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SHADOW WALKER

BY: Erin Maddox, Date Unknown

"A masked person is not simply a man or woman whose real identity is hidden, but he is an enigmatic entity, standing outside the sphere of ordinary conduct...enjoying a freedom of movement and conduct denied to ordinary men."
-Encyclopedia of Magic and Superstition

PROLOGUE:
A torrential storm saturates the City in it's awesome downpour. Every now and again, a solitary spark of lightning illuminates the night sky in temporary eletric blue. The golden hues of streetlamps shatter in the raindrops. Most civilians are holed up on their warm, dry apartments, averting the shower that pounds heavy on their windowpanes.
On the rooftops above them, as they go unbeknowingly about their nightly rituals, lurks a lone figure, clad in black literally from head to toe. The face is covered in a full-head mask so completely that no distinguishing features can be detected. The clothes are black leather and kevlar and fit close to the form.
This is the Shadow Walker. A lone, enigmatic entity, whose spectacular speed and power is obtained from the souls of those who have come before her. She is most powerful of them to come, possessing strength and abilities far beyond that of the proposed normal human spectrum.
She is superhuman.
She scan the streets through the storm below with a vigilant gaurdian's eye. The City is her self-imposed responsibility.
Her heightened senses pick up movement. Soon, she hears the accompanying noise. Voices, faint, but distinct. A man and a woman. Well-dressed. The man opens a wide, black umbrella and holds it over both their heads. He breaks from her grip temporarily to fish his carkeys out of his coatpocket.
The Lexus is parked in the lot behind the restaurant. Alone. Two figures wait in the shadows, locking in on potential prey. The man and his wife are easy targets: rich and oblivious.
He turn the key in the lock in the door and...
Suddenly, a force from behinf thrusts him into the side of the Lexus. His body is pinned between the automobile and his assailant. The cold, steel barrel of a shotgun is pressed hard into the bone of his jaw. His stunned wife is grabbed by his attacker's partner.

"Don't say a motherfucking word", the assailant orders rather calmly, "Get in the back." He reaches around and opens the door.

Somewhere close by, a dark savior manuevers quickly through the dark, waiting...
The husband crawls into the car, slowly. Hank Foggleman is trying to stall, though he is not sure why.

"Man, she is so beautiful", the partner says, smelling the wife's hair in a manner more inappropriate than seductive.

Hank Foggleman is forced to watch from the rear window. The press his wife into the back bumper of the Lexus. She is held there firmly, despite her attempts at struggle. They force her legs apart and push her skirt up to her waist and tear off her underwear.
Maya Foggleman screams and kicks, and they hold her legs in place with their knees.
Suddenly, something unseen from above swoops down and lifts one of the would-be rapists up in to the dark. Those who remain gaze up, eyes frozen and bewildered by the unexpected interference. Nothing can be seen in the blackness and rain. There is eerie quiet. Then there is a sound, like branches snapping. A wet sound.
Something falls from the sky; crashes upon the hood of the Lexus, which jumps under the impact. Hank peers over his now raised elbows to the see the cause of the abrupt calamity. A body. Twisted and broken.
The partner recognizes the clothes on the limp form. And grabs the shotgun. He pumps and fires random shots in succession up into the rain-pelted black. They penetrate nothing, there is only sparks and smoke
WHUMP!!
He is knocked back hard, his body flies unwillingly about ten feet intp a small horde of metal garbage cans and cardboard boxes that crumble, tumble and rattle around him. He groans, staggers, regains some composure. The thing punches him again. It's too fast. It's like getting hit in the face with a heavy brick. For a quick moment, he sees something in front of him. He grabs the shotgun again and fires.
Something is hit. He hears it fall.

"Ha! How do you like me now!"

Abrubtly, something-strong like a vice, but softer like a gloved hand-grabs him around the throat. His body is lifted a foot and a half off the ground. He glares, stunned, downward at the pitch black figure before him. Illuminated momentarily by the flickering lightning.
A solid shadow.
There is a sound; a wet, cracking sound. And an excruciating pain he only all too late recognizes as his own.

CHAPTER ONE: BODIES
"Don't be shy, something, something tie. Mmm-mm treehouse mm-mm sky. I wanna know mm-mmm something...", she sings along to the song playing on her car radio, tapping her palms against the steering wheel, humming the parts she doesnt' know.*

She hears the faint ringing of her cellullar phone under the jiggery music and lowers the volume to a mute pitch. The cell is hooked to the dashboard. She presses the TALK button.

"Hello?"

"About time you answered your phone, Armaou. Been trying to reach you", a male voice, slight Mexican accent, speaks through the car stereo speakers.

"Oh", Lindsay says nonchalantly.

"Enjoying your day off?"

"It's all that I hoped for and more. Did you know that the oyster changes it's sex during it's lifetime?"

Most people were usually momentarily confused by Lindsay's nonsensical babble. Emmanuel Garcia was not one to provide much help. Despite being partnered with her in the Narcotics Division of the Police Department for the past 5 and a half years**, he often still had no idea what she was talking about. He would just shake his head and laugh under his breath.

"What? Did you go to the beach or something?"

"No."

"Then why are you talking about...? Nevermind. This place just isn't the same without you, Lindsay", Garcia says.

"Can I help it if I am the light which penetrates the cold, black underbelly of police work?"

"Heh. Actually, it's pretty slow today. Dougan's got me pushing papers. I guess the dopeheads are scared to come out today."

His clandestine observation is met with silence. He hears the shriek of brakes and tires on his end. Then more uncomfortable silence.
She stares up at the distorted form hanging from a streetlamp. Cold. dead eyes gaze at the street below. A few others gather and gasp and point.
Lindsay breaks from her temporary stupor to hear Garcia screaming at her frantically through the phone speakers.

"LINDSAY! LINDSAY, ANSWER ME GODDAMMIT!!"

"I'm here, Mannie", she says.

"You scared the shit out of me. Everyone's staring at me now. What happened? You okay?"

"I'm fine. I...think I know why the dopeheads are afraid to come out today."

****

His name is Deaqon Morrison, Detective Sergeant, Homicide Division. He has the features of a 1940's matinee idol. The only testament to his years are the crowsfeet around the outer corners of his eyes and the gray streaks in his black hair. His smile is as youthful as when he was twenty.
He enters the morgue, accompanied by a younger, leather-jacketed gentleman. Today, his smile is gone and replaced by a face of business. His young partner is not sure what to expect. The call they received about the victims was rather cryptic and bizarre.

'Bodies aren't supposed to bend that way.'

The Medical Examiner leads them to the morgue bank and slides out slots 6-B and 6-C. The odd-shapened plastic covered lumps lay side by side. The ME lifts the plastic and Bax Ashburry recoils in horror.

"Ashburry, keep your head in check. We have a job to do", Detective Sergeant Morrison says.

"Sorry. I'm cool."

'Bodies aren't supposed to bend that way.'

The bodies are broken in an impossible way. The torso of one is completely slue-twisted entirely around-,so that the upper and lower halves are turned in opposite directions; the mangled bones protrude under the black and blue skin. The other's spine is snapped in such a way that the back is folded like a Christmas card. The left side of his jaw is pushed up into his face, rendering it unrecognizable.
On their left big toes are number-ID tags. No names.

"These fellahs are in serious need of a chiropractor if you ask me", the ME comments.

"Ever seen anything like this before?", Morrison asks the ME.

"I've seen people beaten to death, sure. Some with severely broken bones. But not like this. These bodies weren't beaten to death, the bones were snapped like twigs No human being could do this An X-ray revealed 147 splinters in the left clavicle of this fellah here, alone." He points to the one under 6-C.

Deaqon listens. Nods. Then something catches his eye, the way something always does. Something previously overlooked.

"There's gunshot residue on his hands."

"They found a shotgun near the garbage bins. Looked like it'd been recently fired", Bax chimed in, "Few rounds, give or take."

"There's your first clue. Is the weapon in Crime Lab?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now let's see if we can't find out who or what this young man fired at. And if it's been hit".

--------
*I wanted to have Lindsay confused by the words to C'est La Vie as a way to separate her real self from her fictional depiction.

**Remember. Fiction.

And in case you're wondering, 'Bax' is short for Baxter.

CHAPTER TWO: THE FOGGLEMANS

The DS investigates the lot where the first body was found. He investigates and reinvestigates every 'nook-and-cranny'. Ashburry watches him closely,

"What you looking for exactly?", Bax says, pulling a box of Winstons from his jack breast-pocket.

"Whatever I can find", Morrison replies.

Bax removes a cigarette, puts it between his lips and returns the box to hi breast-pocket.
"Crime Scene already searched this area from top to bottom. There are no clues, man. This cat cleaned up."

"Never say 'never'."

"I didn't say 'nev-'."

"Found something. Come look at this."

Ashburry walks over to the spot where his partner is now kneeling.
"How come no one marked these tire burns?", Morrison says.

"They were marked, Deaqon. They were made by the Narc who found the first victim...It's in the file."

Deaqon waits for him to finish, then shares his own theory,

"Someone didn't do a very thorough job. There are two sets of tracks. My guess is that the second set weren't taken into acccout...probably because the Narcotic's car was parked directly over them. These burns are older and facing the opposite direction. Different tracks. Different direction. Different car."

"Could they belong to the killer?",Bax muses.

"Possibly. See where they turn here and thin out? Somebody made a sharp turn and sped off...rather quickly", Morrison stands to his feet, gives the area a quick scan, "Which place around here stays open the latest?"

"Benji's Diner, right there. Stays open til 1 a.m.

"Let's go talk to Benji."

****
"Yeah...We had some customers here late last night. A couple", says the short, squat onwer of the restaurant, "I thought it was odd they were out so late in that weather, but the guy said it was their anniversary and he had worked late, and he wanted to treat his wife to a nice dinner while there was still time in the night. They were real sweet."

"Did they leave a name?", Deaqon asks.

"No...But, oh, the husband paid with a credit card. I think I have a copy of the receipt in the back. Give me a minute?"

Benji heads to the back and returns after a few minutes, holding a slip of paper.

"Here you are, Detective. The number is printed along the top there."

"I see it, thanks. One more thing, did you happen to hear or se anything out of the ordinary last night?"

"Sorry, no. That couple were the only customers from ten to close. I spent most of that time in the back, cleaning up/ You can't hear a thing back there."
****
The card is registered to a Hank Foggleman. 104 Shelby Drive., Bax says, getting off his cell with a contact.

"You pay a vistit to Mr. Foggleman. I have something else I want to take care of", Morrison says.

****

Hank Foggleman is outside in his front lawn, decked in khaki shorts and trimming the hedges when Bax Ashburry pulls in to his driveway. Maya emerges from behind the screen door at the same time Ashburry opens his car door and steps out.
They watch him. He speaks.

"Mr. Foggleman? Detective Ashburry. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions..."

****

The two Detectives meet up at the Precinct a few hours later. Bax is talking on the phone again when Morrison walks in and tosses a Manila envelope on his desk. Ashburry tells the person on the line he'll call back.
He picks up the envelope, studies it.

"Criminal records for last nights victims", Morrison says.

"Bax opens the envelope and pulls out the contents. He looks over the photos of the bodies for a brief moment, then reads the files.

"Tobias and Colliar Raimi. I've heard about them. When I was in Narcotics. Where did you get this?"

"I asked Forensics to run their DNAs through the Criminal Database. And this came up", Deaqon tells him.

"And what made you think of the Criminal Database?"

"Just a hunch. What did you find out from the Foggleman's?"

"A whole bunch of confusion...I don't think they're exactly sure what they saw."

"Well, what did they say?"

"They...believe that someone-or something-came to their rescue last night."

"Self-made vigilante, hm? Wouldn't that be interesting?"

"Hey. If Bat-Man's come to town, maybe you could retire early", Bax jokes.

"But, then, who would he get to play Gordon?"

CHAPTER THREE: WITNESS
The loud rhythmic music wafts through the night club. The place is called Gender Bender. Bright, flashing strobe lights cast blue and pinkish hues upon the leather-fetish-wear clad, as well as casually dressed females, males, and what-nots. A girl with candy-colored hair lies in a sultry position completely naked on top of the bar. Some of the patrons drizzle and lick warm honey off her bare skin. Others mingle and dance and disappear into dark corners and rooms to explore, punish, and submit to each other.
Transgenders, drag kings and queens bisexuals, homosexuals, and heterosexuals all mixed together in one steaming, sexually charged stew.
Lindsay's eyes widened as she takes this all in, but it only takes a few moments for the shock to wear off. She stands between two women she's arrived with, a butch/femme couple known as Shane and Reagan Welles-Morgan.

"You could have told me we were coming to a sex pub", Lindsay says to them.

"Where else would we go, love? This is us", Reagan says in a broken, nearly idecipherable English accent, "Let's get us some refreshments."
They manuever through the crowds to an empty spot at the bar.

****

A theif flees through the darkened streets. He carries a brown paper bag of stolen money in one had and the pistol he used to rob a gas station clerk in the other. He stops at the sounds of police sirens too close for comfort. But he just scowls at the the red-and-blue spotters and continues to run.
Two uniformed cops have gotten out of their Cruiser and proceed to chase the thief on foot.

****

She dances between them, gyrating her hips to the music. One faces her front, the other, her back, sandwiching her in. She looks like the proverbial sex-kitten in black leather hip-huggers and blue sequined top.
Men and women find it difficult to take their eyes off her. And she just bumps and grinds to the music, completely unaware of them. Or just not caring.

****

"Suspect is turning the corner on West and Sixth, heading North", an Officer speaks into the walkie-talkie, "I'm in pursuit."

"Ten-four. Describe his characteristics", a dispatcher comes over the walkie-talkie.

"White male, clean-shaven head, wearing blue jeans and red shirt."

The theif continues to run and the cop continues to chase. They turn another corner, heading straight for the alley behind Gender Bender.

****

Eventually the smells of sweat and sex and smokegets to Lindsay's lungs and she finds her way through the crowd to a backdoor leading to an alley.
She breathes in the air, leans back against the building. The brick feels cool against her bare shoulders.
Smoking is not usually her forte, but for some rreason she feels the need for a cigarette.
All of the sudden, she hears the sounds of footsteps. Two or three. Running. Coming closer the alley.

****
Unknown to Lindsay, she is being watched from above.
The one called the Shadow Walker observes her from a downward perspective. From the part in long, dark hair to the roundness of her cleavage to the tips of her Dolce And Gabbana boots. Even at this angle she is obviously beautiful.
The vigilante feels a strong need to protect her.
Her sense become alert. Three people running towards the alley. Gunshots.A heart stops beating. Now there's two left, a thug and a cop, running towards the alley, towards the woman below.

****
Her head snaps towards the streets at the sounds of gunfire. A man is runing right at her. He holds a paper bag and decides to lose it. Lindsay wonders what was in it, as it lands unseen somewhere in the dark. Drugs? Money? Whatever it was, this man had just killed for it, then tossed in nonchalantly aside. He heads right for Lindsay, not stopping.
He is not stopping!
Lindsay thinks quickly. She spies a garbage bin nearby and lifts the heavy lid. She waits behind the corner of the building. The thief comes nearer. Nearer. She swings the lid.
THWACK!!
The theif lands flat on his back, stunned. The he remembers his weapon and aims to shoot her.
Without a second thought, she kicks it out of his hand and brings her heel back aross his chin and nose. The again, knocking him out temporarily.

'Okay. Damsel not so much in distress', the Shadow Walker thinks, laughing to herself.

The uniformed cop comes nearer to Lindsay and the fallen theif, keeping his own weapom pointed at him.

"You alright, Miss?", he says. He doesn't appear to be very old. Maybe early twenties.

"I'm fine."

"That was an awesome display. Where'd you learn that?", he says, holstering his gun.

"Television", Lindsay quips.

"Son of a bitch shot my partner", the Officer says, rolling the theif over and cuffing him.
"Deputy Wendell Ames, PD", Deputy Wendell Ames says, offering a hand.

"Lindsay Armaou. Narcotics", she takes it.

"You're a cop. I knew it. You do nice work, Detective."

She couldn't believe this guy. His partner just got killed less than twenty minutes ago and he's hitting on her.

"If you'll excuse me Deputy. I have to het back to my friends. They're waiting inside."
She turns back towards the door.

"I can't let you do that", he says behind her.

She turns around, "What are talking ab-"
Lindsay stops in her tracks. She looks from the cop to the barrel of his gun, then back again.
"...the hell...?"

"Turn around and put your hands on the wall?"

"Are you kidding me!?"

"NOW!", he barks.

"Okay. Okay. Touchy." She complies. placing her hands on the brick.

"No funny stuff, or I shoot you dead, got it? I don't know...Maybe I can say you were his whore. I'll be a real hero", he smirks, holstering his .38

He pats her down, checking for weapons as if he was just making a routine bust.

"You and him? You're in the together?", Lindsay says.

"Do you always state the obvious?"

"Conniving son of a bitch. You sleazy, conniving-!"

"You said that. Yeah, I'm a sneaky little fucker, aren't I?", he says and Lindsay feels herself being handcuffed behind her back, "Ralphie there, he's a loser. Never thinks things through. I had this all planned out. Until you ruined it, you bitch!", he says, fuming at the last words.

"Pardon my interference. Please don't let me keep you from landing yourself in a federal state prison."

"Shut the fuck up!" Deputy Ames shoves her hard into the cold, red brick, "Come on, bitch! Where're your fancy television moves now!?"

"Leave her alone", a voice, low and raspy, appears out of nowhere, out of a black shadow.

Then an arm emerges from the dark and grapples him around the throat and begins to strangle the breath out of him. The Deputy graps the forearm with both hands, trying to pull free. But to no avail. The flesh on his face turns an odd purple and his eyes bulge grotesquely from their sockets. His tongue swells in his both. He drops to his knees. Both he and the dark avenger struggle until the very end. Finally, there's a snap and he stops breathing. He falls face forward. Once again. Lindsay is frozen, eyes large and amazed.

"Lindsay! Lindsay, where are you?", she hears her friends voices.

She looks in the direction they're calling her from. Then breifly looks back at-
The stranger is gone. Without a trace. And Ralphie the Theif starts to wake up just as Shane and Reagan Welles-Morgan make it to the alley.
They spot Lindsay first, still cuffed. Then the theif, muttering cursed to himself. Finally, Deputy Wendell Ames. Dead.

"Lindsay, what on earth happened?"

"Get his keys, get me out of these and call the cops."

CHAPTER FOUR: HERO?
Detective Bax Ashburry walks into Interrogation Room 4, closes the door behind him.
Lindsay sits at the gray table. Bax takes the chair across from her, turns it backwards and sits, facing the back of the chair. He takes a box of Winstons from his shirt pocket, pulls one out, taps it.

"Cigarette?", he holds out the box for her.

"No, thanks."

"Don't mind, do you?"

"Go ahead."

He sticks the cigarette between his lips, lights it, inhales, exhales, hold the stick between his fingers.

"The theif's name is Raphael Hugo. My partner has him the next room", Bax says, "And I'm just going to ask you a few questions."

"Fine."

"Guess it's been quite a day for you, huh?", Bax muses, "I just need you to tell me everything that happened."

Lindsay recants the events of the evening, from the beginning. Bax listens, takes drags from his cigarette.

"Did you see a face?", he asks her.

"I only saw an arm. It was very dark", she tells him.

"Thanks, Ms. Armaou. We're going to have one of our boys escort you home, just as a precaution."

"I know the way it works. But that's not necessary."

"You sure?"

I case you haven't noticed, Detective, I can take care of myself."

"I noticed."

****

A week has gone by. News of the three dead men has reached the media; questions and speculations every night with the ten o'clock report. Lindsay returned to work the day after talking to Detective Ashburry, despite her Captain's urges for her to take a few more days off.
She stands, weapon ready, with her partner Garcia and two other cops. Johanssen and Stiller, outside the front door of a noted drughouse. All four wear Kevlar vest.
Count to three.
Garcia kicks in the door, the Narcs barge in. Yelling orders, they force the dealers onto their stomachs. A skinny, bleach-blond tattooed freak comes at them with a letter-opener, but he is subdued with a quick side-jab to the jaw. Things are hectic for the first few minutes.
Three lokers, face down on the floor, hands restrained behind their backs. Lindsay brings the fourth out of a bedroom, cuffed, eyelids drooped as if he's just awakened. He's shirtless. a red devil's head is tattooed across his pecs. He's Mexican. She sits him on the couch.

"Okay. We got about forty pounds of crank, and thirteen thousand cash", Stiller announces.

"You speak English?", Lindsay questions the Mexican red-devil.

"Si. Yes."

"What's your name?"

"Ernesto."

"Ernesto, who's on the other end of this?"

"Eh... Big Creek, his nickname, I don't know his real name."

"Is he handling the deal on his own?"

"No. His 'runner'. Eh...Quincy."

"Okay, Ernesto, you're going to do us a favor."
****
They follow Ernesto discreetly through the back alleys of South Street, a government business district. He stops in front of a library and waits outside the back steps.

"Where's Quincy?", Lindsay says back in the panda car.

"Maybe he's not coming.", Garcia says, "So, how've you been?"

"All right, Mannie, what's that supposed to mean?"

"What? Nothing! Can't a guy ask how his partner's doing without being interrogated?"

"I'm fine. You think I should've taken time off, too, don't you?"

"I'm just concerned. Look alive. Here comes our pick-up."

A shiny, black Jeep Wrangler pulls up slowly to the steps where Ernesto sits, waiting. The driver's door opens.

"That him?", Lindsay asks.

"That's our guy", Garcia peers through binoculars. He hands them to her.

"Kinda short", she comments, looking through them, "Oh, wait. He's not alone."

A larger man steps out of the passenger side. He's taller than the Jeep.

"Our boy's carrying some extra muscle. Thinks he's suspicious?"

"They're making the exchange now. Let's move!"

The Narcs move in swiftly. The bodyguard whips out a pistol and start firing. A bullet hits Stiller in the throat. Lindsay reacts quickly, squeezes the trigger on her Armalite M15A2 rifle. The slugs explode in his chest. The bodyguard falls back clumsily. Quincy grabs the meth and the cash and jumps back into the Jeep. He speeds off, almost hitting Johanssen, who in return blows out one of his back tires. The Jeep swerves, hits a light post.
Johanssen approaches the damaged Wrangler slowly, weapon raised. Quincy is slumped the driver's seat, bleeding from the head, unconscious. Johanssen puts a finger to his neck to find a pulse.

"He's alive."

"Someone go check on the others. Shit. We need a ambulance", Garcia says, "Shit!"

CHAPTER 5: EDELE
"Do you ever wonder if you're doing the right thing?", Lindsay asks her partner while they sit in the hospital Waiting Area. A nurse walks by. The surgeons operate on Stiller's throat in the Emergency Ward.
Quincy is a few room down from him.

"How do you mean?", Garcia asks

"I mean, do you ever wonder if you're doing the right thing?", Lindsay repeats.

Mannie sits quiet for a minute, as if pondering the question. He tugs at his shirt collar, as he does when he's thinking. His wife once pointed this out to him.

"Yeah, I think I am. I can't imagine myself doing anything else,...you know?"

"I wanted to be a singer."

"Really? I've never heard you sing."

Something catches Lindsay's eye midway through the conversation.
Or rather, someone.
Her eyes and mouth speak volumes of sadness and anger. But she carries herself with confidence, maybe a little cockiness. She walks up to the Receptionist Area and mutters something to the orange-haired lady behind the big, white desk. Orange-haired lady nods and the visitor turns and heads through the heavy double-doors leading to the Wards.
Lindsay watches her as she walks through them and disappears around the corner.
There is something curiously sexy about her.

"Hey", Garcia breaks in.

"I wasn't staring!", Lindsay blurts before she can stop herself.
Mannie doesn't seem to notice.

"I'm gonna get some coffee. Want anything?", he says, standing up.

"No, I'm good...Wait. Yeah. Get me a candy bar."

"Okie-dokie", he heads to the vending machines.
*****
She walks along the cold, gray halls of the Neurology Ward. Passes an orderly, exchanges brief glances. A nurse is pushing along an old man in a wheelchair, I.V. hooked to his arm, breathing apparatus to his nose. Finally she hits room 214. She gently pushes the door open.
The girl lies still on the bed. Tubes stick out from her arms and legs. A machine breathes for her; pumps oxygen in her lungs via a small plastic mask, another monitors her heart beats. An I.V. passes nourishment into her system. Beneath all the beeping equipment, she appears to be sleeping. The nurses have recently changed her bedding and gown. Good. Gifts and well-wishes and prayers fill the room.
She walks over to her dear sleeping sister, brushes her brown hair back with her hand. Edele Lynch leans over and kisses her twin on the forehead. She feels warm.

"Keavy, I'm here", she says softly into her ear.

Then she sits in the chair provided beside the bed.
She will sit there for hours. She will sit there and confess all her secrets to her dear sleeping sister.

****

Click. She bows her head slightly forward, meeting the ZIPPO's flame to the tip of the cigarette; inhales, exhales a light cloud of smoke past the stick.
The windows of the van automatically roll down around her, letting in the cool night breeze.

"You're going to kill yourself with those things", he sister comments from the driver seat, finger still on the window controls.

It's 10 pm, in the Month of September, the year 1999.
Edele leans back in the van, which is gutted except for the driver and front passenger seats. Replacing the missing back interior are two large metal tool box, a long, wound coil of orage utility cord, a lamp flashlight, cans of primer and paint, a caulking gun, hammers, some 2 by 4s and 4 by 4s, electric drill and bits, buzz saw, a can of wd-40 spray, and variois other tools. Two extendable ladders, differing in length, are affixed to the roof of the van.
The twins are returning from their last job of the long day. The road is quiet; Edele listens to the wind rushing past. The radio broke last week, and Keavy has yet to fix it.
Edele takes another drag off the cigarette.

"You're awfully quiet tonight", Keavy observes.

"I'm just thinking."

"Anything you want to talk about?", she asks, already knowing the answer.

"Not really."

"There never is."

Edele says nothing in reply for a minute or two, then,

"Don't start with me, Keavy."

"I don't understand you anymore. And we're twins."

Edele is unresponsive for about half a mile.

"Edele, talk to me.", Keavy pleads.

But before she opens her mouth, the old van begins to sputter and almost dies completely. Keavy pulls it over to the side of the road.

"Hold on."

****

"You can go on home if you like. I'll call you as soon as I know anything", Mannie said, as Lindsay stifled a yawn.

"Okay. As soon as you know anything.", she gets up to leave, "Oh, Mannie, did you notice that girl who came in a while ago?"

"Oh, yeah. Her. What about her?"

"Nothing. She just seemed familiar."

"That's because she fixed Dougan's office ceiling last month. I remember her now. Didn't say much. Just came in and did the job."

"Okay. Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight. And try not to run into anymore dead bodies."

"That's starting to become a regular part of my day.", Lindsay replies in a voice thats neither nonchalant, or depressed.

She leaves the Hospital, that woman on her mind. When the oppurtunity came up, she had to get to know her.

Lindsay stands out on the verandah to her apartment, sipping hot tea and feeling the cool evening breeze brush across her face. Seven stories below, the eveing traffic starts to thin out. Across the street-through the large windows of the East Wing of the apartment complex-people can be seen sitting down to dinner or in front of their TV sets, blue hues flickering across their bored expressions. A man is on his balcony, smoking a cigarette. He makes her think of the detective who questioned her the night she was assaulted.

And of the mysterious shadow-shrouded figure who saved her life. But as she tries tp remember more, her mind draws a blank.

Somewhere, a horn blares, tires squeal, and someone holler obscenities. Both Lindsay and the man rubberneck to the right, following the source of the commotion.

Her eyes stop on a lamppost. Suddenly, the image of that twisted body hanging from the streetlamp flashes across her mind. The replay is gruesome, but it vanishes as quick as it appears.

A thought comes to her, but before she can grasp it, it's gone.

Her cell phone rings from somewhere inside the flat; the abrupt, shrill noise startles her and she almost spills her tea.

Lindsay re-enters the apartment and locates her phone. She checks the Caller ID. It's Garcia.

"Hello?"

"Hey-You okay? You sound a little shaky", Mannie says.

"Oh, I'm fine. I almost scalded myself with hot tea. What's going on?"

"Stiller's been slipping in and out of a coma. And Quincey's awake, but his doctor is refusing to let us talk to him."

"Thanks for the update."

"No problem."

She hangs up, sets the phone aside. Lindsay sits down in front of her home computer and opens up Free Cell. She starts to play a hand when her cell rings again. She picks it up without taking her eyes off the computer screen, moving a black ten and placing it under a red Jack with her mouse. An Ace of Clubs flies into a Home Cell.

"Hello?"

No reply. Some heavy breathing.

"Hello?!", she repeats, louder, more demanding.

The line clicks dead. Lindsay checks the last number. It comes up 'Unknown Caller'. Some pervert, most likely. She turns the phone off.

****

Lindsay awakens to the sounds of tools the next morning. She tosses the sheets back and gets out of bed to look out the window. The construction crew is bright and early. She watches them for a few minutes. The frame of the new building is halfway complete. She thinks it might be a new store, possibly a new place to eat. She wants to tell them to keep the noise down, but doesn't. Instead, she goes into her bathroom to prepare for the day.

****

Lindsay walks onto the construction site, gun belt fastened to her waist with her badge clipped to it. Two workers carrying a long wooden beam pass in front of her.

"Easy there, Miss. Pardon us", one of them says. She takes a step back.

"Is there a complaint already?"

Lindsay turns to see the young woman from the Hospital Waiting Room standing in front of her. She's wearing jeans that are covered in sawdust, a white sleeveless shirt. Her tool belt hangs off her hip. Those same intense eyes. Lindsay is struck curious and surprisingly nervous by her. The woman's eyes dart from Lindsay badge to her face, and Lindsay finally registers what she said.

"Oh. No. Um,...no complaints. I'm here on my own", Lindsay says.

"You need something?"

Lindsay ignores the rude undertone. "What is this going to be...when it's finished?"

"Thrift store."

Lindsay notices the accent now in the woman's voice. Irish, maybe.

"Oh. Well, okay. I guess I'll be...going now", Lindsay says.

"Okay. Bye."

Lindsay slowly turns and walks off the site. Edele watches her for a minute, then yells something to a co-worker.

"Don't mind, Eddie", someone says to Lindsay as she passes, "She's like that with everyone."

But all Lindsay thinks is, Yep. Definitely Irish.

CHAPTER SIX: CANARY SINGS

"Wow. Who was that?", a worker asks Edele.

"Nobody. Forget about it...We need to get this finished, like", Edele says.

Saying nothing more, she lifts two wooden planks and hoists them over her left shoulder, picks up a bench-top jointer with her right, and walks away. Soon she resumes working, withdrawing into her own mind.

****

He speaks nary a word to the young man eating breakfast at the kitchen table as he pours his morning coffee. Doesn't regard him with even a glance. The tension in the room is so thick you could slice through it. His wife acts as mediator between the two of them, speaking softly so as not the jar the tension.

Janine Morrison wants to yell. She wants to demand both men in her life to stop being such dicks and act like Father and Son. Ten years of this is enough. But she doesn't. She remains as introverted and secretly bitter as ever about the situation and finally leaves the kitchen.

Deagon leaves for work. His son doesn't bid him adieu or wish him a good day; Andrew doesn't speak to him at all.

Every morning is like this in the Morrison House.

****

Bax stirs. The sun sneaks through the window blinds. He opens his eyes and gets up slowly and quietly, trying no to disturb Jason, who's sleeping soundlessly beside him. Jason's hogged the covers again. But after eleven and a half years, Bax can just shrug little things like that off. He heads to the bathroom, moves Jason's razor and mouthwash cup off the sink and brushes his teeth. It's the first thing he does every morning. Before shower and breakfast.

He spits, rinses his mouth, puts his toothbrush up. Bax strips and runs a shower. Gets in. The alarm in the bedroom goes off just then. He hears Jason come in and drain the snake, then walk out.

When the shower's finished, he towel dries his hair, walks back into the room and gets dressed. In the kitchen, Jason already has breakfast started.

"Mornin'.", he says.

"Mornin. Your coffee's on the counter", Jason replies, flipping the bacon.

Bax takes his cup, which feels warm in his hands and sips as he leans against the kitchen counter.

"Might be a long day today", he says, "Might wanna start dinner without me tonight."

"Okay. You'll call me though, right?"

"Of course."

After breakfast, Bax gets up from the table, picks up his jacket thats tosses over the chair. His kisses Jason goodbye as he heads out the door.

****

"What does a man have to do to get a pudding cup around here?!"

Leland Sebastion Quincy lies in his hospital bed with his head and shoulders propped up with thick pillows.A nurse comes in with a chocolate pudding cup and a plastic spoon. He tears back the aluminum top and starts to eat. The nurse leaves.

Quincy just shrugs when Stiller is mentioned.

"That man's whole life is never going to be the same", Garcia says.

"I'm not the one who shot him. Butch did. And that lady-cop pumped him full of lead real good."

Lindsay enters the room.

"And here's the conquering heroine now", Quincy says.

She ignores him. "Has he told you anything about Big Creek?", she asks Mannie.

"No. We were just getting around to that", Garcia replies.

"He's wasted the last fifteen minutes of our time ranting about chocolate pudding", Johanssen pipes up from in the corner.

"Sorry to inconvenience you", Quincy says, sarcastically.

"Who is he and where can we find him?", Lindsay asks him.

"I don't know his real name, and you can't. He's like a ghost, man...I'm not saying anything else 'til I get a lawyer."

****

They wait outside the room while Quincy and his newly appointed lawyer quietly converse. After a few minutes, the lawyer joins Lindsay and the rest outside the door.

"Okay. He'll talk. But in return we want immunity", she says them.

"That depends. What's he got for us?", Johanssen says, the perpetual Doubting Thomas.

"He can give you names of others on Big Creek's payroll."

"I don't know...", Garcia says, "Doesn't seem like enough.

"It will be once you've heard these names", she tells them matter-of-factly.

"What are the names?", Lindsay asks the lawyer.

****

1999: Keavy Lynch pulls the van to the side of the road, stops on the shoulder, turns off the engine. She grabs a flashlight from in between the two front seats and pops the hood from the dashboard.

"Be right back", she says, getting out.

Do you need help?", Edele says, throwing the butt of her cigarette out the window.

"Sure."

Keavy walks around to the front of the van. Edele comes around the other side. Keavy hands the flashlight to her sister.

"Shine this over the engine; I may need both hands."

"Like this?", Edele holds the beam directly over the engine.

"Yeah...This shouldn't take long...Uh...Okay, we're going to need to jumpstart the battery.

There're some jumper cables and a booster in the van, hang on."

After a few minutes, Keavy returns with the jumper cables and portable charger. She attaches the red clamps of the cables to the battery and the black clamps to the charger. She starts the charger, letting in juice the battery for a minute.

"Okay, go see if the van will start", she says.

Edele climbs back into the van and turns the key in the ignition. It roars to life. Through the windshield, she watches Keavy remove the cables in reverse order and close the hood. She puts the items back into the van via the back opening. Then walks around again to the driver's side. Edele moves to the passenger seat.

What comes next, happens in the blink of an eye. Edele can only scream for her sister after the fact.

It's a black car, small, sporty; it zooms just inches from the driver's side of the van, barrelling into Keavy and 190 miles per hour. Her body flips over the hood and rolls down the rear of the car with a sickening thud. The black monster continues to speed away. Edele can only make out the first three letters of the license plate: VAR

She practically rips the passenger door off it's hinges in her urgency to open it. Edele runs to her sister's side.

Cradles her bloody head in her lap. The tears flow as she gazes up into the blackened sky, angry at the driver.

Angry at God.

****

Edele comes out of her memory into the present day. The blood trickles down the side of her fist. Her co-workers gaze from her to the nail driven through her thumb with horrified expressions.

But Edele doesn't feel any pain. She does the only thing she can think off and pulls the nail out with the claw end of her hammer. The workers cringe. Someone faints.

"Ed, you need to see a doctor", one of them tells her.

"No time. Just get me some gauze. And somebody wake up Pete!"

"You need stitches. And probably a shot", says the one who spoke before.

"I'll get that when I see my sister, Ger. Okay?"

"No. Now", Ger says, sternly.

****

Lindsay sees her enter the hospital. There's somebody with her. Her left hand is wrapped up in a blood-soaked towel. But she doesn't seemed worried or in any pain. She just checks herself in and follows the nurse to the ER.

And Lindsay finds herself even more intrigued by the woman who is seemingly numb to any pain.

****

He leaves the hooker's apartment, heads down the steps into the cool night, and on through the city streets.

He turns into an alley, to make a shortcut.

A sudden noise behind him makes him swerve around. But nothing is there Nevertheless, he pulls out his switchblade and keeps his thumb on the button.

The sound comes from the other end of the alley now.

"A'right! Quit fuckin' 'round! I got a knife an' I'm real good wit' it!, he snarls to seemingly nothing at all.

It sounds like running. Someone close by.

Someone. Or something.

Behind him.

He turns on his heels, ready to open the blade, but-

-the blow strikes him hard in the nose. Blood sprays against the wall. His nose is broken. He howls. He attacks the faceless figure in black, stabbing the air with his knife. He misses, and the figure kicks him in the knee, crushing it, and bringing him toppling down. Next, an elbow to his spine; he falls flat on his face. The knife is still in his hand and he makes one final attempt to defend himself. But the figure grabs his hand and snaps his wrist in two. He releases the knife.

The figure kneels down and grabs him by the coat collar of his coat; brings him face to no-face.

"Give Big Creek this message: Tell him, I'm coming for his blood", the figure says, in a raspy growl.

"Wh-what...are you...?", he asks, weakly.

"I'm the Shadow Walker."

****

"The Shadow what?"

"It...whatever...it called itself the 'Shadow Walker'", he tells his boss. His speech is slurred from a broken septum.

Big Creek's hideout is just on the outskirts of the Reservation. He is of Navajo descent. His long, slick black hair is pulled back into a ponytail. He is large in size and stature, his muscles are the size of soccer balls. He sits on a low chair made of animal hide with his legs crossed, cleaning the rifle in his lap.

"I have no time to fear shadows", he says, "If they come, I will shine the light upon them and burn them out, one by one."

His lackey nods.

"Now get yourself cleaned up; you're bleeding all over my new carpet."

CHAPTER SEVEN: WORMS

Cyanide Aurelius Bayard turns his Cadillac right onto the ramp, heading towards I-55; merges with the flow of traffic. He is a good, safe driver; always wears his seatbelt, always signals. Has never runs a stoplight. And never ever speeds. He is a good, careful man. Particularly for someone who's legal name is Cyanide.

And tonight's hit, as always, will be a good, clean one.

The hospital is another seven miles ahead.

****

Three of the people on Quincy's list were dead. Tobias and Colliar, the Raimi brothers. And one that was all too familiar, Wendell G. Ames. Ames' partner for that night, Raphael Hugo, was not on the list. Three other names, Walt Kidd, Joe Jack Billingsly, and a man named Cyanide Bayard, were still at large.

Lindsay scans the Narcotics database list for any information on the three remaining dealers. She types the names in the Search engine. A few seconds later, the computer releases it's information.

Walt Kidd, 57: drug dealing, larceny; released in 1987. Works as a delivery truck driver for Fed Ex. No other pertinent information.

Joe Jack Billingsly, 48: drug dealing, armed robbery, grand theft auto, two counts of assault; released in 1970, imprisoned again in 72, re-released in 1995. No other pertinent information.

Cyanide Bayard, age unknown: one count of armed robbery, released in 1978. No other pertinent information.

The computer also gives current addresses, except for the third man.

She logs out of the database, takes a sip of the Coke that's sitting beside the computer.

"Anything?", a voice says behind her.

"I've got two addresses."

"Let's roll.", Captain Dougan says.

Lindsay stands up, grabs her gun and badge, and follows him out the door.

****

The briefing was short. Dougan had wanted a clean arrest. Only shoot when being shot at.

They arrive just in time to see Walt Kidd, naked, hanging limp from his celing fan, rope cutting into his neck. Eyes bulging from a purple face. The body was sent away. No note. His nose is broken. His penis is erect.

Joe Jack comes willingly. No fuss. He's a tall- 6'5-and heavy set man, his flannel shirt tight around his round belly, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He's a quiet man.

****

Unknown to them, Cyanide Bayard has just entered through the front doors of the hospital's main lobby. He smiles and nods at the receptionist. Tells her he's a relative of a certain patient. She tells him where the patient's room his. He smiles again and politely thanks her.

****

Quincy is eating his dinner. Soup and tea, and a frozen fruit bar fro desert. The soup is bland and the tea is watered down. The fruit bar is melting.

He wants pudding.

A figure appears in the doorway. The man is tall and slender, and smiling. Quincy knows why he's there.

"Make it quick."

"I always do", the tall man says., "Always quick, always clean.". He moves further into the room. "Always good."

Quincy slurps his soup, watches the tall man.

"Please, allow me to let you finish. A man's last meal must be finished."

"Wish I had something tastier."

The tall man reaches into a coatpocket and pulls out something. Quincy's eyes light up when he

sees it. A pudding cup. The tall man laughs as Quincy grabs it. He reaches for a paper napkin, and takes Quincy's white, plastic spoon. Wipes the soup residue off the spoon. He hands the spoon back to Quincy, who has already peeled back the top off the pudding cup.

"Enjoy your last meal, my friend.", the tall man says with a smile.

When he is finished and happy, Cyanide kills him. He pushes the pillow hard on his nose and mouth. Quincy's body struggles for seven to ten minutes, the starts to calm. Soon he is still. Cyanide holds the pillow a little longer to be sure. When he is satisfied, he puts the pillow back beneath Quincy's head and walks casually out of the room. Even smiling to a nurse as he passes by.

****

This time she approaches the construction sitr with a bottle of Coke in each hand. Someone spots her and calls out to Edele,

"Hey, Ed, your girlfriend's back!"

The workers chuckle; Lindsay feels her face turning red. She passes through them quickly, bowing her head down to hide her embarrassment.

"Shut up, man. I don't even know her", Edele says as Lindsay meekly approaches the ladder she's standing on.

"Yeah?"

"I...uh...I...Uh...", Lindsay stammers, blushing-trying not to; much of her former confidence washed away by the embarrassing "girlfriend" comment.

Edele hops down from the ladder.

"One of those for me, like?"

Lindsay hands her one of the Cokes, still averting her eyes. She can sense everyone else watching the two of them, as if they were actors in a live street production.

Edele tilts her head and leans in closer to Lindsay's face, trying to hold eye contact. Finally, she succeeds for a few minutes.

"There you are...Wow. You have really beautiful eyes."

Lindsay goes crimson, she tries not to smile, but she can feel the corners of her mouth pulling upwards. Her eyes dart around. Everyone is watching them. Edele cuts them a hard look. She takes Lindsay by the arm, leads her off the site.

"Come on. Let's get out of here."

****

By the time Bax reaches the patient's room, it is swarming with uniformed officers. The entire floor has been evacuated, paitents moved into spare rooms. Yellow police tape lines the walls.

"Hey, Jared, what've we got?", Bax asks a heavy man in a brown tweed jacket with leather elbows.

"Victim's name was Leland Sebastion Quincy, 24. He was suffocate, smothered with his own pillow", Jared says.

"What about last visitor records?", Bax says.

"We've spoken with the receptionist. She described a tall, lanky man with brown hair and eyes, in a designer suit. Said his name was Robert Smith."

"No doubt an alias. Alright. Thanks, Jared."

"Not a problem, Bax."

****

He stands in front of the bathroom mirror. Of course, they wouldn't discover his real identity. They wouldn't find a single fingerprint. Cyanide had meticulously burned his own fingertips off several years ago. And he wore a latex mask, which he now carefully peels off and discards. His real face is nothing like the mask the receptionist had seen. Next he removes his contacts, his eyes are cobalt blue, not brown. He takes off his shirt and wets his hair in the sink. Most of the hair dye washes down the drain. He scribs the rest out with shampoo, rinses, then towel dries his hair. He is blond. He opens the back of the mirror and takes a pair of scissors and an electric shaver from the medicine cabinet hidden behind it. Cyanide shorns his hair close to his head. Then he opens a nearby bottle of peroxide, leans into the sink and pours the contents of the bottle over his hair, making it white blond. Then he cleans up the hair in the sink, tosses out the dye-covered towel. He strips down the rest of the way, enters his apartment bedroom. The apartment is registered under the name Cyrus Monroe, performance artist. He opens his closet and pulls out another "costume", a Western-style outfit complete with cowboy hat, snakeskin boots and a bolo tie/

When the transformation is complete, he becomes an entirely new person. His name is now Jack Dallas, and he runs an oil rig in Texas.

The only thing unchanged is his height. In fact, it was the only thing that gave him away to Quincy. But he was otherwise very satisfied with the outcome.

****

Cyanide enters the lobby where two women are chatting. One of them, he notices, is wearing a policeman's badge clipped to her belt. A quick glance tells him she's Narcotics. She is also stunningly beautiful. The other woman has her back to him. Her jeans and shoes are covered in sawdust. He walks pass them, neither one acknowledging him.

"Well, hello, Mr. Monroe. Off to another performance?", the man behind the front desk calls out to him, "I'm just asking because of that get-up."

Cyanide smiles politely, "Why, yes I am, suh."

"Hey, that's pretty good. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were really a Texan."

"Who says I ain't?"

The man behind the desk frowns in confusion.

"I thought you said you were from New York?"

Cyanide just smiles and walks out.

****

Lindsay had glanced briefly at the tall Texan, thinking she had seen him somewhere before. Finally, it dawns on her that he was the actor that lived directly below her. The first time she saw him, she couldn't help notice how tall he was, near seven feet tall. But this was the first time she had seen him up close.

Edele, on the other hand, seems to pay him no mind. Her attention is focused entirely on Lindsay, which makes her so giddy, she doesn't even notice Edele moving in to kiss her.

"What are you doing?", Lindsay asks.

"That's a stupid question. What do you think I'm doing?"

"I...I think you might have misunderstood my intentions."

Edele stops and studies Lindsay's face, looking for evidence of a jest. She doesn't find any.

"Oh. Sorry", she moves back, "I thought..."

"That's okay."

They both stand there in awkward silence. Then suddenly, Lindsay turns and plants one right on Edele's mouth, nearly knocking her back.

***

Her back is against the wall, and she's making out with a woman she barely knows in the bedroom of her flat. Edele's hands are on the wall behind her, boxing her in. Lindsay throws her arms around Edele's neck. They slide along the wall; they half push-half pull each other towards the bed.

Lindsay lies on her back with Edele over her. Edele peels off her shirt, exposing a braless chest. Her breasts are small, but firm. She can feel the cotton of Lindsay's shirt rubbing against her nipples. And she can feel the badge stabbing her in the thigh.

"You've really gotta take that off", Edele says, referring to the badge, but yanking Lindsay's trousers off her body entirely. Then her underwear as well.

Lindsay has well-toned thighs, and Edele kisses them as if she's done it a thousand times before.

"Oh. Uh. Oh, shit.", Lindsay stammers. She pulls Edele back up to meet her mouth.

They kiss. Lindsay takes off her own shirt; Edele kisses her neck and the tops of her breasts, reaching behind to unhook Lindsay's lacey bra. She tosses it somewhere aside. Lindsay now lies beneath her completely naked. She wraps one leg behind Edele's shoulders.

The stop for a minute, looking at each other. Both are trying to catch their breath.

"I have to tell you something.", she says to Edele.

"What?", Edele says, her head in Lindsay's hands.

"I have no idea what I'm doing."

****

That night, she dreams. She dreams of light and shadow. Humanoid mists, white and dark, swaying into each other.

This way and that.

Dancing.

Making love.

Lindsay awakens from the dream. She can feel Edele's arm wrapped snuggly around her body, her front pressed against Lindsay's back.

Edele is fast asleep. The bedroom is lit by moonlight.

Light and shadow.

Lindsay carefully moves Edele's arm and places it on the sheets; she gets out of bed quietly. Edele rolls onto her back, her head lolls to the other side. Lindsay dresses in her robe and ties the cloth belt around her waist. She leaves the bedroom and opens the sliding glass door leading out to the verandah; steps out onto the balcony.

The city is asleep. Everything is eerily silent in the twilight.

She hears a noise behind her; Edele stirs.

"I'm out here...", Lindsay responds to Edele's muttering, not quite sure whether she's calling for her or just talking in her sleep.

She turns to go back inside, when suddenly Edele bolts upright in the bed and screams.

"Edele!?", she rushes over to her, "Edele, what is it!?"

She looks up at Lindsay, at first confused and disoriented, then the tears stream down her cheeks. Lindsay is not sure what to do. She sits on the bed and holds Edele, who breaks down and cries into her bosom.

"Edele,...what's wrong? Talk to me..."

She moves away from Lindsay and wipes her eyes.

"Sorry."

Lindsay keeps an arm around Edele,

"Do you need to talk about it...?"

But Edele has already fallen back to sleep against Lindsay's shoulder.

****

****
 

CHAPTER EIGHT: YOU MIGHT FIND YOURSELF IN A SLIGHT HALLUCINATORY STATE BEFORE THIS IS ALL OVER...

They sit together at one of the white stone round tables out on the front lawn; the curved benches around the table are made of stone as well. The large, white clinic building looms in the background.

Sinead O'Carroll's mind has folded into her addiction. What is there is riddled with asphasia. Sometimes, she speaks completely out of context, mingling in words or even whole sentences that have absolutely nothing to do with the subject at hand. And with no apparent realization of doing so.

"Yesterday-I think it was yesterday-this bloke fell asleep face down in his dinner plate. I was in the field when I saw the snake", she says, "It was quite funny, the way he just slumped over like that. You should have seen it, Julia. It was lasagna, I think, we were eating. It was,...I think it was yesterday. Or Monday..."

"It's Edele. My name is Edele. Not Julia."

"Oh. Right. Edele. Edele...Sorry.", Sinead replies. Then she continues talking, and soon forgets Edele's name all over again.

She talks volumes about nothing. Her accent is just as thick and Irish as Edele's.

They had met each other six or seven years ago at a tweeker party. People were there from all walks of life. Punks. Jocks. Models. Slammers. Junkies. All brought together under one common goal: to escape their depression for a few hours, and feel something beyond themselves.

Speed was everywhere.

The perpetual night party.

They became close friends that night.

Sinead had become more and more addicted to the methedrine. Continued to spiral downward. Sold her own house for a grand to buy crank. And, finally, had to be taken down by a squad of cops-while higher than a kite and crazier than a fox-for holding restaurant patrons hostage in the Ladies' restroom with a speargun because she was convinced they were government spies.

Now the worse she did was hallucinate and forget Edele's name.

But sometimes Edele see a shimmer of her friend the way she once was. The way she was that night they met. Before the meth. Before the madness in the restaurant. Sinead, the elegant, aspiring dancer-she was going to a dancer. The woman who sat across from her now was unbearably thin-though, Sinead never did have much fat on her-, eyes sunken in, with hair colored midnight-blue, and enough piercings and tatoos to shame a rocker.

A shimmer.

A ghost.

But it was there. It was why she could never betray her. The real Sinead O'Carroll was still in there somewhere. Somewhere. Lost to the black rotting world of a demented mind. Lost to the abyss of unconsciousness. But Sinead is awake. She is awake, even if her mind is half-asleep.

Edele, who got out of the speed habit long ago, sits on the stone bench and tells Sinead things she would never tell another waking individual; things that the only other person she tells is Keavy, asleep in her hospital bed in Room 214. She tells her friend these deep, dark secrets because she knows they are safe in Sinead's forgetfulness.

"How is Keavy?", she suddenly asks. That fleeting image.

Edele is surprised by the question. Of course Sinead knew Keavy. She became just as close to her as she was to Edele. But was her abrupt remembering, because she had spent the better part of an hour referring to her as someone else, that took Edele aback.

"She's fine.", Edele replies, wondering just how much Sinead actually remembers.

But Sinead is already lost again, and the conversation turns to something else. They talk small talk until and orderly comes out to deliver the message that visiting hours are over.

Edele stands and leans over the tabletop and hugs her dear friend good-bye.

"I have your room ready for you when you get out of here", Edele says.

"That's very nice of you", Sinead replies.

She hugs Sinead again, then is led to the gate by the orderly.

****

Deaqon Morrison glances through the file that Bax has placed on his desk.

The file is on one Lindsay Gail Armaou, Narcotics, ID number DJ6T5KF55. He is fairly impressed with it. Over a hundred arrests her first year. Several commendations. Only 26 and already being considered for Captain. Leader of her own Narc Team.

But what catches his attention the most is how often her name came up in the case.

Lindsay had found the first victim.

Lindsay was the one assaulted by Wendell Ames.

Lindsay had a personal connection to Landon Chee's brother.

He finishes the file, sets it aside. As he does so, his hand knocks off a framed photo of a seven-year-old Andrew. It hits the floor. He doesn't bother to pick it up.

****

Garcia sits at his desk, feet on the desktop, eating his lunch. He listens to Lindsay repeat everything Detective Ashburry had said to her earlier.

He seems slightly irritated by the news.

"So, Homicide is taking over our case?", he says, annoyance in his voice.

"They're not taking over, Mannie We're working on the case with them", Lindsay says.

"No. You're working on it with them. And, honestly, I can't believe you'd agree when you and I have our own investigation going."

Lindsay takes the chair in front of his desk. She leans forward, looks him straight in the eye.

"Why do you think I'm telling you this? I told them you're my partner, that I don't do anything without you there to back me up. I want you with me on this. I need you with me."

He's silent for a minute. Tugs his shirt collar. He looks up at her. It only takes a glance to see that she's sincere. His shoulders slack with a sigh. Garcia picks up part of his lunch and holds it out to her as a peace offering.

"Want a tanada?"

****

She was misunderstood. The media, the police, everyone thought she was a murderer, a demon. She never killed those who didn't deserve it. They said she was a hitman for the drug lord Big Creek. A laugh. She wants to kill him. And she's going to.

The Shadow Walker waits in the woods about a mile from Big Creek's shack. The lights are out and a fire blazes from somewhere inside. She can see the orangish light flicker in the window. She focuses her senses until she can make him out in the window. Down to the buttons on his shirt. Examines the house. A gunrack, two rifles, three shotguns-one sawed off. Several handguns. A collection of swords and anciet weaponry. Standard bachelor furniture. Navajo influences everywhere. Wolfskin on the wall.

After examining what she sould see, she prepares to make her move.

****

Landon Chee, a.k.a. 'Big Creek, sits with his legs folded in front of the fireplace, meditating, praying to his god. A noise outside stirs him. At least it sounds like it came from outside. But Chee knows spirits can be tricky. Spirits and shadows.

Shadow.

The Shadow Walker.

"You're here now. In my home", he says. He does not fear.

There is no reply.

Then, suddenly, something dark zooms ar him, knocking him over. The gunrack is nearby. He breaks the glass door with his large, large meaty fist and snatches the sawed-off shotgun. He loads it with the bullets in the bottom of the rack.

The Shadow Walker jumps out of the way of the first blast. He fires again, misses. Chee tosses the shotgun aside. He grabs a .45, already loaded. He tries to stand and realizes his ankle is broken, his foot is upside down.

From the floor, he fires a succesion of shots after the figure, who literally runs along the wall. He's never seen anything move so fast. She-yes, it was a woman, he can tell-leaps from the wall and kicks him in the eye. He fumbles for his weapon. He tries to shake the fear that now tinges his heart.

He prays to his gods for strength, fires again.

The Shadow Walker stops and turns and looks right at him. He's sure. Even though the face is eyeless. He aims the pistol, prepares to shoot.

Squeezes the trigger. Sparks and smoke.

To his astonishment the bullet passes through her like a phantom through a wall. She vanishes, vaporizes before his eyes.

The bullet hits the floor with a clink.

****

CHAPTER NINE: CONNECT THE DOTS (part one)
During the same time that Landon Chee was firing pointless hollow-points at his intruder, a tall figure sits in a chair in the far corner of hospital room 214, watching, studying the girl sleeping in the bed.
Cyanide snacks on Planter's almonds, wonders if she can hear him crunching them with his teeth.
He isn't in the Western garb anymore-though his hair is still shaved and white. He is without costume or make-up; dressed in normal street clothes. A ball cap covers his hair.
He studies the long, thin tubes that run from her arms and legs like rivers. He studies the readings on the heart and respiratory monitors...

****
Lindsay awakens at 2:00 in the morning for the second time in two days.
That dream again. What did it mean, if anything? This time the dream had been a bit different. She had been naked, standing in a mist of light, while human-like shadowy figures danced wildly around her.
Now she sits awake. Edele is asleep beside her. Lindsay watches her sleep, wondering what she's dreaming about. There aren't any signs of a nightmare in her expression, but Lindsay watches for them just in case. She reaches over and gently brushes some fallen strands of hair from Edele's face. Her features appear softer as she sleeps. Lindsay leans over and softly kisses her once on the bare shoulder and once on the corner of her mouth. She lowers herself back underneath the covers, pulling them up to her chin; presses her body close to Edele.
Eventually, Lindsay drifts off the sleep again.

****
She walks into the Station the next morning, and sees someone sitting at her desk. Not Bax Ashburry. This time it's a woman, older than Lindsay, probably older than Bax. She is going through files on Lindsay's desk.
Personal files.

"May I help you?", she says to the woman.

The woman stands, comes around the front of the desk. She is dressed in a woman's pantsuit, dark red with a silk top underneath.
She offers a hand.

"Irene Holloman, Internal Affairs."

Lindsay doesn't take her hand and she draws it back.

"I assure you, Detective-is it Detective?-I'm not here to make your day a living hell. But I do have a job to do. I'm sure by now you're very familiar with this Landon Chee character. And you're aware that Deputy Wendell Gregory Ames was working for Mr. Chee."

Lindsay responds that, yes, she was very aware.

"Are you also aware that Ames knew Eagle Chee as well? That he had visited him twice in the last month before his death?", Irene Holloman says.

This Lindsay had not known. What does this have to do with her, she wonders. She is sure is about to find out, and she's right.

"Two men who worked for Landon Chee are found dead. Detective Ashburry and Detective Sergeant Deaqon Morrison are called to investigate. They discover the men were attempting to rape an innocent woman at the time of their deaths.
Later, Deputy Ames is murdered by strangulation outside a club while assaulting an off-duty Narcotics Detective. The only witness-the Narc herself-was handcuffed and could only see minimal detail about the assassin. It's then learned some time later that Ames also worked for Chee, whose brother had shot and killed a young man named Lee Brennan.
That young man had been your boyfriend."

"I'm sorry, but I'm having trouble seeing where you're going with this. Yes, Lee was my boyfriend. But what does that have to do with Ames?"

"You helped put Eagle Chee away, didn't you?"

"I pointed him out in a police line-up The prosecutor put him away. I've put that all behind me."

"Landon Chee apparently hadn't. He told Ames about you. There were photographs of you among his things-we discovered them while clearing out his locker."

"Photo....?", Lindsay is sure she's heard wrong.

"It's coincedence, that's all", Irene says, then her demeanor turns serious again, "Why were you unable to prevent it when you saw Ames being murdered right in front of you?"
Someone had finally asked that question, and she didn't sugarcoat it.
"On the night Ames has you in his hands, he winds up dead."

"Am I being accused of something, Officer Holloman?", Lindsay says.

"Why don't you answer mine first?"

Lindsay struggles for an answer that makes sense, that justifies everything. But she draws a blank, and instead just tells the truth, as unproffesional as it sounds.

"I couldn't...I don't know why. I couldn't move. I was frozen, terrified. My hands had been cuffed behind my back. He had pushed my head into a wall, and I was temporarily dazed."

"Pushed your head into a wall. Did you mention this to Detective Ashburry when he questioned you?"

"I honestly don't recall. I was still in shock", Lindsay says, "Please just tell me if I'm being accused of something."

"Not by me. But Deputy Ames' family may sue to have you tried as an accessory should certain information be leaked. I suggest you find a good lawyer.

****
Lindsay catches up to Bax walking out to his car in the Station parking lot. She calls out to him, and he turns at the sound of her voice.

"Did you know about the photographs?", she asks him.

"Photographs?", he says.

"Ames had pictures of me among his things."

"He had...? Who informed you of this?"

"Irene Holloman, Internal Affairs."

"This is new to me. I guess it would have been learned eventually. But I thought his mother was supposed to collect his things, and she's on vacation, says the family. But I guess it's understandable why I.A. would be there", he rubs his chin with his thumb and index finger,

"I have to head home real quick for something. If you'd like you can ride along. I'd like to know everything this Irene Holloman told you."

"Nothing I don't already know", Lindsay says.

"Still", he opens the front passenger door to his Land Rover, "Get in."

****

Bax holds the door and she enters his home first. She is amazed by the beauty and style of it.

There's a man, younger and shorter than Bax, in the living room. He is donned in a frilly pink apron, rubber, yellow cleaning gloves, and flutters a feather-duster over all the lampshades and furniture.

He's surprised to see them at first.

"Ahem...Um, Lindsay, have you met the missus?", Bax says, half-jokingly.

"I'm gay. I'm not a woman", Jason replies, returning to his housework.

"You spend about as much money on clothes and shoes as one. Frankly, I don't see the difference.

I left my black spiral notebook here. I came to get it. This is Lindsay Armaou. She works in Narcotics. Lindsay, Jason Crawford."

After the quick introductions, he heads upstairs and retunrs later with the notebook. They tell Jason goodbye-Bax giving him a quick peck-and leave again

****

"Go ahead. Ask", he says on the way back to the Station.

"Ask what?", Lindsay says.

"Which one of us is the wife."

"I think I can figure that one out on my own", she says.

Bax laughs a little at first, then more robustly.

"Oh, Jay, he laughs, "Bless him."

"How did you meet?"

"It was at a bar", he tells her, "I'd just graduated from the Academy, and went out to celebrate-and by 'celebrate' I mean 'get completely shitfaced'-with a few friends. Jay was a trainee bartender at the time.

Technically, he was too young to be serving drinks. He was only 18."

"Did you say anythng to him?"

"I gave him a warning. Then I asked him out."

He pulls the Land Rover into his designated parking spot. They unfasten their seatbelts and get out of the vehicle.

"What puzzles me", he says", is that even though all three victims were connected to Chee, they were killed performing random acts of crime. Seems a little too coincedental, if you know what I mean."

"Like perhaps they were followed by their attackers?"

"Something like that."

"That could mean that they showed up during the criminal acts, or they were already in that area, hiding somewhere", Lindsay says, "But how would they know where to go?"

Bax considers this for a moment.

"Perhaps Hugo leading Ames in that direction was no accident...", he says, "You, I just thing were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I'll see if Morrison can talk to Hugo again. Fish for more details."

As he is speaking, a uniformed officer comes out to talk to them. He is holding a Manila envelope in one hand.

"Detective?", he says, "The result just got back from the Lab regarding Walt Kidd."

"They just got back?", Bax says, a little astonished.

The officer stammers. He is young and very nervous. Every bit a rookie.

"Alright. Let's see them", Bax says to the officer, and he hands them over.

"Uh,...can I go now.", the young cop asks, bashfully.

"Yeah, you can go. Thanks."

Bax reads over the lab results, then hands them to Lindsay, so she can view them, too.

"'Autoerotic asfixiation'. He hung himself to get off...Hm. Lovely."

"Stayed up there a bit too long. But that's not the interesting part. Read on", he lights a cigarette," Looks like he may have gotten into a fight with somebody. Broken nose; broken wrist; kneecap outta place."

"Internal hemorraging", Lindsay reads off the page.

"You think he might have had a little run-in with our friend?", Bax says.

"That's just speculation. There's no proof. Anybody strong enough could have broken his nose or caused his insides to bleed. Especially if they had a weapon."

"No weapn. What about the Big Creek connection? Think about this: Four out of six names on that list, three wind up dead, one kills himself. But not before meeting our unsub. He escapes somehow. Or he's allowed to live. Maybe for a reason. Maybe to deliver a message to the unsub's main target."

"Then he goes home and hangs himself with a rope-cord while yanking his willy?", Lindsay says, sarcastically.

Bax shrugs. "It's a theory."

CHAPTER TEN: TELL ME A STORY

It is almost amazing how something that happens in a split second can change a person's life forever.

Or end it forever.

Lindsay's had been changed by a bullet. One, single shot to the back of the skull, and Lindsay watched from the car window as Lee dropped face first onto the pavement. It wasn't like the movies. There was little blood.

She remembers everything about that day. The weather. The way the air smelled. The report of the gun.

Even so, she had pushed it to the back of her mind in order to move on. Hadn't thought much about it except when she was alone, until Irene Holloman brought it up.

She stands over the kitchen sink, scrubbing plates and glasses that she'd let pile up all week. She hears the door open, but doesn't look to see who it is.

A pair of arms make their way around her middle; Edele rest her head against the back of Lindsay's neck.

She is dirty and sweaty, and covered in dust; still wearing her toolbelt. And a worn pair of gray workman's gloves, one thumb slightly bulging where the bandage is.

"You stink", Lindsay says.

"I've been outside all day. It's hot", Edele replies.

Lindsay turns her head back and gives Edele a peck on the tip of her nose.

"Take a shower, stinky", she says.

She enjoys having Edele around, even though she doesn't always understand her. Is it love, she's not sure. And gender was never an issue.

Whatever it is...

Her train of thought stops with a phone call.

Garcia still hadn't gotten used to hearing Edele's voice on the other end, and Edele still hadn't gotten a shower.

She lies, dozing on the couch.

"Get your dirtiness of my couch!", Lindsay says to her, although, really, she didn't mind it.

"I'm tired", Edele says, eyes half-closed.

"I paid 200 bucks for that couch, I don't need you messing it up with...mortar dust or whatever."

Edele groans and gets up slowly, "Fine"

Lindsay returns to the phone,

"Sorry about that, Mannie. What did you need to tell me?"

"They let Joe Jack Billingsley go. Had nothing to hold him for", Garcia tells her, "I'm thinking I might follow him a bit. See if anything interesting happens. And if it don't, I'll at least know what a day in a life is like for a man named Joe Jack."

"You need me to ride along for back-up?", Lindsay asks.

"Nah. I'm just going to follow him. I'm not going to get involved."

****

There's a tattoo on Edele's right bicep. A word, or a name. Lindsay traces her fingers slowly over each letter. K, E, A, V, Y.

They sit on the bed together. Edele wears borrowed clothes. It seemed lately, the only reason Edele went home was to change clothes. She did everything here. Ate, slept, showered.

"What's Keavy?", Lindsay asks.

"Not a 'what', a 'who'", Edele replies.

"Sorry. Who's Keavy. An ex? I've been meaning to ask you about that."

"My sister. My, ah,...twin sister. She's...in a coma right now...", Edele says.

"Oh."

Lindsay tries to think of something else to say. Something comforting.

"The car just swerved right into her", Edele continues, unprovoked.

"She was hit by a car!?", Lindsay says, embarrassed by the surprise in her voice, "Where...Where were you?"

"In the van. It happened right in front of me", she says.

"How long ago?"

"Four...Five years. The doctors told me that it's almost inconceivable that she'll wake up. And if she does, she'll be paralyzed from the neck down, and very likely brain damaged...", her voice trails off, then picks back up, "I'm not sure if I want a miracle, I just want my sister back."

Edele stares and her knees the whole time she's saying this. Lindsay watches her, looks into her eyes, and for the second time since fisrt seeing Edele, notices an infinite sadness. That's what it was. Edele realizes Lindsay is staring at her and responds in kind. Their eyes lock for a minute.

"What's your story, Lindsay?", she asks, playing with the curls of Lindsay's hair.

"What makes you think I have a story?"

"Everyone does."

She tells Edele about Lee Brennan. When she finishes, Edele looks and her and asks,

"Were you in love with him?"

Lindsay nods, "Yeah."

"That's cool. I mean, that you had that."

Lindsay takes Edele's left arm and puts it around her own neck, leans into Edele's body, feels her heart beat. She's warm.

Yeah. It was love. It is love. Some variation of it. Lindsay is sure of it. Lee was then, and then was past. He would always be in her memory.

But Edele is now, the present.

I have that now, Lindsay thinks to herself.

Edele kisses her on the temple, hold her lips there, smells Lindsay's dark hair.

They both had tragedy in their pasts. The revelation of this brought them closer, made them more connected. Although, neither of them truly realizes this at the moment.

But, as with every personal story, there is more beneath the merely-scratched surface. Deep, dark, abyssmal secrets. Secrets that stay locked in the heart, in the mind. Secrets that gnaw. Skeletons in the closet, cloaked in dust. Until someone opens the closet door and the bones come tumbling out, dust and all, and rattle all over the floor. Dusty little bones; dirty little secrets.

Edele wonders if she is the only one in the world with a secret like her's. How would Lindsay react if she knew the truth?

Of course, Lindsay is blissfully anaware of the thoughts of Edele's.

Her mind is other places.

She moves a hand beneath Edele's shirt, runs it over her stomach and breasts. Lindsay maneuvers herself so that she is straddling Edele. She starts to kiss her. Edele is pleasantly surprised by all this. She rubs her hands along Lindsay's back, her thighs, her ass. Lindsay lets out a soft moan. She feels Edele's lips on her neck. She pushes Lindsay's shirt up and pulls it over her head. Some hair falls back against Lindsay's shoulders. Edele's mouth meets Lindsay's breast. They stop only to remove clothing-sometimes each other's. Until they are completely naked, warm skin on warm skin. Edele rolls Lindsay onto her back.

"Who says you always get to be on top?", Lindsay says.

"I do", Edele replies.

Lindsay pushes Edele off and overtakes her, hold her by the wrists.

"You can't always have your way", Lindsay says, playfully, "Don't make me get out the 'cuffs."

She lowers herself gently onto Edele, kisses her lips, neck, chin, shoulders, clavicle. Soft, sweet. Edele's hand moves slowly up Lindsay's thigh, until it reaches that wet spot. Lindsay moans again as Edele pushes her fingers inside her. She grinds against the fingers, the hand pushing deeper. A wave of pleasure comes over her, into her. Rushing through her limbs. They melt into each other, crush their bodies into each other, as if trying desperately to become one. Nothing else matters now. Nothing but the pleasure, the desire. The want to devour the moment. It comes like a fire growing, spreading through them. Lindsay feels the torrent of warmth and wetness between her legs. The desire satiated. She feels her lover's face pressed against her neck; feels the hot, musky breath against her skin. Edele's heart beats rapidly in her chest. Or is it her own?

She collapses onto Edele, her breathing in frantic rhythm with her lover's.

Her lungs calm, the burning in them settles. She thinks she hears Edele whisper something, but she's not sure.

Her head still swims.

****

Bax and Jason sit on the couch, watching television. They are cuddled against each other, Bax's arms wrapped around his boyfriend's chest. Jason is smaller than Bax. His chest is more narrow. He is built like a swimmer, whereas Bax is huskier, broader. They fit each other perfectly. Eleven years together.

Bax was elated when Jason had said yes to that first date. He never expected it to last this long.

The other cops, each had their own ways of accepting or not accepting him for what he was. Some jokingly gave him the nickname "Homocop", a name they used with affectiom, not hatred. Others simply didn't talk about it. Yet others blalantly refused to work with him. Deaqon Morrison saw him for the work he did. His quality as a cop was more important to Morrison than his personal life, and the man never talked much about his own, anyway. And his wife would invite the couple to dinner.

Things weren't always...good. Bax had been kicked out of the military when he was 20 for being gay.

And his biological father hated him. He never married Bax's mother, even after he'd knocked her up. He would only constantly tell her that she should have aborted "that thing". He drank. Began to hit her. The he started to hit little Baxter-although, Bax himself has no recollection of this. His grandmother-a widow-took them both out of England and shipped to America. A tough, little woman, she stayed wth them, taking care of them. She had passed away a few years ago of congenial heart failure. And Bax's mother, of course, has remarried when the boy was 13. His stepfather took him under his wing.Told him he was a gift, special. Bought him things. Encouraged him. Corrected him. Did everything a dad would do. When Bax wanted to join the school Lacrosse team, his stepdad brought him his own equipment, so he could practice. When he was discharged from the military for being homosexual, hus stepdad wrote a scathing letter to them, and the President. He joined his young son in Gay Rights marches. And when Bax brought Jason home, Stephen Ashburry hugged him and welcomed him.

These days, the old man's health was failing him. His vision was deteriorating, and he could no longer drive or read a letter. But he still smiled.

Bax wonders how he would have turned out without the old fart.

The show ends and another follows "after these commercials".

****

She dreams the dream again. Shadowy figures dancing around her nude form, and the pounding of drums like the pounding of a heart. The sound grows in her ears, louder and louder.

Until she awakens, and when her senses come awake as well, she realizes the pounding drums she heard in her dream in Edele's heartbeat.

Lindsay lies, listening with her ear softly pressed to Edele's chest, to the rhythm.

****

Garcia takes a swig of Pepsi. His car is parked ten feet away from a local petrol station on the other side of the street. He sits in the driver's seat, patiently waiting for Joe Jack to emerge from the small store.

He hasn't realized that his pursuee has walked out the back of the store and is approaching his car from behind, coming up to his door.

He's startled when the big, meaty hands tap on his window. He gestures for Garcia to roll the glass down, and Garcia does, ready to draw his weapon if he has to.

"Foller me up t' Crape Myrtle", Joe Jack says in a thick drawl. So thick, in fact, that Garcia doesn't understand him at first.

The beefy man leaves the car and goes back to his truck. Garcia is dumfounded. But finally, he turns the key in the ignition and follows the white pick-up onto the highway.

****

Crape Myrtle is a small area miles outside of the city. Called such for the paper-like plant that grew in abundance there. The townspeople-if it could be called a town-were like Joe Jack himself. Hardworking sons-of-guns who lived by the sweat on their brow and the dirt beneath their fingernails.

He checks the rearview to see if the wetback is still behind him. He is. He turns his truck onto the bridge that connects the rock walls together and drives into Crape Myrtle.

The Mexican's little sportster is having trouble crossing the rickety, wood-plank bridge, Joe Jack finds this amusing, purposely slows down to toy with the little shit city-slicker.

But the game doesn't last long. He has something he needs to tell. And it can't be to a friend.

****

They sit at a small table inside a dirt-floor bar. Eyes watch them with curiousness and contempt.

"Don't mind them. Don't git a lot of Mexicans 'round here", Joe Jack says, draining his beer, "Yer a modern marvel, son." He gives a short laugh.

"What did you want to tell me, that you couldn't reveal at the Station?", Garcia says.

"Ain't wantin' t' tell. Needin' t' tell. And I couldn't do it thar. Once you've heard my story, you'll understand why. Too much damn surveillance in th' city. Naw, I need to be whar it's quiet 'n' familiar."

"Why's that, Mr. Billingsley?"

"Let's jost say Big Brother is watchin'", Joe Jack tells him, coining the phrase, "Oh, 'n you might wanna keep 'n open mind."

****

Chapter 11: Liars and Legends

She sits alone in her apartment, Edele had since left, but only to get a few things. She left Lindsay with a kiss and a promise to return shortly. That had been a few hours ago.

Lindsay sits on the couch in the den. Images from the ten o'clock news play across the screen. A shooting. An old actor who has died in his bed. The weather. And, of course, sports.

The telephone rings, and she silently hopes it's Edele. But it's a male voice on the other end.

"Lindsay..."

"Mannie? Where are you?"

****

Garcia stands in the quietest part of the dive he could find, one finger pressed against his exposed ear as he struggles to hear Lindsay over the noise. He uses the bar phone, his cell was dead out here.

She asks him to repeat himself.

"I said I'm in Crape Myrtle", he repeats, a little louder than before.

"What are you doing there?"

"I followed Joe Jack."

"Does he know you're there?"

"He invited me", Garcia replies.

"Do what?"

"Listen, I can barely hear you over the noise here. We need to meet. Joe Jack told me this wild story. You've got to hear it for yourself."

"Okay. When?"

"I'm about to head home. We'll talk at lunch tomorrow."

"Okay, Mannie. Be careful", Lindsay says.

He hangs up the phone, and walks up to the bar to order one last beer before heading home.

****

Lindsay is restless. The alarm now reads 3:30 AM. Edele never returned. Never has her bed felt so empty. She realizes the irony of this, as crawls out and paces the room in the dark.

There's a noise coming from the den. Like a clicking. Someone is trying to turn the lock. Lindsay opens the nightstand drawer, and takes out a small gun. She stands with the gun at her side, waiting. The lock gives and the knob slowly turns. Slowly, the door opens and a figure enters the apartment.

Lindsay runs to the light switch, clicks it out, and aims her weapon at the intruder. Then lowers it as soon as she realizes who is standing in the doorway.

"Jesus Christ, Edele!", she says, exaspperated, her heart in her throat.

Edele glances at the gun in Lindsay's right hand. She isn't even fazed by it. The fact that she had come close to being shot seems to mean nothing to her. Still she asks,

"Would you have really shot me?"

"Probably. I don't know. How did you...?"

"Landlord gave me a key", Edele says, holding up the small copper thing.

"He just gave it to you?"

"Yeah. I told him I was your lesbian lover, and that you were waiting upstairs for me."

"Tell me you didn't."

"Although, I don't think he much enjoyed being awakened at this hour."

"Really?", Lindsay replies, sarcastically.

"Yeah. Colorful vocabulary, that one", Edele says.

"Why are you so late?", Lindsay says, half-angry at Edele for showing up at 3:30 in the morning, but half-relieved to see her.

Edele stammers for a good excuse. Lindsay just shakes her head.

"Never mind", she says, "Forget it."

****

Lindsay is concerned. She checks the wall clock inside the Station, the one across from her desk. It's almost time for lunch. Across from her, Garcia's desk is empty. Everything is just as he left it the day before. He hasn't shown. He hasn't called. She tries his cell again. No answer. No service.

She gets up from her desk and walks to the door of Captain Dougan's office. She sees him through the blinds over the large window. He's sitting at his desk, mulling over paperwork. She opens the door quietly, taps it with her knuckles.

He glances up at her briefly, then waves for her to enter.

"Be right with you. Just have to-dammit! Where are the paperclips?", he shuffles through his desk drawers.

Lindsay spies a box of paperclips on assorted colors on the corner of his desk, behind the pencil box. If he moved it, he would have seen them. She takes one and hands it to him.

"Oh. Thanks", he says.

Pat Dougan is in his forties. His head is completely bald up top, the rest of his blond hair is shorn close to his head. Sometimes he has a beard, and sometimes he doesn't. Today he does. And it could use a trim.

He looks up at her with green eyes.

"What'd'you need?"

"Captain, have you heard anything from Garcia?"

"No, I haven't. Isn't he at his desk?"

"No, sir. He hasn't come in all morning."

Dougan looks a little surprised by this news.

"You mean he hasn't...?"

"All morning."

"And you've attempted to reach him?"

"I can't make contact with his cell."

"What about his hardline? Call his house. I know he was out rather late."

Lindsay considers this. She hadn't tried his house, and he had been out late. Maybe he had simply overslept.

"Thank you, sir. Of course. I'll try that", she says, and turns to leave the office.

"You'll let me know if anything...?", he says.

"You'll be the first I tell, Captain", she replies, leaving the office.

He nods, returns to the pile of papers scatters on the top of his desk. He has misplaced the paperclip again.

From her desk, Lindsay dials Garcia's home phone. After a few brisk rings, someone picks up.

"Hello?", the accent is sweet, very thick. Lindsay can see the small woman on the other end in her mind.

"Rosario, hi. This is Lindsay."

"Lindsay, yes. You are good?", Rosario Garcia says in her choppy English.

"Yes, but I'm a little worried. Is Emmanuel home? May I speak with him?"

"Emmanuel? He is not there with you?", she replies, her voice now tinged with a bit of fear, "He did not call you?"

"No. He's not there? Is there something wrong?"

Garcia's wife does not answer for a while, the lind remains silent.

Finally, she speaks. Her voice is soft, sweet, and fragile,

"My husband did not come home last night."

Lindsay sits frozen. Did she hear correctly?

****

Edele lounges sideways on the small recliner next to the head of Keavy's hospital bed, her legs over one of the arms. There is also a loveseat and two folding chairs in the room.

She rests her head against the soft back of the recliner, eyes fixed in her twin sister, watching her sleep.

Sometimes, Keavy moves, but it's only Edele's imagination.

A hospital volunteer-a "pinklady"-comes in, carrying folded linens in her arms. She smiles at Edele.

"I'm here to change her bedsheets", she says.

"Oh. Okay", Edele says, moving from the recliner to allow the pinklady room to work around the bed and the machines

Two orderlies enter with a temporary bed on wheels to place Keavy on.

Edele decides to leave the room for a minute, maybe get a snack. As she walks out the door, her shoe crunches something on the linoleum floor. She lifts her foot and sees a tiny piece of some kinds of nut, now half crushed. She kneels down and picks up one of the larger pieces. It's from an almond, she recognizes.

"Could I get someone to sweep in here, as well?", she says to the pinklady.

The woman nods.

Edele walks through the cool-gray corridors of the hospital wings, towards the Vending Area.

She puts some coins in a soda machine, does the same in the snack machine. She sits at on one the tables provided and eats.

As she pops the tab on her soda can, someone walks into the Vending room. He doesn't glance at her, or pay her any attention. Then again, he's seven feet tall. Probably doesn't even see her. And she didn't care either way. He gets his snack and drink. Again, Edele normally wouldn't care less, except for what he gets.

A small packet of Planters almonds.

****

Those were the last words Rosario Garcia heard her husband say before he went missing. She plays the tape on the answering machine once more for Lindsay, as they sit at the kitchen table in Rosario's house.

Lindsay listens carefully. She can hear some noises in the background. Faint voices, music. The radio or a tape. Cars passing.

"He was in his car", Lindsay observes.

"Where could he have gone? I am so worried, Lindsay", Rosario says, tears brimming in her eyes.

"I'm not sure. But I'll find him. I promise", Lindsay says, as comforting as she can", I have to leave now, but I'll come by again. If you hear from Emmanuel, I want you to call me on this number. No matter what. Call me."

Lindsay writes her cell number on the back of an open bill envelope, as she says this.

"Yes. I will call", Rosario says, a small, sad smile forming at the corners of her mouth, "Thank you, Lindsay. You are kind. You are a good friend to us."

Lindsay smiles, unable to think of any response. She takes her leave, so many things fixed on her mind, and her heart.

****

She tries his cell again, reaches the female-toned automatic voice message system. She leaves her seventh voicemail:

"Mannie, it's Lindsay again. Where did you go? Please call me. And call your wife for God's sake. She's worried sick."

Then she closes the cover of her small mobile, hanging it up.

Lindsay sits in her car, waiting for the light ahead to turn green. Her cell rings. She answers hurriedly, almost dropping it.

"Mannie?", she says, almost pleading.

"Bax", comes the reply.

"You haven't heard from Garcia, have you?"

"No. I haven't"

"He's...missing", Lindsay says.

"I've heard. What's your course of action?"

"I don't know. I'm not quite sure I should start posting flyers."

"I'd try every motel and hotel within the City and beyond if I were you."

"Did that. Nobody's seen or heard of him."

"Oh?", Bax replies, "When did you last hear from him?"

"Last night. He said he was in Crape Mrytle. It sounded like he was in a bar...", Lindsay says, her voices fading at the last words, then completely silent.

"Lindsay? Are you still there?"

"Baxter, will you meet me there?"

"In Crape Myrtle?"

"Yes."

"Of course."

The light turns green, Lindsay taps the gas and drives forward.

****

Lindsay drives her car carefully over the rickety wood brigde leading to the small, podunk town. She isn't sure of her destination, and drives slowly through the area, scanning the local grocery store with it's produce set outside in large, wooden crates, the gas station, where rednecks pump petrol into the trucks and glance at her either curiously or complacently. She observes a small red-brick library and a church. Baptist. Pastor A.L Allen. A passage from the Bible on the sign out front. And not far from that, interestingly, a bar.

This is where Lindsay decides to make her stop. As she gets out of the car, she hears the sound of tires on broken asphalt coming up behind her.

Bax waves from the driver seat of his Land Rover, and pulls up along side of her.

"Wow. I feel like I've gone back in time", he says.

"The people here are pretty simple", Lindsay says.

"Do you have a photo of your partner?"

"Don't need it. After seeing this place, I get the feeling a Mexican would stick out like a sore thumb."

"You may have a point. Let us proceed, shall we?"

They enter the bar, dim even in the daytime. The patrons all turn to look at them, the lady and the fag.

Bax walks undaunted to the bar, sits on one the stools. Lindsay repeats the same, sitting next to him. Over by the pool table, one of the players puts down his cue and saunters over. His hair is long, bushy, stuffy under a green John Deere cap with the yellow silhouette of a buck. His muscles bulge slightly under his flannel button-down shirt, and he chews what could only be tobacco.

"Yer far from home, Mister", he says to Bax, his drawl similiar to that of a certain Joe Jack.

"So it would seem", Bax replies calmly.

"You a cop?", the redneck requires, turning to spit brown stuff directly on the dirt floor.

Lindsay turns her head away from the sight.

"I'm sorry, Miss. Am I grossin' yew out?", he says to her.

"Ray, quit harrassing them", a stout woman says from one of the tables.

"Yeah, boy. We playin' pool or not?", calls another man from the pool table.

The bartender intervenes, "Is there something I can help you folks with? Don't mind Ray, here. He's a lughead."

He sets two bottles of the house beer right in front of them.

"Actually, perhaps you could both help us", Bax says, flasing his badge.

"So you are a cop, eh? Someone in trouble?", the bartender asks.

"What'choo do now, Ray?", a voice hollers from the back, followed by hoots of laughter.

Ray the redneck turns to the source of the sound, "Shut yer mouth, Billy Turnbull! Before I shut it fer ya!"

"No one is in any trouble. Yet", Bax says, "We're looking for a friend of ours. Came here last night."

"What'd he look like", Wiley, the bartender asks.

"Mexican. Average height. Probably wearing a dark denim jacket", Linday says.

"I seen a Mexican", Billy Turnbull pipes up again.

The two cops turn on their stools to where he is at, leaning against the jukebox, holding a longneck.

"You did?", Lindsay says.

"Yeah. I put him t' work in th' fields", he says, then begins to laugh, enjoying his own joke.

Wiley looks at him with contempt.

"Billy, one of these days, yore gonna make someone smack you."

Billy only shrugs.

"Yeah. Matter o' fact, I did see a fellah just like you're describing", the bartender says to Lindsay and Bax, "Came in with Joe Jack. They sat over there at that table"-he points-"Ray, you remember 'em?"

"Yep", Ray replies, "Ol' Joe Jack is hard man to miss hisse'f"

"So, you can imagine those boys'd be a sight for sore eyes."

"Did they leave together?", Bax asks.

"Nope. Your friend left. Made a call to someone first, then went out alone. Joe Jack stayed behind and had a few more beers."

"Where is Joe Jack now?", Lindsay asks.

"Well, ma'am, I'd imagine he's home."

"Do you have an address?", Bax says.

****

Bax knocks on Joe Jack's front door, while Lindsay inspects the dusty pick-up parked in the gravel driveway.

"Nobody's home. And something stinks", Bax says.

Lindsay notices the foul smell also.

"Bax, come look at this."

He hops off the concrete porch to the grass below and comes over.

"What?"

Lindsay is standing by the driver's door. It is badly smashed in. But the impact damage is too small for another automobile.

"Someone took a bat or a heavy stick to his truck."

"You think he was in it?", Bax inquires.

"Who knows? Could've been from a brawl...Jesus, what is that!?, she says, referring to the stench.

"Smells like...something crawled out of the sewers, then died", Bax scrunches up his nose.

Lindsay eyes widen at his words, her face alights.

"Wh-?", but he already knows what she's thinking.

They both head to the back of the house, Bax drawing his gun.

There's a garge bin behind the house. Flies buzz around it. There is dried blood on the edge of the lid. Lindsay wraps her shirt around her hand and quickly unhooks the leather strap holding it closed. She kicks it open with the tip of her shoe, hesitates, then looks in.

"OH! OH!", she cries, backing away, horrified.

Bax looks in as well.

The corpse of Joe Jack Billingsley lays inside among all the trash. The limbs, hands and head have been severed and lay askew atop the torso. The legs are chopped off again at the knee to make room for the in the bin. Bax turns away, catching hot vomit in his throat.

"This is my jurisdiction", is all he says, "Dear God."

"Someone wanted this to be seen", Lindsay says.

"Well, the Garbage Men would've gotten quiet a shock on Monday", Bax says, then he reaches for his cell.

"Who are you calling?", Lindsay asks.

"Morrison. Get your phone out and call the Crape Myrtle police. Information will have the number. Get the Sherrif."

Lindsay does so, trying to steady her shaking hands.

****

Within one hour after arriving on the scene, Deaqon Morrison takes charge of the investigation of Joe Jack's gruesome murder. The town Sherrif begins to protest about jurisdictions and cocky City police. But when Morrison politely offers to give the Crape Myrtle Sherrif's Department full credit for any arrests, he softens up a bit.

Meanwhile, Lindsay continues to walk the town on foot, asking civilians about seeing Garcia. Each one answers the same: no. Bax stays with her, to give her some "back up", and to help cover more ground. But he simply tells her it's because he enjoys her company. And having him around does help ease her nerves, which are still a little shaken.

As do thoughts of another.

At one point, he pulls her aside.

"Lindsay", he says, his voice calm, "you've seen some horrible things lately, haven't you.? I won't stop you if you ever want to forget this, and just go back to what you were doing before."

She just looks at him for a minute with her big, brown eyes. He's stricken suddenly by just how beautiful she is. She smiles a small smile.

"I'm fine", she says, "Thank you for your concern."

Bax lights a cigarette, knowing he's been put in his place.

They continue to walk. Bax speaks,

"I saw a body that'd been blown up by a magnesium flare when I was in the Army. I thought it was the most horrible thing I ever saw. But it was part of war. Nothing ever really gave me the willies, though. Not until I saw those two brothers, the way they were twisted. Something about that..."

"It's not a comforting thought," Lindsay says.

"You got that right", Baz agrees, inhaling, then exhaling nicotine and smoke.

We should head back. It's getting dark", Lindsay says.

Soon they reach their vehicles, still sitting in the bar's parking lot. Lindsay's mobile rings. And, normally, she would let it continue, but she was still hoping for a call from Garcia.

It wasn't Garcia.

"Hey, kiddo", the voice said.

"Hey, Peter. How's Robin?"

"Well, he's talking a little. He can say 'uuhg'", Johanssen jests, "But, seriously, kiddo, get down here. You'll never believe who just asked to speak with you."

****

Most people would think the sight of a man buying a packet of almonds an everyday occurence. But not Edele Lynch. She glares at anyone who approaches the vending machines-even if all they get is a pack of gum- with suspiscion.

Until she realizes that she is creeping people out, and tells herself to knock it the hell off and get a grip.

Edele goes and sits with her comatose twin for a little while longer. Considers staying the night when the sun starts it's descent.

So many nights she had the urge to just eschew everything else, and remain at Keavy's beside until the day she woke up. Or gave up.

Well, she'd bring Lindsay, but that was it. Forget everything else.

'I'll sleep here with you, Keavy. And I won't wake up until you do', she says silently in her thoughts to her beloved sister.

But she knows she will indeed wake up in the morning, as she listens to the hum and click of the ventillator.

****

Lindsay follows the gaurd down the prison corridor. Felons call out and jeer from behind their bars. One offers to let Lindsay have a go at his genitals. The gaurd quiets him with a rap on the knuckles with his baton.

"These men are animals", he grumbles.

Finally, they reach their destination.

He sits in his solitary cell, legs folded on the cot, which is connected to the wall by bolts and chains. His skin is dark, his black, silken hair hangs loose over his shoulders and is graying at the hairline. His face is already showing signs of age, his hands are knotted , leathery, and strong from doing prison chores. Around his neck he wears a blak cord, adorned with a solitary, decorated feather.

This is Eagle Chee.

"Ah. Hello again, Woman Child", he says, using the exact same nickname he had given her five years ago at a court hearing.

Lindsay stares at him, not sure what to say.

"Why do you call me 'Woman Child'?", she asks.

"Because you are mature and strong, but still so young and still learning. You have not grown beyond yourself."

"Tell me honestly, Eagle. Did you ever try to have me killed? For revenge?"

"Never had the thought. Revenge is not my way. I'm in here because I deserve to be. My spirit must serve it's pennance before it can be cleansed again, and set among my ancestors.

"What about Wendell Ames?"

"Wendell Ames?", he says this as if he's never heard the name before.

"He visited you. An officer."

"Oh, yes. Him. What about him?"

"He had photographs of me."

"Maybe he was stalking you. He came to me a lot. And I admit your name came up a few times. But that was mostly his doing."

"Mostly?"

"The story of how I was put away makes for great conversation while working under the hot sun."

"Why did he come see you in the first place?"

"That I do not know."

"Did you know he was dead?"

"I do now."

Lindsay decides to cut to the chase,

"Why did you ask to see me?", she says.

"I had a vision about you. You were naked, but clothed in a white mist, which shone like bright light. And hovering around you were shadows shaped like people, dancing around you. Then I realized that you weren't covered by the light. You were the light. And the shadows danced because you moved through them, touching them. And one by one, they fell."

Lindsay stifle a gasp. He is describing her dream. But how? How could that be?

"My brother came to visit me", Eagle says, "He began talking about being haunted by a shadow figure. Said he watched with his own eyes as a bullet passed through its human form like it was passing through nothing. My brother is in hysterics.

The Shadow Walker. He doesn't know that story. If he did, maybe he wouldn't be so fearful. Have you ever heard it?"

"No."

"I told it once to a prison gaurd. Know what he did? He laughed and called me a superstitious Indian. It's a little known tale, but it's very true."

"Will you tell it to me?", Lindsay asks.

"You really want to hear it?"

"Yes."

****

But others believe that it drove those who were given the power mad, and each one became more insane than the one before. Madness destroyed many of the Shadow Walkers, including the one and only male, who drove a dagger into his heart directly after avenging the death of his lover."

Eagle Chee stops here for a minute, as if contemplating the tale.

"I didn't believe in the myth, myself", he says, "But I did find it rather entertaining. But when my brother...It's absurd, really..."

"Is that all of the story?", Lindsay asks.

"No. There is much more. Centuries of pain and revenge. No one could tell you who the next one will be because it's picked at random."

"You said there was only one male. You did say that. So, the rest have been female."

"Well, as they say, 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'", Eagle says. Then his eyes become more serious, almost pleading. His corners of his mouth straighten.

"I need to know, Woman Child, if I have your forgiveness."

Lindsay hesitates to answer. His eyes seemed sincere, appealing. However, there was still his connection to all of this. What did he know of Landon's drug operation, if anything? Was he involved?

Did he really want her forgiveness?

She is too tired to ask these questions now.

"I'll let you know", she says, then walks back with the prison guard.

CHAPTER TWELVE: YOU'RE ALREADY A VOICE INSIDE MY HEAD

Three AM. Nearly everything is silent.

Nearly everything.

"Why do you play games with them? Kill them! Kill them all! Be done with it!", a voice, sexless and ancient, says in her ear, as if whispering to her.

But there is no one there at her side. The voice is inside her mind.

"You're wasting time. They should be dealt with already!", another voice barks.

"She's become a big softie, that's the problem", yet a third chimes.

"I have not become soft", the current Shadow Walker answers them with her thoughts", If you don't like the way I'm handling things, go do it yourselves, and leave me alone. Otherwise, shut it up! I could do without you lot driving me crazy for once."

The secone voice speaks again, "But why do you hesitate? What keeps you from rounding out your vengeance? Do what you were meant to do! Break them! Tear them apart!"

"Hush!", a fourth voice suddenly comes in, "Silence. Let her be!"

The others seem to obey. They quiet down, and everything becomes close to peaceful again. She looks out the window, into the black, starless sky. She can see the smoke clouds rising from the Chemical Plant.

There were thousands of voices chattering in her head, it seemed. Feminie, masculine, sexless. Sometimes they spoke directly to her. At times, they seemed to all be talking at once. Always, they argued amongst themselves, and sometimes she couldn't block or ignore it.

They gave her terrible migraines. She was often swallowing headache medicine of some sort.

They just wouldn't shut the hell up!

The Shadow Walker does not want to leave this place. Not tonight. She allows her eyes to close and drifts off into sleep.

****

Lindsay sleeps, her arm laid out at her side, and her hand touching the spot where Edele would lie. Of course, she's not there. She is staying up at the hospital with her sister.

Lindsay's hair cascades all around her bare back and shoulders. It covers half of her face. She appears a sleeping, breathing mass of human follicles. If Edele had been there, she would bury her own face in it, and Lindsay would awaken in the middle of the night and discover Edele sleeping in her curls, spooning her.

It's the absence of this, of not feeling Edele pressed against her back, that wakes her up. She lies awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling for the longest time. She wants to sleep, but can't. Wants to get up and move about, but can't.

She's finally forced to by the need to make water. Lindsay rises sluggishly and shuffles her feet across the carpeted floor in the bathroom, empties her bladder, then returns to the bedroom.

There's a noise suddenly. Like bells ringing in a rapid succession. Ringing...

Ringing...

The phone! Her cell phone is ringing!

Something inside her tells her not to ignore it. This wasn't some late night prank. She answers.

At first, the connection is staticky. the caller's voice hard to recogniae. Then she does, and her heart jumps.

"Lin...say", the voice of Garcia comes throught the line, crackling, half-masked under a wave of static.

"Mannie!", Lindsay nearly screams, "Where the hell are you!?"

He says something, but the bad connection fuddles his words, cutting them off.

"What? Mannie, I can't hear you!"

He speaks again, perhaps repeating whatever he said before, but everything is choppy and beyond difficult to decipher.

Then Lindsay manages to grasps a few intelligible words.

"Mannie, for god's sake, where are you!? Please, dammit."

There's a clicking sound; maybe his voice maybe just noise. The connection dies completely. She checks her cell for a location of the call, but nothing shows up on the tiny screen.

****

Sometime around a quarter to nine AM, Edele opens her eyes. She sees Lindsay standing over her, gazing at her innocently. Then she realizes Lindsay's hand is resting on her shoulder; she had gently shaken her.

"Hey, Sleepy Head", Lindsay says sweetly, smiling at Edele.

"Come lie on top of me", Edele mutters, groggy. She makes a lazy attempt to outstretch her arms to Lindsay, "Let me hold you...for a little while."

"Okie-dokie", Lindsay says, postioning herself over Edele's body, "But if a nurse walks in, you're doing the explaining."

Edele nods, her eyes closing again. She feels Lindsay's form lower and press gently against her own, wraps her arms around her back. Lindsay rests her head upon Edele's shoulder, so that her lips are just inches from Edele's cheek. Her long, soft curls fall over them. Edele twirls and few stands around her fingers.

"You've got 'sleepies' in your eyes", Lindsay says in a childlike tone.

Edele can feel the vibrations of the words against her skin.

"Hm". She rubs at the inner corners of her eyes with her thumb and index finger.

"Your sister looks peaceful", Lindsay says, softly.

"I hope she is."

****

Morrison stands with his back against the far wall inside the cold, gray morgue. The limbs of Joe Jack Billingsley lay arranged on a long, steel table in the form of a man, the way he would look if he was all in one piece. The torso is cut open to reveal his inner workings. The Medical Examiner makes his observations.

Billingsley had been merely knocked unconscious before his murder. His head was the last thing that was severed, but he had most likely died already due to excessive blood loss.

The size of his liver indicated that he was a heavy drinker, and the last contents of his stomach before he died had been pepperoni pizza.

As the ME talks, he works, measuring the limb, weighing that organ in the overhead scale. Morrison asks questions, and he answers them best to his medical knowledge.

"I'd say the attacker was a bit shorter that Mr. Billingsley. Approximately your height, give or take. I assessed this from the positioning of the bruising on the back of the head. The attacker first raised his arms, then brought the weapon down", the ME physically mimicks the downward swinging motion, "But he'd have to be rather strong and strike with quite a display of force to have rendered him unconscious with just one blow. This is-was-a two-hundred and fifty pound man. No. From what the contents of his liver and his blood alcohol level tells me, he was rather drunk when he was attacked.

Probably only realized too late what was happening."

"He didn't die on the spot. He was transferred, then dumped into his own garbage bin. But how he was moved, without there being any trail of transfer of blood or other particles...that befuddles me", Morrison says.

"Hm. Maybe the attacker used a lot of plastic. Dressed in it-like a rain slicker. Wrapped the limbs in it. Lined the interior of his car with it. But that's just a theory. I'm just the Medical Examiner. I do the scientific work, not the detective work."

"I'll definitely put your theory to scrutiny, Paul", Morrison tells the ME, "Send me the full report on your findings later, as soon as you complete them.

Thank you again, Paul."

Morrison leaves the cold, gray room.

****

"Have you ever heard of the Shadow Walker?", Lindsay asks Edele suddenly.

They still lie together as before, Lindsay's nose pressed softly against Edele's neck. Edele 'plays' with Lindsay's hair, running her fingers through the strands.

She pauses.

"No. What's that?", Edele says.

"It's just a story I heard."

"What's it about?"

"Um, okay...there was this Indian girl, and, like her entire village was murdered by these bad men. So, the spirits of her ancestors, or whatever, came down and they went into her, and they gave her the strength and the power to avenge her people.

And, then, after her death, the power has been passed along throughout the centuries, making other Shadow Walkers."

"Hm. Sounds made-up", Edele says, her eyes focused downward, pass Lindsay's shoulder, watching her curls fall between her fingers as she twirls them and releases them.

Lindsay shrugs. "I thought it was kind of interesting."

"Where'd you hear it?"

"Someone told me."

"You're not going to tell me who?"

"It's not important", Lindsay says. Her eyes open and close slowly. She yawns.

"Are you getting sleepy?", Edele says.

"I didn't get much sleep last night", Lindsay yawns again.

"Oh. Why not?"

"You weren't there." She begins to drift again, but tries to stay awake, wrapped in Edele's arms.

Edele says nothing in response, just continues caressing Lindsay's thick mass of curls. She turns her head slightly, and kisses Lindsay tenderly on the cheek, near the corner of her mouth.

"Edele, will you introduce me to your sister?", Lindsay says, "I want to meet her."

"Okay. But she's not very talkative.", Edele replies.

Lindsay rolls off of Edele's body. The couch is low, so that she nearly stumbles to her knees as she dismounts.

She rises to her feet. Edele also stands and stretches her limbs before moving to Keavy's bedside.

Lindsay watches as Edele takes her sister's hand into hers, sandwiching it between them. She holds on to it as if her hand is a most precious, delicate thing, but firmly enough so that it doesn't fall. Edele turns, still holding Keavy's hand, and gestures for Lindsay to approach.

"Over there, the other side. So, you can see her more clearly.", Edele says.

Lindsay does this. She looks down upon Edele's sleeping twin, and notices something she hadn't before when she first walked in. Her hair was a rich brown, whereas Edele's was golden blonde

"I lightened my hair", Edele says, as if reading her mind.

Keavy had the same strong jawline and strong chin as Edele. Her eyebrows are plucked thinner and arched higher at the ends. Her features look soft. Her mouth is straight, thin across her face. She looks completely innocent lying there, not much different to how Edele looked when she slept, Lindsay observes. Identical, actually.

"Well, are you going to say 'hello', or are you just going to stare at her?", Edele says.

"Can she hear us?"

"I have no idea. But I like to think she can."

"Um...hello", Lindsay says to Keavy. She looks to Edele for a clue of what to do next.

"Tell her your name", Edele urges.

"My name is...Lindsay. Hi. I'm a friend of Edele's-well, I'm not really a friend friend. More of a special friend", she stammers. "I...I...uh..."

"We're sleeping together, Keavy", Edele blurts, then makes a gesture to Lindsay as if to say 'Why was that so difficult?'.

"Edele. I'm not used to talking to people who don't talk back. I mean, I've visited gravesites, but this...I don't know what to say", Lindsay says.

"Do you want me to move her jaw and make her talk for you?", Edele says, moving her hands towards Keavy's mouth.

"No. Of course not."

"Just talk to her. Say whatever. Just talk. Let her get to know you, like", Edele urges more.

"Are you sure?"

"I do it all the time. Tell her a little joke or something. Tell her how devastingly sexy you find me", Edele says with a devilish smile.

"Keavy", Lindsay leans forward, closer to her ear, "Your sister's full of it, isn't she?"

Edele laughs at the comment.

And Lindsay begins to talk more. She whispers things into Keavy's ear, then glances up mysteriously at Edele.

"What are you saying to her?", Edele asks.

"Nothing you need to know", Lindsay responds, playfully sticking her tongue pass her teeth.

****

Bax sits at his home office desk, papers upon papers strewn out before him. Cigarette butts lining a glass ashtray. He places his elbows on the desktop and rummages his hands frantically through his hair, frustrated.

Nothing made sense. None of the murders seemed connected, yet he knew they were.

Why had Billingsley been chopped to pieces? Morrison would find out the answer soon enough, he hopes.

Ames' role in the case confuses him even further. He had been involved with Landon 'Big Creek' Chee, who seemed to be the head of all of this. Ames knew about Lindsay Armaou, and Chee's brother, Eagle. Yet his assault on her seemed too random, too desperate to have been calculated.

And who was this person who saved her? The same person who 'saved' Hank and Maya Foggleman? A mysterious figure, clothed in black. A face no one could see. Who was it, and what was their connection to it all?

Bax had looked earlier in the Internal Affairs Database online, and found no mention of an Irene Holloman. But the name was familiar. He had heard it before.

Irene Holloman.

Irene...Irene...

Suddenly-pow!-like a fist in the face, it strikes him. He rememembers now. Dear, God.

Bax picks up the handset of his desk phone and immediately begins punching the number of Lindsay's cell phone.

****

Edele brushes Keavy's hair back from her face and kisses her on the cheek and forehead.

"I'm going now, Keavy. But I will be back later.", she says to her twin.

The sight of this, the whole ordeal, causes a mist of tears to 'well-up' in Lindsay's eyes. She wipes them away.

Edele slides and arm around Lindsay's waist, and they quietly leave the room just as a nurse enters to check the machines.

They walk together down the white-and-peach corridors. Edele still has her arm around Lindsay as they walk, holding her with an air of pride.

Lindsay checks her watch. It is almost noon.

"Do you work today?", Edele asks her.

"I'm on call. What about you?"

"No. I don't have anything lined up until next week."

"What about that building?"

"That's been put on hiatus."

Before Lindsay can ask the obvious question, her cell phone chimes. She's relunctant to answer it. It rings a total of seven times before she remembers Mannie and last night. She answers it.

Of course, it isn't Garcia. Maybe she had been dreaming.

"Lindsay, where are you right now?", Bax comes through the line.

"At the hospital", she replies.

"The hospital!?", there is concern in his voice.

"I'm okay, Bax. I'm here visiting a friend. What's up?"

"Irene Holloman is a fake", Bax says simply and bluntly.

"How did you find that out?"

"When you mentioned her name that day. I kept thinking in the back of my mind that it sounded familiar", Bax explains, "So, I went online to the Internal Affairs Web Database. She wasn't listed.

Then, I remembered exactly where I heard the name!

Lindsay, you have to realize that I did a lot of reading up on you before I first contacted you. One such source were the records for a certain case-I believe you know which one I'm talking about. The file included a list of all twelve jurors, and well as information about them. Irene Holloman was on that jury, Lindsay. But Holloman is her married name. Her husband, I believe, worked in insurance. Or maybe real estate, I don't remember."

"So, she was a juror. What's this have to do with Ames?"

"Three guesses who 'baby brother' is", Bax says.

Lindsay is too stunned to respond. Edele notices her expression and gazes, wondering and concerned, at her.

"Bax, thank you so much for telling me this", Lindsay finally says, "Let me get back to you, okay?"

Bax agrees, Lindsay closes her phone.

She turns and collapses into Edele's arms.

"Oh! Just hold me!", she bellows.

"What was that? Is everything okay?", Edele asks, catching her.

"I need a drink. I just want to pass out."

"Then I'll carry you", Edele says, "Come on. I'll take care of you."

****

"So, that's it, yeah?", Edele says.

Together, they lie, embraced, their nude forms partially covered in blue, cotton sheets and beads of sweat.

They had just made love. Now, Lindsay holds onto her lover, and tells her about her ordeal with Ames,

"That's it."

"That's pretty heavy...", Edele replies, softly stroking Lindsay's bare shoulder with the tips of her fingers.

"Yeah, it is. But things like that come with the job", Lindsay says.

"Maybe you should consider getting a new job."

Lindsay kisses her, "I can take of myself. Don't worry."

****

A woman in khaki shorts walks her dog a few feet in of the park bench where Bax Ashburry sits, lighting his cigarette. Children throw bread crumbs out on the grass in hops of luring birds. An elderly lady with an enormous rear-end sits down on the wooden bench next to him.

Finally, Lindsay's car pulls up alongside the Park, about twenty feet from where Bax and the big-butted old lady are sitting.

Bax gets up to meet her just as the driver's door opens.

"What took you so long?", he says once he's near her.

"I had...uh...other engagements", Lindsay says.

"How's your friend?"

"What?" Surprise in her voice.

"At the hospital."

"Oh. Right. That was nothing. They're fine."

"Why all the mystery?", Bax says.

"I'm not being mysterious", Lindsay replies.

"You're being cryptic."

"I'm not being cryptic."

"You're keeping something from me."

"Do you have to know everything about me, Detective?"

He pauses, then says, "Yes."

"No, you don't. I like to keep some things to myself.

Let's go talk to this Irene Holloman, whoever she really is."

She gets behind the wheel, he takes the passenger's seat; pushes it back via a lever beneath the seat to make room for his long legs.

He places his still-lit cigarette between his lips.

"Nope. Not in my car. Put it out", Lindsay demands.

"You're serious", Bax says. It was more of a statement than a query.

"I don't care of you do it elsewhere, but I just don't want my car smelling like an ashtray."

Bax leans foreward and pulls out the built-in ashtray in the dashboard, presses the cigarette head into the bottom until it goes out.

"Thank you", Lindsay says.

"No problem."

"Do you have the address?"

"No. I figured we could wing it. Yes, I have the address.", he puts his palm over he left coat breastpocket, smiles.

"Quiet, you. If I want to ask a stupid question..."

"Right. Sorry. Forgive me. Heard anymore about Garcia?"

"Actually, I think he called me last night", Lindsay says.

"You think?"

"It sounded like him. But I couldn't make out a word he was saying. The connection was so bad."

"Well, at least you know he's okay", Bax says.

"I'm not so sure."

"He'll turn up."

"As long as it's not face-down in Mother Earth, I'm fine with it", Lindsay says.

****

They pull into the paved driveway leading up to the yellow-and-brown stucco house. A flower bed lines the front. There's a tool shed a few feet behind the house, in the backyard. A big, lazy dog who only sits in the frontyard and wags his tongue.

They approach the house, Bax rings the doorbell. A few minutes later, a teenage girl, probably no older than fifteen, answers the door.

"Yeah? What you want?", the girl says.

"Is Irene in?", Bax says.

"Hang on", the girl turns and yells into the den, "MOMMA! MOMMA, COME TO THE DOOR!"

Irene Holloman emerges from the dining area, ready to chastise her daughter for her rude behavior, when she sees Bax's tall figure standing in the doorway.

"Mind your manners next time", she whispers sternly to the teenager, who merely rolls her eyes and heads to her bedroom.

"Teenagers", Irene says. "I'm sorry, but whatever you're selling, sir, I'm not interested."

"Oh, I think you'll be interested in this", Bax says, showing her his badge.

At that moment, Lindsay comes into view behind him.

"Mrs. Holloman, do you know it's a crime to impersonate an I.A. agent?", Bax says.

Irene's face turns from contemptuosness to shock, then to relief. She bows her head.

"So, I've been found out...I was waiting", she says, "Please come in. I'll explain anything you need me to."

****

During the same moment that Bax and Lindsay were headed to Irene Holloman's residence, a group of schoolboys were playing a game of Touch Football in the Park.

Fourteen-year-old Bridger Nelson's friend passes the ball to him. It's high. He jumps to grab it, but misses by a hair as the ball soars over his hand, and lands in the nearby shrubbery.

"I got it!", Bridger says to his friends, running to retrieve the ball.

It had rolled under one of the stickly bushes. He can see it under the prickly leaves. Bridger lies flat on his stomach and stretches an arm, reaching under the bush for ball. He palms it and begins to roll it out with his fingers. As he does, one of the stems trapped under his elbow pops free and scratches his cheek. He grimaces and pushes it aside, annoyed.

Something suddenly catches the corner of his eye, buried under the bushes. A giant worm?

No. It's a human finger! A fucking, dirty, human finger!

Bridger's eyes follow the rest of the body, from foot to-

Wait? Where is the head!?

Horrified, he combat-crawls backwards out from under the bush as fast as he can.

****

Irene graciously fills their cups with hot tea, sets the pot back on the platter. She sits in her upholstered chair, awaiting their questions.

"I guess we can start off by asking you why you approached Detective Armaou under false pretenses", Bax says.

"I didn't mean any harm. Please understand", Irene says.

"Understand what?", Lindsay says.

"Wendy was a good kid. He really was. But he was...disturbed. He started seeing things when he was ten; hearing things that weren't in the room. My parents put him through therapy, the doctors medicated him.

Everything was as close to normal as it could be.

Then...you came along", Irene's eyes move to Lindsay, "I was selected for jury duty on that case, as I'm sure you know, otherwise you wouldn't be here. Wendy read the information I was given about the case. I was gone that day, and hadn't known. He would hound me with questions. Questions about you."

"About me? Why?"

"You were about the same age, then. There are ten years between us, my brother and me. Wendy said you and he went to the same school. He would see you in the halls and be too timid to approach you", Irene says.

In the back of her mind, Lindsay tries to remember back to high school. A boy, a classmate, named Wendell Ames. She only drew blanks; she couldn't remember him. But her inner screen, the one in her mind, drew up faceless images of a small, timid boy, odd, quiet, his self-esteem and heart being slowly eaten away by a schoolboy crush who didn't even know he existed.

A small, scrawny kid with a giant camera hanging around his neck, snapping picures for the school paper or his "srapbook".

"Was he on the school newspaper?", Lindsay asks.

"Yes. For one semester before they asked him to leave."

"Why was he asked to leave?", Bax says.

"Because of what he would do with the pictures. He would make copies and splice them with recreational photos he took of animal. Perverse, disquieting, erotic images. He favorites were 'The Cat People', as he called them.

Our parents took his camera away. My father destroyed his photographs. Burned the negatives. Wendy was furious.

I was already married to Maxwell by then, and my parents were getting on in years. My uncles suggested the Service. He thought it might give him some discipline. But the Military wouldn't except him bases on his mental condition, even though he was taking medication."

Irene stops here to sip her tea. She tells them more about her baby brother, who was now buried somewhere, six feet in the ground.

"The Police Force brought him around. When he was in the Academy, he was much happier than he'd ever been."

"This is a very nice, Irene", Bax breaks in, "But what does this have to do with why you impersonated an Internal Affairs agent?"

"I'm getting to that, Detective Ashburry. Please be patient. If you want to know my reasons, you have to know the whole story.

Our parents dies in a automobie accident, and Wendy came to live with me. That was his room, there." She points towards a closed white door in the hall, just visible beyond the living room.

"What's there now?", Lindsay asks

"Mainly storage, Maxwell's weekend bass-fishing gear, and an old computer", Irene says, then continues, "I became sort of a surogate parent for Wendy. But I gave him more liberties than our parents would have. Even brought him a new camera. It was a hand-held Vivatar, I remember.

I guess I shouldn't have given him so much space because he got bored, irritable. I pleaded with him to wait it out, the Academy was almost over, he would become a full-fledged police officer.

It was his first arrest-I didn't know at the time-who told him about a man called Big Creek and his operation. The man promised Wendy a cut if he did a little inside work for them. Wendy learned that Big Creek was the younger brother of the same man that I and eleven other individuals put away years before. He started visiting him, asking questions, getting information. Big Creek found out. He threatened to kill Wendy. But my brother begged for one more chance to prove his loyalty.

He was to stage a robbery and arrest along with another young man who was to play the criminal. His partner had found out that he was taking dirty money and threatened to report him. So, it was arranged to have him killed during the staged heist.

I don't know the rest of the plan. Or why they were staging a robbery, if they really were. But I do know my brother hadn't expected Detective...eh...what is it?

"Just call me 'Lindsay'. Too many people have difficulty with my last name."

"Lindsay", Irene says, "He hadn't expected you. I knew my brother well, and I know he panicked. That's why he attacked you.

Now, to get to the part you are so eagerly awaiting, Detective Ashburry: I hadn't known any of this first hand. The information came in to me in a letter, written in hand I didn't recognize, the day after Wendy's funeral. No return address, no identification of any sort. It simpy showed up in my mailbox, addressed to 'Irene Ames', my maiden name, instead of my married one.

Then I got a phone call. They never spoke, but I knew they were there. Then the line went dead.

His superiors kept certain information under lock and key. I wanted to, I needed to confirm the letter. So, I asked a friend who worked in Internal Affairs to help me. I minored in acting and drama in college, and with that credential and a perfectly duplicated badge, I was able to access my brother's secret files. And, in fact, everything the ghost writer claimed was true.

Then, I had to talk to you. I don't know why, but a gut-feeling told me you were in danger. Call it 'women's intuition'. I needed to warn you. So, after finding out where you worked, I decided to wait for you. That was the day we met", Irene says, "And I was already in my 'Internal Affairs mode', so, I kept it up, hoping to get close enough to you to win your trust and get your attention. I planned to tell you who I really was. I truly did.

You said something that day about his mother coming to pick up his things...Well, the 'mother' was me. And I had gone on vacation, but the week before. I guess some facts and information got crossed somewhere."

"You also suggested I get a lawyer", Lindsay reminds her.

"I didn't want you to go to jail under-what was that term you used, Detective Ashburry?-'false pretense'."

"Why did you think Lindsay would do time in the slammer?", Bax asks, "How much about that night do you know?"

"All of it", Irene responds, "Including Lindsay's statement. I know she couldn't have helped, being handcuffed, disoriented. But my friend in Internal Affairs told me about how closely some of his colleagues were watching you. I really don't know anything more. Would either of you care for more tea?", Irene says.

"No, thank you. We should really be going", Bax says, standing up.

"Detective, tell me, am I under arrest?", Irene says.

"No. We can keep this one off the books. Have a lovely evening, Irene", Bax says, pulling on his blazer.

Lindsay follows him out the front door. In the driveway she says to him,

"I can see your wheels turning. What are you thinking?"

"If Ames and Raphael Hugo were supposed to stage a robbery, it could only be as a distraction. Divert the rest of the polices' attention away from the real deal. And I, for one, am curious as to what that is", Bax replies.

"And I, for one, agree with you", Lindsay says.

They get into the car.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: CONNECT THE DOTS, PART TWO:

The tall man leans back in the chair, places his size-15 feet on the desk. The other gentleman, the one behind the desk, is obviously insulted. The tall man lights a cigar, all part of his new disguise.

But he doesn't fool the other gentleman, the one in the handsome suit.

"You have a lot of balls coming here, Cyanide", the gentleman says, "Do you have any idea how expendable you are?"

"I know. And I don't care. That's why I have the nerve.",Cyanide replies, "But before we banter on about who owns who, let's consider the generous amount of information I have that I'm sure the FBI would love to hear about."

"You'd be finger-pointing yourself, as well", the gentleman says.

Cyanide blows smoke. "Like I said, I don't care.

"The Chameleon. Man of a Thousand Faces. You're quite remarkable, Cyanide. Or what are you calling yourself now?"

"Terry Newman."

"Why have you gone over Landon's head to the top of the food chain?"

"Landon's been spooked. Your little Indian boy's seen himself a ghost, so he says. He's insane."

"So, what do you expect me to do about it? Hold his hand?"

"Like I said, he's insane. He's threatening to expose to entire operation. And that certainly wouldn't help your retirement."

"Hm. You're supposed to be his right-hand man. How do you think he would feel if he knew you've just betrayed him?"

"I think you have me confused with a brown-noser. I'm no one's lackey. What do you propose to do about your little Indian boy?"

"If what you say is true, watch him. Closely. Then, if he starts to act up,...pacify him", the gentleman.

Cyanide returns his feet to the floor, puts the half-smoked cigar out in the top of the desk, and stands to leave.

****

Some time in the middle of their discussion, her cellphone rings.

"Hello?", Lindsay says.

"Hey, kiddo", Johanssen's voice is timid, shaky.

"Oh, dear. That's not a happy 'hey'", she says, "What's wrong, Peter?"

Johanssen lets out a long, sad sigh at the other end.

"God, I hate this. Come down to the City Park", he replies.

"What's wrong, Peter?", she repeats, more firmly this time.

"It's Mannie. They think they found him. It ain't good news, kiddo."

The conversation ends.

"Something come up?", Bax says from the passenger's seat. He had been eavesdropping.

"We need to make a stop at the park", Lindsay says, her voice monotonous.

****

Black-and-whites are parked on the grass. Along with a coroner's van. Yellow Do-Not-Cross tape runs between two trees. Lindsay spots Peter Johanssen standing in front of it. Behind him, near the bushes, there's a long lump under a large, white sheet.

Bax walks along side her. They reach the scene.

"Peter, tell me that's not Mannie!", Lindsay says, pointing to the sheet.

Johanssen just bows his head. Lindsay suddenly pushes pass him. She bends to crawl under the tap, throws it over her back. Bax follows her.

Before anyone can stop her, she yanks the sheef off. Her partner's lifeless body lies there. The skull has been smashed nearly to peices, as if with a large stone. Only a small piece of skin and flesh, and some dark hair can be seen. The body wears the same clothes as Mannie did the other night. She can see the wolf tattoo peeking out under the dirt on the left hand.

Bax appears behind her. He puts his arms around her shoulders. Lindsay feels limp, and lets him embrace her. He urges her away from the horrific scene.

"God, I'm so sorry, kiddo", Johanssen says.

"Who found the body?", Bax asks Peter.

The words send a chill up Lindsay's spine. She's not accustomedto referring to her partner as 'The Body'.

"Group of young boys were out here playing football", Peter says", One of the kids spotted him. Poor guy was clinging to his mother when she showed up."

"Rosario. Someone needs to tell her...", Lindsay says, her voice soft and monotonous, as if all emotion is fozen in her, "I'll do it."

"Are you sure?", Bax says.

"I'm her friend. I'll do it."

"Why was Emmanuel Garcia murdered?", Bax says. It was a rhetorical question, more of a thought spoken aloud.

"Maybe we'll find out when we hear the tape", Johanssen says

"Tape? What tape?", Lindsay looks at him.

"There was a mini tape recorder with him, tape still in it. We sent it to Lab."

"Good. I'd like to hear what's on it", Lindsay says.

****

Bax waits inside the car, watching sympathetically through the passenger window as Lindsay speaks to Rosario Garcia. Her back is turned to him, and he can't hear what's being said, but the sudden, grief-stricken reaction of the late Emmanuel Garcia's wife gives him the gist of it.

Rosario nearly collapses in the door frame, and lets loose a devastating wail.

****

"I want that son of a bitch's head, Baxter", Lindsay states, matter-of-factly on the way back to the park.

"First, we have to find out who 'that son of a bitch' is", Bax replies, "Then you can have him drawn and quartered for all I care."

"Their murders are connected, Mannie and Billingsley, and the connection is whatever is on that tape. That night he called me from the pub, he said something about a 'story' Joe Jack had told him. We were supposed to discuss it the next day."

"Do you know what it was about?"

"No. But it's on that tape, I know that."

****

The lab technician is so preoccupied with his work, he he fails at first to notice the tall figure entering the room.

Before he can make heads or tails of the situation, he's dead, his neck snapped three-hundred-and-sixty degrees.

The intruder takes the tape recorder and smashes it pieces against the corner of the lab counter. He pockets the tape and walks out of the laboratory.

****

Lindsay trods up the stairs to her apartment. She takes the door key out of her pocket, but doesn't insert it into the lock. Instead, she checks first to see if the knob will turn. It does.

Inside, Edele naps on the living room sofa. She lies on her stomach, an arm and a leg hanging off the side.

Lindsay quietly shuts the door behind her.

****

The man is awakened by a presence in his bedroom. His wife doesn't sense anything and sleeps peacefully by his side.

He gathers his bearing, sees the tall man leaning against the far wall.

"You're treading on thin ice, Bayard", the man says.

"Here is not the place to discuss my antics", Cyanide replies, gesturing towards the man's sleeping wife, "Meet me in the greenhouse in ten minutes."

****

Fifteen minutes later, the man appears by the side of the greenhouse. He enters the warm, glass building.

"I said ten minutes, not fifteen", Cyanide says.

"I had to relieve my bowels, if you don't mind. Who are you to dictate time to me? I could have you arrested for trespassing on private property!", the owner of the house replies.

"Don't make threats at me, you two-faced prick!", Cyanide says.

His appearance is changed dramatically from the last time the other man in the greenhouse saw him. He wears a blond wig and fake beard. His nose seems larger, wider, and somehow he appears smaller than usual. Then the other man realizes Bayard is wearing oversized clothes.

Cyanide reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tiny Altoids tin. He opens it, and takes out a small object.

He waves the mini casette tape at the other man.

"As of now, I own you. Make one move against me and this tape gets sent anonymously to press. I assume I don't have to tell you what's on it", Cyanide states.

"Wh-? How did you get that?", he is shocked.

"As you said, I'm The Chameleon. I blend in everywhere, despite my height. But the how is not important. What is important and apparent is that I, quite literally, have your future in my hands."

"You are an enormous bastard, Cyanide Aurelius Bayard. What do you want?"

The young lady in a coma, in Room 214 at the Hospital, what is her name?"

"I don't know, and that's the truth."

"But you'll find out for me", Cyanide says.

"I'll see what I can do. Why is it so important to you?"

"My reasons are my own. Incidentally, what about that nancy and the Narc recruited by Homicide to help on the case?"

"The fruit is merely a lackey. He does whatever he is told. And the female shouldn't be any trouble as long as she stays within her jurisdiction", the gentleman replies.

"And if she steps out of it? Her partner is dead, murdered. Seems very likely that she would, for personal reasons."

"I imagine I'd have you to thank for that. Leave it to me", the gentleman replies.

"Don't make me regret it, Deaqon."

Cyanide turns and walks out of the greenhouse, leaving Detective Sergeant Deaqon Morrison ample room to shudder, despite the heat.

****

Edele awakens on the couch to the sound of dishes clinking together in the kitchen sink. She lifts her head.

"Lindsay...?"

No reply. Edele rises from the couch. Lindsay stands over the kitchen sink, washing plates and glasses. Edele gets a Coke from the fridge, pops the tab. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Lindsay is scrubbing the plates rather vigorously, tossing them into the opposite sink.

And she's shaking.

"Lindsay...?", Edele says again.

The sound of her voice breaks Lindsay out of her trance. She drops the glass and the cloth, and starts to cry.

Edele comes to her side, puts her arms around her, and Lindsay turns around in them, so that her face is buried in Edele's shoulder.

"Hey. What's wrong?", Edele says.

****

"Dammit!"

Detective Bax Ashburry crumples the paper he's been writing notes on for the past two hours, and tosses it into the small bin near the computer desk.

He has been over and over and over all the notes and information, and none of it made a lick of sense. There were too many 'holes', too many 'leads' that went nowhere, or were suddenly cut off.

The tape, according to Lindsay, may unlock the mystery behind Emmanuel Garcia's murder, behind Joe Jack Billingsley's murder. Bax had a hunch it would reveal a lot more.

He picks up his cellphone and dials the number direct to the Lab.

After about seven rings, someone finally answers.

"I need to speak with Steve Dorsey", he says.

"Oh. Sir, I'm afraid you can't. Who is calling?", the female on the other end replies.

"This is Detective Ashburry with the police department, and why can't I speak with Dorsey?"

"Were you not informed?"

"Informed of what?"

"Dorsey is dead, sir. A janitor found his body about a half hour ago."

"What??", Bax can't believe his ears, "Wha-?! Okay, was there a tape recorder or a cassette in the lab with him when he was found?"

"Cassette? Hang on. Let me check", the woman comes back after a few mintues, "No, sir", she says, "Nothing of the sort."

"Damn! Shit!"

"Is something the matter, sir?"

"Yes. Afraid so.What is your name, Miss?"

"Sharon"

"Stay by the phone, Sharon. I may need to contact you later", Bax says.

"Yes, sir."

Bax cuts the conversation. He glances at the clock on the wall. Two AM. No time for sleeping yet.

He dials another number.

****

Just as he pours his third glass of scotch, his cellphone rings from somewhere inside his coat, which hangs on the rack by the front door. He retrieves the phone, scotch still in hand.

"Yes?"

"How long do you it would take to skin a man, Detective?", says the man on the other end, the agitation and alcohol evident in his speech.

"Landon. Where have you been hiding? I've been concerned", Deaqon replies.

"Do not patronize I'm sick of your bullshit, Cheif"

"Okay, what is this about, then, Landon?"

"I believe you know full well what 'this' is about, Cheif. I don't like being watched like some common child. You think I don't notice, you're a fool. Tell your man to back off or you'll both feel the sharp end of a bayonet."

"Sober up, Landon. And don't call this number again". Deagon hangs up.

"Who is calling you at this hour, dear?"

Janine Morisson suddenly appears in the night robe at the top of the stairs.

"No one, sweets. Just some poor, angry drunk dialing a wrong number. Go back to bed. I'll be up in a minute", he replies.

She notices the half-empty bottle of Aberlou sitting on the coffee table, and remains at the top of stairs, relunctant. Finally, she turns back to the bedroom.

In his bedroom, Andrew is wide awake, and has just heard his father's half of the entire conversation.

****

Lindsay lies with her head on Edele's lap on the sofa. Images flicker across the television screen, one after the othe in rapid succession as Edele channel surfs with the remote.

"Wait. Go back. I want to see what that was", Lindsay says.

Edele switches the channels in the opposite direction until Lindsay tells her to stop.

"Okay. It's not what I thought it was. Keep going", Lindsay says.

The phone on the endtable next to the sofa rings. Edele answers.

"It's two in the morning. What the hell do you want?"

"Baby, don't be rude", Lindsay says.

"Ah, I'm sorry. I thought I was calling a Ms. Armaou. I must have misdialed", Bax replies over the line.

"It's for you.", Edele hands the phone to Lindsay.

"Hello?...Oh, hi, Bax", Lindsay says into the reciever.

"Lindsay, there you are. Sorry about the time, but it's deadly important."

"What is it?"

"El tapo has gone missing-o."

"Say that again."

"The tape has gone missing", Bax says.

Lindsay springs upright as if yanked by pulleys.

"What?!"

"I just called Steven Dorsey from the lab for an update. Unfortunately, Mr. Dorsey was unable to answer on account of being dead."

"Dead? Oh. Wow. This just keeps getting better!", Lindsay replies sardonically.

"I'm going to call the lab again in a few hours to see if I can discover anything else. As Deaqon would say, 'this is an unfortunate turn of events'. Contact me later. I'll give you the heads up."

"I wish it were better news."

"Me, too. Get some sleep."

"You do the same."

"By the way, who was the lovely Irish lass that answered the telephone?", Bax says.

"Goodnight, Bax", Lindsay says.

****

Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE MEMORY REMAINS

Bax staggers into the precinct around nine AM. His eyes are sunken and glazed over from lack of sleep. The coarse, bristle hairs of his unshaven beard are growing in and cover the lower half of his face.

"Boy, you look like forty miles of bad train wreck", comments fellow Detective Ryan 'Patch' Williams.

Patch had only one eye. The other empty socket remained hidden behind a black, silk, pirate-style eyepatch. Hence the nickname.

Deaqon Morrison enters the precinct shortly after Bax, carrying his briefcase and a single manila envelope under his arm. His appearance and manner raise no clue to the night before.

He motions for Ashburry to follow him into his office.

"Have you been getting any sleep lately, Baxter? You look a state", Deaqon says, closing the office door behind them.

He doesn't wait for Bax to respond before handing him the envelope.

"What's this?", Bax says.

"Information. Everything you need to know about Landon Chee alias 'Big Creek', including current address."

"How did you get all of this?"

"You didn't think I was sitting on my ass all the while you were busting yours, did you? Let's just say I've been doing some deep digging. He's yours if you want him", Deaqon says, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'll order a coffee. Would you care for anything?"

"No, thanks", Bax carries the new information with him out of the office.

As he leaves, Morrison picks up the telephone and begins to dial a number to order a coffee.

****

Lindsay is unconscious to the world. She doesn't hear the knocking at the door.

Edele does and answers it.

A man stands in the hall. Tall, probably early thirties, his beard growing on his face. He's holding manila envelope in his right hand.

"Is Detective Armaou in?", he says.

"She's sleeping", Edele responds, matter-of-factly.

"Perhaps you could wake her. I need to speak with her", Bax says.

"Perhaps you could come back later."

"I'm afraid I have to speak with her now. It's urgent." Bax makes an attempt to push pass her.

She steps in from of him, blocking the entrance even further.

"I said Lindsay is sleeping. You try that again, and I'll toss your arse over that balcony."

This ornery young woman is beginning to irritate him, whoever she is. They were this close to catching Chee, and he had to talk to Lindsay. The woman blocking the doorway does not understand the importance of the matter.

And, apparently, poor Bax doesn't comprehend how serious she really is, for the second after he manages to get by her and into the apartment, he is being half-carried, half-dragged out the den entrance to the verandah.

Lindsay is awakened and runs into the den following the sound of someone screaming. She sees Edele leaning over the railing, holding someone by the legs. She runs out onto the balcony, sees Bax hanging upside down.

"WHOA! Stop! What on Earth are you doing, Edele!?", Lindsay grabs her by the arm, "Let him back up, you psycho nut!"

Edele relents and pulls Bax back over the railing. He regains his footing with some assistance.

"I told him I was going to do it...", Edele mutters.

"Edele, go...watch television or something!", Lindsay says sternly; she turns to Bax, "Are you okay?"

"I've just had my entire life flash before my eyes, but otherwise I'm fine", Bax says, brushing off his shirt, "She is incredibly strong."

"Yes. And she means what she says. Come in. I'll get you something. Coffee? Tea? A razor?"

"You like it? I'm going for the Grisly Adams look", he runs his fingers over his beard, "Uh,...so, I take it that was the friendly young woman I spoke with breifly on the phone around two this morning?"

"Let's drop the subject of the crazy lady in the den for the time being", Lindsay says, "Take a seat somewhere inside."

"Okay. But could I trouble you for a crucifix and some holy water, perhaps?

They enter the den from the balcony. Edele lies on the sofa, reading the TV Weekly. Lindsay passes her a glance, but she doesn't notice. Or pretends not to.

Bax does his best to ignore the tension, though he is reluctant to sit anywhere near Edele and remains standing by the wall.

"I'll make some coffee", Lindsay says, "Edele,...will you join me in the kitchen?"

Edele doesn't move, pretends to be engrossed in the television schedule.

"Edele, bring your butt in the kitchen!", Lindsay demands this time.

Bax makes a low whistle under his breath as Edele throws the TV Weekly to the floor and practically storms past Lindsay, who gives Bax a look that says, 'Don't make it any worse'.

She takes a deep breath and follows Edele, who sits at the kitchen table like a child waiting to be lectured by a parent for misbehavior, glancing at her bare feet.

Lindsay doesn't say a word to her, shuts the door and goes about preparing the coffee.

Once the liquid begins to brew in the pot, Lindsay speaks, calmly, but the shock is unhidden in her voice,

"You're insane, you know that? At first, I thought, 'No. She's just misunderstood'. But I was wrong. You're a certifiable wack-job."

"Is there a point to this?", Edele says.

"You could've killed him!"

"I've fallen from higher than that, and I was fine. He wouldn't have died."

"You probably wouldn't have died because you're a freak, but normal people would not be 'fine' if you tossed them over a seven story balcony."

"Did you bring me in here just to call me names?"

"I don't understand you."

"What's your point?"

"Maybe...we should spend some time apart for a while. I'm under enough pressure as it is, and being around you is not helping right now", Lindsay says.

"Sorry I'm so fucking stressful", Edele replies sardonically.

"Don't take it personally", Lindsay says, knowing that is exactly what Edele is doing, "It will give us more time to concentrate on our jobs."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn't."

"Darn it, Edele! Don't you understand that I can't think when I'm around you? I spend so much tine worrying about you, and wondering what the hell kind of crazy thing you're going to do next!"

"You make it sound like you think I'm going to swallow a bullet", Edele says.

"Well, how do I know you won't?", Lindsay says.

"I'm not that fucking stupid, Lindsay."

"I hope not."

"I told that arse you were sleeping, and if he tried to barge in again, I would throw him over the balcony. I was just exercising my point."

"Would you have dropped him?"

"Probably."

"You're insane. What am I going to do with you, Edele?"

"Don't worry about me."

****

Andrew Morrison keeps a photograph in his wallet. The picture is old, circa 1965, faded. The man in the photo is one Curtis George, and he has Andrew's eyes. And his smile if Andrew ever smiled anyway.

Deaqon doesn't know about the photo. He's had it since he was eleven. Hasn't taken it out to look at it since he was fifteen, but he knows it's there. He has the face memorized.

Curtis George. His real father.

****

The tall man sits in the corner of the diner, sipping beer and nursing a Monte Cristo sandwich. He ignores the packet of chips. People glance at him, only because of his height.

Or it might be the shorts.

Today he is Vladimir Chenkov, Russian basketball player, shipped to America to play for it's NBA. Some latex and well placed make-up makes him appear twenty years younger.

The kind waitress checks on him for the fifth time since he's been there, is everything all right, sir? He nods and pretend to speak little English. His Russian is passable, and the waitress had never been outside the city, so she is easily fooled.

He asks for the check. There is business to tend to.

****

Paul the Medical Examiner pulls on a pair of latex gloves, prepares his tools, and goes to work on the Emmanuel Gualterio Garcia. He studies the corpse laid on the metal table slowly and meticulously, making vocal notes of all his finding into a small tape-recorder.

"The skull is crushed, most likely with a giant rock. Severe damage to frontal, parietal, and lacrimal bones, as well as the occipital. Cause of death is rather obvious. Bruising on the chest and arms, signs of a struggle. Both acromioclavicular joints are shattered. A few scratches that may or may not have been caused by the bushes the victim was found under, these are on the hands..."

Paul examines the hands. He scrapes out the dirt under the fingernails with a small metal tool.

He notices something else beneath the fingernails. Dried blood and tiny particles of skin. Garcia fought his attacker. Further investigation reveals more skin between the molars.

Fought him tooth and nail. Literally. Good for you, chap.

Paul collects the samples They had the DNA. Now all they needed was the match.

****

"So, I tried calling you back, but your line was busy", Bax says, sipping coffee.

"Oh, it wasn't busy. Edele yanked the jack out of the wall so I wouldn't be disturbed", Lindsay says. "She really does mean well, Bax."

The two of them sit together, chatting in the den. Edele has gone into the bedroom and shut the door.

"She seems a little overprotective of you", Bax says.

Lindsay sits on the sofa. Every five minutes, she glances over her shoulder towards the bedroom door.

"But I imagine that it goes in both directions", Bax says.

Lindsay is paying attention to the bedroom door and doesn't hear him. She turns back to him,

"Hm?"

"Nevermind. I want to show you this", he reaches into his inner coatpocket and pulls out a piece of paper, folded into four quarters.

He hands the paper to Lindsay. She opens it.

"I figured you could do the honors. Get your team in there and take the guy down. Or whatever it is you do."

"Where did you get this?"

"Morrison did a little digging."

"Did he dig up a warrant?"

Bax reaches into the same pocket, hands over the court-issued warrant.

"You've got the Judge's blessing. I'd like to tag along. As an observer, of course."

"Of course."

****

Lindsay and the rest of the Narcotics team-including three newbies-suit up, check their weapons. Bax is given a vest and a gun, and the rest of the team are relieved to learn he was once a Narc himself.

Lindsay gives the orders and they pile into the bullet-proof van.

Within a short time, they unload and pounce upon the house believed to belong to Landon 'Big Creek' Chee.

Instead, what they find is a frightened elderly woman, and an overweight day nurse, who is now screaming in hysterics.

Neither one of them had ever heard of any Landon Chee.

****

Lindsay checks and double-checks the address.

"I don't understand it. Why would Detective Morrison send us on a wild goose chase?"

"It's possible the information got crossed somewhere", Bax says.

"We almost gave that poor woman a heart-attack."

"Which one?", says one of the newbies. The others laugh.

"You know, now is not the time for jokes. We screwed up.", Lindsay says to them.

"We didn't screw up. We followed orders", says Adrian Shibata defiantley, "If anyone screwed up, it was the homo."

"That's enough, Adrian", says another one of the new guys. Jackson 'Cougar' Knoppfler steps in front of Adrian and looks him hard in the eyes, "He's DIC: Detective In Charge. And she's your team captain. And you'll regard them as such. Got it?"

Adrian doesn't respond. Cougar moves in just inches from his face.

"I said, 'Got it?'", he growls.

"Yeah. I got it", Adrian replies, staring Cougar square in the eyes.

"Everybody into the van. Let's get back to headquarters", Lindsay says, "Move!"

Cougar grabs Adrian by the collar of his shirt, pulls him towards the van, and practically throws him in.

"That's your Momma talkin', boy!"

****

It had been a miserable day. First the 'argument' with Edele. Then the information mix-up. Then she had to spend hours explaining the situation to the precinct captain and the Cheif. Apologizing for frightening an old woman.

Then Bax jumped in and took the blame for everything. He didn't have to. It wasn't his fault, either. Now he's been assigned to desk duty until further notice by his own captain.

She unlocks the door to her apartment.

"Edele! Baby, are you here?", she calls out.

There is no answer. Lindsay calls out her name again, looks around the apartment. She sees something moving outside on the verandah.

Edele is standing on the railing, watching the street below.

Lindsay opens the sliding glass door slowly. Edele doesn't seem to notice she's there.

"Edele...", she says, softly, "What are you doing? Get down from there."

Edele doesn't respond. Lindaay moves in closer to the railing. She reaches out and gently places a hand on Edele's leg.

"Come on. You're freaking me out", Lindsay says, "Come inside."

"She's never going to wake up, Lindsay."

"She might."

"No, it's hopeless. Doctors said so", Edele says.

"When?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it does. Did they tell you this today?"

Edele shakes her head, "They told me last year."

"The doctors could be wrong. It's happened bef-"

"They're suing me for the right to put her to death."

"What!?", Lindsay is stunned, "They can't do that!"

"They're doing it, anyway", Edele says.

"When did you find this out?"

"Couple of weeks ago."

"Why didn't you say anything? This is not right."

"Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do, Lindsay!". Edele snaps, turning her head towards Lindsay.

"Scream at me. That always helps", Lindsay replies sarcastically.

"I'm sorry."

"Please come inside."

Edele turns and jumps down onto the verandah. Lindsay puts an arm around her shoulder and gently nudges her into the apartment.

****

Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: RAT POKER

Around two A.M., Lindsay awakens due to thirst. Out of habit, she reaches over to Edele's side of the bed and discovers she's not there.

Muffled audio sounds and a flickering light coming from the den solve the mystery.

Lindsay gets out of bed, and walks into the den.

Edele lies on the couch, sound asleep, the TV remote resting on her stomach. The TV runs some cheesy late-night B-movie. A giant, radioactive spider terrorizes a hapless city in black-and-white.

Lindsay picks up the remote, turns the TV off, and places the remote on top of the set. She leans forward and kisses Edele mear the corner of her mouth, covers her with the blanket draped over the back of the couch, then heads to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

****

Later in the morning, at ten-thirty, Deaqon shows up at Bax's desk.

"Come on . Let's go", he says.

"Uh,...in case you haven't heard, I've been reassigned to desk duty", Bax replies.

"Not anymore. Get your things."

Bax rises from his chair, grabs his jacket, and follows Deaqon out of the precinct.

****

"Where are we going exactly?", Bax says, as they reach the parking lot.

"We're going to play poker", Deaqon replies.

"I'm sorry...?"

"Leave everything to me. Get in the car."

They climb into Deaqon's car. He sticks the key in the ignition, starts the engine.

"You ever played poker before, Baxter?"

"Can't say I have."

"Well, you're in for a treat."

Deaqon puts the car in REVERSE and backs out of the lot. He shifts to DRIVE and heads down the highway.

****

Lindsay places a call to her captain. He answers after the fifth ring.

"This is Pat Dougan."

"Pat, it's Lindsay. I need to request some more time off", Lindsay says.

"How much?"

"A week, starting today."

"This is quite a short notice, Armaou. May I ask what for?", Dougan says.

"Personal reason. I'd rather not get into it."

"Understandable. Alright, I'll put Johanssen in charge until you get back. He's the most qualified. See you in a week. But, next time, let me know in advance", Dougan says.

"Okay. Thanks, Captain Dougan."

****

Deaqon pulls up and stops a few feet behind an old car garage. There are no other vehicles around, and they can't be seen from the street. This particular area of the city was the most dangerous. Especially if you were a cop.

Civilians generally tried to avoid it.

Deaqon turns the engine off, pulls the key out of the ignition.

"Now, before we go in, I should warn you, take anything these men tell you with a grain of salt", he says to Bax.

"Why, Deaq? You afraid I'm gonna find out your dirty, little secrets?", Bax quips.

"Yeah. I don't want to have to put a bullet in you", Deaqon replies, straight-faced.

Bax is silent, then laughs and uneasy laugh, "That's not funny, dude."

Deaqon opens his door and gets out of the car. He walks up to the garage door, knocks three times.

After a few minutes, the door is lifted from the inside. A young, thuggish-looking man stands in the opening. He doesn't appear any older than twenty, twenty-two at the most. He's donned ina red bandana, and a pair of oversized jeans that hang well past his butt, revealing a pair of boxers.

Deagon says a few words to him. The boy glances in the direction of Bax, who is now standing outside the car by the passenger door. Deaqon whispers something else to him; the boy nods and turns to go back inside.

Bax joins Deaqon by the garage opening.

"What did you say to him?"

"Just told him to let the others know we were here."

The boy returns and signals for them to enter.

There are four guys in total inside the car garage. All of the them look like they would kill you in a moment's notice if you looked at the funny. As well as a few old cars and car parts.

Three of them sit around a fold-out table, dealing cards and smoking cigarettes. The first one returns to his previous spot in the corner, his back turned to them. They stare hard at Bax, sizing him up.

"Who's he?", one of them asks.

"This is Baxter", Deaqon replies, "He'll be our fifth."

"Looks like a fuckin' patsy."

The others laugh.

"Park your carcass", he says to Bax, "You play?"

"Actually, no", Bax replies, taking one of the empty chairs, "I'm a card virgin."

He lights a cigarette. Suddenly, a flash of silver appears just inches from his face, and he loses his cigarette. There's a sharp thud, and Bax looks at his chair to see his Winston lying there, still burning, with a switchblade sticking it to the plastic between his legs.

The men, all but Deaqon, laugh at his expense.

"Bit twitchy, ain't he?"

"Gentlemen, can a we a play a game or what?", Deaqon says, sitting in the last empty chair.

The knife and cigarette are cleared away, the cards are shuffled.

Each player places an ante before the cards are dealt face down. The one who had the switchblade places the first bet, and the game begins.

After a few hours a few packs of cigarettes, the game ends, and Deaqon takes his winnings.

"Well, gentlemen, it's been fun", he says.

But one of the thugs is quite unhappy with losing. He pulls a bowie knife and lunges across the table. Deaqon grabs the hand holding the knife and twists it away from him. He takes the thug by the other arm and twists it behind his back, turning him so that he faces the other direction. He drops the knife.

The others rise to defend their friend, but Bax pulls his weapon and points it directly at the one in the middle, the one who called him a 'patsy'.

"This a quite a predicament, isn't it, boys?", Deaqon says, "No need to get hostile, though."

He released the one that attacked him, tells Bax to holster his gun.

"Now, let's start over", Deaqon says, "And behave like civilized gentlemen. I want to ask a question."

They put their knives on the table and say nothing, a sign that they oblige.

"Good. Now,...where is Danny?", Deaqon asks.

No response.

"Allow me to repeat the question. Where...is...Danny?"

The boy who met them outside speaks for the first time since they arrived,

"Danny's not here."

"Where did he go?"

The boy shrugs.

"He's in serious trouble, boys. I'm sure none of you want to be charged as an accessory. Especially, you, T, with your probation hearing in a week", Deaqon says.

"He's staying at his gran's. She lives on Sixth", T replies.

"Thank you for you cooperation, gentlemen. Have a good day."

The two detectives leave the garage.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: BIG CREEK AND BLACK MARSH

"Alright", Edele says, coming into the bedroom.

"Alright what?", Lindsay asks.

"Alright, I'll go."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. For how long?"

"We can stay up there until Sunday."

"Okay. I have to go see Keavy now", Edele says.

"When will you be back?"

"I don't know. Whenever."

"Edele, you're not going to anything stupid, are you?", Lindsay says.

"Now, why would you ask that?", Edele says.

"Because you have that 'I'm-going-to-do-something-crazy' look about you", Lindsay says.

"That's not fair. I told you I'm not crazy."

"I didn't say you were crazy. I said you looked like you were going to do something crazy. There's a difference."

"But you act like you don't trust me to be alone. You wouldn't be happy unless I was locked in a cage."

"Now that's not fair", Lindsay says, "I never even indicated such a thing!"

"Yes you did."

"When?"

"When you...Whatever. Nevermind. Forget it."

"Don't start an argument with me if you can't finish it. When did I say I wanted to lock you in a cage?"

"You didn't. Can I just go visit my sister now?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatever", Lindsay says.

Edele leaves the room and the apartment, leaving Lindsay to wonder if there isn't some truth to her accusations. Maybe she didn't trust Edele to be alone. At least not for right now.
Maybe she should follow her.

****
They were all dead. The Raimi Brothers, Deputy Wendell G. Ames, Walt Kidd, Joe Jack Billingsley, Leland Quincy, Hamdan 'Danny' bin Rahmal al-Bashar. All tied with Landon 'Big Creek' Chee. All dead.
The first two fell prey to a mysterious vigilante with a penchant for breaking bones in several places.
Of the second two, it was ruled Kidd had accidentally killed himself. Billingsley's murder was still unsolved.
The last two had a fatal encounter with Cyanide Bayard, a chameleon-like hitman without an inkling of remorse. His charm was just part of the sinister package.
He picks up his pay for killing Danny at First General Bank, using the identity Ralph Randolph Wilkins. He makes charming conversation with the female teller.
The teller has no idea that this 'nice gentleman' wouldn't have a second thought about putting her six feet under.
Just as Detective Seargent Deaqon Morrison pointed out, Cyanide Aurelius Bayard is an enormous bastard. And also quite remarkable.

He steps out into the street, and almost stops in his tracks.
The woman passing across the street, the one who walks like she's got a score to settle, he knows her face.

****
'Please give me something to break!', the Shadow Walker thinks to herself.
The night has fallen. A blanket of black covers the city.
Everything is quiet. Too quiet. Is everybody asleep?
Something.
Yes, something is happening.
She follows the pull, moving so fast across the rooftops, she is little more than a mere blur.
Finally, she stops.
There it is.
An unfortunate woman battling for her purse.
An even more unfortunate purse-snatcher.

'Not part of the agenda' , a voice says to her, a voice from inside her head.

'Hush!', she replies in thought.

'The crime is petty.'

'I need this.'

'Not yet. Wait. In time.'

The Shadow Walker waits relunctantly. The purse-snatcher suddenly pulls a gun from under his coat.
One shot. Directly to the woman's chest. Close range.

****
"Lindsay, you're being ridiculous", she says aloud to herself in her car.

It is dark out. And she lost track of Edele long ago. Probably because she wasn't even trying.
She decides to head back, embarrassed and ashamed at herself.
Her windows are rolled down to let in the cool night breeze. She hears the gunshot. One block away.
Suddenly, flashbacks from ten years ago play in her mind. The picture changes. Everything's current. And it's Edele she sees, lying in the street, blood pooling around her shattered skull.
Lindsay becomes irrational, and picks up speed.

But when she arrives, it's not Edele she sees.
There's a woman, shot in the heart, lying in the street.
And a figure, almost invisible against the shadows, standing over a man.
She thinks it's a man.
Lindsay's heart seems to jump into her throat. She's seen the shadowy figure before. She opens her glove compartment, pulls out a 9 millimeter normally used for back-up. She leaps from the car.
The figure turns and vanishes. She chases after it.

"You're not getting away this time! I'm going to find out who you are!", she calls out after it.

She hears a sound. Footsteps. Very close by. She turns to an alley just in time to see the figure dart across. Lindsay runs down the alley, hoping to catch it.
She witnesses the figure literally swing from lamppost onto the rooftop of another tall building.
She stands there for a second, looking upwards, astonished. She looks around for a way up.
The only way up is from inside.
Lindsay kicks open the double doors with all her strength, they give immediately.
The few workers in the building are suprised and baffled to see her, brandishing a gun, bolting urgently up the stairs. She moves so quickly, they're left to just stare up after her.
She reaches the rooftop, opens the door and runs out.
The figure isn't there. She searches quietly, slowly.
No sign.
They couldn't just...
Suddenly, she looks up, and sees the figure, crouched on top of the structure that held the door to the roof. She points her 9 mm at it.

"Don't move!"

The figure suddenly leaps high over her head, and lands, ten feet away, on the edge of the roof.
Before Lindsay can utter the command again, the figure jumps off the building, into the streets below.
Lindsay runs to the edge. She kneels and places her hands on the edge to get a better look.
The Shadow Walker is gone.

****
She doesn't know the time when Edele finally walks into the bedroom.

"Lindsay, are you asleep?"

"Hm. No", Lindsay replies from beneath the covers.

Edele removes her shoes, socks, and jeans, and climbs into the bed. She lies on her back with her head behind her head, while Lindsay lies on her stomach.

"I'm sorry", Edele says.

"It's okay. How's your sister?"

"Same. But I'm not sure if that's good or bad."

Lindsay manuevers onto her side, so that she's facing Edele and slides closer. She wraps one arm across Edele's breastbone.

"You still want to go to that cabin?", Lindsay asks.

"Yeah."

"Then let's get some sleep."

*****

Police scan the area around the two bodies. It is very late, and there are no civilians around to crowd and gawk.
The woman's and man's forms are covered with white sheets.
Yellow police tape.
The whole lot.
Bax checks his wristwatch. The sun will be creeping up in a few hours.

"Who called it in?", he asks a female beat officer.

"Anonymous, sir."

"Female, sir. Very...unique."

"Unique, how?"

"Her voice...it had European inflections in it. Why do you ask, sir?"

"You brought it up. Thank you, Officer Stiles."

She nods and leaves to gather more evidence.
Bax pulls out his cellphone and makes a call.

****
The next morning is spent packing luggage and food, and loading it into the car.
Lindsay drives.

"How long does it take to get there?", Edele says as they leave out of the city.

"About two hours", Lindsay replies, "Thank you for deciding to come along. It wouldn't have been as fun without you."

"Hm. I'm going to sleep for a while", Edele leans her head against the back of a car seat and closes her eyes.

"Oh, before you drift off into the land of nod, will you reach back there and get me a Coke?"

"Don't you think it's a bit early for sugar?"

"I need the caffeine. I didn't get any coffee this morning. Please?"

Edele crawls over the back of the seat to reach for the cooler, set on the floorboards.
Lindsay sneaks a glance from the rearview mirror.

"Stop staring at my [ar$e]. You're objectifying me."

"Oh, whatever. You do the same thing. Do all of your jeans have paint stains and sawdust on them?"

"Well, seeing as I'm a contractor, "Edele returns to her seat and hands Lindsay the Coke, "yes."

"You don't have any nice clothes?"

"I left the Prada at home", Edele says.

"You have a home?"

Edele gives her a steeley glance out of the corner of her eyes, "Funny."

Lindsay pulls the tab on her Coke, takes a sip, "Yuck. It's still warm."

****

About one hour and forty-five minutes later, they reach Black Marsh.
The area is thick with trees, their bark so dark and stained, they look almost black. And their tops are so dense, very little light peeks through.

"Okay. Problem. I can't remember if I'm supposed to turn right or left", Lindsay says.

Edele opens her eyes, "You're kidding, right?"

"Well, it's been a while since I drove down here."

Edele looks out her window, "This place is creepy. It reminds me of a bad horror movie. Tell me again why you wanted to come here..."

"It's tranquil."

"It's creepy."

"You're so negative."

"If we get attacked by cannibalistic zombies in hockey masks, they're getting you first."

"You mean you wouldn't sacrifice yourself to protect me?"

"Not if you get us lost. God! What's that smell!?" Edele nose wrinkles up.

"Your upper lip."

"Hardy-har."

"Actually it's the swamps. It'll go away in a while."

"It's creepy and putrid out here. Great choice for a vacation spot, there, Linds.", Edele comments, sardonically.

"Go back to sleep. I don't feel like listening to your sarcasm. Sleep."

"What time is it, anyway?"

Lindsay checks her wristwatch, "Eight-twenty-five."

"Why don't you set your dashboard clock?"

"Haven't had time. Okay, I think we're almost there. Left. It was left."

The trees began to dwindle, thin out, the smell of the swamps dissipated. A field comes into veiw, and a little ways, a small log cabin can be seen. The grass surrounding it is tall, unclipped. A lot of it is dried out.

"This is it?", Lindsay says.

"Lovely."

"Hush."

"What? What did I say? All I said was 'lovely'!"

"It was your tone. It really is nice, Edele. Just wait until we get up there."

A few hundred or so feet later, the car comes to stop.

"We'll have to walk the rest of the way. The grass is too high, we might hit something sharp. And I don't want to puncture a tire this far out", Lindsay says.

The climb out of the car. Lindsay unlocks the trunk. She and Edele grab the luggage.

"What did you pack, an anvil?", Edele says.

"Oh, I think that's my hair and make-up stuff."

"Why do you need that? We're staying at a cabin in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Who are you trying to impress?"

"Well, you."

"You don't need to impress me."

"Aw, thanks", Lindsay pecks her on the cheek, "Okay, let's get the rest of this stuff inside."

****
"The young lady dies first. Single bullet, straight to the aortic valve. The gentleman died shortly after. Now, we can assume, and we're probably correct, that he was the young lady's killer. Probably meant to rob her or something. But who killed him?", the ME says, "Cause of death is...his lungs were crushed by his ow ribcage, to be blunt."

"Did they have identification on them?", Deaqon asks no one in particular.

"The woman is Marianne Pike. There wasn't any identification on the second body. Just a cigarette lighter and a half-eated roll of breath mints", Bax replies.

"Looks like we have another John Doe. What about Ms. Pike's family; have they been informed?"

"Her sister has been notified. She's coming down this afternoon to identify the body."

A young, uniformed officer enters the room. All three men turn and look.

"Ah,...Sorry for the interruption. This was just delivered anonymously", he said.

He hands Bax a thin manila envelope. Bax opens it. There are three eight-by-ten, black-and-white, glossy photographs inside. He pulls one out, looks at it.

"Has anyone else seen these?", he asks the officer.

"Not that I know of", the officer replies.

He steals a glance at the bodies. His face cringes up.

"That is all, Officer Perkins. You can go", Deaqon says.

Perkins leaves the mortuary.

"So, may I ask what the photos are of?", Deaqon inquires.

"Not what. Who. Takes a look at these", Bax hands him the photographs.

"This is the El Chico Diner, near where the bodies were found. About a block."

"Look at the lower left corners of the second and third pictures."

"Isn't that Detective Armaou? Hm. Funny how she always seems to near the scene of the crime", Deaqon says.

"What are you insinuating, Deaq?"

"I don't insinuate, Baxter."

"Look at her face. She's looking at something...or someone. Looking for them. I think she was chasing them. Maybe saw the second killer and went after him when he ran."

"You think she saw the crime being committed?"

"I do, yes. And I think she was the anonymous caller."

"Get in touch with her."

"I've tried. I haven't been able to reach her all morning", Bax says.

"Then contact her captain. He might know where she is."

"I just hope she's okay. It doesn't seem like her to pull a disappearing act.
I'm going to go smoke."

****
The cabin is more spacious inside than it appears on the outside, Edele notices. Nicer, too.
She carries most of the luggage, including the cooler (In fact, all Lindsay carries is her purse.)

"This is ridiculous! You could help, you know!", Edele says.

"But I get so turned on watching your muscles flex, sweetie", Lindsay replies in a sing-song tone, almost sarcastic.

"Whatever. Where should I put this stuff?"

"Oh, just set them anywhere."

Edele drops everything on the floor. The cooler hits the carpeted floor with a soft thud. Lindsay rolls her eyes.

"Sometimes I wonder how your mother put up with you", Lindsay says.

"One day at a time. Where's the television?"

"No television."

"No television!?? What am I supposed to do for entertainment??"

"Look out that window and enjoy the beauties of nature. It's a good for you", Lindsay says.

"There's a weird vine growing outside with bugs crawling on it."

"Pessimism, thy name is Edele Lynch."

"I'm bored."

"We just got here!"

"I'm still bored."

"You could go wrestle a pack of wolves. That sounds like something you'd like to do", Lindsay says.

Now it's Edele's turn to roll her eyes. She sits down on the flannel couch placed in the middle of the den area, props one leg up and leans against the armrest.
Lindsay sits down, lays against her.
Outside, crickets bray, a shrill, rapid sound.

"What the hell kind of animal makes that noise??", Edele says.

"Crickets, babe. Or maybe tree frogs."

"It's creepy and putrid, and there are 'crickets or tree frogs' making weird noises."

"Oh, shut up already! It's not that bad!", Lindsay says, "What can I do to make you feel better?"

Edele leers at her with one cocked eyebrow and a sly half-grin.

"Oh, you have a dirty mind...", Lindsay says.

Though she makes no objection.

****
Skin. Sweat. Sex. And afterwards...
Something seems wrong.
Lindsay feels almost empty. She lies there, naked and awake, beneath cotton sheets while Edele slumbers on beside her.
Something had been missing. She thinks, perhaps, she had felt it fading away for a long time. Now it seems all but completely gone.
How did they meet? She brought Edele a Coke. They talked. They kissed, went back to her apartment that very day. Edele had a nightmare, Lindsay remembers that.
Practically moved in the next day.
That was pretty damned fast.
Come to think of it, she has no idea where Edele lives. Didn't know, doesn't know hardly anything about her at all. She reveals no more awake than she does asleep. Emotionally challenged at times, might as well be in a coma herself.
Angry at other times.
Lindsay lies there, naked and awake, stewing these things over in her mind.
Why had she wanted to come to the cabin. Edele didn't want to be here. She hated it.
She reaches the conclusion that they have nothing in common, save sex and tragedy.
Maybe it's time to stop trying to understand.
Suddenly, Edele jolts awake from another bad dream, and Lindsay comforts her. Just like that first night.
Wait the week out. See what happens.

****
No dancing shadows this time. No mist. Only light. A white hall of light that seems to go on forever. Voices, soft and murmuring, no words really being said.
Lindsay feels a pull, something causing her to walk down the lighted corridor.
Finally, she reaches a room, empty save for one chair. Edele sits in it. Completely still and staring forward.
Blank and a statue.
Lindsay calls to her, but she doesn't respond.

"She can't hear you. She isn't there", a voice, familiar yet unfamiliar.

Lindsay turns and sees a girl sitting on the edge of a hospital bed. She hadn't been there before. She's brunette, her face is like Edele's.

"Keavy", Lindsay says, half to the girl, half to herself.

Keavy smiles, but her eyes are full of sadness.

Lindsay turns back to Edele. But the chair is gone. In it's place are two girls, twins, no older than ten, playing and laughing. This causes Lindsay to smile.
Then everything goes dark. When the light returns, the vision is changed.
Edele is alone, years older. Her hair is still brown. There's a blood stain on her shirt. She is screaming and thrashing and breaking everything in sight. A lamp crashes against the floor. A chair shatters a mirror. Paintings are torn from the walls.
Finally, she ceases her tyrade and drops to her knees and holds her head in her hands.
The sorrow surrounding her is devastating.
The light vanishes again. And appears again.
Edele sits in the chair, just as she had in the beginning.
Lindsay walks over to her. Or at least she appears to because the next thing she is kneeling in front of her.

"Edele."

Suddenly, Edele's head snaps up and her eyes are black and her face is cold.

Lindsay opens her eyes against the dark. She's awake, and the sun has since gone to bed. Memories of the dream fade the more she wakes. She hears a light clatter. Edele, the present day Edele, is in the kitchenette, making a sandwich.

****
Bax stands outside the mortuary, tries Lindsay's cell again. No answer. Frustrated, he hangs up, sticks the phone in his pocket.

"Any luck?", Morrison joins him in the hall.

Bax shakes his head.

"Perhaps she took a vacation", Deaqon suggests.

"Why would she take a vacation in the middle of an investigation?"

"Why indeed."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, Baxter. Nothing at all. I'm in the mood for a drink. You game?"

Bax shrugs, follows Deaqon out of the building.
A drink seems like a good idea.

****
As they enter the local watering hole, Bax spots a familiar face. It's Pat Dougan, Lindsay's precinct captain. He sits at the bat, nursing a lager.
Dougan notices the two gentlemen come in. He immediately recognizes one of them to be Deaqon Morrison. The other one he has trouble placing.
They both sidle up to the empty stools next to him.

"Patrick Dougan?", the one he couldn't place says.

Dougan nods.

"Detective Ashburry. I'm working with Lindsay."

"Oh, right. Of course. How are you?", Dougan says.

"I'm fine. Listen, I'm actually having trouble contacting Lindsay. Have you heard anything from her?"

"Ah, she called yesterday asking for a week off. I gave it to her. But I haven't heard spoken to her today."

"Did she tell you why she needed a week off?"

"Said it was personal, and I didn't press. Now, if you gentlemen would excuse me, I have to get back to the office. Good seeing you again, Detective."

Dougan pays his tab and leaves the bar.

"Well, that answers one of your questions", Deaqon says.

"Why would she do that without notifying me?"

"Maybe she forgot, Deaqon says, but Bax can tell by his tone that's not what he thinks.

He doesn't press. Bax places some money on the bat, and gets up to leave.

"Now where are you heading off to?", Deaqon says.

"Lindsay's apartment."

****
At the cabin, Lindsay sits across the table and watches Edele eat her sandwich. Edele feels herself being watched and looks up.

"Did you want one?", she says.

"Lindsay shakes her head, continues to stare.

Edele now chews slowly, looking at Lindsay as if she's waiting for her permission to swallow.
"What?"

"Do you love me?", Lindsay says.

"Lindsay, I'm eating."

Lindsay cocks an eyebrow.

"Okay, that came out wrong", Edele says, "What's this about?"

"Nothing. Nevermind."

"Well, to answer your question, yes, I do love you." Edele continues to eat her sandwich.

"We need to talk", Lindsay says.

"Uh oh."

"Edele, I'm serious."

"Okay. Fine. What do you want to talk about?"

"Us."

"Have I done something wrong again?"

"I know nothing about you", Lindsay says.

"You know plenty about me."

"I don't know where you live, you favorite color..."

"Green."

"What?"

"My favorite color is green."

"Oh."

"Anything else?"

"Don't do that!"

"What am I doing?", Edele says.

"I can never tell if you're being serious or sarcastic."

"I just want to eat my sandwich."

"I'm trying to have a serious conversation with you, and all you care about is your stupid sandwich."

"I happen to really like chicken."

"Edele,...please..."

She puts the sandwich back on the plate.

"I'm sorry. Let's talk", she says.

"Do you realize we dated for a week before I even knew your last name?", Lindsay says.

"You never asked."

"No. I never did. That's sort of my point, I guess. We've never really talked about anything. What did you before you were a contractor?"

"I was a drug dealer", Edele replies nonchalantly, as if it was the same thing as a dog-walker or waitress, or some other menial job.

Lindsay sits in stunned silence for a minute, then speaks,

"Don't f**k with me, Edele. Especially since you know what I do for a living.", she says.

"Who says I am? And I've never heard you curse before."

"Well, that was just a really crappy thing to say!"

"And there you go again."

"Were you really a...a drug dealer?"

"Yes. Before I met you."

"Why didn't you tell me??"

"You never asked", Edele says again.

"Well, I mean, what happened?", Lindsay asks.

"You really want to know the whole story?"

"Yes."

"I got tired of it. So, I quit. But, apparently, I didn't know about this 'lifelong contract' I was in. The guy I 'worked for' didn't like the fact I was leaving. Nobody left him. If you did, you died. So, he arranged to have me...you know, one night. Only, he didn't know I had a twin. Do you want me to go any further?", Edele says.

"No. I think I got it", Lindsay says, "What was the guy's name?"

"I don't remember. I only heard it a few times. Big Mountain, or River, or something like that.

Big Creek, Lindsay thinks to herself. And it becomes apparent that Edele isn't pulling her leg because she's never mentioned him by name to her.
Edele used to work for Big Creek. It hit her like a ton of bricks, as the old saying goes.

"I've got one for you. Who's cabin is this?", Edele says.

"A friend's."

"Is it his?"

"His who?"

"You know who."

Lindsay doens't answer. Instead, she looks down at her knees.

"Thought so", Edele says, "And when were you planning on telling me this was your dead boyfriend's cabin?"

"Would it have mattered?", Lindsay says.

"Maybe."

"It was...ours. It's mine now, really. I still come here when I want to be alone. I thought, maybe, if we got out of the city, we could have some time to ourselves to just relax and...talk."

"Hm.", is all Edele replies.

"I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid you'd get angry, and we'd fight. We always fight."

"No, we don't."

"Yes, we do. We always fight because you're a stubborn ass, and I'm under a lot of pressure", Lindsay says, "Just fight and screw."

"We're not fighting or screwing right now", Edele says.

"True."

"Do you still want to talk?"

"No. I'm satisfied for now. I think I'm going to just lay on the couch for a while", Lindsay says, "Finish your sandwich."

"I'm not hungry anymore. I think the mayonnaise has fermitted."

Edele tossed the rest of her sandwich into the trash, and joins Lindsay on the couch. Lindsay leans into her.
She would press for more about Big Creek later. Right now, she was content to just lie there.
Besides, she was tired.

"By the way", Lindsay says, "mine is blue."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: "THERE'S A SHADOW JUST BEHIND ME"

Bax trots up the stairs to Lindsay's apartment. It's late in the evening. Luckily, the doorman was still on duty and in a well enough mood to let him into the building. He knocks on her door. There's no answer, so he knocks a little harder. Maybe she was in the shower. Maybe she had simply turned her cellphone off; no business calls during vacation. Her hardline had been disconnected, as well. She could be in bed. Screw it. She kept something from him. He was going to wake her.
Knock a little harder. Still no answer.

"Excuse me", a voice says behind him. Well, he'd woken up somebody. "Obviously, she doesn't want to talk to you. Come back in the morning."
The older gentleman dons a nice, silk robe. Snow white hair combed back, but sticking out in places. He leans of on a carved wooden cane. Bax shows him his police badge. Another door opens, next one down from the old gents apartment.

"She's not there. She left", the woman says. There is another female standing behind her.

"When did she leave?", Bax asks the woman.

"This morning, around six-six thirty. She asked us to hold her mail."

"Where was she going?"

"Some cabin somewhere."

"Alone or with someone?"

"With someone."

"She left with that sexy contractor, didn't she? The one that's always over", the woman behind her says; her accent is thick and English.

"You think she's sexy?", says the first to her girlfriend. The girlfriend shrugs, ashamed of nothing.

"She's ornery, is what she is", the old gent pipes up.

Bax clears his throat loudly to get their attention.

"Ah, right. Thank you. Go on back to bed. Sorry to wake you", he says.

"What's this about, anyway?", asks the old gent.

"An investigation. Good night, sir. Ladies", he nods towards them.

Bax leaves the apartment complex.

****
They sit together on the old couch. Lindsay is reading and Edele is gazing up at the ceiling, sighing heavily.

"Will you stop that? It's distracting", Lindsay says.

"I'm bored!"

"Read a book."

"I don't like to read."

"Reading is fundamental."

Edele looks at Lindsay indifferently. "You're fundamental", she says, returning her gaze to the ceiling.

"That made absolutely no sense, Edele."

"Let's do it."

"No."

Edele waits a few minutes. "How 'bout now?"

"No."

"Now?"

"No!"

"What are you reading, anyway?"

"'We Were The Mulvaneys' by Joyce Carol Oates."

"'We Were The Mulvaneys'?"

"That's what it says."

"Who were the Mulvaneys?"

"It's a surname. It's about a family in the seventies."

"We Were The Mulvaneys", Edele repeats, a hint of sarcasm in her tone, overemphasizing the middle syllable of 'Mulvaneys'. Mulvaneys.

"That's right."

"Why aren't they the Mulvaneys anymore?"

"I'm just going to read my book and ignore you now."

I'm bored!", Edele whines again.

Lindsay reaches over and pats her on the knee, not looking up from her book.

"What time is it?", Edele says.

"About eleven-thirty."

"How do you know?"

"I have magical time-telling powers."

"Why must you be such a smart-arse?"

"It's a hard habit to break", Lindsay says.

Edele stands, stretches, walks toward the front door. "I'm going outside."

"Okay. Have fun."

"Yeah, right."

Edele steps outside onto the small wooden porch. It's old, weather-worn, and the planks creak with every step.
d**n creaky porch.
The night air is cool, crickets sing their shrill chorus.
d**n crickets.
Edele slaps a mosquito from her neck, then her arm.
d**n mosquitos.
Still, all in all, the sky is clear, and it's a nice night. She lowers herself and sits on the edge of the porch. It creaks and moans the entire way.
d**n creaky porch.
Behind her, the door opens. Lindsay joins her on the porch.

"Did you finish your book?", Edele says.

"No. I marked my page", Lindsay yawns and stretches, "I think I'm ready for
bed. How 'bout you?"

"I'm going to stay out here a little longer. And die of boredom. That's what's going to happen. I'm going to die of boredom. If these mosquitos don't suck me dry first!", she slaps one away.

"Okay, well, I'll get the shovel and bury you in the morning."

"I'm going to die of boredom and you're being sarcastic", Edele says.

Lindsay kisses her, stands, and heads back inside. "Good night, my little ray of sunshine."

Edele sits on the porch and grumbles to herself.
Bored. Bored. So bored.
Suddenly, there's movement in the trees, a rustling in the shrubbery. Edele stands and peers outward, trying to see what it is. She jumps off the porch and slowly moves closer to the woods.
It comes out from the underbrush. Ears pointed back, eyes gleaming in the moonlight. Edele kneels, lowers her upper body. The grey wolf saunters over to her, sniffs. It allows her to scratch it behind the ears.

"Hello. Are you alone, like?"

The animal licks her hand. Something else grabs it's attention and it bounds off back on the direction of the trees. The grey wolf turns and looks back at her, then vanishes into the trees again.
Edele goes back inside the cabin.

****
During the conversation about Joyce Carol Oates novels, and boredom. During the encounter with the gentle grey wolf, Bax Ashburry was miles away at his home computer, logging onto the police website.
He scans through old files, court documents, personal files, reports of awards, accomedations. reports of arrests, graduation records. Everything on record concerning Lindsay Armaou.
Anything that mentions a cabin.
Cabin, cabin, cabin...

"Excuse me? Have you seen my boyfriend?", Jason comes up behind him, "He was supposed to come home, but I'm not sure where he is. He's been replaced by an overworked robot who's obsessed with a female Narcotics officer."

"I'm not obsessed. I'm concerned."

"You've been pouring over her files since you met her. Give her some space, Bax. Stay out of it."

Bax glares at him, blood pooling to the surface of his face, reddening it, "Need I remind you what happened the last time I 'stayed out of it'?!"

"I didn't mean...You just seem...Well, it makes me wonder how gay you really are...", Jason says, sheepishly, eyes downward.

"Say what? Oh, Jay, that's stupid. I'm not...I'm not in love with her. You've been watching too much daytime talk T.V.", he stands, embraces his life partner of the past eleven years. "I'm gay. I am extremely gay."

"Oh, you're a fag, all right."

"I'm ashamed of nothing."

****
Some time in the middle of the night, Lindsay had joined Edele on the couch. Edele, on the other hand, couldn't remember even falling asleep anywhere.
Lindsay's hair-which seemed to go everywhere-tickles her nose. She reaches up to scratch it and the movement awakens the sleeping beauty.

"You're a lumpy bed", Lindsay says, sleepily.

"Hey. No one told you to come lay on top of me."

Lindsay doesn't respond, just lays her head back down on Edele's torso.

"Did Lee keep any tools around here?", Edele asks out of the blue.

"Tools?"

"Y'know, those things people use to fix stuff with."

"I know what tools are, smarty-pants. There might be a hammer or something around. Why?"

"I think I'm going to fix that porch."

"Ah. See? There's something for you to do."

"Woo."

"Do you want breakfast?"

"Not right now."

"What did you do after I went in last night?"

"Met a wolf", Edele says.

"A wolf? Really?"

"Yeah."

"You're stomach's making a 'glurp-glurp' sound."

"Is it now?"

"Do you want breakfast?", Lindsay says again.

"Sure."

****
Bax awakens and sees Deaqon Morrison standing at the foot of his bed, fully dressed.

"Deaqon, what the hell...?"

"Get your trousers on, kid. We've got a lot of work to do."

Bax crawls out of bed, careful not to wake Jason, picks his trousers up off the floor and pulls them on.
Ten minutes later, he's on the front patio, sipping coffee with Deaqon and smoking a cigarette.

"Christ. You do that this early in the morning?", Deaqon says.

"Yeah. Jay's been trying to get me to quit."

"Can't say I blame him. Were you able to locate Armaou?"

"No. Not exactly. She's staying at some cabin."

"Well, I've got news for you. 'Big Creek', Landon Chee, we found him."

"You're certain this time?"

"One-hundred percent. Got himself a little hidey-hole down in Black Marsh."

"Where'd you learn this?", Bax says.

"He's got a generator out there, installed about four months ago by Central Light, Gas, and Water. And guess who they sent out there?"

"No clue."

"A Mr. Joseph Jackson Billingsley, Junior."

"'Junior'? Billingsley had a son? That's not mentioned anywhere in his
criminal records."

"Most likely he wasn't aware of him. Junior goes by another name anyway. Joe Lewis. The resemblance is uncanny. It's Joe Jack's boy, all right. Anyhow, Junior comes storming into the station because a certain 'client' of his hasn't, refused to pay up. And he's hot, angry, I mean, demanding some blue-boys take a ride down there and haul the bastard in. This large, beefy young man, whining a like kid who's just had his favorite bike stolen by a schoolyard bully. Finally, one of the female officers calms him down, and he recounts everything. The report arrived on my desk early this morning."

"So, is the kid aware his father is dead?"

"You know, I didn't ask. After the physical appearance, and hot temper, the resemblance ends. Junior seemed to have more education. Snappier dresser, too. No older than twenty-five, I'd say. And a little fitter, too, maybe. It's doubtful the two of them even knew about each other. or much cared, either way."

Bax stubs out his cigarette in the bottom of his empty coffee mug.

"Are you sure he's still out there?"

"I have no reason not to be."

"Where'd you say it was again?"

"Black Marsh."

"Black Marsh...Black Marsh...", Bax repeats this softly to himself. He stands up quickly, goes inside.

"What is it, Baxter?", Deaqon asks, following him.

Bax sits in front of his home computer, turns it on, logs onto the police website.

"Black Marsh...Cabin...", he mutters.

"Is everything all right? What are you mumbling about?"

"I found her. I found Lindsay. This is from the transcript of her witness testimony ten years ago at the trial of her boyfriend's murder. In it, she mentions to the prosecutor that they would stay together from time to time at a cabin", Bax says, almost excitedly, "It's in Black Marsh. She's staying there right now!"

"Didn't Landon Chee's older brother commit that murder?"

"Yes, he did."

"Small world."

"That's why I could reach her. There's no signal out there. There's practically nothing out there, but trees and swampland."

"Wonder what made her run out there now."

"I don't know. I'll ask her when I get there." Bax throws on a shirt he grabs from a basket in the laundry room.

About this time, Jason wakes up and walks downstairs into the living room, wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

"S**t, Bax. You could've told me we had company", he says.

"It was sort of unexpected", Bax replies.

"Don't mind me, Mr. Crawford. I'll be leaving soon. Just stopped by to say good
morning to Baxter.", Deaqon says.

"Well, have you eaten breakfast?", Jason says.

"Nothing for me. I had to turn down my wife's own scrambled eggs this morning. Janine wouldn't let me hear the end of it if she found out I ate somebody else's cooking."

Well, you can work on a empty stomach if that is your wont. But Bax doesn't leave this house without eating a full breakfast. I won't hear of it. And-Bax, you've been smoking already this morning, haven't you? Why must you do that first thing in the morning. I refuse to kiss a man who's mouth tastes like a tailpipe."

"I'll go brush my teeth", Bax says.

"You'll have to wait for me. I need a shower", Jason says, leaving the den.

"Well, I guess I'll be going also, "Deaqon says, "Joe Jack Junior will be personally escorting me to Chee's whereabouts this evening. I'll see you soon, Baxter."

He leaves Ashburry's home. Baxter heads upstairs to the bathroom.

****
Later that afternoon, at the cabin in Black Marsh, Lindsay is washing the dishes from the morning meal. Edele had found a hammer, old but sturdy, and a box of nails under the kitchen sink of all places, and was now outside, dismantling the old porch.
Lindsay finishes up in the kitchen. She opens the front door, but doesn't step outside as there is no more porch.

"How's it coming?"

"This wood is useless", Edele says, "You got termites."

"Okay. So what do we use for a porch?", Lindsay says.

"You got any cement blocks?"

"Cement blocks??"

"Just something temporary."

"Edele, we're not white trash."

"You could always jump. Unless you're going to tell me loverboy kept some good lumber handy."

"I don't think so. Might be a chainsaw somewhere. Or a bread knife if you what to cut down a tree and make some yourself."

Edele looks for a minute as if she's actually considering this.

"Edele, it was a joke", Lindsay says.

"Yeah. I probably should have thought this through a bit more..."

"You think?", Lindsay says, sarcastically.

Just then, Lindsay notices someone approaching from a distance.
Bax Ashburry's face comes into focus. Lindsay is surprised to see him. Edele just glares.

"Baxter?", Lindsay says.

"Uh, hello. Sorry about the surprise visit", he says.

"Well, um, would you like to come in?"

"Only if that's okay with Edele, here. Although, I noticed there aren't any balconies."

"I have a hammer", Edele says, dryly.

"Ignore her. It's my cabin. I'm inviting you in. But...you'll have to climb, I'm afraid", Lindsay says.

"No problemo." Bax grabs the inside of the door frame, throws one leg over and swings upward into the doorway.
Several minutes later, Lindsay is brewing coffee. She pours him a cup.

"So, you just vanished. Couldn't get in touch with you. I didn't know where you were.", Bax says.

"That was sort of the whole point", Lindsay says, sharply.

Bax looks confused and hurt.

"I mean, I didn't want anyone to find me", Lindsay says, softer, "I just wanted to get away."

"I do understand. I guess I have been a tad overbearing. But I have my reasons. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why didn't you give your name when you called in to report that crime?"

Lindsay is stunned for a minute, then just shrugs. "I don't know. I didn't want anymore connections to this. I was just trying to disassociate myself from everything. I guess. That's why I came out here."

"And what about Giggles out there? What does she think of this place?"

"To be honest, I think she'll be glad once we go home."

"Does she have any problems with the fact that it belonged to your late boyfriend?", Bax says.

"You know, you've really got to stop reading my personal files, Baxter", Lindsay says.

"I have no life."

"I'm a normal person, Baxter. Not some mystery that needs to be investigated. I'm me, not my files. You have a question, you come and ask me. Leave my records alone, okay? Edele, on the other had, that one is a mystery."

"No argument there. She doesn't like me very much, does she?"

Lindsay laughs a little. "She's jealous."

"Uh, she knows I'm a Dorothy, right?"

"I think I've told her. Not that it would matter."

"Lindsay, there's something else I need to tell you. Landon Chee, he's here. He's hiding out in Black Marsh."

Her laugh fades. "You're joking."

"I'm afraid not. You've got a weapon?"

"Of course."

"I doubt he'll come after you. He probably doesn't even know you're here. But just in case...At any rate, he'll be brought downtown very soon. Maybe he can finally tie up some loose ends."

"Baxter, there's something I need to tell you, as well. But we need to move out of earshot. Come into the den."

He follows her to the den. Lindsay stops and sits on the couch. He sits down next to her. She leans in, speaks softly.
She's beautiful, no doubt, but he's more interested in how she does her make-up, than making any moves.

"Edele told me something...rather surprising yesterday", she begins, "She told me she used to deal narcotics. And she worked for Big Creek."

"Now you're the one who's joking", Bax says.

"I'm afraid not."

"Should we talk to her? Ask her if-"

"No! No, Baxter. I don't want her involved in this, you understand? So, no questions. No investigating her past. Promise me."

"All right. I promise. But one day I may have to question her."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

****
Deaqon sits in the passenger seat of a patrol car, kevlar vest worn over his button-down dress shirt. The patrol car is parked about ten feet from Landon "Big Creek" Chee's cabin hideaway, hidden in the underbrush.
He checks his Glock. One bullet. It's all he needs.

"You ready to go, Detective?", says the young uniformed officer in the driver seat.

"Let's pay Mr. Chee a visit", Deaqon responds.

They emerge from the car, the officer walks a few steps ahead of Deaqon, hand resting on the butt of his pistol.
He reaches up to knock.
The bullet hits his stomach from somwhere in the middle of the door. He doubles over. A second later, Deaqon spies the small, secret window in the door's panel.

"Clever boy", he says under his breath. He moves quickly out of the way before the next bullet is fired.
****

Bax is since gone, having gotten a call from Deaqon. Lindsay stands in the kitchen, checking her magnum. following proper procedure. making sure the barrel is clean, etcetera, etcetera...
Outside, Edele is still fiddling with the old, worn-out planks from the porch. If she had her tools, she could build a new one in a few hours.

"Hey, weirdo", Lindsay calls from the kitchen, "Do you want lunch?"

"Huh? Okay. Sure."

Lindsay sets her weapon on the table, walks to the den. She opens the door, stands in the frame.

"What do you want?"

"Huh?"

"For lunch."

"Oh. I don't...care, really", Edele says, her attention elsewhere. She searches the area around where the porch used to be, seemingly confused.

"Edele...? Edele...? Edele!"

Edele looks up.

"What are you doing?", Lindsay says.

"Nothing."

"Why are you being so weird?"

"I lost the hammer."

"It's on the ground behind you, genius...Listen, I'll make lunch. You come in whenever you're finished doing...whatever it is that you're doing.", Lindsay says.

Edele just nods.

Lindsay remains for a few more minutes, watching Edele. Chalks it up to normal, bizarre Edele behavoir, shrugs.

"By the way, I don't care how you do it, but you're going to fix that porch before we leave", she says before heading back to the kitchen.

Edele follows behind her. Lindsay turns around, surprised.

"Okay. How did you get up here so fast?"

Edele just smiles and shrugs. "I have to pee". She heads toward the loo.

"Don't dismantle the toilet!", Lindsay calls after her.
****
Bax waits in the back-up squad car; after acquiring his driver's permission, he lights a cigarette.

"Something isn't right", Bax says, half to himself.

"Detective Morrison asked us to remain behind until further notice. If something happens, they'll radio in, sir", the accompanying officer says.

"Something still isn't right", Bax says, "I'm going."

"But, sir..."

Bax is out of the car and running before the officer can finish his plea.
****
He's a few feet from the site when a bullet whizzes an inch past his ear.

"Shit!" He hits the ground, draws his weapon.

He spots Deaqon crouched behind a thick tree trunk, a gun in his belt and another in his right hand, and, staying low, makes his way to him.

"What are you doing here?", Deaqon says, his voice a harsh whisper.

"I had a hunch."

"You should tell your hunches to keep quiet, Baxter. They'll be the death
of you."

"Why didn't you call for back-up?"

Deaqon doesn't respond. He quickly moves to another tree, closer, on the other side of the cabin. A bullet barely misses his leg.

"Where the hell is he firing from?", Bax asks, still behind the first tree.

"There's a small hole in the door, close to the frame."

Bax peers at the door of the cabin, then he spots it: a small opening in the door, just big enough for the barrel of the rifle to poke through.

"There has to a peep hole somewhere. How else can he see us?", Bax says, voice low.

"He doesn't have to. It's the sunlight. Our feet cast shadows under the door. He sees the movement, he knows exactly where we are. So, don't move around too much."

"How do you kn-Wait. He's drawn the barrel back in. He's reloading." Bax sets to move.

"Baxter, don't do anything irrational."

Too late. Bax is already charging. He leaps into the air and brings the door crashing off its hinges in one swift, hard kick, sandwiching Landon "Big Creek" Chee between it and the linoleum floor. He points his gun downward at him.

"Let go off the weapon! Let it go!", he barks at him.

Big Creek is stunned, but won't be defeated. He attempts to raise the rifle and fire it-one-handed-at Bax.
But before he can, a bullet is fired into his skull. Chee's body goes limp, his eye go dead.
Bax turns and sees Deaqon standing there, Glock still smoking. Chest rising and falling in hard, but steady breaths.

"You all right, Baxter?"

"I'm all right, Deaq. You saved my ass, man. Thanks."

"What are friends for?", Deaqon says. Then he turns his attention to the
uniformed officer lying in the underbrush bleeding from his legs, "You all right, as well, Officer Crowley?"

"I'll be fine, sir."
****

"Grilled cheese and Spaghettios?", Edele says, sitting down at the table for lunch, "What are we, five?"

"I eat on a cop's salary, Edele. And if you're going to live with me, so will you", Lindsay says, spooning the O-shaped pasta into her mouth.

"You can't afford better than this?"

"Oh, you're absolutely right. Would Your Excellency prefer the suckling pig, or the roasted duck?"

"Okay, that came out wrong. I meant they should pay you more."

"I see no point in complaining about things. Let's just eat."

A few minutes of silence pass between them as they eat. Lindsay continually checks the clock over Edele's shoulder.

"What are you waiting on?", Edele says.

"What?"

"You keep checking the clock. What are you waiting on?"

"News from Baxter."

"I don't like him."

"You don't like anybody", Lindsay says.

"That's not true. I like you."

"Yes, but you don't like anyone who talks to me, and that's a problem."

Edele shrugs. Then suddenly says, "You're gonna leave me."

"What? Wait. Where is this coming from?"

"You're gonna leave me", Edele repeats.

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"Because you are."

"Shut up, Edele."

****
"How's Crowley?", Bax says.

"A little shook-up mostly, but he'll be fine", Deagon says, "We're done
here, Baxter. Why don't you go on home?"

"I've got some things to take care of. You?"

"The same. I'll have to smooth things over with the Captain. He'll want a play-by-play, you know how it is."

"What will you tell him?"

"Exactly what happened. The suspect attempted to shoot you. I shot him first", Deaqon says.

"Do you need me to stick around for a statement?"

"No. I'll handle it. You handle yours."

"All right. Call me if I'm needed."

"That probably won't be necessary. Oh, by the way, did you ever find your Narcotics friend?"

For some reason, Bax doesn't feel right telling Deaqon the whole truth.

"She's on vacation."

Deaqon makes no response and the two men go their separate ways.

****
Edele is out in the yard again when he walks up.

"Hello, Edele. Can I speak with Lindsay?"

"I don't know. Can you?"

"Well, I thought perhaps I should ask you first. So we can avoid any incidents."

"Are you worried, Bax? Afraid I might go 'looney' on you again?"

"You know. I'm thinking maybe we got off on the wrong foot."

"Oh, we definitely did."

"You know you have no reason to be jealous of me."

"Who says I'm jealous?"

Bax attempts to end the confrontation there, but Edele steps in front of him.

"I asked you a question. Who says I'm jealous?"

"Edele, stop it!", Lindsay calls from the doorway.

"You act like it", Bax says to Edele.

"Oh, I just like to make you squirm."

"I said stop. Both of you", Lindsay says.

"Me? What did I do?", Bax says to Lindsay.

"You're giving her a reason. Come in. Edele, let him pass."

Edele steps aside. Lindsay cuts her a 'I'll-deal-with-you-later' look.

"He's dead. Deaqon shot him", Bax says, once inside, "He's dead, but it's not over. There's still a whole lot of [sh*t] to deal with. Investigation's still full of holes."

"I see. What will you do in the meantime?"

"Go home. Take a shower. Wait by the phone."

"Ask Jason for a back rub while you're at it."

"That would be nice."

"I'm sorry my girlfriend's such an [a$s]."

"Don't apologize for her. It's not your fault," Bax says, "I'll win her over
yet."

Lindsay smiles. "Can I get you anything?"

"No. I'm gonna go. Just came by to fill you in. Take care."

"Appreciate it. You do the same."

Bax leaves, nodding to Edele as he passes by.

****
"He really wants you to like him", Lindsay says, some time after Bax's departure. She and Edele sit together in the den.

"Why is he so desparate to win my approval?"

"Will you just...at least make an effort to be civil? For me?"

"For you, I guess I can try."

"Thank you. Now, do you want to tell me what's really going on?"

"There's nothing going on."

"I know you hate it here."

"It's not that bad. You get used to it."

"I thought, maybe, it would bring some sort of peace."

"Peace? You think we need peace?", Edele says.

"No. I think you do."

"What about you? You always ask me about my problems, but you're not exactly open about yours."

"Yes, I am", Lindsay says.

"That's the lie of the century."

"What? I am! Ask me anything, and I'll be completely honest."

"Okay. Did you choose this place because you'd rather hang on to your past, than spend the present with me?"

"No. I told you why I wanted to come here. Besides, I wanted you here."

"Only because you think I'm mentally unstable and you need to babysit
me."

"That's not true."

"It is true! You keep feeding me with plastic utensils!"

"I let you see that hammer."

"You cringed when I picked it up."

"You just seem...distraught and bitter....More than usual. I thought I was being helpful. I don't know any other way. I'm sorry."

"I told you I was fine, didn't I?"

"Your lips say you're fine, but your actions say differently."

"I'm dealing with a lot of [sh*t] right now, Lindsay."

"Then let me help you."

"It's not your job. Will you just be my girlfriend, and not my mother? I already have one of those."

"All right, Edele. I'll try."

****

Some time in the middle of the night, Lindsay is jolted awake by a loud, thunderous bang. It shakes the room. The noise repeats itself in succession. Her first instincts are to check for her gun and Edele. Both are missing. Then it dawns on her what the noise is. She jumps out of bed, throws on her robe.
Edele is standing in the den, holding the gun with both hands, aiming it at the wall. It's riddled with holes, and the barrel is smoking. There's a look in her eyes Lindsay had never seen before.

"Edele, what are you doing!? Have you seriously lost your mind!?"

"You're cute when you're exasperrated."

"Give me the gun."

"No. I want to fire it."

"Edele,..."

"What? Are you afraid I'll shoot myself?"

"No. It's police-issue. What's gotten into you?"

"How come I can't have a gun? I want a gun, too!"

"Apply for a license, and you can have one. Now, come on. Hand it over."

"I don't know, like. Do you think metal gray is my color?"

"I think you need to put that down and come to bed", Lindsays says, "Or..."

"Or what? You'll arrest me?"

"Don't make me..."

"I just want to fire the [f* censored] gun!", Edele yells.

"Do not raise your voice at me!"

Edele brandishes the weapon in the air. She brings it down to her chin, barrel pointed upward, pressing flesh.

"Is this what you're afraid of?" She cocks it.

It's the last straw. Lindsay screams her name as she tackles Edele to the floor. The gun escapes her grip during the scuffle and skates across the wood panel. Edele is face down on the boards, Lindsay on her back. She takes both of Edele's hands behind her back and holds them in place with her knees on Edele's wrists.
Edele squirms underneath. Let's out an aggravated moan.

"I love you, Edele Lynch! Everything I have done up to this point, I have done for you. I put up with your bullshit! I make excuses. And I ask myself why the hell do I even bother trying to convince you that someone else on the planet might actually give a [sh*t] about you!" She says a few other choice words in Greek, under her breath.

"I'm [f* censored] up. Is that what you want to hear? I'm sorry. Let me up!"

"I can't do this anymore. I want to be with you, but I can't deal with this anymore", Lindsay says.

****

Lindsay tries to sleep. Things have calmed down, but her mind is still running a mile a minute. A figure walks into the room, and stands by her side of the bed.

"Hey. Lindsay...?", Edele says in a whisper.

She pulls the covers back and Edele climbs in. She positions herself on top, between Lindsay's thighs. Eyes meet.

"Lindsay, I..."

"Shh. Not right now", Lindsay says, "When the sun comes up."
****
Several hours later, they're in a deep sleep, cuddled in the spoon position. Edele behind Lindsay, arms around her waist; her face buried in her hair.

CHAPTER NINETEEN: WHAT MAKES THE RED MAN MAD?

The ME pulls out the metal slab from the gallery of drawers. On it lies the cold, lifeless body of Landon "Big Creek" Chee, naked and covered modestly with a white sheet.
With the help of his intern, he moves the body from the slab to the examining table. He pulls back the sheet, while the intern prepares the tools and recorder. He documents the statistics of the body into the recorder, as well as his name and other information.
He slowly, carefully makes a Y-shaped incision down the front of the torso, from shoulders to pelvis. Carefully peels back the flesh opening Chee up. He's so engrossed in his work that he doesn't notice Chee's eyes open.
The intern jumps back and screams as Big Creek's hand shoots up and wraps around the ME's throat. He's so startled, he knocks over tools and trays, sending them clattering all over the linoleum floor.

"I'm...gonna... need...that...liver,...doc."

The ME gasps and nods vigorously, simply grateful that his heart has started beating again.

"Sew...me...back...up."

The ME nods.

****
"ALIVE!?", Deaqon yells, flabbergasted into his cellphone, "What do you mean, he's alive!?"

"I mean, he's not dead. He woke up right after I made the y-incision", the ME says from the other end.

"Fuck. That's just...impossible. Well, where is he now?"

"I don't know. He asked me to sew him back up, and then he stole the intern's scrubs and walked out."

"You didn't try to catch him?"

"I was in too much shock."

"What about the intern?"

"Poor lad's been admitted to the trauma ward."

"This is not good, Paul. This is not good at all."

"I know, sir."

"Alright. I'll put out an APB. And, Paul?"

"Yes?"

"Next time you cut a man open, make certain he's
dead."

Deaqon turns off his cell.

****
Lindsay stirs awake, eyes opening slowly. She stretches a bit, yawns. and rolls over to her other side. Her outstretched arm lands on the empty spot where Edele should have been. Wide awake now, Lindsay crawls out of bed. The cabin is quiet. She slips on her dressing gown, walks quietly out of the bedroom, into the den.
Edele's on the couch, lying completely still. Lindsay takes a deep breath, slowly places a hand on Edele's shoulder. Edele jolts, startled. Lindsay breathes a sigh of relief.

"What?", Edele says.

"I thought...Nevermind. Are you...? What are you
just lying there for?"

Edele shrugs. "Hey. I think you might have a termite problem."

"Really? Why do you say that?"

Edele points to the North wall. The one she shot up merely hours before. "What did that?"

"You did, Edele."

"I did?"

"Yes. With my weapon. You don't remember?"

"Sorry. No."

"Are you serious? You really don't remember? You were shooting holes in the wall last night. Then you threatened to kill yourself."

"Well, that doesn't make sense. You let me see your gun?", Edele says.

"No. You took it without asking", Lindsay says, "Then you murdered the wall."

"I'm sorry. I don't remember."

Lindsay studies Edele's face for a moment. It's completely expressionless.

"You really don't, do you?"

Edele shakes her head 'No'.

"Do you remember anything about last night?"

"I remember going to bed,...having a really weird dream. Then I woke up-you were still asleep-and I came in here."

"What was the dream about?"

"I don't remember."

"Your memory seems to be failing you a lot, lately", Lindsay says, her tone a tad sarcastic.

"I'm sorry. I really don't remember. I don't know what else to tell you. Now, perhaps if you tell me what I've done wrong..."

"I just told you!"

"Which was...?"

Lindsay points to the bullet-riddled wall. "That."

"What? That? I can patch that up."

"It's not just the wall", Lindsay sits down in the chair as she says this.

"Then what is it?"

"You threatened to kill yourself, Edele. God! How is it you don't remember? Or care? What's wrong with
you!?"

"I'm not dead, though, are I? I didn't kill myself. Everything's fine."

"No! Everything is not fine! And how can you just lie there, stonefaced, completely unbothered by any of it!?", Lindsay says, getting exaspperated. She says a few words under her breath in Greek.

"What? You speaking in tongues now?", Edele says.

"No. It's Greek."

"Greek?"

"My native language."

"You never told me you were Greek."

"Half. My father is. And yes I did. We're getting off-topic."

"Oh. What was the topic again?"

"That you're an absent-minded looney."

"Right."

"This isn't working out, Edele."

"I told you I thought it was a bad idea to come here."

"No. I mean us. This isn't working out. I thought I-we-could make it, but I guess not."

"Is this because I borrowed your gun without asking?"

"No. Yes, and no. It's about everything. I think we should just...pack up our things, cut it short. Then you can get your things from my apartment and-"

"Wait. Are you breaking up with me?" Now an expression comes across Edele's face, and it's not a
happy one.

"Please, Edele. This isn't easy."

"But...why?"

"Please don't make me go into details."

"But...I don't want to break up", her voice is almost pleading.

"You can't always get what you want, Edele."

Edele folds her arms across her chest, a scowl comes across her brow.

"This vacation sucks.", she says.

"Yes. Yes it does suck."

****
"Right. Who're we lookin' for again?", a plain-clothes cop says to Deaqon. His partner stands beside him.

"His name is Landon Chee. He's unarmed as far as we know, but consider him extremely dangerous", Deaqon says. He hands the first cop a photo of Chee, taken several months before, "Get as many men as you can on this. When you find him, shoot to kill. And make sure he's dead."

****

The drive back to the city is quiet, uneventful, neither person having or knowing anything to say to the other. Lindsay's eyes still sting from the crying she had done in the bathroom of the cabin while Edele packed the luggage.
Edele remains stone-faced. The air around her feels cold even though it's a warm day out. She's so quiet that sometimes Lindsay glances over to make sure she's still breathing. Sometimes Edele was like a statue.
She catches Lindsay's eye this time as she glances over for the umpteenth time.

"What?"

"Nothing."

That's all that is exchanged between them for the rest of the way.
Lindsay turns on the car's heating system.

****
They both enter the apartment at the same time, luggage in hand. It makes for a tight fit, and the two are stuck for a moment, facing each other. And for a split second, staring into her eyes, Lindsay wants to throw Edele down on the sofa, and do things to her.

"You go first", Edele says, breaking her train of thought.

"Huh? Oh, right", Lindsay enters the apartment sideways, sets her luggage down.

Edele follows. She heads for Lindsay's bedroom to gather the things she hadn't packed. Her toolbelt, for one. If she'd known they were going to stay at such a shoddy cabin, she would have brought it with her. She wraps the belt around her waist for a minute, doesn't fasten it, then sets it aside, All the loops and pouches are empty since the tools are in the little plastic kit on the floor. She picks that up and packs it as well.
Edele doesn't notice Lindsay standing in the doorway. She watches her, again that strong feeling of wanting to be with her one last time. But she tries to fight it off. It has to end, and it has to end this way.
Quietly.
No arguments, no tears. No break-up sex. No complications.
d**n. Why'd she have to look so good in a pair of jeans?
Edele finally looks up and notices her.

"I'll go as soon as I find my keys", Edele says. "

"Do you want something to eat before you go?", Lindsay says.

"No. It's best that I not stick around for too much longer, you know", Edele says, "Wouldn't want to be
a burden."

"I still love you". Lindsay says.

"Right."

She can't think of anything else to say, and quietly leaves the room.

She's in the kitchen when she hears Edele leave. No goodbyes. Nothing. Part of her wants to chase after her. But the other part knows that by the time she makes it down there, Edele will be long gone.

****
He stole the street clothes he now wears from a local big-and-tall men's clothing outlet, put them on in the dressing room. Even got shoes. Then walked out. He would pay for them later.
He feels weak. Must have lost more blood than he thought. He no longer feels any pain though. However, he does feel rather hungry. Perhaps some food will make him feel better.
He finds a place to eat, a small diner. Lunch is being served. He walks in and sits down at an empty booth. Patrons watch him interest. A waitress comes over to him, and sets down a menu. She's middle-aged, but still attractive in a Lucille Ball-sort of way.

"What can I get you to drink?", she says, her accent
sweet and Southern.

"Some coffee...would be nice...", Big Creek says.

"You're awfully pale, honey. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just a little...under the weather. I'm sure...I'll be better...once I've had something to eat", he says, almost smiling.

He both frightens and intrigues her.

"What will it be, then?"

He glances over rhe menu for a minute.

"I'll have the...turkey club...and the soup of the day."

He hands her back the menu and she leaves to relay his order to the cook.
After he's had his feel, he heads for the restrooms. Only, he enters the one marked 'Ladies'. The waitress from before is in there, just as he'd seen her go in. She is alone, cleaning the floors. She looks up at him, startled.
"Sir, you shouldn't be in here."

He reaches behind his back and turns the latch above the knob, locking it.

****
His belly is now full, and he does feel better. The waitress had been very soft, and smelled like pumpkin. And she had been very willing. He didn't rape her. He despised rapists, personally. If she had refused him, he would have left. But she didn't, and he was glad of that.
It had been a while.
Now, after food, and a bit of love-making, he feels rejuvenated.
There is only one thing that can make it better. Today was going to be a good day.

****
Around the same time, the two plainclothes cops sit in their car, parked on a street corner, sipping coffee out of styrofoam cups.
Their names are Warner and Shepherd.

"You see him yet?", Shepherd says.

"Nope", says Warner, "I'm starting to wonder if this isn't a waste of time. I've got better things to do than look for a dead man."

"I'm just working towards my commission", Shepherd says, pulling a cigarette from his breast pocket, "Smoke?"

"Sure. Light me one up."

Shepherd lights two, one for his partner and one for himself.

"Ah. Sweet, sweet nicotine. How do I love thee?"

"Is that him?", Warner says, suddenly. Shepherd looks up.

They both spot a man, tall and broadshouldered. He's walking with a slight limp, and from this distance, he definitely looks Native American. But he isn't wearing hospital scrubs, he's dressed in normal street clothes, a button-down shirt, bomber jacket, which is odd since it's warm, and a pair of jeans and loafers. He doesn't see them. The man enters a diner. After several minutes, he comes back out again, and heads down the street on foot.

"Let's follow him", Warner says.
****
The apartment feels empty. She sits on the sofa, flipping through the television channels.
There's nothing worth watching on television.
She hears footsteps coming up to the door, and almost overzealously looks over at it. But the footsteps go right on past.
She could call, but she doesn't know Edele's phone number. Or if she even has a phone for that matter.
There's a knock on the door, and Lindsay's heart leaps into her throat. She regains composure, and gets up to answer the door.

"We thought we saw you come home", says Shane Wells-Morgan.

"Yeah. Came back early", Lindsay says.

"So,...where's the other one, then?", Reagan, who is standing next to Shane, says.

"She's...gone."

"Oh? Oh! Oh, that's a shame, that is?", Reagan says.

"Wait. What happened?", Shane says.

"They broke up, love."

"I got that. I mean, why?"

"Just wasn't working out", Lindsay says, "Um, I don't mean to be rude, but...what do you guys want?"

"Oh, well, we were going to invite the two of you out with us, but...I mean, if you'd still like to come alone, we'd be happy to have you", Shane says.

"Thanks. But I don't feel like going out", Lindsay says.

"Are you sure? You look like you could use some fun."

"Don't pressure her. If she doesn't want to go, she doesn't want to go", Reagan says.

"I'm not pressuring her!"

"You're using your aggressive voice again."

"Well, you're accusing me-!"

"Now, you're moving into your victim stance."

"I wasn't pressuring you, Lindsay", Shane says, ignoring her wife.

"I know. And I appreciate your offer. But, really, I'd rather stay in tonight. I'm very tired", Lindsay lies.

"Suit yourself, then. Come on, Shane", Reagan says.

The couple leaves.

****
He stands in front of the large shop window, peering insided. A tall, bearded man comes up behind him, stands next to him. Neither one turns to look directly at the other, instead glancing at each other reflections in the glass.

"Shouldn't you be dead?", the tall man says.

"Nice beard. Almost looks real", Chee says.

"It is real. Real human hair at any rate."

"So,...are you here to finish the job?"

"Believe it or not, our meeting is entirely coincidental."

"Look at this junk. Passing it off as genuine Indian artifacts. My forefathers would spit in his d**n eye", Chee says, referring to the merchandise in the shop window.

"Cheap knock-offs sold at high prices", the tall man says.

"So,...who are you today?"

"Call me Lewis."

"Why don't we go inside and finish our little chat, 'Lewis'?"

The two men enter the antique store. The tall man, who is calling himself 'Lewis' today, has to duck his head low to enter the doorway. His crown nearly brushes the chimes at the top. The shop smells of scented candles and incense. All types of peculiar art, carved from wood, banged out of copper, etcetera, rests on the shelves. Not just Indian. Some the art claims to be Oriental. Even Western European. The owner is a young, long-haired hippy. He pays them no mind, keeps the music in his headphones turned up.
The two men move to toward the back of the store, away from the large window.
The tall man picks up a copper-made mask, holds it inches from his face, then turns it, and examines it.

"Shoddy craftsmanship. But charming, nonetheless."

"It's junk."

"I rather like the porcelain dolls."

"So,...do you honestly expect me to believe you weren't following me?"

"I will admit I found it rather peculiar to see you standing in the middle of the street
when last I heard you'd been shipped en route to the morgue, but, no, I wasn't
following you."

"Come off it. Deaqon's figure I'm alive by now. You would be the first man he sends."

"Only if he really wanted you dead."

"He shot me. I think it's safe to say he wants me dead."

"I don't know what to tell you. I'm not working for that two-faced scalliwag today."

"So, what's with the disguise?"

"I like to play 'dress-up'."

"Little girls play 'dress-up'. You're planning something."

"Well, I can assure you, you're demise isn't it. I'm actually glad to see you alive, Landon."

"I'll bet."

"You need to stop being so paranoid, Landon. It doesn't bode well for you", the tall man says.

"If I recall correctly, you're the one who went to Deaqon, suggested I'd gone insane."

"I was simply worried about you."

"You're not so good at disguising your lies, 'Lewis'."

"All right. I was more worried about the operation. But my concern for you was still there.
Can't have you going off your rocker, now can we?"

"I fell 'off my rocker' long ago, friend."

"To be terribly blunt, you're screwed. And right now, you need me more than ever", the tall man says.

"Is that right?"

"Quite. For example, perhaps you've failed to notice the gray Lumina outside."

"What about it?"

"It's unmarked, Landon. Use your common sense. You said Deaqon would have learned
you're alive by now, did you not?"

"F**k. Cops."

"And no doubt they've been tailing you for some time now."

"So,...what does your high IQ propose we do about it?"

"Allow me to take care of that problem", the tall man removes a wallet from his pocket,
flips it ope to reveal an authenticated police badge.

"What's in this for you?"

"Let's discuss my terms later. Right now, I simply wish to help out a friend. One day, I will have to kill you, Landon. And I won't think twice about it. But for now, grant me the allowance to assist you."

"You're a strange man, you know that.", Landon Chee says.

"Quite."

****
It's almost dark out. Lindsay still lies on the sofa, hoping to fall asleep; to sleep through the rest of the day.
To hell with it. She will go out.

****
"Glad you could make it. What made you change
your mind?", Shane says, inside the club.

"You were right. I could use some fun", Lindsay says over the music.

It is the same place they had been to several nights before, when Lindsay had been attacked by Wendell Ames, and this whole mess had started. She hadn't been back since. It wasn't really her scene. She looks over at her companions, to ask if they could possibly go someplace else. But they're too engrossed in a rather gratuitous liplock.
Gratefully, she spots a familar face tending the bar.

"Jason, right?", she says to the young bartender.

His neck and arms are decked in glowing, plastic hoops. He's also shirtless and covered in body glitter. At the mention of his name, he looks up and smiles.

"Wait. Don't tell me. Let me guess. Lindsay, right?", he says.

"Correct. It's nice to see you again."

"Oh, thanks. You, too."

"So, how is Baxter."

"He's fine. He's at home. I told him to rest, but knowing Bax, he'll be up on that d**n laptop all night."

At that moment, a man walks up to the bar and orders a Heineken. Jason turns away from her for a moment to pour the drink and hand it to the patron. Then he turns back to Lindsay,
"Can I get you anything?"

"Just give me what he had."

He pours another beer for her. She leaves him a tip.

"Can I be honest about something?", Jason says.

"Uh...okay."

"You don't look too happy."

"Thanks."

"Sorry."

"No. It's okay. You noticed, huh?"

"You want to talk about it?"

"You sure you want to hear it?"

"Lady, I'm a bartender. It's my job to pry into your personal life", Jason says, half-joking.

"Okay. I just got out of a very intense, very
complicated relationship."

"I see. One of those hard-to-pin-down types, eh?"

"You could say that. I was so convinced it was for
the best, but why does it bother me so much?", Lindsay says.

"You said this thing was pretty hot-n-heavy, right? Sounds like it began and ended pretty abruptly. The gap is still fresh. Give it time."

"If time weren't so darn slow..."

"It seems that way at first, but it does get better. You're not here looking for rebound sex, are you?"

"Oh, god, no. How do you it? I mean, how do you and Baxter manage to stay together for so long?"

"Sometimes you're just lucky. One thing me and Bax always agree on, when you find the right one, you don't let them go."

Lindsay doesn't respond to this. She sits at the bar, and allows his words to sink into her brain.

****
Bax stares at the laptop screen. His eyelids slowly open and close, he rests his head in his hands.
It's close to eleven now. He checks and re-checks his report for errors.
Suddenly, there is a loud knock at the front door. It awakens him from his stupor.
The knock comes again.

"I'm coming. Give me a minute."

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

"I said I'm coming."

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Alright! Hold your horses!"

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

****
Several hours before, after his encounter with Cyanide-who was calling himself 'Lewis'-Landon Chee had the great fortune, as he saw it, to spot Baxter Ashburry emerging from the tobacco shop across the street. The fruity cop opened the newly purchased pack of smokes and lit one up. He looked around at nothing in particular, didn't notice Chee. Then he got in his car.
Chee proccured the antique shop owner's car by old-fashioned hotwiring, and followed the detective home. In the breastpocket of his bomber rested a newly purchased handgun, bought just moments before. He'd had it with him when the tall man approached him.

****
Bax places his hand on the door knob, turns it, and opens the door.

"What the big hur-? What in the hell...?"

There's a flash and smoke, and Bax hits the floor. Blood pools around him.
It's terribly difficult to breathe.
Landon Chee turns and walks away quietly from the front porch.

Deaqon sits behind his desk in his office. He rests his elbows on the desktop, leans forward and massages his temples. Takes a deep breath.

"Okay", he says, calmly, "tell me again,...what happened?"

"We were approached by another detective, a Jonathan Lewis, from another precinct", Warner began, "He informed us that the individual we had been pursuing was no longer-"

"Cut the Ivy League speak. Just keep it simple",
Deaqon says.

"He told us you called off the search", Shepherd pipes up.

"But I didn't call of the search, did I?", Deaqon says.

"No, sir. I guess you didn't."

"Then why are you two still in my office?"

****
Edele spends the evening down the basement of her friend, and company foreman, Phillip Cornelison, drinking beer and playing pool, and watching the UFC on ESPN. Some other workers are down here as well.

"Hey, Ed, how come we never have parties at your place?", someone asks.

"Because she doesn't want you wrecking her house", Phillip says.

"Hey. I'm a very responsible guy", says the first who spoke, who's name was Carl, "Those fires were the result of circumstances beyond my control."

"It's called not falling asleep with a cigarette in your mouth, you twit", Phillip says.

"Screw you, man, alright. I work hard for my money. A man gets tired."

"Alright, alright. Are we going to play or [f* censored] around?", Edele says, chalking her cue.

"I get the winner", Carl says.

"Rack 'em", Edele says.

Phillip sets the balls inside the wooden triangle, and carefully removes it. The balls remain in the shape of the triangle. Edele tosses the white cue ball to him.

"I'll give you the first shot."

"You're too kind."

He leans forward, one hand on the green-top, acting as an anchor for the cue, rears his other hand back, and strikes the white ball. It rolls and collides with the other balls. A solid rolls into a corner-pocket with a muted thud.

"Not bad", Edele says.

He walks around the table and repeats the process. This time with less satisfactory results.

"Damn."

"Aw. Tough break."
Now it's Edele's turn. She mimics her opponents procedure, sinks three striped balls at once. Moves around the table, sinks another into a side-pocket. Soon all that remains is that eight ball. It sits at a peculiar angle from the white cue ball. If she hits it wrong, the black and white ball would simply bump the side of the table, and wouldn't sink.
But she doesn't hit it wrong. She taps the white ball, it bumps the eight, the eight bumps the side, and rolls right into the rear right corner-pocket where her opponent, and friend is standing.

"Hey. You're good", Carl says.

"You should see her play darts", Phillip says.

"You wanna go?", Edele says to Carl.

"Hm. You know. I think I've changed my mind."

"What? Are you chicken? Afraid to get beat by a girl?"

"Actually, yes", Carl says.

The others laugh, and then the moment passes, and
more beers are opened.

"Oh! Man! Did you see that?!", someone yells at the
television.
Carl and the others turn to look.

"Busted his kneecap right out of place with one swift
kick!"

Phillip glances over at Edele, who's resetting the pool
table and putting the cues back on the rack. Her composure seems melancholy.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just had too much to drink. I need some fresh air", Edele says.

She leaves the basement, heads up to the street. The air is still warm, though it has cooled down somewhat. She watches the neighborhood. Someone across the street is taking out the garbage. A dog barks at her from behind a chain-link fence.
There's a deliquent-looking figure, walking along the neighborhood. He's shaking his head and talking to himself, and laughing. He sees her and waves. She doesn't wave back lest he mistake that for an invitation.
But he comes over anyway.

"I've seen you before", he says.

"You must be mistaken."

"No. I remember you. A few years back at Danny Hall's tweeker party. I remember you because my girlfriend said she wanted to do you, and I wanted to jam a knife in your throat because of it", the junkie says, "But, hey, don't worry about it, man. Me and the b*tch broke up. Hey, you got anything on you, man?"

"No. I don't do that anymore."

"Oh, hey, that's cool, man. Am I bothering you?"

"Honestly, yes."

"Oh, sorry. I'll leave you alone." He turns around and continues down the street.

"Hey, wait!", she calls after him. He turns
around, "Does Danny still have those parties?"

"Oh, yeah. He's having one right now. You should
come", he says, then staggers off.
****
She doesn't need directions. Danny Hall still lives where he's always lived. In his parent's basement.
Why do people always have parties in basements?
She raps her knuckles on the back door, heading to the basement. The person who opens it stares at her, wild-eyed and bewildered.

"Whoa. It can't be. No way."

"Hi, Danny."

"Never thought I'd see you again. They told me you
got hit by a car."

"Wasn't me."

"Huh?"

"It's a long story. Can I come in, or is this invite only?"

"No. No, come in. You're always welcome in my
humble abode."

He steps aside and let's her pass. A look of suprise and shock washes over the collective faces at the party. One guy almost screws up the tattoo he's applying to his girlfriend's thigh. And for some of the other females there, the site of her causes their hearts to start beating inside their groins. Their eyes follow her wherever she goes. It happened a lot to her. She never quite understood it. But she doesn't have to worry about it now because she has a- No. Wait. She doesn't have a girlfriend anymore.

"Hey, Eddie? Earth to Eddie", Danny says.

"What?"

"Dude, you were, like, spaced-out there for a
minute."

Edele joins the rest of the party. At one particular table, a group of tattooed junkies are shooting needles of meth into their veins. She joins them. And allows one of the girls to give her the first hit she's had in almost five years.
****

Christ-on-a-bike, her head hurt!
Okay. How did she get home?
Lindsay slowly opens her eyes and looks around her bedroom. Her walls look rather bright. And the ceiling appears to be about three inches lower than usual. She sits up in bed. Looks at herself. Somebody's dressed her in her nightgown, as well. But there's nobody there. She's alone. And the sun is so goddamned bright. The phone rings. And her head screams in pain.
****
Lindsay runs as fast as she can down the hospital corridors. Jason sits in the Waiting Area. Two other people are with him, an older couple. As well as Deaqon Morrison.
Jason stands up when he spots her running toward him.

"Is he-?"

"He's fine. He's in ICU. The doctor said the bullet just went straight through, passed any vital organs. He's lost a lot of blood though. He's stable, but he's sleeping."

"Oh. Thank God", Lindsay says. She turns to Deaqon, "Do they know who shot him?"

"Yes. And there's a team of men tracking him down right now. He won't get away with it, I assure you", he replies.

"Lindsay, these are Bax's parents", Jason says, referring to the older couple, "This is his mother, Alex, and his stepfather, Stephen."

"How do you do?", says Stephen.

"A pleasure", says Alex, who's English, "I'm sorry we had to meet under such dreadful
circumstances. Baxter's talked a lot about you."

"He's the president of my fanclub", Lindsay quips.

"She does remind you of Catherine, doesn't she?", Stephen says.

"Oh, you're right. She does. Quite lovely, and the same sense of humor", Alex agrees.

"Sorry. Who's Catherine?", Lindsay says.

"Bax's old partner when he was in Narcotics. Has he never told you that story?", Stephen says.

"No."

"Ah, well, that's not too surprising. It was a bad time for him."

"Indeed it was", agrees Alex, "Tell her the story, dear."

"Alright. If Lindsay would like to hear it", Stephen says.

"Well, now I'm curious", Lindsay says.

"Very well. You see, Lindsay, when Bax was a Narc, he was teamed up with this very talented, but very introverted young female cop called Catherine Thoms. Now, a few years back, Catherine's brother ran into some trouble. She had kept everything from Bax. Had she asked for his help, he would've gladly given it. But she decided to go it alone. And that was a big mistake, you see. The entire ordeal ended with a shoot-out. Lot of people died. Including Catherine. Took one right between the eyes."

"Oh, that's awful!". Lindsay says, suddenly understanding her friend a little bit better.

A nurse comes into the Waiting Area.

"He's awake. If anyone would like to see him", she says.

"You go on. The rest of us have already been in", Stephen Ashburry says, placing a
gentle hand on Lindsay's shoulder.

"Are you Lindsay?", the nurse asks her.

"Yes."

"I'll take you to his room. He's been waiting to see you."
****
He seems almost child-like. Tubes stick out of him, and connect to various machines. He's propped up on pillows. He smiles at her.

"Hey, beautiful. Aw, come on. Don't look so depressed. I've had worse in the Army", he says.

"Baxter, you were shot. You could've been killed!"

"I know. I'm lucky. Very glad you're here."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know", Bax says, then, "They shaved my beard."

"I like it. I can see your face."

"I know. But why? I was shot in the gut, not the face."

"Maybe Jason asked them to."

"He had been complaining about it..."

"I met your parents. They seem like nice people."

"Oh, yeah, they're great. You like my mom's accent? I used to talk like that", he says the
latter part of this in a perfectly mimicked English accent.

"They...They told me about Catherine", Lindsay says.

"They did, did they? I was going to tell you about that eventually. Just waiting for an appropriate time."

"At least now I understand why you're so clingy", Lindsay says.

"Oh, that's just because I can't get enough of being in your presence", Bax jokes.

"I have that affect on people."

He laughs, though the laughs hurt.

"Baxter, do you know who shot you?", Lindsay says.

"Yeah. Landon Chee."

"What!? I thought you said he was dead!"

"Apparently not."

****
"Wake up", a voice says.

She's asleep on Danny's couch. Everyone else is gone. except for herself and Danny. He
sets a plate of toast on the coffee table in front of the couch. Nudges her again.

"Come on. Wake up. Eat."

Edele moans. "F**k off."

"You f**k off! Wake the f**k up, man!"

She moans louder. But wakes up. She notices she's in borrowed clothes, and her hair
feels a little damp. She sits up, takes a bite of toast.

"What the hell happened?"

"You almost f**king died last night, that's what happened."

"Then why didn't you let me?"

"What the f**k, man!? You tellin' me you want to kill yourself!?"

"Maybe."

"That's f**ked up. I don't want you to die. None of us do."

"Why does everybody care about me so f**king much?"

"Because for some reason, we like you. Besides, I'm not havin' no f**kin' corpses in my
basement. Eat your toast."

He walks away and leaves her to eat her breakfast in peace.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: I JUST CAN'T GET YOU OUT OF MY HEAD

That afternoon, someone very close to Edele comes to Danny's basement-apartment.
Sinead O'Carroll looks a million times better than she did the last time Edele visited her. The blue dye is washed out of her hair and has been replaced by a more natural looking dark brown. She's also dressed more sophisticatedly, and most of the metal is gone from her face. Her eyes look at Edele with an air of recognition.

"Hello, Edele", she says with an Irish lilt.

"Hi. When did they let you out?", Edele says.

"Today. But I'm not totally free yet. They're just trying to see if I'll fare."

"So, this is like an out-patient thing?"

"A bit, yes", Sinead says, "Why do you keep looking
at me like that?"

"Because the last time we spoke you kept talking about field snakes and calling me Julia."

"Did I? Oh, well. I had a roommate called Julia, but
she's gone now."

"Finished the program?", asks Danny, who's standing
with them.

"No. Hung herself", Sinead says.

"So, how are you?", Edele says to her.

"I'm fine. They gave me these pills to help me
remember things. You know, so, I don't go off again."

"Isn't a little odd to give a recovering drug-addict
pills?"

"They're monitored. And only my doctor administers them. I have to go to his office. A nurse picks me up and takes me there."

"Where are you staying?"

"That room you set for me at your place. If you'd actually come home every once in a while you'd see
me there."

"Maybe. It's a big house. Who brought you here?"

"Your maid. Danny called, and she brought me here."

"Why?"

"I had to come see you. He told me what happened.
Well, actually, he told Rosario, and she told me, and I came here."

"I'm fine."

"Not from what I hear."

"It's all blown way out of proportion."

"Eddie, you shot up enough meth to bring down a baby elephant! You can even begin to blow this out of proportion!", Danny exclaims.

Edele just folds her arms and rolls her eyes.

"You want to talk about what's going on?", Sinead
says.

"No."

"Yes, you do. Sit down and tell me everything."

"Why?"

"Because I'm your best friend. And because I can tell by looking at you, that if you don't get this off your chest your head will explode. Now, stop acting like a big baby, and tell me what's going on", Sinead says.

Edele hesitates, sighs. And begins to tell Sinead, and Danny, the whole story.
When she finishes, Danny and Sinead look at each other, then back at Edele.

"Wow", Sinead says.

"Pretty pathetic, huh?", Edele says.

"That you fell in love, or that you acted like a total
[ar$e]?"

"What?", Edele says, offense in her tone.

"Oh, come off it, Edele. I've known you for years.
You can be terribly stubborn at times."

"She's right", Danny says.

"Shut up, Danny.", Edele says.

"You need to get your head out of your arse, Edele",
Sinead says.

"Where the hell do you come off-!?"

"No, where do you!? From the sound of it, you had a perfect thing. Love. And you f**ked that up because you're too big of an [ar$e] to see it!"

"Stop calling me that! I thought you were my friend!"

"I am your friend. That's why I'm telling you this",
Sinead says.

"Hey, she broke up with me!"

"Then convince her it was a mistake. The Edele I
remember fought for what she wanted. Now you're just going to give up? Would Keavy want to give up?"

At the mention of her twin's name, Edele freezes. Then she starts to tremble. Then starts to cry, her body convulses with sobs. Both Sinead and Danny try her best to console her.
No one knows what to say.
****
"Are you okay?", Bax says in the hospital room.

Lindsay has just told him the entire story of her and Edele.

"I don't know. I'll be fine, I guess. I'm beginning to wonder if I made a mistake, though", Lindsay says.

"Do you want her back?"

"I don't know."

"Do you love her"

"Yes. I mean, she has these...ways about her that can be so irritating, but she can also be very gentle and caring at times. She's stubborn, but she's passionate. And rather good in bed..."

"So, I'll ask you again, do you want her back?"

"Yes."
****

After the visit with Bax, Lindsay wanders through the hospital. She finds the Neurology Ward. An idea had hit her earlier. Or, rather, more of an urge.
She reaches Room 214.
Keavy Lynch, almost a carbon-copy of her sister, still lies sleeping on the bed. Lindsay wonders just how much she knows is going on around her, and how much she's completely oblivious to. And part of her wonders if Edele would walk in at any moment, visiting her sister. She walks slowly over to Keavy's bed side, as if she's afraid to wake her.

"Hi, Keavy. I don't suppose you remember me. I'm Lindsay, Edele's girl- well, ex-girlfriend, I should say."

No response. Just assisted breathing and the click and hum of machines.

"You have no idea how much I wish you would wake up right now. I need someone to explain your sister to me, and, well, you must know her better than anybody. I don't know what to do. I need your help. So,...you think you could just wake up for me, please?"

No response.

"That's okay. I understand. You're probably waiting for Edele. I know she hasn't been to see you lately. That's my fault. See, I thought we could use a holiday, so we went to this cabin and- no, forget it. It's a long, boring, weird story", Lindsay sighs", I'm in love with your sister. I'm in love with you mad, crazy, stubborn, ignorant sister."
****
Around the time that Lindsay is pouring her heart out to Keavy's sleeping form, the tall man, the Chameleon, Cyanide Bayard is walking the halls of the same ward, dressed as a janitor.
He notices the door to Room 214 is ajar, and sees a very attractive young woman with dark, curly hair sitting by the bed, her lips moving softly about something. She's not a nurse, or a volunteer worker. And definitely not immediate family.
He's seen her somewhere before. But at the moment, he can't place it.
****
Eagle Chee looks up with shock at the face peering at him from the other side of the prison bars.

"Hello, big brother", Landon says, grinning deviously.

"They told me you were dead."

"Nope. Alive. Disappointed?"

"Landon, you're my brother. Why would I be
disappointed that you hadn't gone to meet our ancestors?"

"Because you don't like me, for one."

"I don't like you, but you are my brother and I love
you."

"Are you going to get all mushy on me now?"

"Of course not."

"You should have seen the look on the coroner's
face when I woke up. About pissed his pants", Landon says with a laugh.

"I'm sure it was rather amusing to you."

"Aw, hey, Eagle, when you go to prison, do they cut
your balls off?"

"No. I haven't been castrated. Why?"

"Because used to be you would've laughed at that."

Eagle sighs, "I'm old, and tired of this place, Landon. Prison changes a man's outlook on life."

"You're not old! You're forty-six!"

"Trust me. In here it seems like a lot more. I'm tired of having to try to avoid getting stabbed by a plastic spoon shank because some inmate wants my dinner roll. I want to behave and get out of here, and start a new life."

"That's very commendable of you."

"I'm serious, Landon. The last thing I want is to be
joined in here by a misguided family member."

"Oh, you won't have to worry about that. 'Cause
they'll never catch me. And who're calling 'misguided', old man?"

"Is there a purpose to your visit, or are you just here to annoy me?"

"Oh, a little bit of both. Believe it or not, I really just
wanted to visit you."

"And why is that?"

"Because you're my brother and I love you", Landon mimics his brother's deep, rich voice", You want to see where they cut me open?"

"Not really, no."

"That Deaqon Morrison. Detective Seargent. Ha! I bet if they found out who that bastard really was,
they'd all sh*t bricks."

"Everything will reveal itself in time."

"Yeah, well, unfortunately, I don't have a lot of time. That bullet did more damage than I originally thought."

At this point, Landon lifts up his shirt, showing his brother the scar where he was cut open, and sewn back together, and the place where he was shot by Deaqon. Gangreen has set around the wounds.

"I think this could be a problem, brother", he says.

****
The day is ending. Cyanide tosses the janitor costume into a bin outsid the hospital building.
He'll try again tomorrow to get close to the girl in Room 214. She's like a sleeping angel.
And if she's who he thinks she is, he knows exactly who is responsible for her dire situation. And he personally has little regard for them. Killing a man was one thing. But killing, or attempting to kill a woman, one of God's most perfect creations, was an inexcusable abomination.
At least, not without reason. Only cowards kill without reason. And they use guns. He hates guns. Too loud and messy. Blood has a tendency to pour from people when they're shot, and pool around them. For a hitman, the site of blood made him queasy. He preferred non-bloody quiet kills, like suffocation or neck-snapping.
The night air is rather pleasant.
****
Lindsay locates her car in the hospital parking lot. She unlocks the door via the fob on her keychain, reaches for the door handle.
****
Nothing matters. Nothing anyone says matters. All of it matters. Something's the matter.
F**k.
F**king.
F**k.
She wanders the city streets, head low, hands in pockets. Has her own clothes back now. She doesn't exactly know where she's going, but she'll find it when she gets there.
A prostitute whistles at her. That girl should be in school.

"Hey!", someone calls out.

Edele turns to the direction of the voice. A young gentlemen with frosted hair, wearing a pink button-down shirt stands in the doorway of a black building with black windows, the words 'Gender Bender' in neon blue above the door, and large on the side of the building.

"You look like you could use a drink", he says to her.

"I don't have a lot of cash on me."

"Oh, pish! Don't worry 'bout that, honey. Why don't you come in before the crowds start showing up. It's about half an hour until the party starts."

Edele joins the young man inside. He motions for one of the bartenders to pour her a drink. Then he disappears off into the back somewhere.

"Who is that guy?", Edele says.

"Oh, that's Andrew. He owns half the place. But he
prefers everyone to call him 'Curtis Junior'", says the
bartender who poured her drink.

"Curtis Junior?"

"Don't ask."

She doesn't. Just drinks the flavored beer. After another half-hour, the place officialy opens, and people start piling in. Soon the place is packed with droves of all the so-called deviants of society.
Isn't that her company's lawyer? He looks surprisingly well in a feather boa.
She's on her third beer when a tall, statuesque blond woman in a tiny black dress approaches her. Or at least she thinks it's a woman.

"Are you alone?", the blond says. Nope. Man.

"Yeah."

"You don't look too happy, honey."

"I've had a bad past couple of days."

"You want some company? You can come sit with me and the ladies if you like", the drag queen says.

"Thanks. But I'd rather be alone right now."

"Suit yourself, honey. But if you change your mind, we're right over there." S/he points to a red, U-shaped couch in the corner. On it and around it sit a group of drag queens and lesbians. And one male, who was obviously very gay, and on Ecstasy.
After the blond drag queen walks away, Edele orders another beer.

"Don't you think you ought to...slow it down?", the bartender says, pouring the drink.

"Haven't you heard me talk? I'm Irish. My people were made to handle this.", Edele says.

"Well, don't get too carried away, 'lass'", the bartender says.

She raises her mug to him in a sarcastic gesture, then swigs the contents down.
Amazing how beer gets easier to drink the more you have of it.

****
Lindsay drives down the streets, her head full of a thousand thoughts.
What would she say to Edele? Would she listen? Where was she, anyway?
The light turns red.

(EDIT: TO BE CONTINUED)

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