Hasting stepped back and gave Vincent's lawyer a long look. "Bert Arrington," he thought, "favorite drinking buddy of Luc Sidarus' resident counsel. How convenient." Hasting assumed that Sidarus Enterprises was funneling a hefty payoff to Arrington. After all, he had no other reason to represent a low-life like Vincent.
"So," Hasting said, "finally ready to talk, Vincent?" He leaned over the table, trying to make Vincent feel even more cramped in the tiny interrogation room. He wanted to get in Vincent's space, make him squirm, rub his face in what he'd done. When Hasting remembered Tiffany hitting the ground at the warehouse, his hands clenched automatically, and he struggled to keep himself from pounding Vincent. Hasting swallowed hard.
Vincent looked at the floor and Arrington said, "My client has some information that you might find very useful."
"You know I can't make a deal with you, Arrington," Hasting said. "Now if you want to call the D.A. in here---"
"Not interested... yet. Vincent, wisely, distrusts prosecutors. But I've told him that I think you'll treat us honestly. We're willing to gamble on your recommendation."
Hasting smirked. "I can't tell you how much the respect of two upstanding citizens like yourselves means to me, Mr. Arrington. And since you want straight talk, I'll give it to you. There's only one thing I want out of old Vincent here. You see, I've already got the drugs. I've got the money. And I've got him. All I want is the man who started it all."
Arrington smiled. "You detectives are so funny. You can't see the facts even when they're right in front of you. I really expect more out of you, Hasting."
"Then quit beating around the bush. If you've got information for me, give it up. If not, I've got better things to do."
"Has it ever occurred to you that this whole drug ring was a scheme between Nick Rhodes and Vincent? Isn't that the most obvious answer?"
Hasting leaned back in his chair. "You expect me to believe this half-wit was running the show?"
Vincent glared at Hasting but still didn't speak.
"Well, really," Arrington said, "how difficult was it to set up? Rhodes knew the drug business and Vincent, via his position at Sidarus Enterprises, was able to import the heroin."
Hasting didn't answer right away. He stared at Vincent, assuming an expression of disgusted amusement. "You're telling me that he was smuggling drugs right under Sidarus' nose, and Sidarus had no idea?"
"It's a big corporation, Hasting," Arrington answered. "But Luc Sidarus started to notice discrepancies in shipping orders, and Vincent got nervous. That's why he was trying to unload his stash to Nick Rhodes. It's all very simple, really."
"Yes, and simple to fake as well because he killed anyone who could corroborate it. You wouldn't happen to have any proof that Vincent masterminded this, would you?"
"No," Arrington said, "but more importantly, you have no proof that anyone else did. And my client's willing to confess. You can close the case, so what are you waiting for?"
Hasting sighed. Arrington was right, after all the manpower spent on the investigation, they still couldn't prove that Luc Sidarus was the man behind Carmine Falls' thriving drug business. He'd been sure he'd get that link from Vincent, but apparently, Vincent was getting his back scratched by somebody else. Hasting stood. "We haven't got anything to talk about then."
Vincent turned on Arrington. "Listen you---"
"Calm yourself, Vincent," Arrington said. "I wouldn't leave just yet, Hasting. We've got something much bigger than this."
"Bigger than drugs, homicide, and the attempted murder of a police officer? I'm not sure what could beat that, Arrington." He continued walking towards the door.
"Try police corruption."
Hasting stopped. Cold fear seeped into his stomach, but he coated his voice in confidence and said, "I don't think he has anything to offer us."
Arrington smiled. "Then why are you still in the room?"
Hasting didn't respond, and Vincent spoke for the first time. "Why do you think it all went down like it did?" he asked. "Someone on your side wasn't playing straight."
"Impossible. No one knew about the bust until the night it happened. My partner and I were the only ones working the case."
"Yeah," Vincent said, "and you know we weren't paying you off..."
Hasting sat down across from Vincent. "Talk," he said.
Arrington intervened, "Not until you---"
"I'll do what I can about the death penalty."
"Not good enough."
"No death penalty, okay? I'll call in a favor with the D.A."
"And he wants to be in a prison close by. So his mother can visit."
"I can't control what the Department of Corrections does."
"Your father is the mayor, Hasting. I know you have some pull, and if we can give you a dirty cop, don't the police have an immediate interest here?"
"Okay," Hasting relented. "Pending what he has to say." He turned to Vincent. "So talk. You've got exactly ten seconds before I leave the room."
Vincent stared at his hands. "It was the chick, the redhead. Felix said he had an in with her. He said they were, uh, close, if you get what I'm saying. He'd been working her up for a while. That's what screwed everything up."
Hasting paused and said, "Do you have any corroborating evidence?"
Arrington answered, "He has the withdrawal slips for payments made to her. Vincent asked Felix to act as an intermediary. He made payments to Felix, who in turn made payments to Detective Watts."
"Without the middleman it's worthless. You wouldn't happen to know where Felix is, would you?"
Vincent shook his head. "That bastard is probably on the other side of the world by now, but don't you get it? That's how he got away. He knew you were coming, and he was trying to double-cross me while he was at it. I bet he was trying to get out of there with the money and leave me and Nick with the drugs. Asshole."
Hasting massaged his temples. He didn't want to believe it, but it made some sense. Tiffany definitely wanted to pull out of the bust that night, and Felix had recognized her. Of course, none of that was hard proof, and he wasn't taking Vincent's word for anything, no matter how much his gut might jibe with it. He rose and said, "Thanks for the information, Vincent."
"Don't forget our deal, Hasting," Arrington said.
"What deal? Nothing you've given me is usable. Call me when you have some real evidence." He opened the door.
Just before it slammed behind him, Arrington called, "We can give you the withdrawal slips anytime."
**************** 
"Now," Oliver said as he stepped into his kitchen, "what have we here?"
"Oh, it's nothing, really. I just had Hazel's deliver some soup and sandwiches," Meredith replied. "I couldn't bring myself to make lunch today." She wound her linen handkerchief around her pointer finger.
"What's the matter, Meredith? Not feeling well?"
She glared at him over her reading glasses. "Oliver, you know very well what's bothering me. I really hate it when you go into denial like this."
Oliver smiled and sat at the kitchen table. "If I'm in denial, my dear, I don't know it." He laughed. "Of course," he said, "I suppose that's the whole point."
"How can you joke? Here, everything is about to come crashing down around us, and you're acting like it's all part of some grand amusement. Well, it's not."
"Let's see..." Oliver said as he perused the sandwich platter. "Do I want pimento cheese or..."
Meredith snapped her head in an effort to express her outrage. "As if that matters!" she said. "As if it's remotely important what you eat for lunch. My God, you could have Vienna sausages for all it would matter at this point."
"That would be nice," he said. "I like Vienna sausages."
"You know what I mean."
"Well, if you don't care what we have for lunch, why did you call Hazel's?"
"Because, Oliver, I recognize that at a time like this we need sustenance, no matter how far away our hearts are."
"Well," he said, "my heart is right here with these sandwiches. But I don't like it when my girl's unhappy. Why don't you just sit down here with me and tell me what's on your mind."
Meredith took a deep breath and sat at the table. With effort, she calmly said, "Oliver, what are we going to do about Trey Montgomery?"
"Oh!" Oliver smiled. "You mean his mayoral bid?"
"Of course. What else would I be talking about?"
"I didn't know. You know, it's something, isn't it? I just saw his announcement on the news."
She glared at him. "Well?" she asked.
"Well what?" He took a big bite of a turkey sandwich.
"How should we address it?"
"I don't know that we should."
"Of course we should. Oliver, do you want him to steal your position right out from under you?"
"It's called an election, Meredith, and it's all perfectly legal. It's a foundation of our country, in fact."
She watched him for a moment. "Is that all?" she asked. "You're just going to go on with your lunch as if nothing's changed?"
"Nothing has. I'm the mayor of this town, and I will continue as such as long as the people of Carmine Falls want me. Now, there's nothing to worry about."
Meredith's eyebrows dipped and wrinkled her brow. "Oliver," she said, "your idealism is touching, but it just won't work in this case."
"It's not idealism at all, Meredith. It's realism. If the people want to keep me as mayor, they'll vote to do so, and if not, they'll vote for him. I can't control it."
"But you can fight it."
"Meredith," Oliver said firmly. "I said no."
She frowned. "But what will we do? Where in the world will we go?"
"If he wins, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Well, there's a new atrium upstate that I'd like to see, so maybe we could spend a weekend up there, and if there's---"
"I don't mean for a vacation, Oliver. What will we do with ourselves once we're cast out?"
"I don't anticipate being run out of town, Meredith. I suppose we'll do the same things we do now, but we'll have a lot more time for them. I can finally get some real work done in the garden, and you can work on getting your cookbook published."
"Is this what we've come to?"
"No." Oliver smiled. "We haven't come to any of it yet. We won't know until after the election, my dear, and truth be told, I'm not worried. Trey seems like a nice, young man, but he has no experience. He's not what Carmine Falls needs."
"I wish I had your confidence."
"You have more confidence than I could ever dream of, Meredith. You're just letting yourself get all emotional over nothing. Now have a sandwich."
She looked down at the platter. "I suppose," she said sadly, "it's all I can do now."
Oliver bit his lip to keep from smiling. "There's my girl," he said. "My brave girl."
**************** 
Trey placed a large, black bag on an armchair in Tiffany's hospital room. "So what do you want to do tonight?" he asked as he slouched on the end of her bed.
"Well, I don't know," Tiffany answered. "There are so many options here."
"There are! We have all these different cable channels, and the waiting area has every National Geographic published in the last thirty years. What more could you want?"
"You sure know how to treat a girl."
"Yes, you'll have to forgive me. It's been a long time."
"Since?"
"Since I've... been interested in someone."
"I don't believe that."
"It's true. I've been so focused on work. I guess I forgot to take time for myself."
"I know what you're saying, brother."
Trey laughed. "Will you stop calling me that? It's sick."
"Yeah, that's what I've been trying to tell you." She smiled. "Okay, I'll quit it. You know, I have to say, Trey, that's something I like about you."
"What?"
"Well, you say what you want. You're a man about it, not that women can't be upfront, too, you know. Just well, I like to put my cards on the table, and that's caused me problems with with men before. I've always felt that if you want something, you should go get it. And if you don't try, you can blame yourself when you're unhappy."
"Exactly."
She frowned at him. "Sure, men all say that, but you all want little victims."
"I don't."
"You all do. Look at you; you said you didn't realize you had a thing for me until you thought I might die. But most men are even worse; they look for everyday kind of helplessness. They don't just want a woman who's been shot, although that is always a bonus, they want someone who can't decide what shoes to wear or change her own oil.
I can't change my own oil. I don't want to be responsible for my girlfriend's as well."
"Maybe not, but I bet you'd like to do her taxes or you know what I'm saying?"
Trey considered for a moment and said, "I think men like to feel useful."
"Right, but isn't it better if you feel like you're useful to a woman who doesn't have use for most people? Isn't it better to be wanted for who you are than for how great you are at changing light bulbs?"
"Yeah, but we men are a practical species, so if we can't tell we're needed, we get antsy."
"So that's why a man will stay with a woman that doesn't excite him and make excuses about how she needs him or some bull---"
"Watch your language, beautiful." He touched her cheek. "You're getting worked up over this."
Tiffany blushed.
"Not something you should tell me about, is there?" Trey asked.
"Not anything I'm going to tell you about."
"Figures." He rose and reached for the bag he'd placed under her bed. "I think, Tiffany Watts, that any man who rejected you, for any reason, is crazy. You're an amazing, strong woman, and---"
"Right, right, right. I'm wonderful, and anyone would be lucky to have me. You all say that, and then you can't stand it if a woman shows the tiniest bit of gumption. If I want to pay for dinner, or initiate sex, you'll freak."
Trey leaned into her. "I promise I will never freak if you initiate sex."
Tiffany tried to counter with something smart, something defensive, but nothing came to mind. Instead, heat welled up inside of her, and she became deeply aware of his breath on her shoulder. After a moment, she said, "So what's in that bag anyway?"
He moved away from her and said, "Something I'm not supposed to bring you."
"More egg drop?"
"No, that's day-before-yesterday style. I've moved on." He reached out and grabbed the bag.
"Well?"
As Tiffany watched expectantly, he pulled a gold foil wrapped bottle out of the bag. "For you," he said as he presented it to her.
She unwrapped it and gave him a skeptical look. "Dom Perignon?" she said.
"Like it?"
"Well, I'm definitely not supposed to have any."
"They'll never know." He pulled two champagne flutes from the bag.
"What else have you got in there?" she asked.
"That's it. You'll have to wait for Friday for your next surprise."
"Friday?"
"When you get out of here, dear. I have something big planned. So tonight, we celebrate your quick recovery and newly-found cult-hero status. Hand me that." He took the champagne, pointed the bottle away from her, and twisted. The cork came off with a loud pop.
"Shhh!" Tiffany said, smiling. "You'll get me busted for sure."
He shook champagne from his hands. "I've got it all over me. I was trying to be so suave."
"Looks like you failed."
"Wrong answer, dear. You're supposed to suggest I take my shirt off so you can appreciate all those hours I've spent in the gym. Don't you ever watch any soft-core porn?"
She laughed. "Just give me the bottle." He complied. She filled the glasses and handed one to him.
"To you," he said.
"No, I think we'd better drink to you." She gave him a sly smile.
"What is that look for?"
"Well, I just can't believe you haven't mentioned it yet."
"What?"
"Trey, cut that out. You know what I'm talking about."
"Can't say that I do."
"Hello! Why haven't you told me you're running for mayor?"
He frowned. "I haven't told you because you're not supposed to know. Yet."
"Well, when were you going to tell me?"
"Truthfully?"
"Better be."
He paused and answered, "On Friday."
"Is that supposed to be your big surprise?"
"Part of it."
She smirked. "Kind of lame, Trey."
"Well, I assure you it wasn't the central component. How did you know about my mayoral bid anyway?"
"I am in the hospital, you know. I watch the local news four times a day."
"I see we're enjoying being a local hero a little more than we like to let on."
"Wrong. I only watch it to make sure I'm not on it."
Trey took a long slip of his champagne and said, "Maybe, Miss Watts, you could get used to all the attention."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He shrugged and lifted his glass. "Friday," he said.
**************** 
"Vodka martini, Rick," Annette told the regular bartender at Heebie Jeebies, "as dry as you can make it."
"Well, there's a surprise." Rick smiled. "I think I'd have a heart attack if you ever ordered anything else. Where have you been lately?"
She winked. "Around."
"I'm glad you're back. We need your pretty face in here; it's one of our biggest draws."
"Oh, I think the sweet-talking bartender is a bigger attraction. But thanks. Now go make my drink."
He turned away and Annette took a deep breath, relieved that Ren Sidarus was nowhere to be seen. She'd completely boycotted her favorite hangout in town, just to prevent anymore unwanted encounters. But this night, she just needed some familiarity. "I need a girlfriend," she thought, "someone to cat around with." She had never really had any close friends. After all, she'd spent so much of her life being fabulous, and truly fabulous people have a hard time with intimacy of any kind. But she hadn't felt fabulous lately; she just felt like a thirtysomething woman with no man and no money. "How'd I get here?" she wondered as Rick wordlessly set her martini in front of her. "Better yet, how am I going to get out? What's the next step? Life is too short for me to play around like this."
Her thoughts consumed her so much that she didn't notice someone sitting on the barstool next to her. He didn't speak for a moment, just watched her absent-mindedly trace the rim of her glass. She lifted it and drained her martini in a gulp. "Bad day?" he said.
She turned to him. "Oh my God," she said. "What are you doing here?"
"Well," Ren said slowly, "Carmine Falls is a small city. There is a shortage of places to go for a drink. I happen to like this one."
"Sure you do." She raised her hands to the ceiling. "Sweet Jesus, why did you send this man in here to make me miserable? Haven't I suffered enough today? I know that I haven't been the best of people, but that will all change if you just deliver me from this torment." Annette faced Ren with a look of exaggerated disappointment. "You're still here."
"Yeah, I guess your prayer there didn't work."
"Well, who else can I pray to? Allah, maybe? Buddha? Do people pray to Buddha--- I've never been very clear on that point. Anyway, I don't care. I'll pray to Thor if he'll get you out of here."
Ren didn't answer but called to the bartender, "I think she needs another martini."
"No, I don't. I'm leaving." She wriggled off her barstool.
"Please stay," Ren said. "I'll buy."
Annette paused. She sat back down and said, "I suppose I can let you buy me another drink."
"It's sort of a tradition, isn't it? Me picking up your tab?"
"Oh, that. Well, I figured it was the least you could do considering you ruined my night."
Ren laughed. "Let's not forget who sent whom the first drink that night."
"I know I sent you a drink, but it doesn't really count because I didn't know your real identity. If I'd had any idea---"
"---that I'm the spawn of Satan?"
"Something like that."
Ren didn't speak for a moment while he watched Annette sip her fresh martini. He noticed, as he had that first night, that even in the smoky darkness of the bar, her eyes sparked like two pieces of flint. He said, "I got your note."
"Hmmm... Then I guess you know I got your flowers."
"Yes. I was very impressed. So few people send thank you notes at all these days. And even a rude one is nice. My mother always said it was the mark of good breeding."
"As if your mother would know."
Ren took a long sip of his beer before answering, "My mother was a very nice person, but you wouldn't know that, Annette Montgomery, because you spend so much of your time judging and categorizing people that you never get to see who they really are."
"Now who's judging?"
"I'm making an assessment based on multiple encounters with you; that's different. You decided you didn't want to have anything to do with me as soon as you heard my name. I just don't understand why."
Annette clenched her teeth. She felt dangerously close to crying. "It's the liquor," she told herself, "I shouldn't have drunk it so fast." She took a deep breath and said, "You have siblings, don't you? You love them?"
"Very much."
"Then I would think even you could understand." She sipped her martini.
"I'm afraid I'm still in the dark," Ren said. He gestured to Rick to bring them fresh drinks. "You see, I haven't lived in Carmine Falls for the past ten years or so, and I know that everyone here follows the Montgomery family like you're the Kennedys, but it really hasn't meant that much to me. So if you could fill me in..."
"You don't know what I'm talking about?"
Ren shook his head.
"About my brother Jeremiah?"
"No," he said.
"My brother Jeremiah is dead."
"Yeah, I heard about that. Some kind of boiler accident, wasn't it? It's very sad."
Annette gave a short, bitter laugh. "Right," she said.
"So I guess I just don't understand what that has to do with me and my family."
"Hmmm... Yeah, I guess you don't."
"But if you---"
"No, forget about it, Ren. It's not important."
After a moment, he said, "Why do I feel like something major is going on here that I'm not in on?"
Annette smiled. "Maybe because it is. But that's obviously the way you want it. Ignorance is bliss, right?"
"Well, if you just tell---"
"Look, Ren, something is clear to me now that wasn't before. You've chosen to live in a certain world, and it's not my job to ruin that for you. I mean, we all have our delusions, don't we?"
"I just don't like being left out of things." She didn't answer, and he watched her.
She glared at him. "Why are you staring at me?" she asked.
"I just... I like to look at you."
She raised her eyebrows. "Really? Well, I don't like it--- this is all too weird for me. Look, I think I made a mistake here. I think I should just go."
"Are you sure? Are you all right to drive, I mean?"
"What? You want to give me a ride now? We've bonded enough for the night, Mr. Sidarus." She climbed down from the barstool and waved goodnight to Rick.
"I don't want you driving after three martinis. I live in this town, too."
"Do I seem drunk to you?" When he didn't respond, she continued, "Yeah, I didn't think so. You have to remember I was raised by Anna. Vodka is mother's milk to me."
He laughed. "What does that mean?"
"She's part of your family now; I'd think you'd know. Goodnight, Mr. Sidarus."
"Ren?"
"Fine--- goodnight, Ren. You can change what people call you, you know, but you can't change what you are."
"Such wisdom in one so young." He grabbed her arm. "Seriously, Annette. I'd like you to stay."
She glanced down at where his fingers clamped her arm. "You know what's funny?" she asked without looking up. "I'd kind of like to stay, too." She raised her eyes. "Which is why I'm going." She pulled away from him and started out of the bar.
"Annette," Ren called to her back, "I really enjoyed being with you tonight."
She stopped and turned to him. She bit her lip then said, "I'm sorry for what I said about your mother. That wasn't very nice."
"No, it wasn't." He smiled. "But it's okay."
She opened her mouth to speak but changed her mind. She turned and marched out of the club.
Ren watched her retreat and pondered how the smoke rose up in her wake, making her look like some mythical creature. "And maybe she is," he said to himself. "Maybe she is."
Previously on Sins of the Fathers
--- The drug bust went bad. Tiffany was shot, and Felix escaped.
--- Vincent told Hasting that Felix had been paying Tiffany off.
--- Julia insisted that Seth was "just a friend".
--- Rosa hid Felix in her new house, and asked Viola to live with her.
--- Felix and Rosa shared some kisses.
Hasting and Tiffany didn't speak for a moment. He stood at the edge of her hospital bed, and she sat in the bed, and they stared at each other. Outside her room, a nurse called to her friends as she left for lunch, and the construction across the street carried on as it had for the past week, but they didn't notice any of it.
Then Tiffany said, "Hi."
"Um," Hasting began, "I know I should have come sooner."
"Yeah, you should have."
He sighed. "I thought about you. A lot."
"Yeah, I could really tell, considering you didn't even call or---"
"Look, I wanted to! We still have cases, remember?" He sat in the corner chair, as far away from Tiffany as possible.
Tiffany laughed. "So that's it? Work? Isn't that the one you always use on your wife?"
"I guess I shouldn't have come here at all."
"Of course not. Because I'm not your partner or anything, Hasting. You poor guy. We women always expect so much of you, don't we? It's hard to keep us all happy."
They succumbed to a tense silence, and Tiffany broke it, saying, "Look, I'm not going to apologize to you, okay? Because I didn't do anything wrong."
Hasting glared at her.
"But," she continued, "you don't have to apologize either, deal?"
He nodded.
Tiffany smiled. "I guess that's why we never got together, Hasting. Too much alike. You really need someone like Kara."
"Who are you and what have you done with my partner?"
"I know, it's weird coming from me, but my near-death experience really gave me some perspective. My grandmother used to say, 'In every relationship there has to be a peacock and a peahen.' Kara's a good peahen for you, Hasting."
"I didn't come here to talk about my marriage."
"So why did you come?"
"To check on you, obviously."
"I don't buy it, Tiger. You didn't check on me when I really was on the verge of death, and I'm fine now. Come on, what's the real reason?"
Hasting didn't answer.
"Is it the case? Have you got something? I've looked in the paper every day, but there's nothing. What have you gotten out of Vincent?"
"You know I can't discuss it."
"I'm your---"
"You're not on active duty, Tiff."
She rolled her eyes and said, "Yeah, I'm so sorry the dealer shot me."
"It's police policy---"
"It's a technicality. For Christ's sake, I'm getting out of here tomorrow; I'll be back on the force Monday." She smiled. "Hasting," she said, "I have nothing to do here. If you tell me what Vincent gave up, I will at least have something to think about."
Hasting shook his head. "I can't do it."
"Why don't you look me in the eye?"
"I am."
"No, you're not. What's going on here, Hasting?"
"That night, Tiffany," he said, "you didn't want to go through with the bust."
She shrugged. "I had a bad feeling about it."
Hasting answered with a skeptical look.
"What?" she asked. "I just didn't want to go through with it. But I did, didn't I? And I'm the one who got shot, Hasting, not you!"
"Don't get all bent---"
"I don't get you. What do I have to do, Hasting? When do I get to be good enough?"
He stood and walked to her, "Tiff," he said, "I'm just trying to get all the facts, okay? We're on the same side, remember?"
"No, we're not, because you know what's going on, and I don't. What did Vincent tell you?"
He avoided eye contact by straightening the covers on her bed. "Nothing too helpful."
"Are we still partners, Hasting?"
He nodded.
"Is that a yes?" she asked.
He turned to the window. "Tiffany, I have to ask you something else."
When he didn't continue, she said, "Yes?"
"Uh, when you were shot, someone called out your name. Do you---"
"No, I don't remember anything about it. What happened?"
"Felix Ash. We still can't find him."
"And?"
"And just as you got shot, he yelled your name." He turned to her. "He recognized you, Tiff. Why is that?"
"That's what Vincent had to tell you?"
"I heard it, okay? Just tell me how you know him."
Tiffany looked past him, out the window at the construction. "No," she said.
"Please."
"No, you decided we should keep things from each other. I guess that's the way it is now."
He sat on the edge of her bed. "I haven't drawn any conclusions," he said.
"That's very thoughtful of you, Hasting. But I don't have to tell you anything. I think you should leave now."
"I don't want to, Tiff---"
"Don't you have a wife or something waiting for you? Go away, Hasting. You're wasting your time."
He stared at her for a moment, then rose and left.
Tiffany lowered her head in her hands. She exhaled and tried to blink out some tears, but her eyes were dry. She wrapped her arms around her sides and, for the first time in a long while, wished her mother were there.
**************** 
Seth gave his soccer ball a good kick and watched it speed into Echo Forest, crunching every leaf in its path. It was a great day, filled with sunshine and cool air, and he could just smell the beginnings of a fire in someone's fireplace. He flipped his head to clear his brown hair from his eyes and called, "Come on!"
Julia jumped over a puddle and entered the forest, mindful of her expensive shoes. "I don't understand what's so important, Seth."
"Just come here!"
Julia stopped and looked around, but Seth had disappeared. "Where are you?" she called. When he didn't respond, she repeated, nervously, "Where are you? Seth?"
She saw a blue flash of his fleece pullover and he appeared out of a cluster of trees. "You're so slow sometimes," he said.
"You're too fast. What's your problem, anyway? I have homework, you know."
"I'll drive you home. After."
"After what?"
"Just come on."
Julia frowned and said, "Okay, but this better be worth it. I skipped out of my yearbook meeting for this." She followed him, stepping in a zigzag pattern to avoid any potentially shoe-ruining areas.
Seth looked over his shoulder. "Will you stop worrying about your shoes?"
"They're my favorite pair."
"Well, you miss everything, Jules, looking at the ground like that."
"Miss what? Seth, I see this everyday."
He gestured to the rust-colored trees. "You don't see this every day. It only happens once a year."
"Then I'll look at it tomorrow when I have my tennis shoes on."
They walked in silence for a moment, then Seth sighed and said, "You're so slow."
"I don't even care about--- where are we going anyway?"
"You'll see when we get there."
"You don't know, do you?"
"Yes, I found it this morning."
"Oh, right, 'cause you hang out in Echo Forest every morning."
"Duh, Julia, I have a free period."
"And you spend it out here?"
"Sure, I was working on my science project. Not everyone uses their free period to write notes and check their make-up."
Julia stopped walking and stared at him. "Seth Bevins," she said, "for your information, I gave up my entire free period this morning so that I could organize banners for the Pep Club."
Seth rolled his eyes. "Wow. You're such a martyr."
"Well, don't you want banners for your soccer games? 'Cause if you don't, I can just leave them out."
"Yeah, well, you do have that power. I'm really lucky to have such a close connection to you."
Julia sighed and started walking again. She stomped past Seth without even watching her shoes. "Come on, Seth," she said, "let's just go look at your whatever-it-is. And don't worry. Next semester, I'll have my own car, and I won't need you to drive me to school anymore, so you won't have to deal with me, okay?"
"Don't be such a drama queen, Jules. I like waiting on you to get done with your yearbook meetings and your Key club meetings and all of it. I'll kind of miss you next semester."
Julia turned around and looked at him. "Really?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said and shrugged, "but I'll get over it." He continued into the forest.
She bit her tongue and followed him.
They didn't speak again until they reached a clearing, which was carpeted by a thick layer of leaves. "See?" Seth asked triumphantly.
"This is it? No offense, but so what?"
"Julia, look." He took her arm and led her to the opposite side of the clearing. She saw a makeshift hut in what she had first thought was simply a pile of dead limbs.
She wrinkled her nose. "Oh," she said, "did you make that? It's, um, really cool."
"No, I didn't make it, Julia. But someone did. That's the whole point."
"Is this your science project?"
He ran his hand through his hair. "You're just not getting it. If I'd made this thing, it would be much cooler."
"Yeah," she said and nodded. "Okay, um, let's go."
"Jules! Start thinking, please. Obviously, this is Jake's lair."
She frowned. "Jake?" she asked. "Who is Jake?"
"Jules, I know you've heard about Jake before."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Seth paused for a moment, then stepped away from the hut and started out of the clearing. "I think we'd better head out," he said.
"What? You dragged me all the way out here without any concern for my shoes and now you want to leave! Seth Bevins, tell me who Jake is right now!"
"Shhh! Keep your voice down--- just in case. I'm sorry, Jules, but I am not going to tell you. Your dad probably doesn't want you to know since you live so close to the forest and all."
"Know what? Please, Seth, you have to tell me."
"Well... what about your dad?"
She sighed. "Do I do everything my dad tells me to do?"
"Um, yeah, pretty much."
She rolled her eyes. "Anyway... Are you going to tell me or not?"
"Okay, but, um..." He looked around. "Here, let's get out of the clearing." He pulled her into a patch of oaks. "We'll be safe here," he said. He took a deep breath. "Are you sure you want to know?" he asked.
"Yes!"
"Shhh! For real, Jules. We can't be too careful. Okay. A long time ago, there lived two brothers here in Echo Forest---"
"No one lives in Echo Forest, Seth. It's against city ordinance."
"Well, they didn't build a house. They just lived here secretly. And people knew about them, but no one messed with them because they were said to be really good fighters."
"When was this exactly?"
"I don't know."
"Well, was it, like, in the sixties or what?"
"I don't know. I think, like, during the Depression."
"Okay. Go on."
"And these two brothers got along fine. Until one day, Jake fell in love with this woman, and---"
"What was the other brother's name?"
"I don't know. Stop asking questions for a minute, okay? So, Jake loved this woman, and his brother was scared that Jake would marry her and leave him off in the woods by himself. And then he saw the woman, and he liked her, too. So the brother wanted to keep her for himself and get her to live here with him. But he had to get rid of Jake first. So he tried everything, he pushed Jake into a hole and tried to bury him alive and he tried to set him on fire, and---"
"All right, I'm sorry for interrupting, Seth, but I just have to ask. Why couldn't they all live in the woods together?"
"What?"
"Why couldn't Jake and the brother and the woman just live happily ever after? I mean, did the brother even try to work it out?"
Seth stared at her for a moment and said, "Jules, that's really twisted."
"I don't mean like that! I'm just--- It's not my fault if they don't have good sense, but obviously there was something wrong with the brother anyway if---"
"Shhh!" He turned around and then looked back to her. "I think I heard something."
"Seth! Quit it and just finish---"
He covered her mouth and held her for a moment while he listened. And then they both heard the crunch of footsteps followed by a low, heavy breathing sound. Seth stared into Julia's eyes and watched as they swelled with fear. Without moving his hand from her mouth, he whispered, "Okay, we've got to run, but don't freak out. When I move my hand, just run as fast as you can. Got it?"
She nodded. They heard the sound of twigs breaking on the other side of their thicket. Seth took a deep breath, lowered his hand from Julia's mouth, and they ran for their lives. He hadn't realized how far they'd walked into the forest until he tried to find his way out. Trees seemed to pop up out of nowhere, and he sprang from foot to foot to avoid obstacles. At last the road was in sight, and there was his car---
"Seth!"
He looked over his shoulder. "Jules!" he called. She was lying on the ground about twenty feet behind him. "Get up!"
"I can't!"
He rushed to her. "Come on," he said. "What is it?"
"My ankle, I think I---"
"Okay, okay." He picked her up in his arms, but she was too tall, and he couldn't run. Even after he slung her over his shoulder, her feet dragged on the ground, but it was the best he could do in limited time. He ran the rest of the way, somewhat impeded by her weight on his left side. When they reached the car, he put her down and helped her into her seat. "Are you all right?" he asked as he tried to catch his breath.
She nodded. "But I think I'm going to throw up. Your shoulder kept bumping my tummy."
"Sorry. How's your ankle?"
"I think I twisted it."
"It's those shoes."
She glared at him. "Sorry if I wasn't planning to run through the forest when I got dressed this morning."
"Don't get all crazy on me. We better get you home. Priscilla can---"
"No, finish the story first."
"Julia."
"I want to know who was about to get us in there. Was it the brother?"
"It could've been anything, Jules. Maybe just an animal."
"Well, tell me what happened to Jake and his brother."
"Aren't you scared?"
She shrugged and indicated the passing cars. "It's better," she said, "out here."
He nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Okay, so the brother, right? He wanted to kill Jake, and Jake wasn't having it. I mean, he just wouldn't die, no matter what his brother did. So one day they were out chopping wood, and the brother looked over at Jake, and he hated him because he knew that Jake was going to marry the girl and be happy without him, so he just picked up his ax and hurled it at Jake's head."
"Did it chop his head off?"
"No, but it landed in the middle of his skull, and knocked a big piece of his brain out."
"Gross!"
"Yeah, and Jake was so mad that he chased his brother down and killed him with his bare hands."
"Well, I guess so."
"And then, he went to his girlfriend's, but he looked so scary with that ax hanging out of his head and his hands all red with his brother's blood, that she just screamed and ran away. So that broke his heart, and he retreated to the woods where he has lived ever since."
Julia frowned. "Ever since the Great Depression?"
"Yeah."
"That's a long time, Seth. I don't think he's still alive."
"No, he is. Hasting told me."
She sighed. "Hasting? Did this whole story come from him?"
"Sure."
"Well, why didn't you tell me that? Seth, you know it's not true."
"Hasting wouldn't make it up, Julia."
"How can you even say that? Remember when Hasting told you that the gypsies left you on your parent's doorstep?"
"That was, like, ten years ago."
"Well what about when he convinced you that my uncle Brock was an international spy?"
"Now, Jules, you believed that, too!"
"That's beside the point. The point is that Hasting lies to you all the time. You just don't believe it because he's your big brother, and you think he's so cool."
"He is cool. And he's not lying about Jake. Why else would that hut be out there?"
"I don't know, but there could be a hundred other explanations. It just doesn't make sense, Seth. People don't survive having their heads chopped open, and besides, I've lived next to Echo Forest all my life. I would've seen him."
"He's very discreet, Julia. He has to be to survive."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh God! Just take me home now, please. I can't believe I screwed up my shoes for this."
"Well, hold tight a second. I have to go back and get my soccer ball."
"What? Seth, you can't go back in there."
"Why not?"
"Because... well, because you're not going to find it anyway."
"Sure I will. It's back in the clearing."
"But... Oh! Fine, go back if you want to get yourself killed!"
Seth smiled. "Now how would I get myself killed, Jules? I mean, since there's no Jake."
"I'm not talking to you."
"Good, then I'll just run get my soc---"
"No!" She reached for him. "Just... Seth will you please take me home now? I'll buy you a new soccer ball, okay?"
"Okay, but I think you're being really silly."
Julia ground her teeth. "Oh, I just want to kill you sometimes," she said under her breath.
"I heard that!" Seth called as he walked around to the driver's side of the car. He smiled as he sat next to her. "Don't worry, Jules," he said. "Jake only eats people when he's desperate."
**************** 
"Felix!" Rosa whispered. "Felix, wake up!" She shook him gently, but he didn't respond. She climbed up on his bed and tried again. "Come on, Felix," she said, with greater urgency. "You've got to wake up now."
He closed his eyes tight and yawned. Then he looked up at her. "Rosa?" he asked. "What are---"
"Felix, there's some man here."
He sat up. "What? Here, in the house?"
"Please whisper. I don't want to wake Viola. The man's outside. I just got in from the hospital, and I saw him when I pulled up."
"Well, what is he doing? He's outside, you said?"
"Yes, his car is parked across the street."
"Well, maybe he's just---"
"No, he's watching the house. He ducked down when I pulled in, but he wasn't fast enough. Then when I came inside, I looked out the living room window for a little while, and he came back up and started watching us again."
Felix clasped his hands under his chin. "Did he see you see him?"
"I don't think so. I know he didn't see me looking out the window. Do you want to look?"
"Yes, but..."
"What?"
"Can you leave the room first?"
"Why?"
"I'm not dressed."
Rosa noticed his bare chest for the first time since she'd entered the room. She backed off of the bed. "Not at all?"
"No, I... I have my boxers on."
"Oh, Felix, is that all! I'm a doctor!"
"Well, I didn't want to---"
"Okay, maybe most of the time, but right now we can do without some of the chivalry." She paused. "But thank you."
"All right." He threw back the covers and stepped out of the bed.
"Get down," Rosa said as she crouched on the floor.
"The blinds are down."
"Just in case, please."
"Okay." He knelt on the floor beside her and they crawled to the window. He lifted one of the blinds a fraction, and they peered outside.
"There, do you see him?" Rosa whispered.
"Uh huh." Felix could just make out the dark sedan and the man inside it.
"Is it a police stakeout?"
"Could be," he answered without taking his eyes from the car outside.
"Felix, I've been thinking. You should just go to them before they find you. I mean, won't things go better if you turn yourself over?"
"No, thank you. I have no intention of going to prison."
"Well, I don't want that either, but if they've already found you here---"
"They haven't."
"But..." She looked at the man in the car. "I thought you said---"
"I said it could be the cops. And that's true, but it's not."
"Well who is it?"
"It's one of Luc's cutthroats."
"Cutthroats?"
"Don't worry, sweetheart. Just an expression. But it's one of his."
"How do you---"
"I recognize him. His name is Chuck."
"But I didn't recognize him."
"No, you never would've seen him. He's definitely a part of the underground operation."
"But---"
"Trust me, it's Chuck. No one else is that ugly." Felix slowly lowered the blinds back into place. He stood and walked to the bed.
Rosa watched him. "But," she said, "what are we going to do about it?"
"We're going to do nothing about it," he answered as he pulled the covers over his legs. "But tomorrow I'm going to see Luc."
"What? Felix, be serious!"
"I am. It was nice while it lasted, but it's clear that Luc knows I'm hiding out here. And I'll do better if I confront him before he fully works out a plan."
"But you can't do that. Felix, what if he... well, I don't know. What will he do?"
"I don't know that either. But if I'm lucky, he won't kill me. And I'm usually lucky."
"Felix, no. I don't want you to do this. Go to the police first."
"Why? It's bad enough that Luc's found me. I'm not giving myself up to the cops."
"But they can protect you---"
"From Luc?" He smiled. "I don't think so," he said.
"But, what if he does kill you?"
"Don't worry. As romantic as it sounds, I doubt he will. He wouldn't get anything out of it at this point, and he's really just a businessman at heart. He doesn't like things to get any messier than they have to."
"But Felix..." Rosa sat on the edge of his bed. "I... Please don't do this."
"I have to, Rosa. Every night I spend here puts you and Viola in danger." He shrugged. "Besides," he said, "I prefer to know where I stand with people."
She looked down at the bedspread. "You know," she said, "you did the greatest thing in the world for me when you told me the truth about Luc. If it weren't for you, I'd still be holding my breath thinking he would help me find my father. And I never would've had the nerve to get Viola out of there. You're the only person who's been honest with me, Felix."
He sighed. "I never would've thought I'd be half-naked, sitting in my bed, and a woman would be praising my honesty."
She stood again. "I just wish you'd take it more seriously."
"I do," he said. "I really do."
"Well, will you do me a favor?"
"Name it."
"Stay here, just for a few more days, and see what happens. Maybe he doesn't know if you're here or not, and you can fool them. Please."
"Rosa---"
"Just a little more time?"
He lay down and said, "It's against my better judgment, but since you asked..."
She smiled. "Thank you, Felix."
**************** Priscilla's bedroom was located just off the kitchen of the Montgomery house. She liked it that way, being close to the kitchen. Certain rooms, she always thought, fit certain people like a second skin. Miss Nan, for instance, was made for her stable. She walked through it with an easy confidence, and the light shone in through its doors and caressed her face with an artist's vision. And Jeremiah, his bedroom had been meant for him; Priscilla was certain that when the room was built, a hundred and fifty years before Jeremiah's birth, it had known that a rough-featured boy with endearing clumsiness would one day find comfort in its corners. And without a doubt, Priscilla belonged to that kitchen. She knew every speck of it, the cracks in the tile and all, and it knew her. She swore that on more than one occasion, the floor had shifted to help her keep her balance, which was growing more precarious by the day. That kitchen was her sister, her husband, and her child all rolled up in one, so it was fitting that she noticed any disturbance in it.
And this night, there was some disturbance. It reached her through her dreams, and she rose from her bed, gathered her robe, and crept down the hallway to find out who had entered the house at such a late hour. Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery and Julia were all home, and it was too late for Brock Watts to sneak in for a refrigerator supper. But there were footsteps in the kitchen. Priscilla stopped just outside the kitchen door and listened. Footsteps, yes, and...
"Crying?" Priscilla asked. She rounded the corner without a hint of fear. After all, no one would break into a house so he could cry in the kitchen.
Annette lifted her head, and the moonlight illuminated the tears on her cheeks. "Oh I didn't mean to..." she said.
"Hush," Priscilla answered as she joined Annette at the kitchen table, "you know you can't come creeping in here without waking me." She smiled. "But I don't mind."
Annette returned her grin. "Oh, Priscilla, I feel like such a fool."
"What's happened, baby? Somebody break your heart?"
Annette laughed. "I wish that were it. I don't think anyone will ever break my heart."
"Oh, don't you worry about that. You're the type that falls hard, as soon as you decide to fall. But if it's not a man, what is it's got you crying in here?"
"Well..." Annette sniffed. "I can't sleep. I keep thinking about..."
Priscilla nodded. "A lot of people have that problem these days."
"I didn't, though! I mean, you know how after someone dies, even if it's very sudden, at first you don't feel so sad about it. I mean, let's say someone calls you on the phone and tells you, well you say, 'Oh how terrible,' and you think that, but you don't really feel it. And you keep telling yourself, 'All right. This happened, and I'm all right.' And that's the way it is, too; you surprise yourself with how well you handle it. But then later that night, or maybe a few days later, you hear a song or run across an old phone number, and you're just unbearably sad. And you're not just sad about that, that one bad thing that happened, you're sad about everything you've missed in your life, Christmas cards you meant to send but didn't. Do you know what I mean?"
"Sure I do, honey. Take a big breath now." Priscilla rose and poured a glass of water for Annette.
"Thank you." She took a long sip. "And see, when I saw the news and watched those planes crashing into... I mean, my modeling agent used to have an office right around the corner from there... Well, I just kept saying to myself, 'You can handle this. Remember who you are, and don't cry.' I told myself that I wasn't afraid. And weeks went by and I wasn't, but now I've started having dreams about it, not about it exactly, but about devastation in general. I dream someone wants to destroy Carmine Falls, and in my dream, I'll be trying to get here, to be with all of you, and I won't be able to. And when I finally reach here, it's all ruined, you know like when Scarlett finds Twelve Oaks?"
Priscilla smiled.
"That's really stupid, isn't it?" Annette asked. "Because I seriously doubt Carmine Falls is a major terrorist target, but you know, those people, all those people on those planes and in those buildings, they had homes, too. They had families, and they all came from somewhere. And for them, everything is destroyed, hopes and histories, and, well, everything, all lost in that big pile of rubble."
Priscilla sat back. "Now you're being stupid," she said.
"Why?" Annette asked as she wiped her eyes.
"Because, honey, none of that's destroyed. Yes, buildings are gone, but those people weren't made of concrete and steel, and they're not so easy to get rid of. You should know that better than anyone. Do you love Jeremiah any less just because you can't touch him now?"
"No, of course not. Sometimes I wish I did."
"Well, you see. No matter what these horrible people did, they didn't destroy the love. One drop of love is stronger than all the hate in the world." Priscilla smiled. "It's like putting a drop of perfume in a vat of water--- the scent of love always shows itself."
Annette bowed her head as fresh tears gushed from her eyes. She nodded and sobbed, "I know you're right, Priscilla, but it hurts so bad. That's what made me cry when I first got here. I didn't mean to, but I just wanted to check on the house, make sure everything was okay, but I walked into this kitchen, and I saw that stain on the countertop there. Do you remember?"
"Yes, I do, you and Jeremiah trying to make sugar cookies to surprise your dad that Christmas. You two got the food coloring all over, and scrub as I might, I couldn't get that stain out of the counter."
Annette smiled. "Yes, see I remember that time so well, and when I saw that stain, I guess you could say it caught me by surprise, and I could have sworn I'd look up and see Jeremiah again, and I'd be a little girl again. But when I looked up, everything was just the same, and it made me so angry, Priscilla. Because that moment is more real to me than anything right now; I feel like I could reach out and touch it. I feel like it's right here in this kitchen, but I can't find it."
"Honey, I know. This room carries so many memories for me. Even when I'm alone, I feel like I've got a dozen little scenes happening around me."
"But it's torture."
"Only if you let it torture you. I think it's a blessing because it reminds me what I told you about people sticking around long after their bodies are gone. When I get angry about the evil man who took Jeremiah away from us, I remember that he didn't really take Jeremiah, because I see him and hear him every day."
"Doesn't it hurt, though?"
"Yes, and you have to fight the pain or it will turn into doubt. You'll start wondering why you're still alive, and you'll start thinking maybe you should just back down, never make any trouble so people don't hurt you. Or worst of all, you'll start thinking that you don't want to love anyone again." She wiped the tears from Annette's cheeks. "But that's really stupid."
Annette sighed and collapsed in Priscilla's arms.
Priscilla stoked her hair and said, "You know what? You are the prettiest crier I've seen in my life." Annette laughed, and Priscilla insisted, "No, you are. Even when you were just a little thing, I've never seen such pretty crying. And that's rare. Julia, you know, looks horrible when she cries, like a cocker spaniel."
"I love you so much, Priscilla."
"Well you just remember that. And no matter what happens, we'll love each other, all right? Even if this house does get torn down like Twelve Oaks."
They laughed. "All right," Annette said after a deep breath, "I am done crying now."
"Do you want to go home, or..."
"Or?"
Priscilla smiled. "We could have some ice cream. I just happen to have picked up a carton of Rocky Road at the store last week."
"As much as I love Rocky Road, it's not exactly what I want right now. I would like..."
"Yes?"
"Well Priscilla, please, can I sleep in the bed with you tonight?"
Priscilla smiled and extended her hand. "Anytime," she said.
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