemen?"

"May we come in?"

"Certainly." George closed the door behind them. "Uh, the living room is to your right. Can I interest either of you in some coffee? I need some."

"Thank you but no, Dr. Smith."

"Oh," George collapsed onto his sofa. "It's probably not ready yet anyway. Gentleman, I'm sure you're aware that it is six am. What do you want?"

"Dr. Smith, you purchased a large quantity of Kabuki masks a few months back."

"Yes, two dozen to be exact."

"May we ask why?"

"Well, my son needed a couple for a play he was performing in at Berkeley. He's a sophomore, majoring in the performing arts. At any rate, we finally found a shop that carried them but they only had one, so we had to special order the rest."

"You ordered twenty-two more than you needed?" Ned looked skeptical.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I haven't been up long. I decided to use the others in a role playing exercise at the center. I counsel teens. Drugs, alcohol, you name it."

"Wasn't that a little expensive?"

"Not really, the center reimbursed me."

"Why Kabuki masks, why not something cheaper?"

"Because of their quality and the different faces the masks have. You see detectives, most of the kids I work with come from families with money. Plain old Halloween masks from the a discount store just won't cut it. Actually it worked rather well, the kids were delighted with the masks and we had some terrific sessions out of them. They were well worth the cost."

"Where are the masks now?"

"I'm not sure. I would imagine they're in storage at the center."

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part - 13 ↑

The sun was not his friend. Tom groaned as the beams raced directly across his eyes, daring him to continue to sleep. Pulling the extra pillow over his head brought no relief, only a feeling of suffocation. Unconsciously tossing the pillow aside, the detective rolled over, away from the window, and came instantly awake as a red-hot poker shot waves of agony up his arm. "SHIT!" He sat bolt upright in the bed, injured arm clutched tightly against his bare chest. "Damn that hurts!" The thought that x-rays might have been a good idea twirled briefly through his sleep-addled brain, but was as quickly discarded as a waste of valuable time.

Sighing he glanced at the clock, and came awake with a jolt. "Eight AM! Damn it Cassy!" He should have know something was wrong the night before when his partner handed him a glass of juice, two aspirin and herded him off to bed. He'd thought the juice had been too bitter, but had been too tired to ask. Shaking his head, he threw back the covers and flung his feet to touch the floor. He tentatively stretched both arms out in front of him and started to check for swelling. A throat cleared itself behind him, and the forward motion of his hands was redirected, ostensibly aiming for his robe.

"Welcome to the land of the living. Are we feeling well this fine morning?"

Tom slipped quickly into his robe, steeling himself against the pain as he pulled the wide sleeve over his injured arm. Turning he met her smile. "Fine, Cassy. Just a little sore." Startled, he stared at the tray she carried.

"Thomas Ryan, you are hopeless as a liar." The Mona Lisa smile on her face struck real fear into his heart. "But not to worry. I brought you breakfast. Evie and I ate over an hour ago."

"Thanks, Cass. Uh, got any aspirin on that tray?" Tom swallowed his pride as he reached for the coffee, with his right hand.

"Nope." She laughed lightly as his face fell. "Would Extra Strength Tylenol work?"

"Yes. Thanks!" Tom popped two tablets into his mouth, then quickly followed them with a large gulp of orange juice. "Have you heard from Miami Vice?"

Her laughter was more intense this time. "As a matter of fact, yes. George Smith bought the Kabuki masks to use with his troubled teens. He thinks they're in storage at the center, but can't check until the place opens," She checked her watch. "in about thirty minutes."

*************

"George? You're here early." Ben Wilson smiled as he greeted the other man.

"Tell me about it. Carol got me out of bed at six."

"Good grief, why?"

"I was snoring."

The astonished look on the director's face gave way to laughter. "So, she booted you out of bed, eh?"

"Yeah. Worked out for the best though, I have a bunch of paperwork I need to at least take a stab at finishing and my first session today doesn't start until eleven."

Ben unlocked the outer door and pushed it open. "Good Lord, we don't want to do anything to stop the decimation of the rain forests. After you."

George smiled as he slipped past his coworker into the lobby and quickly headed for his office. His hand slipped into his pocket, his subconscious working overtime, as he checked for the photocopy image of a young woman. Her face had seemed too familiar when Detective Daniels showed him the sketch artist's rendering. He'd asked to keep the copy under the guise of possibly remembering where he'd seen her. It had been a lie. He knew where he'd seen her. Her photo had been in one of the many folders he'd fumbled through in his years at the center. But for the life of him, he didn't know which one, or for that matter, what he would do when he found her. And he hadn't actually lied to the police, he really would check on the masks in storage.

**************

Evelyn McLellan was completely disgusted with the current state of affairs. Her partner had been duped into eating drugged cookies, by a child, no less. And she, she was no better. She'd eaten some of the damned things too. Their negligence could have cost Ryan his life - should have from all her past experience. To make matters worse, a tape recorder had been found in the silk flower arrangement in the hall. A remote control had triggered the wail that had drawn the Palm Beach duo's attention away from the outer doors. She and Juan were looking very, very stupid and she was the only one who could change that. His concussion had seen to that; he'd be out for several days yet.

The lab had the surveillance tapes from the previous evening, but personally she didn't think they'd find anything of use. She'd given a list of all persons who'd shown up at the front door, but the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach refused to die. How had that micro-recorder been planted? None of the tradesmen who'd called had even tried to come ... Wait a minute. That girl with the, what the hell cult was that anyway? She'd come pleading for a donation. Evie vividly recalled her surprise when she realized that the young woman had followed her into the hall. Damn, damn, and double damn! How could she have forgotten? She guessed that maybe it was true, one did tend to ignore *those* people. Girl took her last five, too, and gave her some ... brochures?

Lunging for her purse, Evie fumbled with the catch. Opening the inner pouch she pulled out three relatively worn pamphlets, complete with local organization address. "YES!"

"Evie? Is something wrong?" Cassy's silent approach caused the other woman to jump.

"Oh! No! I've just remembered that I ... need to run an errand. Will you and Tom be okay here by yourselves? I can get a backup unit here if you're worried?"

"We're fine. The killer has never attacked in the morning. Don't think he's gonna make another attempt so soon."

"Thanks, Cassy, I'll be back in about, oh, two hours." Evie headed for the door, but paused with her hand on the knob. "You won't, uh, go anywhere, will you?"

Cassy grinned. "Don't worry. Tom's not even dressed yet, and I'm betting his arm won't want to take a tour of Miami."

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part - 14 ↑

George sighed heavily as he carried another stack of folders toward the filing cabinets. He'd been lucky, he knew, that this was Judy's day off. Otherwise he'd have been fighting the administrative assistant tooth and nail for control of the heavy metal drawers. Her absence allowed him time to peruse the files without interruption or, he hoped, suspicion. Judy, he was certain, would have never let him get this close to her cabinets. He smiled ruefully to himself as he suddenly realized that the temperamental woman would be more than a little aggravated that he had gone into her files without her permission. George had no doubt that he would be hearing about this incident for months to come.

Slowly, methodically the psychologist examined the folders of all female patients that were in the same cabinet with the stacks he was returning. All things considered he wasn't doing half bad at this investigation stuff. Visions of a new career path raced at dizzying speeds through his subconscious. Carol was always teasing him about the spy thrillers that were his favorite downtime read, but this sneak peak through the file folders in search of an elusive face had brought the books to life in a way the authors could never have imagined. Why, he might even ..."JESUS! BEN!" George yelped as he turned to find the director of the center staring at his back. "You about gave me a heart attack."

"You sure you don't want to leave that for Judy?" Ben's questioning gaze caused George to cringe inwardly.

"Uh, no. Not with the number of folders I've got to have filed. She'd skin me alive."

"I'm thinking she's gonna do that anyway when she sees her cabinets."

"Oh, she'll never notice." George replied quickly.

"Ah ha. Whatever." The director turned to leave.

"Ben, wait. I just remembered that some of what I need to get out of my office needs to go into the storage closet. Have you got a spare key? I didn't realize that the janitor is off today and he's got the only key that I know about."

"Sure. Here. Don't lose it. It's the only spare."

As Ben continued down the hall, George leaned for support on the cabinets behind him while his heart jack-hammered wildly against his rib cage. "Okay," he thought, "no career change for you. Just straight psychotherapy after this."

******************

Tom leaned back on the lounge chair. Bored, bored, bored. Even the word was boring. Gotta continue to play the part. Ned and Michael had been adamant on that point but he didn't havta like it. And Cassy ... Cassy'd been watching him as if he was about to break. When she was around, he didn't dare rub his arm for fear she'd force him to the emergency room. Cassy had reluctantly left him by the pool, agreeing to return to the living room and her trashy novel. His words, not hers. This break by the pool was just what he needed. No. He was lying to himself. What he needed was to be out, somewhere, stopping this killer. His eyes perked up as he suddenly remembered the masks at the center. Or rather, he corrected himself, that were supposed to be at the center. Maybe, just maybe, he and Cassy could play one more scene for Carol. After all, it was part of the role they were playing. Smiling to himself, he returned to the house and slipped quietly up the back stairs. If he showed up in the living room, dressed, with car keys in hand, his blond fireball of a partner would find it much more difficult to say no to his idea. Even if he did need her to drive.

******************

Evie circled the block three times before she found it. A dingy little sign, with a pyramid topped by a star. There was no actual street address on the building but the logo matched that on the brochures. The nearest parking place was three blocks away and the young cop cursed her high heels as she made her way across the uneven pavement masquerading as a sidewalk. The sign swung loosely in front of a dingy, narrow staircase, indicating the establishment was at the top. Evie thought briefly of calling for backup, but, dismissing the thought as silly, she proceeded up the stairs.

******************

A crash from the kitchen brought Cassy scurrying. Primed to subject her stubborn partner to a barrage of verbal abuse for not resting, she stormed her way through the dining room. "Thomas Patrick Ryan, I told you not to try to use that arm. You've probably ... Tom?" As she stepped through the swinging door, she spotted the saucepan on the floor and the well-oiled frying pan sizzling on the stovetop, but no sign of her partner. "Tom?" She caught the motion from the corner of her eye, but it was too late. Cassy gagged at the smell coming from the rag that was seemingly glued to her face. The odor choked her, causing her to cough, thus ensuring she'd inhale more of the chloroform. She dropped heavily to the floor, her attacker not interested in cushioning her fall. A dish towel was shoved into her mouth, and a roll of electrical tape, cut to length, bound her wrists and ankles as securely as rope.

A slender hand roughly pinched Cassy's cheek. The lack of reaction proved the young woman was completely under and would probably remain so for quite some time. "But time, Cassandra, is something you just don't have. You should never have hurt him. He'll be so pleased that he's finally free. Too bad your watch dog left. She could've shared this moment with you."

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part - 15 ↑

Evie reached the top of the stairwell, and paused in surprise. She'd been expecting a hallway, with offices on either side. Instead she found herself on a small, dark landing facing a single door. The pyramid and star logo was etched into the glass on the door. A sign welcoming all who chose to enter was nailed firmly in place to the right of the entry. Gingerly, she tested the doorknob and found it locked. So much for entering unobserved. Evie irritably took the only course of action left to her, she rang the bell.

*************

The storeroom was as overcrowded as he remembered. George cursed under his breath as his shin was bruised by the corner of an old table. He shifted items on a low shelf and knelt to slide a box of his belongings as far back as he could. The incident with Ben at the filing cabinets had unsettled him and he'd decided to steady his nerves by looking for the masks instead. He at least had a reason to be interested in them.

Standing again, he rubbed his lower back and glanced around, checking for the brightly colored boxes he'd stored the masks in. He smiled at the memory of the kids, his kids, painting the dull shipping cartons he'd originally purchased. The painting session had turned out to be almost as cathartic as the role-playing sessions had been. Even if it had been a little messier, not to mention cheaper. Now where were those boxes?

George stood puzzled in the center of the room, and tried to remember where he'd left them. He'd been so sure he'd found room for them by the old filing cabinets. But they weren't... No, wait. There they were, behind yet another table. He really needed to talk to Ben about giving some of this old furniture to Good Will. George eased his way around the table, and absently lifted the lid on the carton. His eyes widened as he found that the carton was empty. Hardly daring to breath he threw back the lid on the second box. "Oh, my God. All of them are gone."

For the second time that morning, he could almost feel the blood freeze in his veins, as a voice behind him spoke. "What're gone, George?"

*************

Evie walked slowly beside the little man in the robe. She managed to take careful notice of her surroundings while still attempting to understand his words.

"The brothers and sisters of the stars, would welcome your entry into their midst, Detective McLellan."

"That's very kind of you, Master Antilles, but I'm just gathering information. Now you say you recognize these pamphlets?" She once again showed him the brochures she had in her purse.

"Oh, yes. Indeed I do. All of our brethren have them. They must carry them at all times, you see, in case they meet one who belongs but does not yet know."

"I don't think I understand."

"Oh. I apologize, you have not yet been trained. One cannot just join our society, Detective, one is born into it. Unfortunately this means that not all of our brethren know of their destiny. Like you. Now that you have been made aware of your exalted status, it is only a matter of time until you shed your worldly ways and join us here."

"I, uh, see. Now, the young woman who left these was tall, very slender, with short brown-"

"Yes, sister Olivia was shown the way two years ago. Poor child, she suffered much until she came to live here. Multiple broken homes, you understand."

Evie's ears perked up. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is she here?"

"No, she has undertaken another mission for our lord to purge herself of the anguish of her youth."

Evie thought irritably. "A straight answer, is that too much to ask?"

"What did you wish of sister Olivia?" Dark brown eyes scrutinized her face, making Evie more than a little nervous.

Solemnly the young detective replied. "Sister Olivia brought these to the house the other day and I really need to speak to her about her visit."

The little man clapped his hands in joy. "Oh, excellent. Would you like to wait for her?"

"Well, I don't know. I need to speak with her on an urgent matter, but I'm not sure..."

Brother Antilles looked thoughtful, then a smile lit his face. "Normally we do not intrude in the private spaces of our brethren, but you, you have been summoned. Sister Olivia, I am sure, will be pleased for you to await her return in her room."

Thoughts of illegal search running through her head, Evie gulped. "Oh, no, I couldn't do that."

"Nonsense. As the high priest of the stars, it is my desire that you wait for her there."

*************

"Cass, have I got a deal for you." Tom Ryan hurried down the stairs. "Cassy?"

The living room was empty. He sniffed the air, and thought he smelled something cooking. "Oh, God, please don't let her be making lunch."

He walked into the dining room and stopped dead in his tracks. A Kabuki mask had replaced the centerpiece on the table. "What the hell? CASSY!"

"She can't hear you, you know."

The young detective whirled, his voice now a savage snarl. "Where is she?" He took a step toward the tall, slight figure before he noticed the gun. Cassy's gun. He barely caught the rag as the young woman in front of him tossed it. The sickening smell of chloroform wafted up from the cloth. Forcing himself to be calm, he asked more quietly. "Where is she?"

"All tied up." The woman giggled softly as she spoke, amused with her own joke. Tom shivered in spite of himself as her eyes roamed the length of his body. She smiled openly now, obviously pleased with what she'd seen. Her next words bored straight into the young detective's soul. "She won't hurt you anymore, Tom. Ever again. I've seen to that."

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part - 16 ↑

Tom struggled for words as he studied the pretty woman in front of him. She was young, very young, probably not more than twenty. Short, brown hair was slicked back and the jumpsuit she wore was gender neutral. 'No wonder no one knew if the attacker was male or female.' Her dark eyes shone with an unnatural light, plainly telling the cop that this girl was doing drugs. This was bad, very bad. She was also obviously unstable, a fact only enhanced by whatever illegal substance she'd been using. He forced his thoughts to the issue at hand, Cassy's safety. He desperately wanted to ask again about his partner's whereabouts, but in light of the drug-enhanced insanity in her eyes, he did not dare. He opted for what he hoped was the safer tack. "Why do you think Cassy's hurt me?"

Her head tilted slightly to one side, causing Tom to think of a confused puppy, not a disturbed young woman. Her eyes narrowed and her forehead pursed in confused thought. "She left you, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"You see!" A triumphant grin played on her lips.

"But she didn't hurt me."

The grin was replaced by a frown. "But..But she left. Leaving always hurts. I know."

Feeling his way carefully now, Tom asked, "Know what?"

"That it hurts. And I know something else." She laughed easily at the man in front of her.

"What?"

"That I love you."

Oh, shit. Tom winced involuntarily, and prayed she hadn't noticed.

To his infinite relief, she hadn't. Her voice grew stronger, more confident as she spoke. "He was right, you know."

"Who?"

Startled, she met his eyes. "The doctor, of course. He said it was the only way."

"Way?" Tom prompted gently.

"Ah ha. To help the innocent. To punish the guilty. He was the only one who ever understood how necessary retribution is."

Hoping for a name, Tom continued probing. "What's his name?"

"The doctor's?"

"Yes."

"Can't tell. It's a secret. His and mine."

"I see."

Anger flashed in her eyes. "No, YOU don't see. He helped me. He saved me. I thought I was lost, but he gave me a purpose. And," she laughed, "he gave me you." She moved easily forward to finger the mask on the table. "But the masks were my idea."

"They worked well." Tom really hoped a compliment was in order.

"Yeah, they did. Better than they did for your ladies." A sly smile played on her lips. "That's where I saw you. They led me to you, and he, he showed me my mission. She's next on the list, you know. She has to pay for hurting you."

It took a moment for Tom to realize that the conversation had come back around to Cassy. "She didn't hurt me. Believe me."

"Yes she did. She did. She divorced you. She was at fault. She has to be punished, just like the others."

Oh, God, the others. He'd almost forgotten. Her youth had lulled him into carelessness. Damn it, Tom. Remember, this child has killed five people. His mind whirled as he attempted to formulate a plan of action. Too late he remembered the gun.

"But it's okay, now. You're mine, and no one will ever hurt us again."

***********

Mike Murray took the stairs three at a time, closely pursued by his partner. Evie's call had left both men moving on auto-pilot as they tore through downtown Miami. Oddly dressed individuals peered curiously from half-shut doors, only to slam them shut if either officer looked their way. The men half-listened to the babble of a badly frightened high-priest as they followed Master Antilles down the corridor. As they stopped before a closed door, the little man ended his diatribe. "No, no, no, no. No violence. It's all a mistake, you know."

"Is this the room?"

"Yes. Detective Evie is waiting on you. ... Do you want me to stay?"

"No, sir. That won't be necessary." Ned watched as the little man scurried away. Just like a mouse. Geez. He glanced momentarily at his partner then opened the door, calling out to the young policewoman. "Evie, it's the cavalry."

The door-knob jerked out of his hand, as an irate voice berated him. "That's very funny Detective Daniels." Evie forced herself to regroup. "Just look around you, gentlemen."

Mike's grin vanished as he saw the walls. They were painted red, blood red, but that alone did not send the chills up his spine. Kabuki masks of all shapes and sizes decorated the wall in front of him. As he stared at the mute evidence that they'd probably found their killer, Evie shut the door and nodded toward the wall behind them. "Behind you, fellas."

Turning, the men let out a gasp of astonishment, the entire door wall was an elaborate shrine, with photos of each victim, and survivor, neatly displayed. Victims' photos were cut carefully from the paper, or, Ned angrily realized, had been taken at the funeral parlors. Survivor photos had also been taken at the funerals. "Shit."

Evie nodded. "I had the same reaction. There's a tape in the VCR, but I haven't played it. I was waiting on you guys to make that call. Didn't want anything thrown out as inadmissible."

Mike smiled at the pretty woman. "Good job, Evie. We got lucky. Judge Lucas was on call. He granted a search warrant based on our suspicions and what you'd seen. Go ahead and hit play, but it's probably nothing more than a Blockbuster movie."

She returned his smile, realizing that what she'd uncovered had gone a long way toward redeeming herself in their eyes. The ancient machine whirred into life, and the news footage once again raced across the screen. All eyes widened with horror as Tom Ryan's image suddenly appeared as an escort to three women in prison restraints. "OH, shit, shit, shit." Evie rarely cursed but even the men seemed to agree with her sentiments.

"Good Lord, he, uh, she knows Tom Ryan. Evie..."

Her weak voice sent another chill up their spines. "They're at the house, guys, alone. Cassy didn't want another unit on sight so I just..."

"Left them unprotected. Damn it, McLellan." Ned ranted while Mike used his cell-phone to send patrol units to the house. "For your sake, McLellan, those two better be okay."

***********

Tom ignored the pain that shot up his arm as he angrily slammed the driver's door shut on the Mercedes convertible. The sound echoed eerily across the lawn, painfully loud in the mid-day silence but the gun never wavered in her hand. "Drive, Tom. We've got places to go. Things to do."

The engine roared to life and as he maneuvered the vehicle out of the driveway, he heard the welcome sounds of sirens rapidly approaching his location.

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part - 17 ↑

"Tom, Tom, do slow down. This is a residential area and we certainly don't want a speeding ticket, now do we." The girl leveled the pistol at his head. "Understand?"

"If you shoot me, we crash."

"And?"

"We both die."

"I fail to see the problem, Tom, we'll still be together. Just like we were meant to be."

Reluctantly, Tom slowed the Mercedes just as a cruiser rounded the corner, lights flashing as it flew past them. The Palm Beach detective glanced wistfully in the rearview mirror, knowing even as he did so, that the patrol car would not turn around.

*************

Three cruisers hit the driveway of the safe-house, almost simultaneously. The senior officer on site, Sergeant Vince O'Rourke, immediately began issuing orders. "Stevens, take the front. Ramerez, you're with me in the back." All three officers hit the ground running. As O'Rourke and Estelle Ramerez rounded the corner, they could plainly see smoke curling under the door frame.

Ramerez turned in her tracks. "I'll call it in, Sarge."

O'Rourke nodded and headed for the door. The smoke was not yet so thick that he couldn't see the figure of a woman on the floor near the flaming stove. "Mother of God!" He quickly checked the door, and found it to be cool. Praying for more favors, he bartered his presence at mass the next morning for an unlocked door. "And Lord, the next six weeks if the wee lassie is still alive." His first prayer granted, he thought briefly that Father Reilly was going to faint, then pushed open the door. Smoke billowed past him and he crouched low, aiming for the location of the woman. A snarl passed his lips as he saw her trussed like a lamb for the slaughter. Coughing heavily, he grabbed her under the arms and slid her toward the door.

*************

Evie sat in the back seat of Mike's sedan, nervously chewing her on fingers. Her nails were long gone, had been since she'd stumbled onto the killer's lair. Shit! Could anything else go wrong? The answer was obviously, yes, Tom and/or Cassy could die and it would be her fault. Dammit, she was a good cop, what the hell had happened? Was it the fact that Tom and Cassy were also cops? Was that what had lowered her guard? Never again. If her career survived this mess, she swore she'd never again be so lax. And if Tom and Cassy were alive, she was dammit to hell, going to kill them herself.

*************

"Detective Daniels, please. ... Well, what about Detective Murray? ... Oh, I see. Well, this is George Smith at FamiliesRUs. Please tell them that the masks are gone. ... That's right. The masks. They'll know what I'm talking about." He paused for a moment as he stared at an open folder on his desk. "Also, please tell them I have a name to go with their drawing. ... No, drawing, picture, composite. ... Yes, please have them call me as soon as possible..., yes they have my number. Thank you." He hung up and winced as he read the folder of one Olivia Crenshaw. Parents divorced multiple times. Abused by step-parents and parents alike. The only decent people in her short, tormented life had been a pair of step-parents, who ironically had eventually ended up marrying each other after being unceremoniously dumped by Olivia's biological parents. 'As if,' George snorted in disgust, 'only biology determined parents.' The step-parents had sued for custody of the then ten-year-old, but had been denied in favor of the *real* parents. A knock on the door caused the man to frantically push the folder into his top drawer. "Come in."

Ben Wilson poked his head around the door. "Just came from Carol's office, George. She wanted me to tell you that her eleven o'clock is running long and she'll have to skip lunch."

"Oh, thanks. No problem."

"Since you've been stood-up, how about dining with me?"

"Sure, why not?" George grabbed his coat.

**************

O'Rourke was gasping for breath as he pulled the unconscious woman into the yard behind the kitchen. He quickly cut through the tape that bound her, and checked for a heartbeat. "Damn!" Ignoring his own discomfort, he started CPR. As he frantically administered the compressions and breaths, his subconscious heard the shouts of the other officers searching the house. Additional sirens, which could only belong to a fire unit, could also be heard. As the sirens grew closer, O'Rourke was gratified to feel a movement under his hands. Checking quickly, he found that the victim was not only breathing on her on, but regaining consciousness as well. He sat back, gasping, and was gratified to see a pair of pretty blue eyes looking dazedly back at him.

"Welcome back, ma'am, the parame..." His words were cut-off as Cassandra St. John suddenly gagged and vomited on his shoes.

**************

"Well, we're on the freeway now, Tom, please stop playing games and get the car up to the speed limit."

"You haven't told me where we're going."

"The beach."

"I see that, but-"

"Oh, Tom, please, don't be a spoilsport. I want everything to be perfect."

"Well, at least tell me your name."

She thought for a moment. "That's fair, it's Olivia. Olivia Ryan, or," she giggled, "it soon will be."

**************

Carol Smith wandered into Sue Edwards' office. "Sue, have you seen George?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, he left about ten minutes ago with Ben."

Taking note of Carol's confused face, Sue asked quickly, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, I guess. It's just that we were supposed to go to lunch. It's not like him to forget."

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part - 18 ↑

"Oh God." Cassy groaned as her stomach emptied itself of its contents. All she could see were a pair of formerly clean shoes. Dark shoes. Leather shoes. Hopefully, not expensive shoes. Stomach now emptied, the dry heaves took over. A gentle hand supported her head while its mate rubbed her back.

"It's all right, lassy, take deep breaths. In, out, in, out. That's right." The voice took on a rhythmic quality that Cassy clung to in desperation.

The nausea waned, only to be replaced by coughing spasms as the inhaled smoke was forced from her lungs. The gentle hands moved to her shoulders and pulled her into a sitting position. She fought briefly against the device being positioned over her nose and mouth until the voice intervened. "It's okay, lassy, the paramedics are here. It's only oxygen. Let it stay." As he spoke, he took both her hands in his and firmly, but gently forced her hands away from the mask.

The oxygen did its work and soon Cassy was pushing her way to a standing position. She wobbled briefly, supported once again by the gentle hands. As her composure returned, she pushed away all support, and yanked the mask from her mouth. For the first time she heard the commotion behind her and turned quickly, eyes widening as she saw the fire personnel starting to pack up their gear. She barely recognized her own voice as she croaked, "Tom, where's Tom?"

"Miss, you inhaled a great deal of smoke, you should really go to the hospital." The paramedic in front of her motioned toward the ambulance.

Shaking her head, she gasped out hoarsely, "Not without Tom."

"Lassy, my people searched the house. You were the only one inside."

"No, he was by the pool. I left him by the pool."

"Miss, there was nobody but you, inside or outside the house."

Running footsteps caused all three to turn. Ned Daniels was in the lead, followed by Mike Murray. Evie McLellan brought up the rear. Ned's worried voice was heard over the din. "Cassy, are you all right? Where's Tom?"

"*That*, Ned," her voice was cold as ice, "is what I have been trying to find out."

***********

"Careful, it's hot!" Ben's warning came a moment too late as George sputtered, swallowed and gasped for breath. "Sorry."

George gasped and reached for his water glass. Simultaneously, Ben reached for the check. Their arms impacted in mid-air, sending George's water glass to the floor with a resounding crash.

"Damn! I am a klutz. Here take my lemon water. I am so sorry, George. I should have warned you that the liquid would be hot."

The smile on the other man's face was partially hidden by the glass. As his breathing returned to normal, he lowered the glass. "Ben, when you said try the cappuccino, I had no idea you were trying to kill me."

"I really am sorry."

"It's okay, Ben, you don't need to keep apologizing, lunch was great. I've got to remember to bring Carol here sometime when we can both take a long lunch. Speaking of time, I've got to get back."

"Damn. I always lose track of time when I come here." Ben casually tossed forty dollars onto the table. "I'll get the tab for this. Hopefully the health plan will take care of your scorched tongue."

"Funny, really funny." George rose rapidly, then grabbed the table for support. "Whoa!"

"George? What's wrong?"

"Feeling a little dizzy."

"Let's get you to the car, the blood's probably rushing to your head to counter the burns from that damn coffee."

"Right." George leaned heavily on the younger man as they made their way to Ben's car. Ben balanced his companion's weight against the back door, and pulled the passenger door open. George slid gratefully into the passenger seat. "Sorry, Ben, I don't..."

The passenger door closed with a bang. Moments later Ben slid behind the wheel. "Seatbelt, George?"

"Oh, yeah. God, I feel awful." The counselor barely managed to hook the belt, then allowed his head to collapse against the head rest.

Ben smiled as he watched his coworker's consciousness fade. "Too bad you got too nosy, George." He leaned over and pinched George's cheek. The man was completely out. "I really hate that Carol will soon be a widow."

**************

"Next exit, then right. And Tom, do relax. It's meant to be."

Tom's knuckles showed white as he clinched the wheel of the Mercedes. Under his expert handling, the car moved effortlessly across the lanes of traffic and sailed down the exit ramp. Pausing briefly at the stop sign, Tom slid the car onto a badly maintained two-lane road. "Where now?"

"I'll let you know." Olivia now had Cassy's gun resting in her lap, obviously unconcerned about Tom's obedience to her instructions.

"Olivia, please, where's Cassy?"

Wide eyes studied him for a moment then she shrugged. "Back at the house."

"A..Alive?" Tom found he could barely ask the question.

Another shrug. "Was when we left. I guess. Kinda depends on the stove."

'Oh God.' The blood drained from Tom's face as he remember the sounds he'd heard coming from the kitchen. Something had been cooking on the stove. 'Oh, dear God, no, please, no.' He barely managed to control his panic as he asked the next emotionally charged question, not really certain he wanted the answer. "W..Why does it depend on the stove, Olivia?"

"Cause it wasn't burning when I tied her up, silly goose. Not sure how long it'll take for the grease to catch on fire. Do you know?"

Tom tried to hide his relief, Cassy had not been tied to a burning stove. "No. I don't."

"Left. Pity. Tom, I said LEFT. Now we gotta turn around."

The dazed detective didn't react soon enough for the crazed young woman. "TURN AROUND, TOM. WE MISSED OUR TURN."

Tom gritted his teeth, then edged the car into a three point turn. As he backed the car off onto the shoulder, he slammed on the brake, and threw himself out of the convertible. Olivia was flung helplessly into the dash. She recovered quickly, screaming angrily at the figure of the man disappearing into the foliage near the car. Standing on the passenger seat, she fired Cassy's gun in Tom's direction. A strangled curse combined with a falling body, telling her she'd found her mark.

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part - 19 ↑

Cassy advanced deliberately on the unsuspecting figure of Ned Daniels. "*You* were supposed to be watching our backs, and what happens? I almost get barbecued and Tom is nowhere to be found."

"Easy, Cassy, we're on the same side." Mike positioned himself between Ned and Cassy as he spoke.

"Could've fooled me." Cassy hurled her words as a weapon.

Ned's beeper interrupted the impending war. His eyes shot sparks as he checked the number, then yanked the cell phone out of his pocket. "Daniels! ... When? ... What'd he say? ... Great. Thanks." All thoughts of battle were gone as he looked at the other detectives. "That was Kate at the station. Seems George Smith called in and left a message that the masks are gone and he's got a name for us."

"Gone!" Mike's eyes widened as he spoke. "That means..."

"Exactly. I'd say a trip to FamiliesRUs is in order." The two men started for their car only to find themselves cut off by two irate women.

"No one moves." Evie stood firmly planted in front of Ned. Cassy positioned herself in front of Mike, her index finger firmly implanted in his chest. "Not without an explanation."

"Look, ladies, there's..."

"YOU look. Some nutty female tried to cook me for lunch, my partner's missing and you will tell me..."

"Us... Tell us."

Cassy shot Evie a sideways glance. "Right, us. You will tell us what you know."

"Okay, okay. George Smith thought he recognized the drawing and he remembered putting the masks in storage at the center. He was gonna check and give us a call."

"Then I'd say we're overdue at FamiliesRUs." Cassy moved quickly toward the car and positioned herself by the driver's door. "Gimme."

"What?" Ned stood beside her, a puzzled look on his face.

"Your keys, gimme. I'm driving." She snatched the keys from his hand.

"I don't think..."

"*That* is obvious." Cassy slipped behind the wheel, cranked the car and threw the gear shift into drive as the three Miami detectives scrambled in.

************

"Tom, you really shouldn't have run. I didn't want to hurt you." Olivia knelt in the mud beside the injured detective. Tom clutched at his leg with his good arm, and shot daggers with his eyes but remained silent. "Let's see. You'll be okay. It went through clean. Give me your belt." The young detective remained motionless, thoughts in a daze. The insanity in her eyes was once again evident as she pointed Cassy's pistol directly between his eyes. "I said, give me your belt." Reluctantly, Tom slipped his belt out of the loops and tossed it to the woman. "Much better. See you can be trained. Now lean back on both elbows."

"I can't..."

"Do it!" She waved the gun erratically.

"I think it's broken." Tom hurried his words as he watched the gun warily.

"Oh." She stared in fascination at the small bone now protruding through the skin of his left arm. "Well, on one elbow, then."

Clutching his injured arm to his chest, he awkwardly leaned back, groaning as the combined pain in his thigh and arm temporarily caused his vision to waiver. "Now, don't move a muscle." She quickly looped the belt around the injured leg and pulled it tight, eliciting another groan from the injured man. The bleeding slowed. Satisfied, she retrieved the gun from her waistband. "Okay, Tom, let's go. It's not too far now." Too tired to argue, he reluctantly accepted her help as he struggled to his feet and hobbled back to the car, stopping as he reached the door.

"I can't drive."

She studied him closely. "No, I suppose not. This could be a problem." Suddenly she smiled, reached in and popped the trunk. "Inside."

"You're kidding."

"Not I."

"It's too small."

"You, my dear, should have thought of that before. Now get in the trunk or I'll put a hole in your other thigh, and in case you haven't noticed, you're all out of belts."

Tom glared helplessly at the pistol for a moment then climbed awkwardly into the truck, trying to suppress a groan as the lid slammed closed above him.

*************

Carol was searching through George's appointment book when the detectives arrived. She looked up as they entered and halted the two male detectives with a glare. "What did you ask George to do?"

"Ma'am?"

"Don't ma'am me, Detective Daniels. I know George. He was like a little kid in a toy store this morning after you gentlemen left."

"Well, uh, we asked him about the Kabuki masks he bought."

"What about this?" She shoved a case folder toward them. "This is an old case, and it's not one of his. It's not like George to have a folder that's not his. What else did you ask him to do?"

"Nothing, ma'am. We just asked him to look for the masks."

The woman suddenly noticed Cassy. "Cassy? What?"

"I'm sorry, Carol. My name is Cassandra St. John, Tom is my partner Tom Ryan. We were undercover here..."

"It's the murders, isn't it? Someone here is doing the killing?"

"We think so, Carol. Where's your husband?"

"I don't know. He went to lunch and hasn't come back. Judy's out today and I'm trying to let his afternoon clients know he's running late."

*************

Ben frowned as he spotted the black Mercedes, sun glaring off its highly polished surface. A quick check on George proved the man was still out. Ben climbed purposefully out of his car and strode to the deserted Mercedes. He recognized the car from the Reynolds', uh, Ryan's, first visit to the center. Glancing up, he stared at the porch swing on his little weekend bungalow. "Olivia? What are you doing here? How did you know about this place?"

"Gee, Doc, I know everything about you. Just everything." She jumped up. "Why'd ya bring Doctor George with ya?"

"He, he's leaving Carol for another woman. I thought..."

"Oh, please. Not him. Dr and Dr Smith have been together too long for a divorce. Hell, they still eat lunch together. Nope, Doc, I'm betting that he knows too much, and that you're planning on getting rid of him, right?"

Ben said nothing.

"I said *right*."

A cold shiver raced up Ben's spine as he suddenly became aware that he was playing games with the devil. "Uh, right."

"Better, much better. Well, tell ya what. You help Tom out of the trunk and I'll help you with Dr. George. Don't like it, but Tom's worth it."

The stunned shrink stared in horror at the trunk of the Mercedes.

"Open the trunk, Doc."

Gulping, Ben popped the trunk and stared at the motionless form of Tom Ryan. The sweat rolling down the young cop's face was mute evidence of the heat in the trunk. "He's unconscious, Olivia."

"Well, duh, why do you think I couldn't get him out, Doc?"

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part - 20 ↑

Cassy restrained the urge to snatch the folder from Carol's hands. "Carol, may I see that please?"

"It's confidential, Cassy, George shouldn't even have had it."

"Carol, if I'm right, Tom and George are in big trouble. This folder could have valuable information on Olivia Crenshaw."

Carol Smith held the folder as if it were a burning coal. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then looked again at Cassy. "I...I'm sorry, Cassy. I can't let you have this without a warrant. To d..do otherwise violates the code of ethics I've lived by all these years."

The Palm Beach detective smiled to herself as she recognized a stubborn streak at least as wide as her own. She bit back a retort. "I understand, Carol, but would telling us who her therapist was violate anything?"

"No. That's not privileged information." The woman opened the folder and noticed for the first time the name in charge of Olivia's treatment. "Oh my God. Ben, Ben Wilson is, was, her therapist. Dear God, you don't suppose... No, he wouldn't. I won't believe that. Oh, Lord, I hope it's not him."

Cassy frowned. "The simplest solution is usually the correct one. He treated Olivia, so he's the most likely candidate. I realize it's hard to comprehend, after all he is your boss..."

"It's not that, well it is, but the main thing is that George went to lunch with Ben, and hasn't come back. Please tell me that George isn't in any danger. Please!"

Ned pulled out his cell phone. "What kind of car does Wilson drive?"

"I...I don't know."

"What about color at least?"

"I don't know. Judy would know all of that."

"Well, ask her."

"I can't, she's off today!" Carol practically wailed.

"Calm down, Carol." Cassy put the brakes on her own panic in an effort to calm the other woman. "Where might they have gone?"

"I don't know. Judy would know that."

"Any idea where Wilson lives?"

"I don't know. Judy..."

"...would know." Four voices spoke at once.

Ned began to dial his cell phone as he spoke to his partner. "Mike, I'm gonna call DMV and then put out an APB on Wilson. Would you see if you can find Judy, what's her name?"

"Kelley, Judy Kelley." Carol's voice was weak with fear.

"Right. Evie, Cassy start talking to everyone here. See if you can get a handle on anything that might help us."

**********

Tom groaned softly as he felt a cool wet cloth replace the dry one already on his forehead. His leg hurt abominably but the pain in his arm was gone, having been replaced by a numbness that was almost frightening. Slowly, unwillingly, he forced his eyes open. Olivia sat beside him, smiling gently. "Welcome back, sleepyhead."

"H..how long?"

"Were you out? Oh, about two hours, give or take a day." She grinned wickedly at him. "Want some water?"

For a moment the young detective thought of refusing, then he took stock of his own weakened condition. His thirst was almost overwhelming in its intensity and his head was swimming. He knew he'd gotten overheated in the trunk. Even if she'd drugged the water, he'd have to risk it, his body was desperately in need of fluids. He reached for the glass with his good arm, but was dismayed to find he didn't have the strength to take the glass.

"Oh, poor Tom. Here, I'll help you." Olivia gently put a hand behind his head and supported him as he gratefully gulped the cool liquid in the glass she held. "Not too much. I'm afraid that it might make you sick." She lowered his head back to the pillow and readjusted the wash cloth on his forehead. "There that's better. How's the arm?"

"Numb. What'd you do?"

"Me? Nothing. The doc straightened the bone and bandaged you up. He didn't want to, but I wouldn't help him with George if he didn't."

"George?" Tom's thoughts were in a whirl. Where was he and who else was here? Was he the only prisoner? He couldn't be sure but he had the feeling that he wasn't.

"Dr. George, you know, from the center. He found out too much, you see, and that's too bad, cause I always liked him and Dr. Carol."

'Oh, God.' Tom tried not to show the horror he felt. 'Carol's husband. She's killed him, too.'

A voice from the doorway drew their attention. "Olivia, my dear, how's the patient?"

Her cheerful voice caused Tom to shudder. "You were right, Doc, he did wake up. He's still sick though and I'm gonna have to take good care of him for a long, long time."

"That's true, dear girl." Ben Wilson smiled as he closed the distance between them. "Tom needs to rest and I need to examine my patient, in private."

"Don't wanna leave."

"Olivia," Ben's voice took on a note of parental authority. "I must insist. There're apples in the kitchen, the caramel is on the stove, and I'll bet you can figure out where the wax paper is."

The young woman's eyes widened with almost childlike excitement. "Caramel apples? How many can I make?"

"As many as the caramel will cover, dear girl."

"Cool."

Tom watched in amazement as the ruthless killer vanished behind a childish exterior. Olivia almost bounced as she skipped out of the room. Ben dropped heavily into the seat vacated by the young woman.

Tom winced as he adjusted the position of his leg, then asked. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes! Why? You run a very successful business, and unlike Olivia, I don't think you're demented, so why have those people killed?"

"You already know the answer. Business."

"What?"

"Marriage counselors are a dime a dozen, Mr. Reynolds, or should I say Sergeant Ryan? The only thing that gave FamiliesRUs a competitive edge was our high success percentage. There isn't another firm in southern Florida that can boast of a ninety percent success rate."

"All those people died to keep your percentages high?" Tom was aghast at the idea.

"Just business, Tom, I really thought you might understand." Ben looked at the glass of water and frowned. "You really need to drink more of this. Fluid levels you know."

The little nagging voice at the base of Tom's skull was positively screaming. "The water's drugged?"

"Yep, but I guess you've had enough."

"Olivia wants me alive." He could feel his senses numbing even as he spoke.

Ben smiled. "By now, Olivia is asleep on the floor of the kitchen. She can't resist eating the caramel as she makes the apples."

"Also drugged?"

"Yep."

"What about ... what about George Smith?"

"Oh, he's out too. This has actually worked out rather well. Olivia kidnapped you from your home and brought you here. George dropped by to bring me some notes. Olivia had planned to get rid of her former counselor but poor George was the only one here. You play the hero and try to save George. You get hurt. So sad. And it gets better. Tragically, the three of you die when the gas explodes. Gas range. Very tragic."

"It won't work. Cassy will know something's wrong." He couldn't move, an enervating weight seemed to be spreading over his body.

"Knowing and proving are two different things, Tom. Reasonable doubt, that sort of thing." He sat up and sniffed the air. "It's so nice of the gas company to put odor in the natural gas. It's beginning to get rather thick in here. I really must leave." He patted Tom's cheek. "Too bad. I rather liked you."

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part - 21 ↑

"That's right. I need a warrant. No, *Goddamnit*! Make it for felony jaywalking if you have to, just get me the damn warrant!" Ned Daniels snarled, "Airhead!" as he slammed the car phone into its cradle.

"Melanie?" Mike asked cautiously.

Ned gave his partner a sideways glance. "No, she wouldn't have argued. *That* was Frank. If that man was a woman, he'd be blond."

"Don't let Cassy hear you say that."

"Shit. It's not the, the... I mean, she may be... Dammit Mike! You know what I mean, besides, she's in the other car."

"Yeah and I don't like that either. Carol Smith should have stayed back at the center."

"Didn't see you arguing the issue."

"Are you nuts? Argue with *three* irate women? I said I didn't like it, not that I had a death wish."

"I still think it's amazing that Judy Kelley knew an alternate address for Wilson."

"Don't."

"What?" Ned turned confused eyes on his partner.

"Don't think." Mike sped up suddenly and merged with traffic on the interstate, trying to keep up with the Pontiac driven by Cassy. "It seems to bother Cassy."

*********

"Men!" Evie was still fuming. "I cannot believe they wanted us to stay behind. Damn them!"

"Well, someone needed to be there when the warrant came through for Wilson's records. Guess it's a good thing that Juan got out of the hospital early." Cassy concentrated on the traffic as she switched lanes.

"Yeah. I was really glad to see him. Cassy, do you think we'll be in time?"

Cassy shot the other woman a dirty look then braved a glance in the review mirror. Carol Smith sat huddled against the door, face pale with the shock of the recent revelations, totally unaware that the other women were talking. Cassy breathed a sigh of relief. "Careful, Evie."

Evie's hand flew to her mouth and she cursed her stupidity. "Sorry, Cassy." She also chanced a look over her shoulder. "Do you think she should be here?"

Cassy sighed. "No, but I wasn't gonna try to stop her."

*********

Tom forced his eyes open, blinking heavily at the emptiness surrounding him. Wilson was nowhere in sight, but Tom did have to agree that the sickening scent of natural gas was growing stronger with each passing minute. 'Get up, Tom.' He quietly ordered his body to respond. To his absolute disgust, none of his limbs were listening to his command. 'Okay, that didn't work. Get up or die, Thomas.' He spoke more firmly to himself. A sharp pain in his leg told him that at least one part of his body recognized the threat. 'God, Tom, you're not making any sense. Get a grip and get up!' Using his right arm as a push bar, he shoved his body into a sitting position and stifled a cry as the broken arm slipped off of his chest and dangled uselessly at his side.

He sat gasping for a short moment then forced his legs off the side of the bed. "At least all the injuries are on the same side. Shit, that smell is getting much worse." From the strength of the fumes, Tom knew that the gas had been flowing for quite some time. His thoughts were too fuzzy to figure out how much gas there would have to be to present a danger of explosion. But he did know that he could be overcome with fumes, provided the drugs in the water didn't take him down first. Knowing he didn't have much time, he pushed himself upright, clinging to the headboard for support. The combination of gas, drugs and pain almost put him out. "George, George Smith is in here somewhere." As a policeman his duty was to protect and serve. The thought of the innocent citizen caught in this trap kept the younger man on his feet. "Gotta find George" became his mantra as he limped down the hall, leaning periodically against the wall for support. The hall, however, loomed endlessly in front of the exhausted man.

**********

"Next exit, then right, and Cassy, please try to relax, I'm sure Tom's all right. Eeek!" Evie gripped the armrest as the Pontiac streaked down the exit ramp.

"How far?"

"W..What?"

"How far down this road?"

Evie checked her directions. "Not f..far. CASSY! That was a stop sign!" Her words slurred as the car rattled on the uneven pavement. It wasn't long before her head whipped around. "Damn! I think that was it back there."

"What!" Cassy slammed on brakes and slung the car into reverse.

"STOP!"

"You said..."

"Stop a minute, dammit!" Evie leaped out of the car, racing toward some tire tracks in the mud.

Cassy leaned out the window. "What are you doing?"

"Come here." The urgency in her tone pulled Cassy from the car just as Mike's car skidded to a halt behind them.

"Evie, what..."

The young detective was kneeling in the dirt. "Just how many cars do you think pull off the side of the road just past that turn?"

"I don't know. Not many. Why?"

"Cause I think this is the Mercedes and someone's hurt."

"Evie, we already know Tom's arm is hurt." Ned's condescending tone infuriated the younger woman.

Evie swallowed her anger. Standing, she pointed at the grass. "Well, we don't know it's Tom, but that blood isn't that old."

***********

Tom could barely breathe as he finally reached the great room. To his relief, George Smith had been left in a overstuffed chair. Tom really didn't think he could have reached him on the floor. The older man was groaning as Tom approached. "Dr. Smith, George! Wake up. We've got to get out of here."

"W..Wh..." George couldn't focus.

Tom weakly tugged at the man's sleeve. "Gas, George. Gotta,... get ... outta ... here." Tom coughed and felt the room sway. '*No* Mustn't faint.'

"B..Ben?" George's weak voice helped Tom focus once more.

"Not ... Ben. Tom, Tom Ryan, uh, ... Reynolds. We gotta go." Tom jerked again on George's arm. This time the psychiatrist came to his feet. The Palm Beach detective sighed in relief, and pointed the older man toward the door. "Go. Get out."

"Out?" George was still foggy.

"Breath in, George. Gas. ... Smell it. ... That's right." Tom nodded as the comprehension awakened in the other man.

"G..Gas? Ben? Where's Ben?"

"Long story. Go!" Tom was pushing George toward the door.

"You're hurt!" For the first time, George Smith realized that Tom was actually leaning on him for support. "What..."

"Later! Outside!" Tom gave him a violent shove between the shoulder blades and headed for the kitchen where Olivia's still form lay near the stove. George impacted heavily with the front door, then pulled it open. His scream echoed over the yard as a pair of eyes met his through the screen door.

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part - 22 ↑

"Going somewhere, George?" Ben Wilson stared through the screen at the surprised man.

George looked into his employer's eyes and instantly saw the insanity behind them. The man before him bore no resemblance to the person who'd hired the team of Carol and George Smith six years ago. There was a hard, but frightened edge to the man. He winced inwardly as he heard himself reply. "Out...outside. Need some fresh air." 'God, what a stupid thing to say.'

"Oh, I don't think so." Ben smiled and held Tom's police revolver in line with George's chest. "Where are Ryan, and the girl?"

"Ryan? Who's Ryan?"

"Give it a rest, Smith. Ryan, Reynolds, it all spells c-o-p. Now where is he?" The screen door squeaked badly as Ben pulled it open.

"I'm over here." Tom leaned heavily against the kitchen door, good arm wrapped around the slender figure of Olivia, struggling to support her unconscious form. George whirled at the sound of his voice. Ben seized the opportunity and felled the older man with the gun butt. He smirked as he watched his *friend* fall heavily to the floor.

Turning to Tom, his smile only deepened. "Drop her there and get over here." Tom hesitated a moment too long and Ben pointed the revolver at George's head. "Makes no difference to me how he dies." Tom allowed Olivia's limp form to slide to the floor as he glared at the director. "Very good. Now get over here."

Tom felt the slick dampness running down his leg, and knew that his wound was bleeding again. Limping badly, he edged his way over to Ben. "Forgive me if I'm confused, but I thought George was to be the innocent victim in all this."

Ben shrugged. "Had a better idea." He pushed the screen open and motioned Tom on through.

"And that would be?"

"Why, George, dear sweet George Smith, is the brains behind sweet little Olivia's killing spree and he tried to frame me. Of course, Olivia still kidnapped you and brought you here, but I'm the innocent victim."

"It won't w..."

"...Work. Yes, I know, Tom. You know, you're in a rut. I'll be most upset when the police arrive," he grinned and looked at his watch, "in about twenty minutes."

Tom's eyes widened as he moved onto the deck. "You c..called the police?"

"Yep. Clever, huh." Ben smiled in self-satisfaction, then moved closer to the young detective. Without warning, the director kicked Tom's injured leg.

Tom screamed in pain, and dropped like a rock to the deck. Ben laughed and seized the young man by the hair. Jerking upward brutally, he pulled Tom to his knees. The broken bone in his arm had slipped as he fell, and the agony was causing Tom's vision to blur. The only redeeming factor was that his leg seemed to have gone completely numb. All thoughts of escape fled as cold steel touched the back of his neck.

*********

It was a stroke of good fortune that put Mike and Ned ahead of Cassy as the cars resumed their trek to Ben Wilson's abode. Mike's car radio crackled into life, and he pull the mike to his mouth. "Come again, Central. A patrol unit's been dispatched where?"

"2730 Sweet Marsh Way."

"Central, this is Unit Alpha Bravo Xray 29. We'll take the call."

"Understood. Central out."

Ned turned in confusion to his partner. "Why on earth would a police unit be summoned to Ben Wilson's home?"

"Don't know, but considering the location, I'm betting he's counting on a twenty minute response time, at least."

"For what?"

"I'd say murder. God, I hope we're in time."

"Me too. Cassy will shoot us dead if anything's happened to Ryan."

"She wouldn't do that."

"Yes. She would."

Mike slowed the car slightly as the road became rougher. "What makes you think so?"

"She told me."

*********

Tom flinched in spite of himself as the barrel of the revolver came to rest on his neck. He was so tired, so drained. He'd fought so hard to get down the hall, to get to George and Olivia. But it was all for nothing. George was still in the house, as was Olivia. And he was certain Ben would set off the gas right after the bullet entered his brain. He knew he ought to do something, try to escape, try to help George, but a strange lethargy had taken over his body. It would be so good to rest.

Odd. The shot wasn't nearly as loud as he'd thought it would be. And there was no pain. He'd heard that you never heard the one that got you, but he didn't think the saying held true for the pain. Why, why was he still kneeling on the deck? Shouldn't he be face down in a pool of his own blood? Tom looked around in confusion. Ben Wilson lay unconscious on the deck, blood oozing from a small wound near his temple. A familiar voice berated him unmercifully. "Tom. Thomas. Thomas Patrick Ryan listen to me. I need you to lie down."

Lie down. Of course he'd lie down. He was dead, wasn't he?

The voice continued. "The ambulance and fire department will be here shortly. Come on, let's make you comfortable." Gentle hands pulled him backwards into warm, waiting arms. His eyes caught sight of the angel above him, and he tried to speak. "W..who?"

"It's okay Tom, it's Cassy. You're gonna be all right. The ambulance is on the way."

"Not dead?"

"No, silly, you're not dead."

"Oh."

"Well, don't sound so disappointed."

"Hurts to be alive."

Cassy gently massaged his temples. "I'm sorry, Thomas. I know it hurts, but it will get better."

It suddenly occurred to him that he was still alive, but there was something else. But what? Oh, shit. "Cassy, in the house..."

"Shhh, Tom, Ned and Mike got them. Were Olivia and George the only ones in there? Just nod for yes."

Tom nodded sleepily, eyes barely open. "Okay?"

Cassy glanced down the steps at the still forms of George and Olivia. The Miami cops were bundling a blanket around the man, while his dazed wife could do nothing but sit beside him, clinging desperately to her husband's hand. Another blanket covered the small, still form of Olivia. Cassy could not help but feel relieved that the woman's pathetic little life had ended. As the sound of sirens pierced the air, she gave her partner the news he'd been searching for. "Yes, Tom, they're okay. They're both okay."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

part - 23 ↑

One week later:

The attendance at the graveside funeral service was small. The small bronze marker bore only her name, and dates of birth and death. There was nothing there to indicate how she'd lived ... or died. No true mourners were present, no mass of flowers surrounded the grave to show she'd been loved, and would be missed. Even mother nature seemed not to care, sending a torrential rain that filled the open grave with water even as the coffin was lowered inside. Tom Ryan's face was impassive as the minister said a few solemn words over the casket, and fled to the comfort of his car as the rain finally burst through the clouds. Tom, however, remained where he stood, his only motion to raise his umbrella with his good arm, leaning heavily on his single crutch. He watched silently as the grave diggers shoved water saturated soil on top of the coffin, flinching slightly as the first clumps of dirt impacted with the vault below.

Cassandra St. John also watched in silence, but the object of observation was her partner, not the grave. Tom had only been out of the hospital for a couple of days, and was supposed to be taking it easy. She'd consented to drive him to Miami for Olivia's funeral only after much argument. She'd finally realized that he'd drive himself if he had to. At least this way she had a modicum of control over his actions. But as she watched his shoes fill up with water, she began to doubt that she'd have any real influence over him at all. She shot a quick glance at George and Carol Smith who stood beside her under an overlarge umbrella. Carol's hand clung tightly to her husband's arm.

Tom watched as the dirt was mounded over the top of the grave, then leaned forward and tossed a single white rose into the mud. He turned and looked blankly at the trio behind him. "She never really had a chance, did she?"

George shook his head, angrily. "Not once Ben Wilson got hold of her. Maybe before then, but certainly not after. Talk about a misuse of power."

Carol spoke softly. "Absolute power corrupts absolutely. And he certainly had power over that girl."

"That girl," Cassy reminded them firmly, "was responsible for the deaths of five people that we know of, and almost got you and Tom killed, George."

"True." The counselor reluctantly admitted as he turned to Tom. "You'll be here for Wilson's trial?"

"Yes!" There was a hard edge to Tom's voice. "She was the physical cause of the deaths, but *he* used her like a loaded gun. Point and fire."

The counselors nodded their agreement and headed for their car. Tom sighed heavily and started to follow. Cassy forestalled his action by throwing out her arm to stop him. "Gimme."

"What?"

"The umbrella. You can't possibly limp out of here with the crutch and stay dry. So gimme."

Reluctantly he turned control of the large umbrella over to her and watched, amused, as she returned her small one to its place in her carryall. He waited until she positioned the larger one over both of their heads then asked, "Where now?"

"Someplace warm, dry and cheerful."

"I'm not sure..."

"I am. There's been entirely too much gloom and doom lately."

"Oh."

"Yep," she frowned, "we need to do something special, but what?"

He glanced back at the lonely grave, then smiled down at her head. "I vote we just celebrate life."

The End