 
LOVE  
BEFORE LAW

By

Tyler Porter

Copyright © 2019 Tyler Porter

All Rights Reserved

TABLE OF CONTENTS

LOVE BEFORE LAW

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

# CHAPTER ONE

It was after dark on a weeknight. His bedroom was the furthest from the front door, but it still made him jump when it crashed open. The sound of his little sister crying and yelling met his ears. The original sound of the door slamming open began to make more sense. She was an emotional child, and sobbing was her immediate response to most unpleasant things. The outburst was most likely caused by something small--like the neighbor's dog barking at her, or an argument with one of her friends at school.

As the crying and yelling continued, however, he started to realize that this was not her normal whiny performance. This time was different, but he couldn't quite place why. Was it the concern in his mother's voice? Was it the fact that the tantrum had gone on so much longer than usual? He pondered the possibilities but quickly gave up. He stood up out of his computer chair, stretched, and walked out into the hallway toward the family room to investigate further. He entered the family room and knew instantly that his feeling was right. This was not typical. This was very different.

Dad was kneeling down beside her and Mom was standing behind him fighting back tears. His little sister's face was soaked with tears, though, and there was a look of absolute terror in her eyes. She was bawling uncontrollably and couldn't put words together to tell anyone what had happened. He studied her attire, and another idea of why she was in distress entered his mind. Her favorite pink dress was torn to shreds. This idea left him quickly as he looked closer. She had heavy bruising on her arms and neck. His father, kneeling on the ground next to her, looked as though he wasn't present. It was as if his mind was somewhere else, somewhere happier, somewhere far away from the situation before them. He looked broken. Shattered.

He moved toward his sister to try to calm her down and find out what had happened, but it was no use. She could hardly find enough of a break in her outburst to take a breath, much less explain what had caused it. It was hours before she could get it out, and instead of their parents, she chose to tell him. He had never fainted before, but later he guessed, by his sudden dizziness, he was coming close to passing out. He felt sick hearing the words come from her mouth. She was so young and so innocent. No little girl should ever have to speak those words.

After telling his parents, in private, what had occurred, his nausea turned to fury. They didn't know what to do, so at that moment, they had decided to do nothing. That didn't sit right with him. Something needed to be done, and it couldn't wait. If they didn't want to be the ones to take care of it, it would have to be him. Later that night, he carefully snuck out of his window and down the street toward his destination. It wasn't far from their house, and he sprinted the entire way. Adrenaline had taken over and he only had one thing on his mind.

The next thing he knew, he was racing down his street back toward his house with the sounds of police sirens in the background. He had only just gotten back into his bedroom when the blue and red lights flooded the room. He looked down at his hands for the first time; they were painted red. That same shade of crimson was smeared on his shirt and pants. He would have to think of something quickly. It wouldn't be long before they would find him, and if he didn't have an explanation, it was all over.

He wanted to get to his parents and tell them what had happened before the police did. He moved toward his bedroom door, but before he could open it, an alarm began blaring. He looked around wanting to find out where it was coming from. An odd feeling set in, and his vision started to blur. He fought against it, but the image of his bedroom began to fade away from. He closed his eyes and shook his head a few times, hoping to lose the sensation, but when he opened his eyes again he was lying on his back staring at the ceiling. The alarm was still going off, and he rolled to his side to find his cell phone chiming.

He was immediately aware that he was drenched in sweat, and he breathed deeply as he brought his mind back to reality. This was not an uncommon way for Matthew O'Bannon to wake up. He had been having a variation of this same nightmare two or three times a week over the last few months. It was probably the reason he hadn't been sleeping much. He checked the time on his phone: 5:00 AM, right on schedule. He shifted his feet onto the floor, stood up, and moved across the room to his walk-in closet where he swiftly dressed in his workout gear. Then, like every morning, he went for a two-mile run in downtown Chicago. When he returned home, he did an hour of weight training before having a cup of coffee and a shower. He then dressed in his suit, grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door of his penthouse.

The ride down the elevator of his building in the mornings was generally a quick one. Most of the residents were not up and on their way out so early. He was appreciative of this, as a ride down from the thirty-second floor could turn into a long commute if the elevator stopped every few floors for a pick up. He walked through the lobby, giving his morning sentiments to the lobby desk clerk, Carrie, and the security guard, Jeff, standing at the front door. He walked through the private door to the resident parking garage. He stopped in front of his car, and like he did every morning, he gave it a moment of appreciation. It was a snow white Rolls Royce Phantom--white-on-white with premium white leather interior. He had ordered it with every feature available, including the zodiac symbol that shined through the roof. He fired it up and headed for the office.

Matt took a left turn out of the parking garage onto Hubbard Street. About a half mile down, he took another left and then a right. Finally he turned onto Wacker Drive, the street where his office building resided. He had paid an obscene amount of money to have a penthouse so close to his office, but time had become his most precious resource, and he had to protect it any way he could. The building was beautiful--a silver tower built out of steel and glass that seemed to disappear into the clouds at its peak.

He walked into work that morning at eight a.m., the same time that he arrived every morning, and roughly one hour before anyone else would arrive. He had always been a work horse. Even before he was running his own company, he was always the first person to arrive and always the last to leave. His employees were well aware of this habit, and were also well aware of his expectations for those who he employed. The first to arrive after him was his executive assistant, Claire Johnstone. She served as his right-hand woman, and the rest of the office appreciated this fact. She was outgoing and infectiously cheerful. This was a nice balance with Matt, who more often than not was perceived as cold, emotionless, and focused. He had a decent relationship with his underlings, but above all else, he was focused on getting his company to the next level and the level after that.

"Good morning Mr. O'Bannon. Did you have a nice weekend?" Claire greeted.

"Good morning Claire. It was uneventful, but quiet; so yeah, I would say it was nice," he said with a slight chuckle. "How was yours?"

"It was fantastic! My sister and I went shopping downtown and then we tried this amazing little café on 6th, which you would absolutely love! Then we went over to Mom's and helped her with some redecorating and--" She paused; he wasn't listening. He was already looking at his calendar for the day and opening his email. She was not insulted by this notion, as she had grown to know him as a very no-nonsense professional who had little patience for anything not relating to business. She pulled out her pad folio and began rambling off his various appointments and arrangements for that day.

"So, you have a 9:30 conference call with Chuck Wallace and his group; we have our sales meeting at 10:15; and then you have a lunch appointment with Doug Little at noon at Gibson's downtown. This afternoon we need to finalize your travel plans for the next few months so that I can make sure the jet is ready for you."

"Good, good, and good. I appreciate you keeping me on track Claire. I would be lost without you," he said, smiling.

She smiled back as she attempted to hold back her thoughts. If she was any other woman, she would have melted on the spot, hearing those words while staring into his deep blue eyes. He was perfect on the outside: built like a roman statue; wavy brown hair that was long, but not too long; and those amazing blue eyes that glowed whenever he spoke to her. When she'd first started and he would speak to her, she had been put at a loss for words. But she had been through this many times over the years, and it was something that had taken some getting used to. It wasn't that he was flirting; as a matter of fact, she had known him for five years at this point, and had never even known him to go on a date. It was just that he was completely and utterly genuine. He meant every word that left his lips, which was a very rare thing in her experience. Especially in Chicago. She got up to walk back to her desk.

"Claire?" he said.

"Yes, Mr. O'Bannon?" she replied.

"You forgot my coffee." He grinned.

"Oh my gosh! I am so sorry! I must be having a Monday!" she joked. "I will be right back with that."

He nodded his head in approval, and then shifted his complete attention back to his work as she scrambled to the elevator. He began preparing his pitch for his 9:30 conference call, although he knew exactly how to approach the group. Matt's company served as a business consulting firm. As a matter of fact, over the previous five years it had served as the number one consulting firm in Chicago. His company had become a literal overnight success, starting seemingly out of nothing and becoming an international empire in a matter of a few short years.

In the business world, he was an enigma. He had no backstory. He declined to appear on any television segments, radio programs, or interviews. He kept himself away from the limelight. In a world where secrets were virtually extinct, Matthew O'Bannon was a master of remaining one. This drove reporters absolutely insane. Nobody could seem to get any information on him, and everyone had the same questions. Who is Matt O'Bannon? Where did he come from? How did this empire appear out of thin air? How is he doing it?

These questions didn't seem to bother Matt. He continued on with his business day after day and was not one for distractions. His days were routine: wake, work, sleep. His idea of leisure was retiring to his isolated cabin in Minnesota for a week once a year. From what Claire and his staff could tell, he had no family, no wife, no children, and no friends. He had his company, and all of his attention was on work.

His employees began gathering their things at the end of the day and started trickling out the door. Each one wished Claire a good night, but were careful, as always, not to disturb Mr. O'Bannon, who was still busy at work in his office. Claire was the last to leave, aside from Matt.

"I'm going to take off for the night. Do you need anything else from me before I leave?" she asked.

"No, I think I'm all good here," he replied.

"Alright then. Do you have any plans tonight? Some friends of mine are in town, and we are going out for a drink if you wanted to join--"

"No," he interrupted, "I have a lot to finish up here. But thank you. I hope you have fun."

"Oh, well, alright, goodnight sir," she said.

"Goodnight."

He worked for about an hour longer before packing his briefcase and heading for the elevator. He rode down twenty-three floors to the parking garage and started toward home. He drove the same route every day to and from work. Routine. "Routine" was the word that carried his life. Everything was preplanned; everything was fixed. He exerted as much control over his life as possible, and that meant no variables. He wanted absolute control over everything that he was involved in. He longed for control, because he had lost control once before, and it had haunted him ever since.

He arrived at home, and as he did every day, set his briefcase on the bench in the entryway. He proceeded to his study where he poured himself a single malt scotch. He would often lounge in this room until the wee hours of the morning, reading, journaling, or studying, while continuously sipping on his scotch. Tonight though, he was stuck in deep thought. Thinking about the same thing that he had been thinking about all day. The dream. The same dream that he had had for years, but a dream that had been occurring more and more frequently in recent weeks. He couldn't understand why he was still having this same dream when he constantly flooded his life with business, travel, and expansion. He was ever focused on personal growth as well. He worked very hard to keep his mind occupied for every second of the day; yet somehow, he could not stop this same dream from coming back.

As he thought, he drank. And he drank. It wasn't long before he had finished off his bottle of Highland Park and broke the seal on the next. The more he drank, the more vivid the dream became, and the more he remembered. He remembered the screaming. He could recall the adrenaline and the sweating. He continued on this way and could not get away from the memories that were flooding back. Then, just as quickly as it all came back, it all vanished again; he woke up to the sound of his phone alarm. He had drifted off in his desk chair. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and checked the time: 5:00 AM, right on schedule.

He could sense that it was not going to be a great day as he exited the elevator into the office. He clearly had not gotten enough sleep, and he had skipped his morning workout. He lived by his schedule, and if that schedule was not adhered to, the entire day seemed wrong from the very beginning. He sat down at his desk and dove into his calendar, trying to mentally organize his day. He kept checking his watch, waiting for Claire to arrive with his coffee. He knew the hot, bitter liquid was the only chance at saving his morning. He waited for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, just after nine, Claire arrived at the office. She was carrying her phone in one hand and a stack of files in the other. No coffee. Matt could feel his blood pressure rising. He was trying with every fiber of his being to remain calm.She walked into Matt's office.

"Good Morning Mr. O'Bannon. How was your--" She was stopped mid-sentence by Matt, who was holding up his right index finger, signaling her to wait.

"Where is my coffee?" he growled

"Oh my goodness! I am so sorry! I don't know why I keep forgetting!" she answered.

"Goddammit Claire!!!" he barked. "What the hell are you good for!? If I can't even count on you for a fucking cup of coffee, what can I count on you for!?" He yelled these words as his anger grew. His temper finally exploded, and he hurled his phone against the far wall, smashing it into several pieces. She was petrified. She quietly apologized as she quickly left his office. He couldn't decide whether he was angrier about the coffee, or at himself for the way he had blown up at his executive assistant. He spent very little time trying to decipher this question, though. He pulled on his jacket and headed for the elevator.

Matt got lost in his own head on the ride down to the ground floor. He shouldn't have reacted that way. It was a stupid cup of coffee. It wasn't really a big deal, but, it had happened several times. Her job was to perform the tasks that he gave her, and at times, she couldn't seem to complete the simplest ones. She did, however, complete much more important tasks that were far more valuable to him and the company than a cup of coffee. His thoughts were interrupted by the ding of the elevator as it reached the ground floor.

He went left out the front door and proceeded down the block. He was on his way to the coffee shop on the corner of Clark and Marble about three blocks away. It was the closest coffee shop to the office, and he knew the route well. He generally took an early-afternoon break around one to sneak down the street for an espresso to keep his focus up for the rest of the day. He arrived at the shop and briskly opened the front door. As if he hadn't waited long enough for his coffee, there were at least seven people in line ahead of him. He joined the back of the line and exerted no effort in hiding his irritation. He kept checking his watch, and couldn't help but feel disgust towards the other patrons in the shop as they told the barista their orders.

"Caramel chai tea soy latter with extra caramel. Could you also remove the froth?" one lady said.

Another gentleman asked, "How many pumps of chocolate do you normally put in the mocha?... Is it extra for an extra pump?... How much more?... Okay, I'll have two extra pumps.... And could you use fat free milk for that?"

Matt guessed that his eyes were turning red from the amount of rage he felt in his sternum. He was quickly losing his patience, waiting for these people to order their ridiculous concoctions, when all he wanted was a cup of black coffee. He was within seconds of losing his temper for the second time that morning, when a cheerful whisper broke into his consciousness.

"Are you having a rough one too?" the young woman asked. Matt turned to his side and was greeted by the most stunning smile he had ever seen. The mere sight of her truly took his breath for a moment. He couldn't decide whether it was her emerald green eyes, her dirty blonde hair that fell just perfectly to her shoulders, or the smell of her perfume that was completely enchanting. He didn't respond for several seconds as he was lost in her presence.

"Excuse me?" he finally responded.

"You look like you're having a rough morning, and I am assuming it's because you haven't had your first cup of coffee yet." She giggled.

With a smile, he responded "Oh... yeah... it's usually ready when I get to work, but it's been one of those days already."

"I totally get you," she said. "The first thing they told me when I got to the office was that the coffeemaker was broken. I can't imagine a worse start to the day!"

She was smiling and giggling as she spoke. He could see she had a bubbly and enthusiastic personality, and it was surprisingly refreshing. He was used to being around his underlings who, knowing that their boss was an assertive workaholic, tended to be very serious and avoided anything that shifted them away from the task at hand. In general, he detested that kind of behavior and viewed it as distracting, if not unprofessional. This woman, though, was different somehow.

"Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing," he said.

"Well, we certainly have that in common. What's your drink?"

"Just regular black coffee, nothing fancy.".

"Why am I not surprised?" she said as she rolled her eyes.

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's just so typical! 'High-power' business man, expensive suit, serious attitude, and he drinks black coffee. Where is the adventure in that!? Are you that boring in everything you do?" she ranted playfully. Matt was not a man who was easily thrown off; he was used to criticism and critique, but it was not usually so blunt. It also did not usually come from someone so beautiful.

"Oh, and let me guess," he replied, "you are going to order some frou-frou blended potion that is pumped full of chocolate and sugar, which just adds to your already incredibly high energy levels. Are you that predictable in everything you do?"

"Touché Mr...."

"O'Bannon, Matthew O'Bannon, but you can just call me Matt. What can I call you?"

"I'm Andi Walker. It's interesting to meet you Matt."

"You too. So what--" He was interrupted by the barista at the counter.

"What can I get you, sir?" she asked.

"Oh, I just need a large black coffee to go, thanks," he said quickly. He turned back to continue his question to Andi, but she had glided off to the side to take a phone call. It must have been serious, because he noticed that her positive demeanor had become stern. He could just make out part of her conversation.

"I don't care what he thinks is best; I am the lead on this case," she said in a low tone. "Well, that doesn't matter. I have already done the ground work, and we are moving forward with the prosecution." She paused for a moment. "You know what, I honestly don't need a messenger. If Jack has an issue with how I want to run this, he can come to me himself. Unless he is going to give me some kind of reasoning, I am going to move forward as planned, and you can tell him that's where I stand on the subject." She angrily stuffed the phone into her purse. He wandered over holding his coffee.

"That sounded like a fun call." He let the sarcasm show.

"Yeah, fantastic. I need to go. It was nice chatting. Enjoy your boring drink," she said with a slight smirk before rushing out the door. It must have been something really pressing, he thought. She didn't even order her drink. He was somewhat disappointed. He couldn't remember the last time he had had an enjoyable conversation, and he wished it could have gone on longer. He left the coffee shop and returned to work, walking past Claire without saying a word. After the unexpected conversation at the coffee shop and finally having some caffeine in his system, his energy and focus were revived. He was buried in work for the rest of the afternoon, and closed a few big deals that he had been having trouble getting finalized. His staff was a bit confused at his mood. Most of them had admittedly never seen him in a noticeably good mood. This went on until the clock struck five p.m., and the office workers began heading to the elevator. Claire was the last to head for the door before she heard him beckon from his office for her to come see him.

"Yes, Mr. O'Bannon?" she asked, without looking at him directly.

"Claire, I just... um... I wanted to apologize. How I acted earlier was completely unprofessional, and there is no excuse for acting that way towards anyone, especially someone who does so much for this company. I hope you can forgive me," he said.

"No, no! It was my fault! I have forgotten so many times lately, and that is unacceptable. I am really sorry and it will not happen again," she pleaded.

"Everyone makes mistakes, but that reaction was totally out of line. I appreciate everything you do; it's important to me that you know that."

"I do. Thank you sir," she said.

"Good. Now go home, have a great night, and I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"You too," she replied with a smile before walking toward the elevator. Just after she pushed the DOWN button, she heard his voice again.

"One more thing..." He paused until she turned to him. "Don't forget my fucking coffee tomorrow," he said with a small smile. She smiled back and nodded before boarding the elevator. He watched the doors close behind her and went back to work.

He tried to stay focused, but all he could do was think about Andi Walker. There had been many women in his life, whenever he had time, but none of them meant much to him. They hung around him for his money. They all knew that he would wine and dine them. That was good enough for them. He knew this; it was an unspoken agreement. But none of those women made him feel much of anything. He didn't feel happy. He wasn't enthused, or usually even attracted. They definitely didn't have the effect that this petite, sassy woman from the coffee shop had. She was completely entrancing.

He was so angry at himself for only getting her name. He didn't know where she lived, where she worked, how to contact her, if she frequented the coffee shop, or if he would ever run into her again. He also felt slightly foolish for feeling so strongly for this woman he had met only once. It felt like he was back in middle school, and he had his first crush. He couldn't put his finger on what was so incredibly different about her. He generally rejected casual conversation unless it was leading up to a big business deal. But now he found himself wishing for more time with Andi.

Eventually he decided his attempt to continue working was useless, so he elected to head home for the evening. He put on his suit jacket, grabbed his things, and headed down to the parking garage. He started on his normal route to go home, but after traveling about a mile, all he could see was taillights. There seemed to have been a pretty bad accident at the intersection a few streets ahead. His impatience kicked in immediately, and he pulled into a narrow alley to the right. He continued down this backstreet, which ended up being an endless path of twists and turns that seemed to lead to nowhere. It wasn't long before he found himself in a part of the city that he wasn't familiar with.

He imagined this area was not the friendliest neighborhood, and probably not the kind of place he wanted to hang out in for very long. Everywhere he looked, he saw boarded-up windows, half-built fences, and roofs with no shingles. There were seemingly vicious canines on unusually long chains that barked incessantly as he passed by. He came to a stop sign and attempted to gather his sense of direction, as he knew he couldn't be that far off his normal route. As he thought, he could hear a slight noise in the background that seemed to be getting louder with each passing second. It got so loud that it drew his attention to his rearview mirror, and he instantly discovered where the noise was coming from.

It was a black Chevrolet Suburban. It had tinted windows and red neon lights shining from under the car that were just becoming visible as the sun started fading below the horizon. He was studying the vehicle when the sound of a car horn pierced his ears. It was coming from the Suburban. He took a left, expecting them to continue straight, but instead they turned on their left turn signal. They made the left and sped up behind him at an unusual speed. It would be a lie to say that he wasn't feeling nervous. He was clearly in a rough part of the city, and it wasn't easy to go unnoticed driving a Rolls Royce Phantom through this type of neighborhood.

He took the next right and, not-so-surprisingly, they followed. He could feel it in his gut; this was not going to end well. They were riding right on his tail end. If they had been any closer, they would have been touching his bumper. He knew this was exponentially more dangerous while they were both mobile and somewhat isolated, so he quickly pulled into a gas station on the next corner he came to. He put the Phantom into park and quickly got out. The Suburban pulled in right behind him at an angle, blocking him in. 

# CHAPTER TWO

Three Latino men got out of the SUV. They were dressed primarily in black, and each wore a black and gold patch on their right sleeve. He recognized the emblem on the patch; it had been shown on the news more times than he could count. It was black with a golden crown in the center--the gang patch of the Almighty Latin Kings, one of the most notorious and deadliest gangs in Chicago.

"Man, it seems like someone got mixed up on their way home," the first man said. "I ain't never seen a whip like that round here."

"Yeah," Matt replied, "I was just going around an accident downtown, but I know the way now, and I am not looking for any problems." He spoke with as much confidence as he could, although he was nervous they could sense his fear. This group was no joke.

"Aww man, well we should hang out a while. I'd like to take that thing for a test drive," one of the others said.

Matt repeated himself. "I said I am not looking for any problems. It's been a long day, and I am just trying to get home. So why don't you just move the truck so I can get going?"

"No, no, no," the first man chimed back in. "I think my brother said he wants to take your ride around the block. You see, we get what we want. Always. Now is no different. You say you don't want any problems, so just give me the keys, and there won't be any." The man raised his jacket to reveal a medium-sized handgun tucked in the waist of his pants as a little extra nudge. He figured all three men were armed. What they didn't know is that he was as well. He was concealing a compact pistol in an ankle holster on his right leg. The problem was, he knew he would not have time to draw his gun and take three accurate shots before they were able to draw theirs and fire back.

Fight or flight kicked in, but Matt had never been one to run away. He threw a vicious front kick, hitting the front man straight in the chest and sending him stumbling backwards onto the ground. The man to his left ran forward and swung his right fist, but Matt caught it and followed up with a thunderous right hook, sending that gang member to the pavement. In the meantime, the third had begun trudging forward, and Matt swung his arm back to the right and hit the man with the back of his fist, stunning him. Matt took advantage of this moment, tucked his arm under the third man, and performed a judo throw; he flipped the man over his shoulder and onto the ground.

The first attacker was just getting back to his feet at this point, and there was fear in his eyes. He frantically reached for his gun, but Matt was ready. As soon as the gun came into sight, he swung his right foot up, kicked it to the side, and continued spinning, bringing his opposite heel around and connecting with the man's chin. The gang member flew backwards into the SUV, crashed into the door, and then crumbled onto the gravel. Matt then drew his weapon off of his ankle and ordered the men not to move. The gas station attendant had wandered out at this point.

"Call the police! Tell them a man was attacked by gang members but has them at gunpoint, waiting for them to get here!" Matt shouted. The attendant nodded and rushed back inside to contact the police. He didn't move the sights off of them. He had them each sprawled out and disarmed. It wasn't more than a few minutes before he saw the flashing blue lights approaching. Three police cars entered the parking lot, and five or six officers got out of them, weapons drawn.

"Alright son!" the lead officer screamed. "We have the situation under control; just set your weapon down, very slowly. No quick movements!" All of the officers had their guns pointed at Matt. He crouched down slowly and set his Ruger on the pavement. He then slowly stood back up, keeping his hands high in the air. He had been in this situation before. All of the flashing lights, sirens, and shouting brought the memories flooding back to him.

All of a sudden he was back in his childhood bedroom, his hands and clothes stained with blood. The moment was so real, the feeling of panic and anxiety as he waited. He could hear the sirens coming from outside the house, and he knew they were coming for him. He remembered the flashing lights filling his bedroom, and the hard pounding on the front door. The police officer that came to his bedroom window and spotted him.

"Hey! He's over here! Kid! Hey!" he shouted.

Matt was brought back to reality, "Hey!" screamed the officer in the parking lot.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, what did you say?" Matt asked.

"I need to take your statement on what happened here, and I need it now, I have more shit to do." The cop growled.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I was just driving, and these guys blocked me in and tried to steal my car. They showed me they had guns, so I reacted," Matt answered.

"Son, do you know who these punks are? They're Almighty Latin Kings. They're members of one of the most dangerous gangs in the city."

"Uh, yeah. I recognized the patches they were wearing from the news."

"Hmm, well then you already know it was a fucking idiotic move to take them on like that. Next time I'd just give them the keys. It might save your life. Now, I'll be right back. I need to run your license and get my report written up. Don't go anywhere," the office ordered.

He wandered back to his cruiser and began running Matt's license. Matt didn't have to wonder; he knew exactly what the officer was seeing on the screen right now. He watched as the man read the screen and glanced back at him, then back to the screen, then back to him. The officer exited the vehicle and walked back to Matt.

"Here's your license back, son," he said hesitantly. "Do you have any other questions before I cut you loose?"

"No officer. I'd just like to go home now if that's alright. It's been a pretty long day."

The officer handed back his license while maintaining the look of confusion in his eyes. Matt took it, got back in the Phantom, and started on his route home. His adrenaline was still pumping through his veins. He had gotten very good at forgetting life-altering events. It wasn't the fight that he had just been involved in that was giving him this feeling; it was the memories that the event brought back to him. Why did this keep happening? The dreams, and the flashbacks. For over ten years, he had seldom thought about any of it. But now all of a sudden he could not escape them.

He arrived back at home, and his first instinct was to pour himself a scotch. But then he stopped in the middle of the hallway. He was still thinking about the dreams, the flashbacks, and the thing that they were all reminding him of: his past, his history, the thing that he longed to forget. He needed help. He had been able to build an amazing life and business in an extremely short amount of time, but these memories were tearing him apart. He couldn't sleep, his drinking was at an all-time high, and the slightest resemblance to those times brought everything rushing back. He couldn't keep on this way, and he knew it. He grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Claire's cell number. It rang just once before she answered.

"Yes, Mr. O'Bannon?" she asked

"Hey, I am sorry to bother you so late, but I need you to do me a favor. I need you to find the best psychologist in Chicago, and I need you to get me their number as soon as possible".

"Okay? Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, I just...um....I am having some anxiety issues, and I need to get it taken care of. It's no big deal. But just get me the number as soon as you can, please." Nobody in his daily life knew anything about his past. Only his immediate family, and he had not seen them since everything happened.

"Oh, okay. I will get on that right now and get you the number. Are you sure everything is alright? Is there anything else I can do?"

"No, thank you Claire. That's all I need. Have a good rest of your night. Thanks again." He quickly hung up. He hoped that would be the end of her interest in what was going on with him. The last thing he needed was someone else digging into his life. He had made great strides to leave all of it far behind him.

Matt walked into the kitchen, intending to cook himself something, but he had no appetite. He couldn't focus his mind on any one thing--it was shooting in a thousand different directions, so much so that it was making him feel dizzy. He wandered into the family room and fell into his recliner. He sat there for a minute trying not to think about anything. He wanted his mind to be blank, figuring that was better than giving in to his recollection. He was starting to achieve this when his cell phone buzzed just once. A text message from Claire with the name and number for the psychologist she had found: Dr. Jared Keller. He decided he would sleep on it and choose what to do in the morning.

It had been a very long and strenuous day. Between his morning tantrum, meeting Andi, and the fight, he had had quite the day. He was exhausted. He climbed the grand staircase of his penthouse up to the second floor and down the right hallway to the master bedroom. He walked through the double doors and set his wallet, phone, and keys in a bowl on the dresser. After emptying his pockets, he walked over to his closet and disrobed before grabbing a small remote off of his bedside table. He clicked a small red button which closed the shades on the expansive window overlooking the city. Most nights, he chose to sleep with them open so that he could see the stars, but tonight he didn't want any light breaking through. He wanted to fall into sleep as quickly as possible; maybe a good night's sleep would help.

Matt laid there for hours staring at the ceiling. He could feel his memory kicking in and feared he would soon start thinking about that fateful day again. In an attempt to avoid that, he turned his concentration to Andi Walker. He thought about how full of life she seemed. How soft her skin looked. He thought about the way that her hair fell perfectly and how her bottomless green eyes seemed to break through into his soul and capture him. He thought about her for only a minute or two before his slipped into darkness.

The darkness was slowly broken by sunlight. He could sense his environment changing through his eyelids. His shades were on an automatic timer and were set to open at 5:00 a.m.; his phone began chanting at the same time. He forced his eyes open and took a moment to let them adjust. The sun was just beginning to rise, and he felt refreshed. He rolled out of his bed and moved into his morning cardio. It was time to get back to his routine. He was getting dressed and an idea formulated in his head. Maybe Andi did frequent the coffee shop. It was a long shot--there were over fifty coffee shops in Chicago. There was a chance though, and it was a chance he was willing to hope for.

He texted Claire, letting her know not to get him a coffee on her way in, and that he would be in a little later than usual. He figured he needed to re-create the previous day's timing as close to exactly as he possibly could for the best chance at encountering her again. He put on his best suit, paid extra careful attention to his hair, and wore his Aqua De Geo cologne, which he only wore on the most special of occasions. He sat in his study and looked over a potential deal that he was pitching later that day until the clock struck 9:00 a.m. Perfect. He got in the elevator and rode it down to the parking garage where he slid into the Phantom and headed toward the coffee shop. He parked about a block away, and he did this on purpose. Every woman that had come into his life in the last five or six years had only done so because they knew of his wealth. He did not want anything to ruin this opportunity, especially not that way.

He briskly made the walk to the front door and felt excitement overwhelm him because of what he saw through the front window: a line of people, and at the end of it, a petite, blonde woman. It was her. For the first time in a very long time, he had butterflies. He was a man who gave ten-million-dollar presentations in front of the most influential business people in the world, and now, in this moment, and because of this woman, he had butterflies. He took a moment to collect himself and went inside. He arrived behind her in line and didn't waste any time getting her attention.

"Yes, she'll have a frou-frou sweet blender with extra sweet, hold the bitter."

The woman turned with a huge smile. She knew exactly who the comment was coming from.

"And he'll take the foulest and bitterest thing you can brew, and he'll take it black, like his soul, probably due to the lack of any sweetness in his life," she challenged in her best "man" voice.

"Alright, not bad, not bad. Are you having a better morning today?" Matt asked.

"Well, I wasn't, because the coffeemaker at work is still broken. But it's a little better now. It's nice to see you again, Matthew O'Bannon."

"Likewise, Miss Walker. It is 'Miss,' not 'Mrs.,' right?" he asked.

"That is correct, just 'Miss' last time I checked."

"Well, when was the last time you checked your dinner plans for tonight?" Matt instantly replied.

Andi looked shocked, but flattered. "You know, I just checked before you got here, and I was bumming about how empty my evening is."

"My evening is pretty empty too, so I think you should come to dinner with me.".

"Is that so!?" She wasn't used to a man taking control in such a manner.

"It is," he answered. "From what I could tell from your phone call yesterday, you seem to run a pretty busy life, and I do as well. It could be a while before we get another opportunity to have a nice night out. Let's not waste it."

"Hmm, and where would this 'nice night' take place, might I ask?"

"I am thinking the Rosebud. Good food, good music, and tonight, there will be good company," he said. "Then, I was thinking, to appease your never-ending need for sweets, we could get some frozen yogurt for dessert." He held her gaze as to avoid having her think he was joking.

She thought for a moment and then finally responded, "That actually sounds really nice. So, when are you picking me up?"

# CHAPTER THREE

Claire was beginning to get worried. Matt was never late for work; in fact, he was almost always in the office an hour before anyone else. In five years, he had never even called in sick. She kept checking her phone for a missed call or text message, but nothing came. She got his plans for the day in order and set them on his desk along with his coffee. She then made small talk with some of the office workers before checking her watch again: 9:37. Almost forty minutes late without any notice. Had something terrible happened? Her imagination began running through possible scenarios that could have taken place.

Maybe there was a terrible car accident. She figured this was not that case, as she had the news running on the office television constantly, and the untimely death of one of the most prominent men in Chicago wouldn't have gone unreported. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that he could have taken a fall down a flight of stairs, or hit his head diving into the swimming pool at his penthouse complex. Then another thought came to her, one that was all too possible given the circumstances. Aside from the unexpected absence, she couldn't forget the call she had received from Matt a few evenings prior requesting the number for a psychologist. Could the absence be connected to that somehow? Was he depressed? If he was depressed and it had gone undiagnosed...could he...would he... commit suicide?

There wouldn't be anyone to find the body. Rarely did anyone visit him. He had no close friends, no family, and he never saw his coworkers or business associates outside of work. She had chills from the thought and couldn't take it any longer. She picked up the phone on her desk and dialed his number. Ring.....ring.....ring.....it rang two more times before she was sent to his voicemail.

"Matt...I mean Mr. O'Bannon, it's me. I am a little worried. It is 9:40, and it's not like you to be late, and I haven't heard from you. Please call me when you get this so that I know everything is alright." She paused for a moment before hanging up, as if she might all-of-a-sudden hear Matt's voice on the other end of the line, but the voice never came.

She didn't think she had any other choice. She pulled back up the call widget on her cell phone, dialed 9-1-1, and waited for the dispatcher to answer.

"Chicago Police Department, what is your emergency?"

"Yes, I....I think I need to report a missing person." She was having trouble getting the words out.

"Okay, who is it that is missing, ma'am?"

"My boss, Matthew O'Bannon. He didn't show up for work this morning, and he is never late for work, and I haven't heard from him, and he isn't answering his cell phone, and--" Claire was cut off by the dispatcher in the midst of her increasingly hysterical spiel.

"Okay, okay... Ma'am, just try to calm down. Everything is going to be alright, but it is important that you give me the information that I need, and you need to be calm to that."

"Okay...I'm okay...I'm okay." Claire said it a second time as if trying to convince herself that it was true. She restated her previous comments about the events that led her to believe that Matt was missing. The dispatcher took her statement, got Matt's address, and told Claire that she would send a unit to his building. She said that they would be stopping by the office if they did not locate him there. Claire thanked the dispatcher and hung up. A few of the office workers asked her about his whereabouts throughout the morning. She thought it best that she didn't raise alarm, so she told them he was at an early meeting and that she did not know if he would be in at all. This seemed to put most of their questions to rest.

Time ticked by, and with every passing hour she vacillated between being more hopeful and more worried. She had not received a call yet, which on one hand told her that the police had probably not discovered a body. On the other hand, it may indicate that they had not found him yet at all, and who knows what that could mean. She tried to keep her mind busy with her tasks for the day. She rescheduled all of his calls and appointments for the day. Once the clock hit noon, she tried to take a lunch break, but she couldn't bring herself to eat. She was about a block away from arriving back at the office when she saw all of the police cruisers in front of the building.

She took her heels off and her walk became a run. She jammed herself into the elevator, pressed the 29th floor button and frantically mashed the Door Close button until the two shiny doors came together. Her nerves were so shot she was shaking.

Just don't let him be dead, she said to herself. I don't care about anything else, as long as he just is not dead. Claire kept repeating this to herself over and over until she heard the ding signaling she had arrived on their floor. She rushed off the lift and into the lobby of the office where she was met by several uniformed CPD officers and a man in casual clothing with a badge dangling from a chain around his neck.

"Hello... Hi, I'm Claire. I'm the one who called. Did you find him?" she said breathlessly.

"Unfortunately no, Miss Johnstone; we haven't found him yet," the man in casual clothes answered. "We just finished a preliminary search of his office, but found nothing that tells us where he might be. You're Mr. O'Bannon's assistant?" Claire nodded subtly. "I'm Detective Chaser; I'm the guy in charge. Now when is the last time you saw him?"

"Yesterday, as I was leaving for the day. He was in a really good mood, and I thought everything was fine." Pressure began to form behind her tear ducts.

"And has anything happened in the last few days that you thought seemed out of character or suspicious?" He had his notepad out ready to record her response.

"Just one thing--" she paused. She didn't like the idea of spreading her boss's personal business, and she knew some of the office workers were listening, but, she considered that it could be the key to finding out what is going on. "A couple of nights ago, he called me after work and asked me to find him the number for a psychologist." The detective began scribbling in his notebook. This made Claire regret what she had just said. "But I think he has just been really stressed out," she quickly added. "He has a lot on his plate, and he doesn't really have anyone to help him get away from all the stress." That, actually, was very true. He had no one to help him escape the stress of his life; generally, he was completely alone.

"Alright miss, thanks for your time. We are going to do everything we can to find him. Just do me a favor and keep the phone lines open in case he calls, and alert us immediately if you hear from him or he shows up here." The detective handed her his card: Detective William Chaser.

"Thank you, Detective. I definitely will. Please, please find him," Claire begged. Detective Chaser nodded and motioned, with a wave of his hand to the officers in the room, that it was time to go. The lot of them proceeded to the elevator and disappeared behind the silver doors. This was becoming all too real for her. There were police involved now, and detectives. What could have happened? Where could he be?

The office was considerably shaken. They had never witnessed something like this. They had never been questioned by the police or been told that they may be called downtown for further questioning. None of them had the slightest idea that he was even missing or that anything was wrong before half a dozen officers showed up in their workplace. They weren't even attempting to hide their anxiety and confusion.

"Alright everyone, I think the best thing to do right now is to just try to get back to work. I am sure everything is going to be just fine." Claire didn't even believe the words that she was saying. "You all know how Mr. O'Bannon is going to react if he shows up here and all of his people are just standing around. So back to work." The group reluctantly shuffled back to their work spaces, leaving Claire alone in the lobby.

She walked around the corner and into his office, and looked around for a moment. She was letting her mind get the best of her. She couldn't stop herself from considering the worst. She sat down in his chair and stared off blankly for an instant before her eyes filled with tears.

Several minutes passed as she sobbed alone in his office when the ding of the elevator demanded her attention. Maybe the officers had forgotten something. Maybe there was an update! She reached for the box of tissues on his desk, pulled one from it, and cleared the moisture from her eyes before hurrying into the lobby. Once there, her eyes filled with water once again as she emerged from his office and saw him exiting the elevator.

"Matt!" she cried.

She threw herself into him, and he caught her in a vast embrace. She cried into his chest for several moments and was holding him so tight he had to struggle to breathe.

"Oh my god," she sobbed, "I thought you were dead!"

"Claire, it's okay," he reassured her. "I'm right here; everything is okay." He had no idea what was going on. She never called him Matt, and as best he could recall, they had never had any physical contact past shaking hands. "Why are you so upset? What's wrong?"

"You didn't show up this morning!" she cried. "And you are never late for work, and you didn't call or answer my calls or texts! I thought something terrible had happened."

He gently placed his hands on her shoulders and moved her out from his chest. "I am so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I should have called. But I am okay," he said with a smile. "Everything is fine now, I'm here." She tried to dry her face, but smeared her mascara in the process. He grinned at her appearance; she looked like a raccoon.

"Great," she said, "now my make-up is ruined!"

She was giggling to herself now and felt sort of foolish for overreacting. This entire time, she hadn't even noticed that there was someone else there who had arrived with him. A pretty, petite, blonde woman stood to his right.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I am Claire Johnstone, Matt's-- Mr. O'Bannon's assistant," she said as she held out her hand for a handshake. The woman took Claire's hand in hers.

"Hi. Andrea Walker, but most people just call me Andi. I am Mr. O'Bannon's...uh....friend?" she said hesitantly as she looked up at Matt. He smiled back at her, mostly because he wasn't completely sure either.

"Well, it is very nice to meet you. I wish it would have happened when I wasn't soaked in tears with eyeliner streaming down my face," Claire joked. "I need to make a quick phone call." She walked over to her desk and dialed the number on the detective's card. "Yes, hello detective? This is Claire Johnstone from O'Bannon Consulting. Mr. O'Bannon just arrived here at the office....yes he appears to be just fine....okay, thank you." She hung up. He was confused.

"Detective?" he questioned. "You called the police?" He watched as her eyes dropped to the floor with embarrassment.

"Yeah, I think I may have overreacted a little. There were six or seven policemen here taking statements from everyone and trying to locate you, or your lifeless carcass," she said in a kind of kidding way, trying to lighten the mood now that she knew he was alive and breathing. "But, speaking of which, where have you been!?"

"Well my....friend...and I went out for dinner last night and we were having such an amazing time that we decided to get breakfast together this morning. We were right down the street, and so I figured I would give her a tour of the office before she went in to work." Andi giggled to herself as he spoke. The two of them were the only ones who knew they had also spent all last night together.

"I see." Claire did not look amused. "Well, I am glad you had a nice morning, and I am sorry for overreacting like I did. All of your appointments for the day have been rescheduled. So, if you two want to go to lunch, dinner, and/or dessert, you are pretty open the rest of the day."

She was clearly irritated and made no attempt to hide it. Within her head, she thought about how he had put her through hell that morning to have a long breakfast with this....woman...and didn't even think to call or let her know. She left them and sat back down at her desk.

He was slightly disheartened by this. He could tell that she was not very happy, and he completely understood why. He should have called. He had just gotten so caught up in this new thing with Andi that everything else had kind of fallen to the sidelines. He leaned over to Andi and whispered to her to go and wait in his office. As she did, he walked over to Claire and put his hand on her shoulder. She didn't look at him, but kept her eyes glued on her computer screen.

"Claire, I am so sorry. I'm sorry that I made you worry. I didn't even think to call. I had no idea it would cause so much trouble. I will never do that to you again, I promise." He waited, wanting a response from her. He needed to be sure she was alright, and that she knew that he was sincerely sorry. Slowly, she turned her head to face him. There was something different about the look in her eyes. It wasn't sadness, but it wasn't anger. And it certainly wasn't happiness. The look was cold, almost detached.

"Just so I have this straight. You blew off work, and made all of us worry, just so that you could have a morning fuck with some blonde bimbo? Really?" she asked bluntly.

She was staring a hole straight through him. There was not an ounce of regret or remorse in her tone, and he was blown away. He had never been spoken to that way, especially not by his own employee. The comment took him completely by surprise, and he didn't know how to react.

"Claire....I....that's not what this was about...I--"

She cut him off. "Save it. I really don't care to hear it at this point. I'm glad you're okay, but I really don't want to talk to you right now. Can I please just go back to work?" she asked.

He just nodded, because he didn't know what else to do. He had never seen Claire in any mood other than happy, and he certainly never expected to hear her talk to him that way. He didn't know if he was mad at her, or mad at himself for making her worry to the point that she would get so angry with him. He walked back into his office to find a smiling Andi.

"Well, that was a pretty exciting morning! You really gave them a scare, huh?" she said.

"Yeah. I guess I did. I'm not really sure what just happened...ugh! Never mind. All of that aside, she actually had a pretty good idea there about getting lunch together. Are you a sushi fan?

"I'm a Matt O'Bannon fan at the moment, so anything involving him sounds like a good idea. I just have to be to work before 2:00; I need to at least get some work done today."

They left his office and passed Claire without a word. He pushed the Down button and waited for the doors to open. They were chatting about sushi and what rolls they were going to order when it got there. They passed into the small box. As soon as the doors closed, Andi turned and pushed him against the wall. She grabbed his head and pulled his face to hers pressing her lips against his. She had never before experienced so much passion just from kissing someone, and she couldn't get enough.

"I'm sorry, I just can't help myself. I have to touch you, feel you." She broke her sentence for another long kiss and embrace. They were completely lost in each other when the elevator doors opened, interrupting them. They looked at one another and giggled before exiting into the lobby of the building. They were almost to the door when Detective Chaser arrived and spotted them as he walked in. Matt hadn't noticed that anything had changed until Andi stopped moving. Her eyes were wide, and she whispered like she couldn't find the air to form words.

"Oh my god."

"Well, well, well," Detective Chaser said. "Now I understand exactly why the infamous Matthew O'Bannon has been missing. This one can be a real distraction, can't she?" He was obviously referring to Andi, and Matt didn't take kindly to what he was suggesting.

"Excuse me?" he growled. The detective was paying more attention to Andi than he was to Matt. He turned to her. "Am I missing something? Do you know this guy?"

"Yes," she answered with a deep, unfortunate sigh, "I do. He's Will Chaser--my ex-husband."

# CHAPTER FOUR

"Detective Will Chaser," he corrected. "And every time I see you, it makes me hate the 'ex' part more and more, especially when you wear these tight little outfits." He motioned toward her clothing.

Matt was growing angrier with each passing second. "We're on our way out, 'Detective,'" he intervened. "Do you want to tell me what you want so we can get on with our day?" He purposely let his frustration show. It was taking a huge amount of will power to hold back from saying what was truly on his mind after hearing those degrading remarks about Andi.

"Standard follow up, O'Bannon. You were reported missing this morning. So, where were you?" Will asked while taking out his notepad and pen.

"We were having a late breakfast down the street," Matt said.

"Okay, yeah, I'm going to need specifics. You were having breakfast where?"

"Does that really matter? My assistant overreacted. I'm fine. Everyone is fine. I'm here now. It was all a big misunderstanding. So it seems pretty irrelevant where we were having breakfast." The detective's eyes narrowed slightly, and his jaw was showing an indentation in his cheek as ground his teeth together.

"I'll tell you what, bud, you can speak when I tell you to speak and what I tell you to speak about. Or you can keep pissing me off and we can take a ride down to the station to get all of these questions taken care of there. Your choice. Now, you wanna keep fucking around?" He held Matt's gaze, but Matt was not about to back down from this asshole. They stared at each other for a moment, neither saying a word, when Andi interjected.

"We were at the little café four blocks down on the right," she said, motioning. "I think the name was French; I don't remember exactly what it was called. From what his assistant said, it seemed like we got here not long after you guys were here. There. You have your answers. Can we go now?" During the time that Andi had been talking, the two men had not broken their staring match. The air was so tense it gave Andi the chills. Finally, Will broke the standoff.

"Fine. Go ahead and go. But a word of advice, Andrea--you better keep this one on a very short leash," he said, pointing at Matt. "If I were you, I would recommend teaching him to respect authority, because his quick mouth could land him in some very hot water in a hurry."

Matt stood still in his position, holding his glare, daring the officer to challenge him. Andi grabbed Matt's arm and tugged on him to go. He took one step, stopped, and looked back at the detective, sizing him up before giving an amused huff as he followed Andi out the exit. They walked a block down the street in silence, each of them looking straight ahead as they moved. The idea of sushi for lunch had long since left their minds, and they arrived at a small diner instead. They entered but held their muteness, aside from Andi letting the hostess know that there were two of them and that a table would be fine. They sat down at the table, but Matt was stoic.

He was staring at nothing, and it was obvious that his mind was polluted with thought. She watched him, trying to figure him out. She could guess a few things that he might be thinking. For starters, it had not come up during the last eighteen hours that they had spent together that she was a divorcée. That meant it had also not come up that she had an ex-husband at all, much less that he was a complete prick, and that he was a detective for the Chicago Police Department. She was additionally slightly concerned that she had also not yet told him that they had a ten-year-old daughter together.

"Okay, I can't take it. What are you thinking?" she blurted out.

"That guy is a dickhead," he said without hesitation.

"Oh, yeah," she replied. "That's putting it lightly. Are you mad?"

"Mad? Fuck yes I'm mad! You should never be spoken to that way. I should have ripped his head off. I don't care if he is a cop or not; that doesn't give him the right to degrade you like that."

She was taken back by this. He didn't even seem to care that she hadn't told him about having an ex-husband. He was just angry at the way she had been treated. She had reached a point in her life where she didn't really believe a truly 'good guy' existed anymore.

"That is exactly why he is an ex-husband. That kind of thing was pretty normal in our house and, thankfully, I eventually I came to my senses."

"I'm glad you did," Matt said, staring into her eyes. She had never met someone who seemed so genuine; he appeared to truly mean everything that he said. There was yet to be any bullshit with him. "How long were you married?"

"Eleven years. We met right after I graduated college and got married after I started working in the city. I'm an attorney, I don't think I told you that, but we worked together on a few cases and he seemed like a great guy. It didn't take long after we got married for me to figure out the kind of man he really is. The divorce officially went through at the end of last year."

"Wow. I'm really sorry you had to deal with that kind of stuff for so long."

"Yeah, but there is kind of a big reason why I held on for so long..." Andi said hesitantly. "We...have a ten-year-old daughter together." She sat there trying to gauge his expression. His face hadn't changed.

"What's her name?" he asked. Andi was relieved, if anything.

"Her name is Riley--Riley Marie Walker." He watched her instant smile as she said it. She was a proud mother, and it showed.

"Riley Marie," he repeated, also with a smile. "That's a beautiful name."

"I thought so. It was between that and--" She was interrupted by his next statement.

"I want to meet her," he said.

Andi didn't know what to say, and she guessed that it was showing all over her face. She hadn't yet introduced a new man into her daughter's life. In fact, it was the reason why she had not agreed to even go on a date since the divorce--until Matt. She was terrified of that moment--trying to make Riley understand what was going on, why Mommy and Daddy weren't together, or why it was okay for them to have new people in their lives.

"You do? I don't know. That's kind of a big step Matt. I don't want her to get attached to someone and have things go bad...I just don't know."

"I think you're amazing. And I have had so many women come in and out of my life. Not a single one made me feel anything, until you. You make me feel...everything--nervous, but excited; safe and dangerous at the same time. You give me these damn butterflies every time you look at me." He chuckled to himself as he said this. "I know that we have only gone out once, and we have really only known each other for twenty-four hours or so, but I want you. I want you in my life. That means I am excited about anything that comes with that, including your daughter."

She thought for a moment. She couldn't help but feel that maybe all of this was too good to be true. He was so kind and so genuine. He liked her for her, and there didn't appear to be any agenda. He didn't judge her or expect anything of her. He cared for her regardless of so many things that other men would have focused on. Like her job. He hadn't even asked her what she did for a living. He had no idea that she was an up-and-coming attorney, or that she had spent six years at the University of Chicago between undergrad and law school. He didn't know that after her marriage fell apart with Will Chaser while working at her first law firm he had used his connections with the city to ruin that job for her during the divorce. There was so much he didn't know, and yet, he was so certain he wanted her to be a part of his life. He was so different. So beautifully different. She felt so much happiness and joy, she really didn't know what to think. Her response to him arrived as a single word that was hardly a whisper.

"Okay."

After that conversation, the tension was gone. The anger was gone. Everything seemed right again. They spent the rest of their time at the diner talking about Riley--what her personality was like, what she liked to do. They talked about how she wanted to be a singer, and how she had never been afraid to be in the limelight. They talked about how school was important to her and about Andi's ambitions for her to get into the Chicago College of Performing Arts and follow her dreams. He admired her for this. She didn't crush her daughter's goals. She didn't push her away from pursuing her dream, or tell her to grow up. She supported her, and he could tell that she always would.

Matt had no children of his own, but he had always wanted a family. He had always wanted to be a father, but he had gotten so caught up in his business and building his life that time had gotten away from him. He felt guilty, but he couldn't help but feel like maybe this was his chance. His chance to be in love. His chance to have a family to love and protect. They talked for what seemed like hours until she checked the time on her phone and declared that she had to go. She hadn't even gone into work yet, and she had to get some kind of work done. She assured him that it was her weekend to have Riley and that they could talk about the two of them meeting. She gave him a long, hard goodbye kiss before exiting the diner.

He left a few minutes after and was full of excitement. It was finally happening. It took thirty-two years, but he had finally found someone. There was an actual chance of a future with someone. He had recently been thinking that it would never come, yet there it was. It was all because Claire had forgotten to bring him a cup of coffee. He would have to remember to thank her for that at some point. He got back to the office building and paced the small elevator car as he waited for his floor. He arrived in the foyer of O'Bannon Consulting to find everyone hard at work, as always. He had truly built an amazing team. His company had seen astronomic success in a very short amount of time, and he owed it all to his team. They worked tirelessly to make sure everything ran smoothly, and he feared that they didn't know how grateful he was for that.

"Everyone," he announced, "stop what you're doing please." He waited until he had everyone's attention, including Claire's.

"I just wanted to apologize. I know that I gave you all a pretty bad scare this morning, and I am sorry for that. It wasn't my intention, and I can promise you all that it will not happen again."

Matt paused a moment before continuing. "I also want to say how much I appreciate everything that you all do. I know how hard you work, and I know that sometimes it can seem like I don't notice or don't care, but I do. I notice it all, and I am so grateful for it. I want you all to take the rest of the day off. I think enough has been done for today. I want you to go home and enjoy your evening."

The workers all looked around at each other. Some of them thought he might be kidding. He had never sent them home early. As a matter of fact, he generally denied time off requests. They didn't contemplate for long, as they did not want to miss this opportunity. They began gathering their things and shuffling toward the exit. Claire began getting her things together as well. She still had not looked directly at him, even though he was looking at her for most of his announcement. He waited until the rest of the staff had made their exit and walked toward her. As he slowly approached her desk, she pretended not to notice.

"Claire?" he said. She stopped packing her bag, exhaled, and looked up.

"Yes, Mr. O'Bannon?" she replied.

"I meant you too. I appreciate everything you do, and I am so sorry for scaring you this morning. I swear to you, it will never happen again." Her eyes still had that look--cold and distant.

"It's no problem sir. Mistakes happen. I get it. Thank you for letting us off early," she said. She stood up with her things and headed for the elevator. As she passed by him, he softly grabbed her arm. She stopped, but didn't look at him.

"Claire," he whispered.

This was hurting him. He hadn't meant to cause her any worry or anxiety. He just wanted her to know that he was truly sorry. For a moment, the two of them merely stood there quietly. Finally, she turned to him. He was so beautiful. So incredibly perfect in every way. His hair was always flawless, although he didn't try. His smile was infectious. His form-fitting suits exhibited his well-built stature all too well, and she often found herself fantasizing about touching him. She thought about running her hands over him. She imagined he felt like stone--so hard and so incredibly toned. She was fantasizing right then.

As his eyes were begging for her forgiveness, and his hand was touching her, she had an unyielding urge to be on top of him. She could feel herself getting warmer and wetter with each passing moment as she let her mind wander. She couldn't take it any longer. He may be bringing a new woman into his life, and if she didn't make a move, she might never get the opportunity. She lunged at him, grabbing the back of his head with both hands and trying to pull him to her with great force. He tried to back away and grabbed her hands trying to pull them away.

"Claire! What are you doing!?" She kept hold of him and continued trying to bring her face to his.

"We have both wanted this for so long, you can't deny it. Let's just let it happen. Fuck me." She was short of breath and panting.

"No Claire! Stop!" He was direct. She stopped and slowly let her hands drop away from him. He couldn't decide if she looked more embarrassed or angry.

"Fine! If you want to stay in denial, then fine. I'll see you tomorrow." She was deliberately short and did not waste any time moving to the elevator once she had finished her comment.

His head was spinning. What? Was that real? What was in the hell was going on? She had never acted out the way she had that day. First cussing him out after the late morning incident, then refusing to acknowledge him when he was clearly speaking to her, and ultimately coming on to him when it was clear he had a new woman in his life. He didn't know what to think, but he figured it didn't do him any good to sit around at the office wondering about it. It was just a very weird day. Everything would be back to normal after a good night's sleep.

And indeed it was. The last few days of that week were surprisingly normal. No outbursts. No 9-1-1 calls, and specifically no executive assistants making romantic advances on anyone. He had considered speaking to Claire about what had happened and possibly even reprimanding her in some way, but chose not to push the issue. The important thing was that everything was back to the way it was supposed to be. He was back to his old, hardworking self, or at least that is how it appeared to his staff. The truth was that he was just trying to flood his day with as much as he possibly could in an attempt to make it go by faster. He was very excited for the upcoming weekend, and to meet Riley. He thought to himself about how foolish he must seem, to be so excited about both Riley and Andi--two strangers, one of whom he had only known for a few days, and the other whom he had never met. He felt like a child again, finding excitement in something as simple as meeting someone new.

He hadn't felt excitement over anything in a very long time. Maybe the day he had opened the doors of his consulting firm. Or it could have been when he made his first million dollars. Possibly when he bought his penthouse. In the past several years, those were really the only times he could remember being truly excited. He certainly didn't normally find delight in meeting new people. Most of the time he preferred not to meet anyone, or even speak with anyone unless it was having to do with business. He had become a true introvert.

It wasn't always that way though. He used to enjoy people. He used to let people into his life and trust them. There was a time when he spent every waking moment with others--his family, his friends. There were some truly amazing moments in his youth, and most of them involved others. But that was all before--before it happened. After that, there was no trust. For a long time, there was no happiness. It was only anger, fear, and numbness. He was constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for his past to come for him. So far, it hadn't. Maybe this was his sign that it was time to let go of the past and embrace his future. Future. He had to really try hard to even consider the idea that he could have a future ahead of him. He was so used to living day-to-day, controlling as much as he could, and to him, that meant he was safe. It meant that the next day was sure to come.

His mind kept recycling these thoughts until the end of the day on Friday. Just like every other day before, he was the last to leave. He was walking through the parking garage to the Phantom when the chills set in. Something felt off. The garage wasn't exactly the safest of places. It was dark, and very little natural light found a way in. It was dingy, grey, and essentially empty by the time he ever left the office. It was easy to get the creeps there, but this feeling was more complicated than that. He had the feeling people get when they are at home, and they know they are the only one home, yet there is a feeling that they are not alone. This was what he was feeling--that he was not alone.

He looked around as he walked but saw no one. He dismissed this feeling. It must have just been his mind playing tricks on him, which was a common thing to happen to him. He arrived at the Phantom, got in, and pushed the ignition button. He loved the rumble and roar of that V12 engine firing up. It was an absolute beast and one of the few items he had splurged on for himself. It was his pride and joy. He pulled out of his spot and drove towards the exit of the garage. He still had a weird tinge in his gut that someone else was near, but again, he checked around and found no one. However, his feeling was not wrong. Someone else was there.

They had been there purposely, waiting for him to leave the office. They knew his routine, as they had studied it madly. Their eyes hadn't left him for a moment since he had walked into the parking garage. They watched as the Phantom pulled toward the exit. Their own car turned over and started up. Then, they followed him. They knew which streets he would take, and they knew exactly where he was heading--back to his penthouse, where they had spent so many nights watching him before. Tonight would be no different.

# CHAPTER FIVE

Once he had left the parking garage, all of the feelings of something being wrong had disappeared. He went about his usual route, only he drove it a little quicker today. He was anxious to get home and changed so that he could meet up with Andi. He even longed to hear her voice, which eventually led him to call her during his commute home.

"Hello?"

"Hey gorgeous. What are you up to?"

"Oh, just making myself pretty. I have this handsome, charming, bitter black coffee-drinking man coming over this evening and I want to look presentable."

"Oh wow, sounds like a pretty fantastic evening," Matt joked back. "What time are you expecting prince charming to arrive?"

"Hmmm," she thought for a moment. "Maybe around 7:30? That should give me time to get ready, get Riley ready, and get some dinner started...or ordered." She was admittedly not a great cook and ordering take-out was her norm.

"Sounds like a plan. I am almost home. I just need to grab a quick shower and throw on some clothes, so that should be perfect." He paused. "Does Riley know what's going on tonight?"

"I explained it to her a little bit. She is so smart for her age. She didn't think anything of it. I don't know if I'm impressed or ashamed that the divorce made her grow up so fast."

"It was for the best. If she doesn't realize it now, she will eventually. Don't worry," he assured her.

"I guess. She was asking a lot of questions about you. I told her that you were a businessman and that you were very sweet. She asked if you had any kids, and I said no, but that you love them."

"This is true."

"Yeah, so I think it is going to be a good thing. We just need to take this in baby steps, and we will be in good shape."

"Alright, I'll let you get ready, and I'll see you in a bit." He ended the call after saying goodbye. He was pulling back up at home and jumped straight in the shower. He had some time, so he let the hot water cascade over him. He stood there with his eyes closed as the steaming hot water ran down his torso and back. He ran his fingers through his hair and down the back of his head. His moment of bliss was interrupted by what sounded like the bathroom door slowly opening. He opened his eyes and listened. There it was again--the feeling that he wasn't alone. His bathroom was the size of a small house, and the doorway was at least twenty-five feet away.

His shower was a walk-in and was a semi-circle with two entryways. He leaned back against the wall that was furthest from the bathroom door and kept transferring his view from one entryway to the other. After taking a moment to prepare, in one swift movement he shut off the water, grabbed his towel from the hook, and burst out of the entryway furthest from the door. He looked around frantically, ready to confront whoever he found, but what he found was nothing and no one. The door was still shut. Nothing was out of place. I must be going crazy, he thought. He had finally had a stretch of a few days where he didn't have the dream and got decent sleep; now he was paranoid that he was being watched.

He forced it out of his mind and continued getting ready. Nothing fancy tonight--he put on jeans and a black sweater. He ran some product through his hair, brushed his teeth, and swished some mouthwash around in his mouth. Fresh and ready to go. As he was driving through the city, he passed an automated speedometer which made it clear by its rapid blinking that he was moving at an illegal pace. Twenty-seven miles per hour over the limit was overkill. He brought his speed down to the limit. No need to rush, he thought. Just meeting a little girl; no big deal. The thing was, it was a big deal. This little girl and her mom had the potential to become a very big part of his life--at least he hoped they would.

At 7:15 p.m., he put the car in park in front of Andi's apartment. He was always ten to fifteen minutes early to any appointment. His dad had instilled that in him from a young age. What a great man his father was--wise, hardworking, and completely dedicated to his family. Matt remembered how much he had admired him growing up. How much he wanted to be just like him. He wished he could tell him about Andi, and about his company. He wanted him to know how far he had come, and what he had been able to accomplish. He wanted his dad to be proud. Unfortunately, that day would never come, and it was Matt's fault. If only he would have been able to control his anger. None of it would have ever happened. He would still have his family, and maybe his life wouldn't feel so empty. No! He pushed the thoughts out of his mind. It was going to be a good night. No reminiscing. No past history bullshit. Only the present, and the future.

He walked slowly, gripping a small stuffed dog he had picked up on the way over. Andi had told him how much Riley loved dogs. She explained that they couldn't have one in their apartment, and her dad worked too much to have one. He had never done something like this before, and he was hoping it wasn't weird of him to bring her a gift. He wouldn't have to wait long to find out. He worked his way up three flights of stairs to apartment 712. Three gentle knocks resulted in some shuffling inside the space.

"Just a minute! Coming!"

Andi opened the door and greeted him with a smile. She was so beautiful. She was wearing a tan open-front cardigan with a black tank top underneath on top of dark blue jeans and fuzzy socks. Her smile seemed to get more stunning every time he saw her. He didn't even say "hello" before leaning in for a kiss. He could kiss her all day and night, but that wasn't the purpose of this night.

He looked around as he entered the apartment--spacious, clean, and well-kept. He expected nothing less from her. He was looking around anxiously for the little girl he had been looking forward to meeting, but he didn't see her anywhere. Andi must have noticed; she nodded, motioning him to follow her. She led him down the hall and into the family room where Riley was watching something on TV. In seeing her for the first time, his breath was all but stolen. She looked just like Andi--same dirty blonde hair, same green eyes, and the same dimples when she smiled.

"Riley, there is someone here who I'd like to introduce you to," Andi said. Riley jumped off of the couch and trotted over to them. "This is Mr. O'Bannon. He is the friend that Mommy has been telling you about." He kneeled down so he was eye level with her and held out his hand.

"Hi Riley," he said with a smile. "I'm Matt. It is very nice to meet you."

"Hi," she responded, and she placed her hand in his. Her eyes were locked, not on him, but on the stuffed dog in his other hand.

"Oh," he burst out, "this is for you." He handed the stuffed animal to her. "Your mom told me that you really love dogs and I thought you might like this one."

Riley said nothing, only nodded her head confirming his statement. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and it was obvious she adored the gift. Pride in the gift and in her reaction swelled up inside him. He looked up at Andi, who was staring at him with either surprise, admiration, or maybe a little of both.

The rest of the night played out better than either of them could have possibly expected. The three of them talked about dogs and about how Riley wanted to be a singer. She even treated them to a rendition of "Hopelessly Devoted to You." Andi explained that she was going through a Grease phase. He discovered that she liked all music, but that her true favorite was country. It was explained that she was one of very few children who enjoyed school and that her extracurricular activities revolved around band or choir as opposed to traditional sports.

She talked Andi and Matt into a game of UNO, at which she won handedly. They lost track of time and when they finally checked the clock, it was almost midnight. Once Andi noticed, she quickly announced that it was way past Riley's bedtime and shooed her to go get into her pajamas. She scurried down the hall to her bedroom, and they could hear her rifling through drawers.

"She is looking for her Cinderella nightgown. She only wears it on special occasions, like Christmas Eve...she must like you," she stated with a smirk. Sure enough, Riley emerged in her prized nighttime attire.

"Okay young lady, say goodnight to Matt."

Riley, still clutching her stuffed dog, ran over and leapt into his arms for a big goodnight hug.

"Goodnight Matt," she said into his chest.

"Goodnight Riley," he said, smiling to himself.

He felt so much joy, more than he could ever remember feeling before. She squeezed him tight and then released. She hugged her mother goodnight, who assured her she would be in to tuck her in in a few minutes. She hurried down the hall and Matt watched until she was out of sight.

"Wow." Andi looked shocked. "I thought she might like you, but I never figured she would like you that much. She doesn't even hug her dad goodbye without him telling her to."

"She is an amazing little girl. And she has one hell of an amazing mom."

"Eh, I don't know about all that. She has a mom who put her through a divorce, doesn't see her enough, and works too much."

"Hey," he put his hand on her cheek, "she has a mom who deserved to be happy and who works her ass off to provide for her daughter. She is very lucky, and I can tell she is going to grow up appreciating that."

She teared up slightly and fell into him. He held her there, appreciating everything about that night. It was a good night. He left the apartment with a buzz. He'd experienced many highs in his life, but never one like the one he had as he left their apartment. The night had cemented his decision that these two girls were going to be a part of his life, and he was so excited to see what the future had in store for them. He got into the car and took off down the road. He was in no hurry. He was still thinking about the events of the evening. He wanted to remember every detail. He was deep in thought when the flashing blue lights appeared in his rearview mirror.

He looked back in confusion. They were definitely police lights, but they were not on the roof of the vehicle. They were attached to the front grills, and the car wasn't a normal police cruiser. It was a black Dodge Charger. He pulled to the side of the road, wondering what he could have been doing wrong. He knew that he hadn't been speeding, and he hadn't been on his phone or swerving. He put the Phantom into park, turned on the lights inside the car, rolled down the window, and placed both hands on the steering wheel in plain sight.

The officer approached and shined his flashlight into Matt's eyes. "License and registration," he barked. Matt complied and handed out the documentation.

"I'm sorry officer, but I know that I wasn't speeding. Why am I being pulled over?" He was careful to be as polite as possible.

"Well, you made one very wrong move boy," the officer responded. "You pissed me off." He turned off the flashlight, and once Matt's eyes adjusted, he understood entirely. It was Will Chaser.

"Have you been, uh, drinking tonight sir? Seems to me you were swerving quite a bit back there."

Matt was having trouble concealing his anger. "No, I have not been drinking."

"Hmm, very interesting. Where you coming from so late?"

"That's really none of your business. I haven't done anything wrong, so why don't you quit playing games so I can get home?"

"You just can't seem to understand, can you?" Chaser looked amused. "I am an officer of the law. And you are going to learn to respect that. Step out of the vehicle."

"What?"

"I said, step out of the vehicle. Don't make me say it again." Chaser said this as he pulled the handle on the Phantom and opened the door. Matt let out a frustrated sigh and got out. "Now, I need you to very slowly turn around and place your hands on the hood of the car." He was about to argue, but Detective Chaser must have seen that coming. He grabbed and twisted Matt's left arm, forcing him to spin around facing the car. He slammed him against the hood without any sign of remorse.

"Don't move!" Chaser yelled. "I am going to pat you down, one way or another. We can do it the easy way, or we can do it with cuffs--your choice."

Matt stayed where he was without movement. Chaser proceeded to feel up and down his chest and back. He then moved down to his waist and front pockets. So far, he had found nothing. He felt over his back pockets and moved down his left leg, then down his right. Will stopped at his right ankle. He lifted up his pant leg to reveal the small semi-automatic handgun that was secured in an ankle holster.

"Well now, what do we have here? A concealed firearm. Hm, very interesting. You know, that is a pretty big threat from a civilian who resisted the orders of an officer." The sarcasm was oozing out of the detective's mouth. "Unfortunately, I am going to have to put the cuffs on you to keep you detained until I can confirm that you have a permit for this thing. It is for everyone's safety...I'm sure you understand."

"I have the permit on me Chaser. It's in my wallet, back left pocket. Now stop bullshitting. I have things to do."

"Oh, is that right? Well, let me just see here."

Chaser pulled the wallet from his pocket and ordered him to stay where he was. He then returned to his car and made a call to the department to check the validity of the license. Matt lay on the hood for several minutes before the detective returned.

"Looks like the permit checks out Mr.... O'Bannon," he said, reading the permit as if they had never met before. He took the handcuffs off of Matt and pulled him off the hood. Matt shook himself from Will's hands.

"Now, you be careful getting home," the detective said as he was putting the permit back into Matt's wallet, which was still in his hands. "This city can get damn scary at night. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you." He dropped the wallet at Matt's feet.

"You're right," Matt said, "it can be very dangerous." He sent a cold, threatening stare into Chaser's eyes, and his challenge was clear.

"One more thing before you go." Before Matt could say a word, Chaser hurled his right fist into his cheek, sending him spinning around into the car and then onto the ground. "Stay away from Andi, and my daughter, or your life is gonna get a lot tougher."

Chaser walked back to his car and took off without another word. As he got back to his feet and picked up his wallet, he was wishing that someone would have been there to witness everything that had just happened. Little did he know, someone had--the same person who had followed him home from work, into his penthouse, and to Andi's apartment. There had been eyes on him every second--the eyes of someone waiting for just the right moment. He got back into the Phantom, moved his jaw around trying to shake off the sting, and started for home. Then, like so many nights before, the owner of the watchful pair of eyes started their vehicle to follow.

# CHAPTER SIX

The next few weeks passed by in a blur... a beautiful and surreal blur. He was spending as much time as he possibly could with the girls. It was the first time in his life that he could remember wanting to spend more time outside of work than in it, and he liked it. He had transferred a few day-to-day responsibilities over to Claire, which freed up quite a good amount of his time. He also fell into a habit of taking a slightly longer lunch, which was previously always reserved for clients, and instead spending it with Andi.

The business continued to thrive and, as far as he knew, everything was getting done as usual, even without his constant presence. During the evenings, he saw Riley every chance that he got. The three of them had dinner together every few days, went to a couple of movies, and he even attended a choir recital at Riley's school. She had personally asked him to attend, and he told her that he wouldn't miss it for the world. He canceled a dinner with a client that had spent millions of dollars on his consultation to attend the event. He was prepared to die before he would ever break a promise to Riley.

For the first time in a long time, he was truly happy. Slowly, but surely, they were becoming...a family. Chills set in every time that word came into his thoughts. Family. It was a subject he had gone out of his way to avoid. He hadn't been part of a family for what seemed like a lifetime. It wasn't that he'd never had a family. He used to when he was younger, but those times were long gone though.

It was interesting to him how clear things become as a person gets older. Had he known how things would play out back then, maybe he would have gone a different route. Maybe, he wouldn't have made the decision he did. Maybe, he would still be welcome in his family, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't go back, and he couldn't do it over. It is what he always told himself when the thought of "family" came into his mind. What was done was done, and it couldn't be reversed. There was no reason to dwell on it. The only thing to do was to move on.

Those were his consistent thoughts about family until now. Until Andi and Riley. They were becoming a new family, his family. As this happened, he became more and more excited, but he also became more fearful. He had failed his family once before, and it had cost him everything except his life. He wouldn't let that happen again. This was his second chance--his chance to start over--and he wouldn't waste it.

He looked down at his watch: 4:30 PM. He almost never left the office before five, but it was a special occasion, as was every night that he had plans to go over to Andi's for dinner with his two new ladies. He filled Claire in on a few things he needed taken care of and headed for the elevator.

"Mr. O'Bannon?" she said as he neared the doors. He turned around to find that she was standing behind her desk.

"Yes?" She didn't say anything at first, but just looked at him and seemed to be contemplating whether or not to say what was on her mind.

"You know, we are all so happy for you, and for this new chapter in your life."

"Thank you, that means a lot to--" Claire cut him off.

"But, you still have a company to run. I can't do everything for you. Your clients pay thousands and sometimes millions of dollars for your advice; not mine and not theirs." She gestured to the staff, hard at work. "I understand that you are trying to find a balance right now, but it really seems like your work life is taking the hit for something that may or may not even work out."

Matt wasn't confused by her behavior this time; he was just angry. He had put up with this type of thing from her on a few instances, but he'd had enough of it. She was about to continue with her rant when he held up a hand.

"In my office."

He opened the door and signaled for her to walk in first. She did so. He followed, turned around to shut the door behind them, and turned back to her.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he asked. He didn't yell. He spoke in a very calm, yet firm, tone.

"Excuse me?" she answered, obviously taken aback by the remark.

"No, you're not excused." Matt said. "You have been way off base these past few weeks, and I have put up with it because I felt guilty about the coffee incident, and the morning no one knew where I was. But, it is going to stop, and it is going to stop right now."

"I'm--"

"I don't want to hear it. Here is what I want you to hear and understand. I am your boss. I always have been, and until recently, you have been the best executive assistant I could have asked for. But what I have not asked for is your input--not on my personal life, and not on how to run my company. Yet lately, you have been giving it every time you open your mouth to speak."

He was fuming now, but still doing a good job at staying calm and keeping his voice at an even tone. He had lost it on her once before, and he swore he would never do that again. At the same time, however, her behavior was unacceptable, and he needed to let her know it.

"You are here for one reason: to assist me, and to do so only when I ask. Now, I haven't been spending as much time at the office lately, but the fact of the matter is that I have spent the last five years working a hundred hours a week getting this company off the ground. I think I have earned a little bit of flexibility in my schedule."

She was speechless, and her face was white as snow. He had previously blown up over a cup of coffee and that outburst had left her in tears, but this was different. This was calculated. He wasn't yelling; he was directing. He wasn't a man who hadn't gotten enough sleep and wanted his coffee; he was her boss and the man who had her career in the palm of his hand. She almost preferred the sleep-deprived screamer over this, anger over what she was classifying as disappointment.

"Now," Matt continued, "I expect you to put this new attitude of yours behind you or leave it at home. Don't bring it into my office. I have put up with it, but it is going to stop immediately. Now, I have plans tonight, and I expect that you see to it that everything gets done as usual."

With that, he turned around and walked out, leaving her alone in his office without so much as a goodbye. Guilt began to fill her from the head down. He had been so good to her over the last several years, and she had totally disrespected him. She felt tears beginning to well up in her eyes, and she dropped her head, but this was only for a moment. When she lifted her head back up, there were no tears in her eyes--only that stare; that same cold, blank stare that she'd had when he was late to work because he was having breakfast with Andi. She fixed on him with that stare as he entered the elevator, pushed the button for the ground floor, and until the doors closed in front of him.

Matt was flying back to the penthouse to change. He had controlled his anger when he was speaking to Claire, but that didn't mean that he wasn't furious. How dare she talk to him that way? He had been so good to her, and now, of all times, she develops this disrespect? Now? When he is finally happy? When he has finally found someone to share his life with? When he finally feels like his life means something? He just couldn't understand why, but he didn't want to ponder on it. He wanted the two things he knew could make him feel better: Andi and Riley.

He arrived at the condo, threw his keys and phone on the counter, and jogged up the stairs to the master bedroom to shower and change. Within ten minutes, he had showered, redressed, and was on his way back out the door. He wasn't due over at Andi's for another hour and a half, but he didn't care. He just wanted to see them. He figured if Andi wasn't quite ready, he could help make dinner while she finished, but as he approached her apartment building, he discovered there might have been a reason why she hadn't planned on him coming over until later that evening. Parked in the front of the building, was a black Dodge Charger with police lights on the front of the grill.

He sat in his car, trying to decide what to do. He could drive around the block a few times and wait for the Charger to leave. No. The girls were in his life now. They were becoming his family, and he wasn't going to let anyone scare him off. He walked into the building and up the three flights of stairs. He walked up to Andi's door and knocked three times. Within seconds, the door opened, and standing on the other side was Detective Will Chaser.

"What the hell do you want?" he snarled, looking Matt up and down.

"Again, I'll remind you that my plans are none of your concern, but if you really want to know, I am here for dinner," Matt replied, with an intentional smirk. He meant to ensure that Detective Chaser knew he was not intimidated. Chaser leaned out the door slightly and brought his tone down to a hush.

"Didn't I tell you to stay the hell away from them?"

"Oh yeah, I do kind of recall that advice," Matt responded. "I guess I just don't give a fuck."

"Matt!" Andi said. She was walking down the hall and had just noticed he was at the door. "You're early," she said. She was nervous as she looked back and forth at the two men standing in her doorway.

"Yeah, sorry, I got out of the office a little early today so I thought I'd help cook." He purposely spoke as if Will didn't exist, much less as if he was standing right there.

"Oh, that would be perfect. Will is dropping Riley off--he was just leaving." Chaser looked as if he was about to argue that statement, but he wasn't going to be given the option.

"Yes, I think that would be a good idea," Matt said.

Chaser whipped his head back around toward him with fury in his eyes. Matt didn't even blink. He just matched his stare. He seemed as if he was about to make a move on Matt, but before he had the chance, Riley came running down the hallway.

"Matt!" she screamed with delight. She ran past her father and into Matt's already open arms.

"Hey sweetheart!" There was just as much joy in his voice as there was in Riley's. "Ready for some spaghetti? It's my specialty!"

Riley's face broke into a giant smile. He knew from conversations with Andi that Riley loved spaghetti. All the while, Chaser was watching this unfold, and it seemed to be taking everything in him not to snap.

"Alright," he said, "I gotta get back to the precinct. Riley, I'll see you next week," he said. He was expecting some sort of response, but she just nodded slightly, not paying much attention to him. "Well? Aren't you going to hug your daddy goodbye?" he said impatiently.

She slowly walked over to a kneeling Will Chaser and put one arm around his neck for a half hug. He stood back up and headed out the door. Matt was closing it behind him when he turned around and put his foot in the way. Now the two of them were face-to-face and out of Riley's line of sight.

"I warned you," he said.

He stood there for a few seconds before moving his foot and heading down the stairway. Matt watched from the doorway as Chaser made his way down the stairs. His eyes didn't leave the detective until he got all the way to his Charger, backed out and exited the parking lot. Good, he thought, now we can get on with what is sure to be a fantastic evening.

Andi went down the hall to take a shower while he started dinner. She was gone for all of ten minutes before she arrived back in the kitchen to discover an absolute mess. It was all too obvious that he didn't cook very often either. The truth was, his housekeeper would generally prepare his meals for him or he would order out. To say he didn't cook "often" was an understatement. He couldn't remember the last time he had operated an oven. It was safer to say that he never cooked.

There was spaghetti sauce on the counter and on the floor. There were three burners going and he was only using one. He was in the middle of trying to dump the angel hair noodles into a strainer. He had successfully landed about half of the them in the strainer, and the rest was hanging on the side of it or had fallen into the sink.

"Wow," she said. "You're a natural! Gordon Ramsay better watch out."

"Ha...ha...ha," Matt laughed sarcastically. "Yeah let's all point and laugh at the bachelor who can't cook! Riley, don't let your mother's habits rub off on you." He winked at her as he said it to let her know he was joking. Andi was still laughing.

"About how much longer on the main course, O'Bannon?" she asked.

"Ehh, maybe five or six? I just have to get the noodles strained..." As he said this, he fumbled with the stray noodles in the sink, trying to get them into the straining bowl.

Still chuckling, Andi responded. "Alrighty then, I will just get the salad ready, and Riley can help set the table." She gestured to Riley to grab the plates and silverware off of the counter next to him. She quickly did and ran over the table happy to help prepare their dinner area. Andi began getting the salad ready, but before taking it to the dinner table, she walked up behind him and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. She stayed there, her face centimeters from his.

"Mmmm, that was nice," Matt said.

"Yeah and there's more where that came from," she whispered as Matt's face broke into a devious smile, "if you ever get dinner finished!" And with that she gave him a pat on the butt and walked to the dinner table. A few minutes later, he had finally finished getting the pasta ready and filled their plates. Although it was a rough start, the meal was a slam dunk.

They laughed and talked the whole time, mostly about Riley, like what subjects were her favorite at school. She was good at math, but English was her favorite. Then she told a story about her new friend, Lilly, whom she had befriended on the playground at recess the day before. She expanded on how they had been on a team for hide and seek. The story ended with them being found because they were laughing too loudly.

Once the meal and conversation had come to a halt, Andi reminded her daughter that it was getting late and that she should head on to take a bath. She quickly obeyed and scurried down the hall.

"She is the cutest," Matt said. Andi was always astounded when he spoke about her daughter. He had this sparkle that would appear in his eye.

"Yeah, she sure is," she replied with a gleaming smile.

She was having trouble concealing her joy over the past few weeks. It was like a fairytale. She had felt that way in the past, but if she was honest, she had always known at the beginning of those phases that the guy seemed too good to be true, as was the case with Will Chaser. With Matt though, somehow, she didn't feel that way. There was something about him. He was so genuine, so real. She didn't think he was too good to be true, but she did think he was too good for her. She was so lucky to have been in the coffee shop that morning. Thank god the coffeemaker was broken.

"So how have things been at work? Has it calmed down a little since that 'late to work' fiasco?" she asked.

"Yeah, it has definitely calmed down. What about you?"

"What about me?" She was thrown off by his question.

"What about your work? Tell me more about what it's like to be a lawyer in Chicago." Andi was about to answer when Riley burst back into the dining room dressed in her special occasion Cinderella nightgown, gleaming with pride.

"Well, what do we have here?" Matt sounded astonished on purpose. "A princess right here in Chicago! I thought princesses were supposed to ride on horses," he said.

Riley thought about that for a second and then looked slightly upset that there wasn't a horse right there in the dining room, but that didn't last long. He pounced onto his hands and knees in front of her. She swelled with excitement before jumping onto his back and grabbing his shirt like horse reigns. Riley again went to bed a little past her bedtime that night. They were having far too much fun prancing around the living room to be worried about the time, and Andi was too thrilled to care. After what seemed like hours, Andi finally stopped the royal parade that Riley was involved in, and assured her it was well past time for bed.

"Say goodnight to Matt; he has to be getting home."

"Goodnight Matt!" she squealed while hugging him tightly.

He hoped she would never let go. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he had been happier than in that moment. When she finally let go, she scurried down the hall to her bedroom. He watched her go and couldn't contain his joy. He could feel the ridiculously wide smile on his face, but he didn't care. He was quickly growing to love that little girl.

"And do I get a goodnight hug as well?" Andi said as she approached him.

"I think you deserve a little extra something."

She already knew what he meant, and they both moved to close the space between them as they fell into a long, passionate kiss. This turned into another and then another. Before they knew it, their hands were roaming each other. Their tongues started wrestling in addition to their lips. There was an intense heat and friction building between them, but then he stopped it.

"Okay, okay," he said, backing away a step.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing! Nothing, everything is perfect. It's just...if we don't stop...and soon...I don't think we will be able to, and Riley is right down the hall."

"So? We can be quiet," she said with a devilish grin.

"No," he said with a smile. "Things are going so great, especially with Riley. I don't want to risk her walking in or hearing something and have this all ruined."

"I understand," she responded while kissing him gently as to put a defining end to the make-out session. "Listen....we need to talk about Will." 

# CHAPTER SEVEN

"What about him?" Matt said, narrowing his eyes.

"I think we need to keep a schedule with nights like tonight, to make sure the two of you never run into each other again. I mean, he's Riley's dad. If the three of us are going to be together, then you and I have to accept that Will and I are going to cross paths every once in a while."

"I just..." Andi thought for a moment. "I just don't want any more situations like what happened tonight. The divorce is still so new, and I just don't want Riley getting confused. He is still her father."

"You don't think I know that? You don't think I know that I will never be her dad?" His voice was growing louder with every word. "What? Are you embarrassed that your daughter's role model went from the mighty detective all the way down to the simple business guy?"

"Matt, no! None of that is what I meant. I--" He cut her off.

"Then what did you mean?!" This time it was almost a full-blown yell.

"Keep your voice down; Riley is right down the hall."

"Stop! Don't use her as an excuse. Tell me what you meant! What? I'm not good enough for Riley? You don't want her confusing me for her big bad police officer daddy!?"

"Stop it Matt. Just calm down," she said as she gently grabbed his wrists. He felt like he was going to explode. He had finally found a family, and as stupid as it sounded, it felt like they were about to be taken away already. He shook her hands off of his wrists.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" he yelled as flipped the dinner table over with his left hand. Plates, glasses, silverware, and food flew against the wall, some things breaking and others just tumbling around on the floor. He immediately felt more regret than he ever had before. He looked from the pile he had created on the floor back to her. She was petrified.

"Andi...I'm...I'm sorry...I don't know what--" She stopped him there.

"I think you should go," she said. She was looking at the mess, not at him.

"Andi, please..."

"No. Just go. Now."

He looked at her eyes for a few seconds longer, but he wasn't trying to read her. He already knew--she meant what she had said. He silently turned and opened the door. He stepped one foot out then stopped, and turned back to her.

"I'm so sorry."

With that, he shut the door behind him and walked quickly down the stairs. How could he be so stupid? His mind was in a haze, and he couldn't tell if he was angry, sad, confused, or just plain humiliated. He had never been able to control his anger, but to lose his temper over something so silly, over something that he just created in his mind that wasn't even true. He was lost in thought and didn't even notice it until he was standing right in front of it--the Phantom. His prized automobile had been absolutely destroyed.

The windshield had been shattered by a sledgehammer. He knew it was a sledgehammer because the handle was jutting out into the air while the head of it had gone through the glass in the cab of the car. Both headlights were smashed. All four tires were slashed, and the front driver's side tire had a folding knife sticking out of it. The sledgehammer had obviously done some damage to both doors before going through the windshield and had also presumably been used to bust both door windows.

He walked around the side of the car, in disbelief, and that's when he saw the message. Scratched into the side of his car were the words: Final Warning. Chaser. He had left and then had come back and destroyed Matt's car. He was in total disbelief. That night was supposed to feel like a dream, and instead it had turned into a complete nightmare. He called a tow company while he waited for his taxi to arrive. He entered the back seat of the cab and gave the driver the address.

His head was pounding with everything that was happening. He had spent years building this life, escaping his past and creating a future. He had found a family to care for and to care about. Everything was working out for him, and just as it hit its peak, it all started to crumble. He couldn't get away from the recent dreams of his history. His righthand person at work was changing drastically and affecting his day-to-day environment. He had effectively ruined his newfound relationship with Andi. And on top of it all, he had a deranged detective out for blood. All of it, not to mention that his prized automobile had been demolished.

Matt inhabited these thoughts the entire ride home. The truth was that that was how it had always been for him. One minute everything is going perfectly according to plan. The next minute, the storm hits, and everything good is washed out of his life, leaving him to start over. The same thing had occurred earlier in his life--the event that changed everything and altered the route of his life. He had just gotten back from the Fork Union Military Academy. His parents had sent him as a last resort; he had been getting in fights at school, getting into trouble outside of school, and he refused to be controlled.

He hated the idea of having to follow rules and take orders at first, but he quickly excelled in his group. It created a huge change in him, and over those four years he grew into a man. He learned to control his anger, and he used it as fuel. He'd finally found something in his life that he was great at, and he took advantage of it. He rose to lead his platoon for two years, and secured an officer position if he were to choose to enlist after graduation. He had actually planned on it; he loved the military. He loved the discipline that it demanded, and he was prepared to commit to a career in the armed forces.

That was until the week after he came back home and everything happened. That had ruined any chances of ever having a career in military. The same thing was happening again with Andi and Riley. Things got so good, just to fall apart again. He wanted so badly to get out of this cycle. He didn't need things to be great; he just wanted them to be good enough so that he could enjoy living, and every time he got there, he did something to fuck it all up.

As the cab stopped in front of his building, he paid the driver, stepped out of the cab, and began walking toward the front doors. But then he stopped. He certainly enjoyed a quality drink, but he had never been one to use alcohol to cope with his problems. This evening was an exception. He didn't care what it took; he just wanted all of the thoughts to go away. He turned around and held a hand up for the driver to stop. He got back in the taxi and asked the driver to take him to the closest bar.

"You know," the driver said as he accelerated, looking back at Matt and the building he lived in, "the closest bar isn't the prettiest scene. It's sort of...rough. You sure you don't want to head a little further downtown? Maybe go somewhere a little nicer?" Matt looked in the rearview mirror to meet the driver's eyes.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"My name?" the driver asked. Matt answered with a nod of his head. "Scott. Scott Wood."

"Nice to meet you. I'll tell you what, Scott Wood. Take me to the closest bar, I won't be there long, and I don't want to deal with a long ride back later. I'll give you $500 to wait outside and take me home when I'm finished. How's that sound? " Driver Scott looked completely out of his element.

"I can definitely do that! No problem at all!" Scott beckoned after a momentary hesitation.

The cab approached the curb outside of a hole-in-the-wall bar called The Grizzly's Gut. The sign was barely attached to the building and showed a beer glass in a bear's paw. It appeared to be the only operational building in the area, as it resided amongst several abandoned structures. There was only one working street light on the road, and it only minimally lit the sidewalk in front of the bar. There were a few cars parked out front, and Matt guessed there might be some additional parking in back; but aside from those, there were no cars on the street, and no sign of life anywhere.

Matt nodded to Scott, exited the cab, and walked in the front door of The Grizzly's Gut. He could see right away what the driver meant when he said it was a rough place. Straight ahead through the smoke in the air was the bar--U-shaped and partially filled. At the closest end of the bar there sat several men who looked as though they had been there drinking since noon. Their eyes were half closed, and he could tell just from a moment of observation that they were slurring their words as they spat to each other. At the far end of the bar was a man with long greasy grey hair, a messy beard, and a trucker hat, sleeping with his head lying on the bar top.

The bartender was an extremely thin woman who was wearing a crop top, jean shorts that had to be three sizes too small, and a cowgirl hat. She was painted with tattoos on both arms, both legs, her abdomen, and her neck. As she stood behind the bar talking with one of the patrons, she was leaning side to side as if she couldn't find her balance. His assumption was she was drunk, high, or both. On the right were some small four-top tables, and to the left were two pool tables. The pool tables were occupied by several larger men who appeared by their clothes to be in a construction crew. They all wore jeans, boots, and some sort of dirty, luminous yellow shirts.

Trying to ignore his current surroundings as best he could, he approached the bar and waited for the bartender to notice him. She eventually did and stumbled over to him.

"What can I get ya, honey?" she expressed in true flirtatious fashion.

"A bottle of Jose Cuervo and a shot glass," Matt said blankly.

"Uh," she paused for a moment "We don't sell bottles here, baby. We sell them by the shot."

He stared at her with irritation before reaching into his pocket, pulling out two $100 bills, and slapping them on the bar.

"A bottle of Patron and a shot glass," he repeated.

She stared at the money for a moment, looked around for a second, and then snatched the bills from the counter. She reached under the bar and pulled up the bottle of the tequila that he had requested and a shot glass. He half smiled, grabbed his items, paced over to a small table at the far end of the room facing the wall, and began to drink.

He never drank tequila, which is why it had such a strong effect on him. He wanted to black out. He wanted to fade out of this day and stay away as long as possible. He had tequila, and tomorrow was Saturday--the exact ingredients he needed. He had just swallowed shot number eleven when he suddenly felt crowded. He slowly looked to his left, then to his right, and found the construction workers standing around him.

"How's it goin, pal?" the closest one asked. "Looks like you had a bit of a rough day. We can relate to that; we had a long day too." There was a kind of sarcasm in his voice as he gestured to his cohorts as he spoke. They all snickered as he went on. "Up at the bar, it looked like you had plenty to spare on booze. Why don't you buy us all a round so we can let off some steam with you?"

"Why not?" Matt drunkenly replied. The group walked up the bar, Matt stumbling in front. "A round for these guys, on me."

The bartender began pouring shots, and she kept pouring them. After a while, he was drinking out of the bottle and the construction crew were all five or six drinks in. He checked his watch; it showed 2:39 AM. He waved over the bartender and told her he needed to cash out. She brought the bill over and the workers watched as he took out his wallet and opened it, revealing several big bills. He removed another $100, placed it on the check, and slid it back to her before turning to leave the bar. The closest man in the construction team grabbed his shoulder before he could get very far.

"Hey buddy, hold on a second. You got quite a stack there...you know we have been working our asses off for months on this project, and we don't get paid shit." The rest were moving toward Matt now as the first spoke. "Now that we're friends and everything, why don't you share some of that?"

Matt pushed the man's hand off of his shoulder. "You got free drinks tonight, buddy. Let that be enough charity for one day." This immediately angered the group.

"Charity?" the first man asked. "Charity?!"

He grabbed both sides of the collar of Matt's shirt and pulled him closer and almost off of the ground. Instantly, Matt flung his head forward, smashing the top of his head into the man's nose and mouth. The man dropped him instantly and grabbed his face in pain as blood gushed through his hands. Another man advanced forward, but stopped quickly when Matt's fist connected with his throat. The rest of the group started toward him as he began swinging in an intoxicated flurry. He must have had three quarters of that bottle of tequila, and he was in no shape for combat.

He hit one of them with a left hook, but after that, the group overwhelmed him. They picked him up and carried him out the side exit to the alley. Two of them held his arms behind his back as the man who he had head-butted walked in front of him. He held up Matt's head by his chin with his left hand and threw a tremendous right, causing Matt's head to lash backwards. The man pulled back his left hand and brought a thunderous uppercut into Matt's stomach, driving the air out of his lungs. Each one then took turns hitting him in the face and torso. The beating continued like this for a several minutes until they finally threw a battered Matthew O'Bannon on the ground and proceeded to kick him unmercifully.

One of the other men grabbed his wallet from his pocket, took the bills, and threw the wallet on the ground next to him. They began to walk away when the first man who received the head-butt turned back around, looked at Matt for an instant, and pulled a knife out of his jeans.

"You made my face bleed. Now I'm gonna make your face bleed."

He bent down and drew the knife from the top left corner of Matt's face down and across to the bottom right portion of his face, eliciting a murderous scream. The man walked away and left Matt's body broken and bleeding in the alleyway. 

# CHAPTER EIGHT

Blood. It was something Matt knew more about than most. He laid there, barely conscious, as the little rivers of blood dripped down his face and neck. He looked up at the sky, and the stars began to spin. He thought he might be sick; he couldn't move. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again he was back in his childhood bedroom, looking down at his hands. They were stained with blood. His clothes were covered in it. The flashing blue lights were exploding through his window.

He looked through the glass panes to the front of the property. There were four police cars parked in front of his house. Several officers had their guns drawn and were moving toward the front door. He knew he had to go--he had to get out of there. He had done what he had to do, but that wouldn't hold up in a court of law, and if he didn't get out now he would spend the rest of his life in a cell. The police were banging on the front door, screaming for someone open it. He peaked out his bedroom door and saw his mother running to the door with fearful eyes. That was his chance.

He put on his jacket and opened the window that led into the backyard. He quietly climbed out and dropped onto the grass. He looked around in all directions while he crouched and moved toward the fence that backed up to the woods at the rear of the property.

"He's over here!!! He's running!!!"

An officer had spotted him from the side of the house. Matt broke into a sprint toward the fence. He looked back, and three or four officers were chasing behind him. He got to the fence and dove over it, landing on his shoulder on the other side. He rolled over and jumped up to continue his run, but not before watching the closest cop hurdle the fence. It was too close of a gap, and disappearing into the trees was his only chance.

He ran as hard as he could with the officer close behind. The rest had been held up at the fence and were far back. They entered the trees, and he stumbled on a tree root. That was all that the cop needed. He jumped into the air and tackled Matt from behind. He had at least a thirty-pound weight advantage, and he put all of that weight on him as he tried to pin Matt's arms behind him.

"Stop struggling!" the cop screamed.

Years of training in hand-to-hand combat at the military academy kicked in, and Matt rolled to his right while pushing up with his left hand, flinging his attacker off enough to wiggle out from underneath him. He was able to get to his feet before the constable could, and kicked him in the stomach causing him to keel over in agony. Matt dashed deep into the trees and kept running. He ran and ran until he swore his lungs were burning from the inside out. He had to find a way out of this, and he had to find it quickly. He was so lost in thought that he didn't notice right away the light shining from above him. As it got brighter, he recognized it and squinted to see what was causing it.

"He's in bad shape." The voice was quiet and muffled; he couldn't tell where it was coming from. "We need Dr. Statton in here now! This guy doesn't have a lot of time!" The voice was louder this time, and as the light got brighter, Matt opened his eyes to find several people in hospital scrubs working all around him.

"What...what's g--...what's going on?" He struggled to get the words out.

"Get an anesthesiologist in here!" one of them yelled as they noticed Matt waking. "We are going to need to get him sedated! And where the hell is Statton?!"

Matt tried hard to keep his eyes open, but it was only a few moments before he was back asleep, and this time there was nothing. No dream. No nightmare. Only darkness. He woke up a few days later. The pain was almost unbearable. He couldn't move, and he could hardly breathe. What happened? He couldn't remember. He didn't remember what happened, or how he got here, or what was even wrong with him. He just knew that he was in immense pain. He laid there for a while trying to remember, when a nurse entered the room.

"Ah, Mr. O'Bannon, you're awake. I'm sure you're feeling a little uncomfortable. I'll be back with some painkillers and a glass of water," she said.

"Wait!" It hurt to speak, and hurt even more to use a higher volume than a whisper. He winced after the exclamation. "What...what happened? What is going on? Why am I here?"

"You were attacked, Mr. O'Bannon. Pretty badly too." She picked up a clipboard next to his bed and began reading. "You have four broken ribs, thirty-two stiches in your face, a fractured jaw, and there was some internal bleeding that, fortunately for you, we were able to stop," she said.

"That would explain the pain I guess. How did I get here?"

"A taxi driver brought you in," she replied. "He carried you right in the front door. He said he took you to a bar and was waiting for you to come out when he stepped into the alley beside the bar for a cigarette and found you there. All things considered, he probably saved your life."

The nurse left the room and left Matt speechless. Attacked? He thought long and hard, trying to recall the events that led to where he was now. What was the taxi driver's name? Steve? No, that wasn't it. He thought for a long time....Scott! The guy's name was Scott. Everything began to come back to him. If he would have listened to this Scott in the first place, none of this would have happened. The nurse came back in the room with a blue tray containing a small paper cup with a few pills inside and a glass of water.

"Miss, did anyone get the taxi driver's address or phone number?" he asked.

"I am sure he would have checked in at reception after we took you; I can check on that. In the meantime, is there anyone that you would like us to contact for you? Wife? Parents?" He could only think of one person: Andi. But after the other night, he was certain she wouldn't care.

"My assistant, Claire Johnstone. Her number is programmed in my phone. Please let her know what happened, and that I'm fine, but business is to proceed as usual," he said.

The nurse nodded and left the room. He would not leave Claire and his employees in the dark again; he had to make sure they knew what was going on. He just hoped they wouldn't come visit. If there was one thing that he despised more than being weak and vulnerable, it was other people seeing him weak and vulnerable.

His wish did not come true. Claire was at his side by the end of the day. He told her the whole story, but was adamant that business was to continue on as if everything were completely normal. The doctors let him know soon after Claire departed that he was looking at a six- to eight-week recovery, two of which would have to be spent in the hospital under doctor supervision. He hated this idea. He really didn't trust doctors, and he despised hospitals, but with all of the damage that he had taken, he didn't have much choice.

The next couple of weeks dragged by. Stale food, lack of sleep, and a lot of pain filled his days. The end was coming, and he could not wait to get back to his routine. He still thought about Andi every day, but in his mind, he no longer deserved her after what happened. He tried his best to put her out of his mind, along with the idea of ever having a family of his own. It just wasn't ever going to happen.

A few days before he was scheduled to be released from the hospital, he was lying in his room, picking at the disgusting heap on his plate they called "lunch," and watching the news. Suddenly, the weather broadcast was interrupted for breaking news. The anchor spoke of a homicide in a local motel. Five bodies were found shot to death--all white men in their mid- to late-twenties. The television brought up five pictures on the screen, and his lunch tray fell onto the floor with a crash. The broadcaster went on to say that the five men had all worked together on the same construction crew. It was the group of men that had assaulted him and left him for dead.

He didn't know what to think. Two weeks after these men beat him outside of a bar and nearly killed him, they were all murdered? Could it really be a coincidence? He ran back over the events of that night in his head, trying to remember if there was anything else he had forgotten. Maybe there was someone else who was assaulted or involved who would have wanted revenge?... There was nothing. What he didn't know was there was someone else in the bar that night. They had walked in shortly after him, sat down at a table in the corner, and watched everything unfold. Then they followed the taxi from The Grizzly's Gut to the hospital and watched Scott carry him in.

His first instinct was to call the police and tell them what had happened, but he thought again quickly. Doing that would ensure that he'd be taken in for questioning, and during that process, the police department would surely pull his record. The things in that file were closed and in the past. The last thing he needed was someone getting curious about the sealed record in his file.

He considered simply leaving the situation alone. He hadn't yet given any statement about what happened, and no one could connect him back to these men except for them. And they were all dead. He was going over this idea in his head when he heard two knocks at the door. He looked up and knew immediately that his plan wouldn't work. He was going to have to give some kind of statement, whether he wanted to or not. Standing in the open doorway was Detective Chaser.

"Wow. It's different to see you in a hospital gown and not some expensive suit. Wish I could say I was sad to see you like this," Chaser said.

"What do you want?"

"Well, whenever someone is mysteriously brought into the hospital with injuries like yours, it gets reported to the department. Since I recently had an open missing person's report on you, it hit my desk. I wanted to make sure someone did a real good job taking your statement." Sarcasm was radiating with every word.

"It was a random attack after I had too much to drink. I had a taxi waiting and he brought me here. End of story. Now you can leave."

"Hmm. Very interesting. They did quite a number on you didn't they." He reached up and touched the scar on Matt's face. Matt slapped his hand away.

"Don't fucking touch me!"

"Assaulting an officer, huh? I think maybe I can overlook it just this once, since it could be the painkillers clouding your judgement." He looked amused. "Then again, maybe you're getting a little too used to these things." He motioned toward the small cup on Matt's beside table that contained his pain killers.

He picked up the pills and dumped them into his jacket pocket. Matt could only glare at him. Even if he could have pulled it off without the entire police force coming for him, he didn't have the strength to fight.

"I bet Andrea is getting pretty lonely with you cooped up in here. Might be time for me to go home for good, what do you think?" he said. He knew he was pushing the right button.

"What she does isn't my business," he replied quietly. Chaser thought for a moment, and then he came to the realization.

"Oh, I see. You already fucked things up with her, didn't you?" He laughed. "Hell, getting back on that tight little piece of ass might be easier than I thought." Matt could feel his sternum filling with rage, and Chaser could see it too. "Of course, with my connections downtown, she'd pretty much do whatever I wanted, whether she wanted it or not anyways." He gave a twisted grin with every comment.

"You know, the reason I like you Matt is the same reason I like her." He paused as if waiting for Matt to guess the reason. "I like when my bitch fights me. It gives me a reason to slap them around a little." As soon as he finished his sentence, he swung the back of his left hand up and across Matt's injured face. The stitched-up scar burned and stung. He didn't hold his face; he wouldn't give Chaser the satisfaction. He just stared at the foot of his bed while the pain turned to anger and began to fill his body.

"That one hurt a little? I don't know, O'Bannon. It kind of looked like you liked it. Andrea likes getting slapped around too, you know. She also likes getting choked. She likes getting held down and gagged." As he listened, Matt was squeezing his fist so tight that his knuckles were bright white.

"We used to play this game where she would try to fight me, and I would fuck her once she didn't have the strength to fight anymore. It was a fun game. Then she up and left me for some reason." Chaser looked around as if he was puzzled at that.

"I sure do miss that game. Matter of fact, I might cruise on over there and play a round after I leave here."

Chaser had barely finished his statement when Matt's hand clamped around his throat. The detective began struggling as he gasped for air, pulling at Matt's hand with both of his. Matt wasn't letting go, and Chaser was fading. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he looked as if he would fall any moment. Matt shoved him backwards onto the floor, Chaser writhing in pain and wheezing for breath.

"If you even think about touching her," Matt said, "I will kill you." The detective was stunned, then enraged. He got to his feet, pulled his Glock 19 handgun from its holster, and shoved the barrel against Matt's forehead. Matt didn't put up a fight; he just stared back defiantly. The moment of tension was broken by a scream that came from the doorway.

"What are you doing?!"

Chaser, with the gun still on Matt's head, turned toward the door. "Andi?"

"What the hell are you doing Will?!" she yelled as she rushed toward Matt. She pressed to him, but Chaser stopped her.

"Andrea this is police--" He was cut off.

"Don't give me that 'police business' bullshit, Will! You had a gun pointed at him, and he is in a hospital bed!!!" She was struggling to get to Matt who seemed to be fading.

"Listen to me!" Chaser yelled as he yanked on her shoulders forcing her to face him. "You are going to stay away from him. Do you understand me? This is over."

"What I do and who I see is none of your business. Now let go!"

"None of my business?" He was squeezing her tighter now.

"Will, stop! You're hurting me!"

"None of my business!? I own you! You'll see who I say you can see, and you'll do as I tell you! You know why?! Because I can take Riley away from you anytime I want. All I have to do is take Judge Clougton a twelve pack and a good cigar, and he will do whatever I tell him to do. Is that what you want?"

She thought for a moment, and then looked at Matt as tears filled her eyes, then back at Chaser. "No. Please don't Will."

"That's what I thought. Now, you have five minutes. Say your fucking goodbyes. I'll be in the lobby." Then he turned to Matt, who was staring a hole through him. "Oh, you and I aren't even almost done. I'll see you soon." Matt looked on and thought for a moment. This was never going to end, unless Matt put an end to it himself. His attention went from Chaser's face, to his unbuttoned weapon holster and the pistol that resided in it. One quick movement would be all it would take.

# CHAPTER NINE

He was debating within himself on whether or not he had the strength to get the gun from the holster, but reality kicked back in. It was a certainty that this feud would have to come to an end one way or another. But this was not the time or place. The tension must have obvious in the room, because it was evident that Dr. Statton could feel it the second he entered.

"Everything okay in here?"

"Everything is fine," Andi answered. "He was just leaving."

She looked at Chaser as she spoke. She wanted it to be clear that she was talking about him. He scowled at her before storming out of the room. Dr. Statton checked on Matt's fluids and made sure that everything checked out on his monitor. He asked how he was feeling, and let him know that the X-rays had been reviewed. He said everything appeared to be healing perfectly and actually, ahead of schedule; Matt was relieved to say the least. He detested sitting around being unproductive. The last two weeks may as well have been a prison sentence.

Not two seconds had passed after the doctor left the room before Andi plunged into Matt. Her tears soaked through the shoulder of his gown. He held her there for several minutes, resting his head against hers and hugging her tight. He couldn't imagine the fear and turmoil she had going through. Even more so, he couldn't believe she was there! The last time he had seen her, he had flipped over her kitchen table and smashed a bunch of her plates. He thought it would be the very last time he would ever see anything so beautiful.

"What are you doing here?"

She looked up at him, her face wet from the outburst, and her eyes began to swell up even more as she reached up and gently touched his face next to his stiches.

"What did they do to you?" She could barely get the words out. She met his eyes with hers and realized she hadn't answered him. "I know you by now. I knew that you would be alone. And when I found out what happened...and what almost happened....I couldn't stand the thought of you lying in this place all alone."

"How did you even know I was here?" Matt said.

"Claire told me."

"Claire? She called you?"

"No, no, she didn't call. I went to your office to see you. When I got there, she told me that you weren't in and that you wouldn't be for a few weeks. I asked her if you were out of town on business and a few other questions before she finally told me what happened."

"That makes sense. I hired her specifically for the purpose of keeping my life and business confidential, but I'm glad she failed this time. I didn't think I would ever see you again...Andi...I am so sorry."

"No, I'm sorry. I went about that conversation the wrong way; it was my fault."

"The conversation doesn't matter, controlling my temper does. I just have never been very good at that..."

"Until that moment I would have sworn you were flawless. If the one bad thing about you is that you are a hot head at times, that's something I can deal with."

She gave a joking smile to let him know he had been forgiven. He was overjoyed. Maybe it wasn't hopeless; maybe there was still a chance at a normal life. At that moment, he was just happy she was by his side, and could care less what the next moment brought as long as he had her.

Over the following few weeks, Matt got back into his routine, and things were better than ever. Things with Claire and his staff seemed like they were back to normal. He was closing deals at every turn, and his team was having a record quarter. He even decided to throw an end-of-quarter party to celebrate, which was a first for his company. When he initially told his staff, they were skeptical to say the least. This was coming from the same man who made them work on Christmas Eve and early on New Year's Day to get a jump on the year. He rarely gave so much as a pat on the back, and yet he was jumping from there to throwing an entire party? They were shocked, but they definitely weren't about to start asking questions.

He had Andi help him with the planning, and he was sparing no expense. He wanted the best caterer in town, an open bar with top shelf offerings, and even a DJ to set the tone for the evening. He organized a fifty-fifty raffle and a drawing for a weeklong vacation to Maui. He wanted to go all out and do everything possible to show his staff that they were the lifeblood of the company. He wanted them to see that their efforts did not go unnoticed.

He fully intended to have both Andi and Riley at the gathering but decided he wouldn't stop there. He insisted that every employee bring their spouse, significant other, children, and anyone else of importance in their life. He finally knew what it felt like to be part of a family again, and he had a new appreciation for spending as much time with loved ones as possible. He wanted to give that feeling back to his team by having their families in attendance. The evening of the came quickly, and he intended to look his absolute best. He slipped into his suit, attached his cufflinks, and put on his cherished Rolex.

"What are you wearing?" Andi giggled as she entered the closet.

He looked down at himself then back up at her. "My suit--why is there something wrong with it?" he asked while inspecting it for tears or spots.

"Why are you wearing a suit!?"

"Well..." he thought for a moment. "Because that's what I always wear?"

"Matt! This whole party is about connecting with your employees isn't it?"

"It is..." he answered.

"Then you need to connect with them! You need to show them you're an actual human being and not some robot who only knows to work and bark orders!" As she spoke, she began helping him take off his suit jacket and tie. She disappeared further into the closet and reappeared with a pair of jeans and a blue sweater.

"Here."

At first, he looked at the ensemble with disgust, but she was clearly not taking no for an answer. So, he accepted the articles of clothing and put them on. They collected Riley from the kitchen bar counter where she had been coloring and rode the elevator down to the parking garage. She kept her stuffed dog, Jack, that he had given her at their first meeting close by at all times, and the party was to be no exception.

They arrived at the office, early of course, and hurried inside. He spoke with the caterer, the bartender, and the DJ to ensure everything was in order. He meticulously inspected each table to be certain that they were set properly and nothing was out of place. Not long after they got there, the employees began to arrive, and he met each of them at the door. He introduced them to Andi and Riley before then meeting each of their families. He welcomed them with a warmth that was completely out of character for him, and each family seemed very excited to be there.

Everything was going perfectly. Most had a couple of drinks which helped everyone relax. The food was a huge hit: lobster tail with baked potato garnished with dill and parsley. No seafood allergies, he had made sure ahead of time, and he had also impressed the children with a macaroni and cheese option. The fifty-fifty raffle went well, with Brian from accounting getting the victory. And maybe the most fitting moment of the night was when Claire won the Maui vacation drawing. The people were all mingling amongst each other and their families when he took to the make-shift stage with a microphone in his hand.

"Good evening." His voice was deep and confident. "I want to take this time to thank you all for coming tonight. I also want to thank all of the family members who were able to attend. I know that I expect a lot of my employees--maybe too much at times--and at the end of the day, they sacrifice time with all of you." He paused and inspected the crowd's reaction before continuing.

"I apologize for that. I am sorry for all of the times you have ever lost time together due to my expectations. I know that many of you are meeting me today for the first time, but even those of you who have worked for me for years know very little about me. The fact is, I have spent most of my life without a family." The employees all looked around at one another trying to decide how to respond.

"Recently, I have found a new one." He glanced at a beaming Andi and Riley. "And it has shown me that I had forgotten what family was all about. I forgot how little time we all have. And I forgot how important the little moments can be. I sincerely apologize, and from now on, it will be a top priority to get everyone home on time every night so that there are no further sacrifices."

He gestured toward Riley and Andi. "Having these new people in my life has shown me that I did have a family all along--all of you, the people who have made all of this possible. And I promise to never forget that again."

He was cut off after his last word by the thunder of applause. His employees stood, one by one, while they clapped and cheered. He nodded his head in appreciation and clapped along with them. The clapping began to die down and came to a stop with the exception of one solitary clap. One clap continued longer than the rest. Everyone began looking around to discover where it was coming from, and slowly, all of their eyes focused on the doorway.

"Very touching," Detective Chaser offered as he slowly began walking toward the stage followed by four officers in uniform. "Very, very touching. Heartfelt. Genuine. Hell, I almost believed you myself. The problem is," he continued as he stepped onto the stage, "I know who you are O'Bannon. I know what you've done, where you've been, and I know why you didn't, and do not have a family."

He looked around at his employees, at Andi, and then back at Chaser. "This is not the time or place to play games," he whispered through clenched teeth. "These people have family here."

"This is no time to play games, he says!" Chaser announced. "The thing is, I'm done playing with you." He grabbed Matt's left arm and forcefully twisted it behind his back. "You're under arrest." Matt struggled against the detective trying to shake his arm free.

"Get off of me!"

As he fought against the restraint, the four officers were moving onto the stage to help Chaser subdue him. He frantically looked around at his employees who were now huddling against either far wall and whispering amongst themselves.

"What the hell are you doing, Will?! You're crazy!" Andi screamed while trying to break past one of the officers. "He hasn't done anything! you can't do this!"

"He hasn't done anything, huh?" Chaser replied loudly while looking around the room to make sure everyone was listening. The more embarrassment for Matt the better. "Mr. O'Bannon is being detained for questioning in connection with five murders." His employees exhibited their shock and disbelief by gasping in unison.

"The construction crew!?" Matt demanded. "I was in the hospital when that happened to them Chaser, you know that! You were right next to me when it was on the news! Right next to me with a gun to my head!" The staff gave a small uproar as they continued conversing about what was unfolding in front of them.

"I've heard enough!" Chaser waved a hand motioning the officers to take him downstairs. "You can tell all the stories you want, but you do have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them?" He smiled as he repeated the script.

"Stop!" Andi shouted in between tears. "Please stop! He hasn't done anything!"

She was begging Chaser, but he didn't so much as look at her. A staff member took Andi aside to console her, telling her everything would be alright, assuring her that Mr. O'Bannon always figures it out. Matt was ready to start fighting for real. It was all wrong. He had nothing to do with those murders, and Chaser knew it. He had come there to embarrass him in front of his employees and in front of Andi and Riley. He was about to hurl his head into Chaser's face when he remembered Riley was there. He struggled to look back until he finally found her, standing there looking so scared and confused with her stuffed dog hanging from one hand. He forced a smile.

"It's okay Riley! Everything is okay, don't worry!" Matt tried to assure her, but Chaser grabbed his face and turned it to him.

"Don't speak to my daughter." Along with the other officers, he pushed Matt and forced him into the elevator. They rode down to the first floor of the office building and guided Matt out the front door to one of the cruisers parked out front. He stopped walking just short of the cruiser and turned toward Chaser.

"I think you're right. It's about time to quit playing. I think I'll take your advice and get my attorney involved. He is a tremendous attorney, one of the best win records in the country. When I'm done with you, Chaser, you won't be working as a cop, and you won't be going anywhere near Andi and Riley. You can play your twisted mind games with them because they don't have the resources to fight you. But I do. And I am going to make sure they are free of you. Forever."

"God, you know I told you a long time ago that your big mouth was going to get you into trouble, and yet you just keep opening it!" Chaser shouted as he drove his right fist into Matt's left cheek. The officers opened the back door of the cruiser, shoved him inside, and slammed the door shut behind him.

# CHAPTER TEN

Fury radiated through his frame. Something had to be done about the detective. As long as he was around, wearing a badge around his neck, Andi and Riley would never have peace; they would always live in fear. On top of that, he would never be free to have a life with them. Chaser was going to keep coming at him until one of them went away. For good. His head kept filling up with all of the problems that they would have in their lives day in and day out.

When they finally arrived at the precinct, he cooperated perfectly. He wanted to get the process over with as fast as possible. He had nothing to do with those murders, and Chaser knew it. Matt just wanted to get released, and immediately get to his attorney's office. All he cared about was finding out what he could do to get rid of Detective Chaser, and then doing it.

They took him through booking quickly, got his mugshots, finger printed him, and completed all of the initial paperwork. Finally, an officer escorted him to a small room with nothing but a steel table in the center that was bolted to the floor and a glass mirror on one side. He wasn't exactly a stranger to this environment. He was well aware that there were interrogators on the other side of that mirror. He knew this, not because he watched too many cop shows, but because he had spent hours in a room just like this after it happened.

He remembered it being colder. He remembered shivering and not being able to rest his forearms on the table because it was so cold to the touch. All of a sudden, he was eighteen again. He was thinner then, not as defined, wearing a bright orange county lock-up jumpsuit. That particular time he had not cooperated at all. They had to drag him into the small, gray room and force him into the chair. He could recall it so vividly when Sheriff Demsey walked in--it was like no time had passed at all. It hurt Matt to see the look on the sheriff's face; he seemed so disappointed.

The sheriff knew Matt's father well. The two of them were on the same bowling team together on Sunday nights. The sheriff and his wife would also regularly play cards with his parents at the house on Fridays. He was a family friend. He had watched Matt grow up. He was even at the airport the day that his parents picked him up when he returned from the military academy. Matt had caused a lot of trouble for Sheriff Demsey in his younger years, so it was a shock to see him standing at the luggage carousel too. He had hugged Matt and told him how proud he was of how he'd turned his life around. But not the day they were alone in that room. That day, his eyes were full of disappointment; they were also full of pain.

"You really did it this time, huh kid?" he mumbled. Matt said nothing. "You know, you were so close. You had it! You turned it all around...and then this." Matt couldn't look directly at Sheriff Demsey; he kept his focus on the far wall.

"Look, refusing to talk isn't going to make things any easier. I need you to talk to me. If you just tell me what happened, I can at least tell the judge you cooperated." Again, Matt refused to say a word.

"Matt, I can't help you if you won't let me. You can cooperate; it's your first offense and you're barely an adult. The judge will have to take what happened to Mariah into consideration. They'll go easy on you...."

He didn't see the sheriff cry, but he did see one solitary teardrop land on the steel table. It was like slow motion--as if his entire future had fallen and burst along with that tear. It was several minutes before Demsey spoke again. Matt guessed that the sheriff was doing his best to get his emotions under control before continuing.

"You'll have to do some time; there is no getting around that. But if they give you a light sentence, and if you show good behavior, you could be done and out of there before your twenty-fifth birthday." Matt stayed silent. Suddenly, the sheriff lunged at him and grabbed both sides of his shirt, lifting him out of the steel chair. "Dammit kid! I need you to listen to me! You're in a deep fuckin' hole, and if you keep digging, you might never get out! Let me help you!"

Matt looked at Demsey directly for the first time since he had entered the room. That gaze was all it took; the sheriff knew there was no changing Matt's mind. Demsey let him go, walked around the table, and sat down in the chair on the opposite side looking defeated.

"I know what you're thinkin' Matt." Now it was Demsey who wouldn't make eye contact. He spoke slowly and softly. "I get it. Not talking is your best bet out of this. There isn't enough evidence to prove beyond a doubt that you killed him, and if you can stay silent, maybe they won't find you guilty. What you aren't getting is, if it don't work, and the jury finds you guilty, plus you don't cooperate....you could very damn well spend the rest of your life in a cell."

Sheriff Demsey paused for a moment, then stood up, walked over to the camera in the corner of the room, and turned it off. He walked back over, leaned over to Matt, and continued.

"Matt, everyone in this town, including me, knows that that animal got exactly what he deserved. If it had been me in that situation, I would be the one in cuffs right now. But the law is the law, and the law has rules. If you don't play by the rules here and you lose, you lose it all. Is that really a chance you wanna take?"

"O'Bannon!" Chaser shouted, jolting him from his flashback.

They were the only two in the room, not counting the several people who he was sure were watching from behind the glass. He looked across the table at Chaser. He could almost somewhat understand why Andi had fallen for this guy at one time. He was handsome, tall, and in good shape, with a natural ruggedness to him as well. His self-confidence was supreme, and only exaggerated by his achievements in law enforcement. He acted as if he was above the law, like there was no one on earth who could best him. Even more, he really believed it.

"Where were you on the night of October 7th?" Chaser asked as if reading from a list.

"I was in the hospital," Matt answered blankly. He could play this game just as well as Chaser.

"Hmm, in the hospital, okay." Chaser was writing the answer down, but then he kept writing. "Checked out of the hospital at 8:30 p.m. and stopped at a bar on the way home for a few drinks."

"Is this really your best attempt at keeping me away from those girls?" Matt asked with a smirk. "This? I expected more from the 'mighty detective.' I was in the hospital all night that night, and I didn't check out until days later. They have records to prove that. You can pull whatever dirty cop stunts you want--they aren't going to stick."

"Oh, you don't think so?"

"I know so. You think you're the first cop to try this? You think you're the first guy to think he could run me over? You're not. I've been here before, I've been in cuffs, and I've been in a cell. And if those guys couldn't put me down, you don't have a shot in hell." Matt was leaning back in the chair, showing he was completely comfortable in the situation.

"That's all very interesting. I'm wondering if the experience that you're referring to has anything to do with this." Chaser dropped a manila folder on the steel table that was labeled O'Bannon, Matthew. "Go ahead, take a peak."

Matt opened the folder and inside was a police arrest record. At the top was his name, date of birth, height, weight, hair color, eye color, and several other details. Under that there was a section entitled Criminal Offenses. Under the section header it only showed one word with a date next to it: SEALED. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Look familiar? Sure it does. Matt O'Bannon has a sealed file. Now in our line of work, that can only mean one thing. At one time or another you were involved in a murder investigation, and that investigation was put on hold because of a lack of evidence. What is great about our country is that whether the general public knows it or not, our legal system is a case-by-case system. If a certain high priority case has enough evidence to suspect guilt but not quite enough to prove it, or if there are situational issues with evidence, it becomes a sealed case... meaning, it could be reopened at any time." Matt sat staring at the folder, no words. His face said it all--Chaser had just found leverage.

"But then again, you knew that didn't you? That's why no one knows who you are. That's why you hide away--because you knew that at any time, this could be discovered and that it could destroy your little fantasy." Matt knew he had to brush it off as nothing; otherwise, he could have a much bigger problem.

"This? Really? You know if you were any kind of real cop you would have already opened the file and found out that it was a case I was called into as a witness. It had nothing to do with me, but because I was brought in, it has to be listed in my record."

It was the best lie he could think of on the spot. It wasn't perfect, but he hoped it would be enough to throw Chaser off. His wish did not come true. Chaser placed both hands on the table and leaned across it, getting within an inch or two of Matt's face.

"Now you and I both know that's a fucking lie, don't we?" he whispered.

Matt could feel his face dropping. He was giving in to his fear despite how hard he was fighting it. The son of a bitch had him. Chaser leaned back off of the table and slowly walked around to Matt's side of the table, sat on the corner, and picked up the folder. He didn't open it or look at it; he just held it.

"Who is Michael Vincent?"

It was like time froze. He hadn't heard that name since he was eighteen years old. Even after all those years, he could feel his body warming and his blood pumping through his veins. His breathing grew heavier, and rage began to fill every inch of his body.

"Did you hear me? Who...is...Michael...Vincent?" Chaser repeated.

Matt turned his head slightly, just enough to bring his eyes to meet Chaser's. He was burning a hole in him. He wasn't looking at the detective; he was looking through him. He had always struggled with his anger. He had never able to control his temper, even when he was little. He remembered one time when he was young, playing a game of football with the neighborhood kids. It was the last straw before his parents sent him to the academy. One of the other boys kept blocking him from getting to the quarterback. He eventually got so upset that he broke the kid's nose in three places. That was the sixth or seventh time the police had shown up to his parents' door with him in handcuffs. That type of rage had stayed with him all through school, the academy, and all the way through his twenties. It was the same rage that had been inside him the night he had gone to find Michael Vincent.

His entire body was shaking by the time he got to the house. He stopped when he got to the front yard. He wasn't debating on whether or not to do it; he was debating on how to do it. He thought of so many options in those quick few moments. Kitchen knife? Maybe something heavy from inside the house? Or perhaps there was a baseball bat or pry-bar in the garage. In the end, he didn't make any decision except to go inside. He couldn't wait any longer; he had to do what he had come there to do, and it needed to happen now.

He snapped back to the interrogation room with Chaser who was still waiting for an answer.

"I've never heard that name before." He attempted to say it with the straightest face possible.

"Never before, huh? I find that very interesting. So, you don't recall disconnecting his power, breaking into his house, and beating him to death with your bare hands? None of that is sounding familiar?" Chaser had looked into it. He had found a way to open the sealed file, and he knew. He knew everything. He began laying photos down on the table, four of them, slowly, one by one.

The first was a standard faculty photo of Vincent. He was an average-sized man in his mid-forties. He was losing the hair on his head and even his facial hair was patchy. In this picture he wore glasses, a blue polo shirt, and a lanyard around his neck attached to his school ID. The next photo was of the back of Vincent's house--the back entrance into the home to be exact. The screen door was laying on the ground to the side, twisted and mangled as if it had been ripped away from its frame. The main door into the house had clearly been kicked in. It was barely hanging on to the hinges in the photo, and there were pieces of wood scattered on the porch.

Then he laid down a picture of the crime scene--the living room of Michael Vincent's home. When it was taken, it was apparent that police and crime scene investigators had already been through it. The picture showed yellow police tape cordoning off the room and other little pieces of tape marking areas needing further analysis. The style of the room was old; after all it was an old house already even back then. The carpet was long and shagged, and a light color that would easily stain, which was why the blood stood out so bluntly.

The pattern of the blood stains told a story all by themselves. There was a light tan recliner in the corner of the room, and just to the left of it, at about eye level, was a splash of red on the wall. The hickory coffee table in the center of the room was crushed, and there was a small pool of blood next to it with a few smaller spots speckled around it. The opening to the kitchen was to the right of the chair, and there was a dark red trail leading from the coffee table remains around the corner of the kitchen. Someone had clearly been bleeding, profusely, and that someone had either crawled or been dragged out of the living room.

Finally, Detective Chaser set down the last picture. It was another of Vincent, but this time there were no glasses. There was no blue polo. In fact, all that he was wearing in this photo was a pair of white underwear, and Michael Vincent definitely was not smiling. He was laying on the floor next to a bed, in a puddle of blood.

The bedroom had the same carpet as the living room. The comforter on the bed was ruffled and stained red as if someone had tried to climb onto it from the floor and failed. There were an incredible number of welts up and down his body. His left shoulder sat in such a way that it appeared to have been forced out of socket. There were deep bruises around his neck and throat. There were crimson streams that had dripped down his carcass. Then there was his face. A normal person would have had no choice but to look away upon seeing the picture, but Matt's stare did not break from it.

It had been beaten so viciously that it had collapsed inward. 

# CHAPTER ELEVEN

He focused in on the final picture. He had seen many pictures of this case before, but he had never seen this one. After a few seconds, Chaser dropped the folder onto the photos, breaking Matt's attention.

"So, how'd you do it?" Chaser asked.

"What?" He was thrown off by the question.

"How did you so obviously kill this man in cold blood, and somehow get off the hook?" Matt paused for a moment, thinking carefully about what to say next, and then responded.

"I didn't kill him. I went there to talk to him and--"

"And he wasn't there. So you left and went home. On your way home you slipped and fell. You cut up your hands and that is why there was blood on your clothes when the police found you." Chaser interrupted.

He didn't know how to reply. Chaser had taken the words right out of his mouth.

"How did I know you were going to say that? Because that is the exact same line of shit you told to the jury during the trial. You had no alibi. You had no choice but to tell them you went there that night. They should have had you after they tested the blood on your clothes, but there was an issue with the test at the lab and that made the clothes inadmissible in court."

Chaser had done more than opened the file. He had dug deep into this case. He knew everything, every detail, and worse. He knew that it had not been expunged. He knew that there were ways to reopen the case.

"What I don't understand is, with all of the evidence, with the knowledge of everything that had happened, how did they find you innocent?"

It was as if Chaser wasn't asking him the question, but was more debating it in his own mind, trying to decide how it had happened. Matt stayed silent. He knew the answer to that question, and it was actually very simple. He was from a small town. Everyone knew everyone, and people were good to the people they knew. The trial had drug his family through the mud, but there were some who understood, and that was enough.

"Chaser, I came here to answer questions about the construction crew, not about ancient history. Now are we going to get back to that? Or can I go?"

His head slowly turned toward Matt, and a smile appeared on his face. "Oh that's right; that is why we're here. The construction guys! I almost forgot. You were in the hospital when all of that happened, but uh, that doesn't mean you didn't order them to be killed. After all, they were the ones who put you in the hospital. Seems to me you might want some revenge....especially taking your past history into consideration."

"How do you know they put me in the hospital?" This time it was Matt who had caught Chaser off guard. For the first time, he looked as if he didn't have an answer. Matt barked the question again. "Answer me! How did you know that?!" Again there was no response, and there didn't need to be. The answer was clear.

"You've been following me. You were there! You watched it happen, and you let it go on." He stopped when he saw the grin come to the detective's face. All at once it made sense. Of course he had been there. He hadn't been attacked for no reason; Chaser was the reason. He had ordered the attack.

"You son-of-a-bitch. You had them attack me."

"No, that is not true." Chaser smiled at the camera in the corner as he spoke. "Someone might have...and had that crew been dependable at all, we wouldn't be here, and they wouldn't be in the ground. Now I know that it wasn't you who killed them, but I also know that it isn't a coincidence that they were killed shortly after the little event at the bar. I know you're involved, and one way or another we are going to get to the bottom of it." Matt went silent again. He knew he was not going to get anywhere talking. Chaser was a dirty cop, and the people behind the glass all knew it and apparently didn't care.

"No? Nothing? Okay..." Chaser said, "then maybe I need to have a conversation with Andrea. My own feelings aside, she should probably know that she and her child have been spending time with an alleged murderer."

With that he gathered the folder and the photos and left the room. There was nothing Matt could do. He was stuck in this room and could be for the next seventy-two hours if Chaser wanted. He couldn't do anything to stop what was about to happen. Andi was going to find out about his past, and once she did, there was no way she would ever let him around her daughter again, or herself. He sat quiet until two officers finally collected him from the room and escorted him to a holding cell.

"I want to make a phone call," Matt said. The officers said nothing. They just walked back down the hall.

He paced for what seemed like hours, running through the day over and over again in his head. Thinking about everything that had happened. Thinking about what he could have done differently to keep all of this from happening. Everything he had done, everything he had built, was about to be destroyed. By this guy? This guy who thought a badge and a gun put him above the law? Matt was better than him. How could he have been so stupid? He was thinking everything over again, trying to decide how it could have gone differently, when Chaser entered the hallway. He walked slowly toward Matt until he reached the cell.

"You are going to be released. For right now, we don't have enough to hold you, but you are prohibited from leaving the country until this is all said and done." Chaser stopped and looked at him directly. "I spoke with Andrea. As you can imagine she is shocked. She hasn't made any decisions yet, but I have taken the liberty of starting the process to obtain a restraining order just in case. I would suggest that you stay away from her and Riley. You ignored that once, and look where it has gotten you. I don't recommend ignoring that suggestion again." He unlocked the cell door and stepped aside to let Matt through. As he stepped through the door, he turned toward Chaser and his eyes were cold as ice.

"I want you to remember something, Detective. You could have left well enough alone. You screwed up your marriage with Andi. You could have let it die there, but you didn't. You pursued this. You came after us over and over again. Now, you've gone into my past and used it to destroy any future I had with her. You should be careful, Chaser. Michael Vincent took something from my family, but you? You just took my family. Hypothetically, if I was capable of doing that to him for what he did, what would I be capable of doing to you?" He let that hang in the air for a moment before proceeding down the hallway toward the lobby of the county jail.

Matt burst through the front doors of the police station and flagged down the first taxi he could. He blurted out Andi's address as he dialed her number repeatedly into his cell phone. She didn't answer; her phone kept going straight to voicemail. Sixteen calls, twelve text messages, and five voicemails later, they arrived at her condominium complex. Without stopping to count, he dumped a crumpled ball of bills out of his pocket onto the front passenger seat of the cab and sprinted to the stairs. He took them two at a time, almost tripping at the top in his haste. He arrived at her front door and began pounding.

"Andi?!" he begged, continuing to bang on the door. "Andrea please! Give me a chance to explain all of this!" He pounded a few times more before he was interrupted by a voice to his right.

"She's not home." It was a small man, probably in his fifties. He wore green cargo shorts and a white Margaritaville tank top. Must have been a neighbor.

"Oh...do you have any idea where she went?" He was desperate, and it showed.

"Look, I'm not getting involved, Mister. Why don't you just get on your way." The man began retreating back into his condo.

"Wait!" Matt yelped, "I'll pay you!" He pulled out his wallet that was full of hundred dollar bills, and got them out. "Please just tell me where she went. It's an emergency."

The man walked over to him, took the bundle of cash, and quickly deposited it into his pocket. He looked around before saying anything, as if he was keeping a closely guarded secret.

"I overheard her talking on the phone. I don't know who she was talking to, but she said she was going to stay at the Radisson downtown for a while."

The man had hardly finished his sentence when Matt took off down the stairs. The cab had left, and there was not another one in sight, so he began running. He ran seven blocks before he found another cab and got in. He directed the driver to the Radisson Hotel. It was only another ten blocks or so, and they pulled up to the curb in front of the beautiful hotel. He paid the driver, hurried inside, and approached the reception desk.

"Good evening, sir," a young, tall pretty brunette behind the desk greeted him. "And welcome to the Radisson. How may I assist you this evening?" He knew they wouldn't just give out guest's room numbers and information. He would need to get creative.

"Yes, I am supposed to be meeting my sister here. Her name is Andrea Walker. She was supposed to be down here twenty minutes ago, and she isn't answering her phone. Could you tell me which room she is in? We are late for our parents' anniversary dinner--thirty years! It's very important that we leave immediately." The girl behind the counter thought for a moment, and after a brief internal debate, she agreed and pulled up the information on her computer.

"Room 1204...the elevator is just down that hall, and she is on the 12th floor."

"Thank you so much!" he said as he headed toward the elevator.

"You're welcome! And tell your parents 'Happy Anniversary' from all of us here at the Radisson!"

Matt bounded down the hall and repeatedly pressed the UP button on the elevator until the doors finally opened. He jumped inside and performed the same process on the CLOSE button. He paced inside the elevator as he rode up twelve floors. The doors finally began to open and he squeezed out. He sprinted to the sign on the wall depicting where the sections of rooms were....1200-1245 {MISSING SYMBOL Wide-headed rightwards arrow}. He bolted down the hallway to the right, slamming to a halt in front of room 1204. He let his thoughts in for the first time since his journey began from the police station to here. What would he even say? He had no idea. He didn't even know where to begin. All he knew was that he had two choices: he could tell her the whole story and have a chance that she'd understand, or, he could run away from it like he had been doing for most of his life.

He was tired of running. He knocked three times on the door of room 1204 and waited. It was only a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. He thought about what he could say, how he could tell her the story. He thought about how to actually tell the story in words. He hadn't said any of it out loud since he was eighteen years old and in the confines of his lawyer's office. He tried to organize everything that had happened and how it led to now.

"Who is it?" he heard from the other side of the door.

He hesitated momentarily. "It's me, Matt."

"...What do you want, Matt?" There was fear in her voice, and it brought a pain to his sternum. She was afraid of him, and why shouldn't she be?

"I just....I just want a chance to explain everything."

"Explain!? Explain what!?" she seethed in a hushed tone through the wood and steel. "Explain that I've been bringing a murderer into my home and around my daughter!?" He didn't speak for a long time.

"I know how this looks, and I know what he told you. But, he didn't tell you everything. If you hear it all, and you never want to see me again, then fine. But please, at least give me a chance to tell you the whole story." Neither of them spoke a word, but after several seconds, the door to the hotel room slowly opened.

"Riley is asleep. If you even think about going near her, I will call security. Do you understand?" He had never seen her eyes so concentrated. She meant what she said, no matter how much it hurt to hear. She was protecting her daughter...from a monster.

"I understand."

"Fine. You have ten minutes; then you're leaving."

She opened the door and stood to the side, allowing him through the entrance. He walked past the door and towards the couch, but he didn't sit down. He continued and walked over to the window that overlooked downtown Chicago.

"What a beautiful view. This city is just incredible, isn't it?" He was speaking at almost a whisper.

"What's your point?" She was noticeably nervous. Part of her wanted to hear the story, and part of her was afraid to be there with him.

"You know, I didn't grow up with any of this." He didn't look away from the view as he spoke. "I grew up in a small town in Kansas. Actually, it wasn't even big enough to be considered a town; it was a village." He finished his statement with a slight chuckle. She sat down on the couch facing him and he continued on.

"I think we had a population of maybe 1200 people. Everyone knew everyone. I know now my employees and colleagues, but other than that, you all know that I am generally alone. But it wasn't always that way. I had a home. I had a family. I had a place where I belonged. I have a sister, actually."

"You do?" Andi spoke for the first time since he had walked in the room. It almost startled him.

"I do. She's younger than me, by about ten years." She was clearly taken back by what he was saying. He had never mentioned anything about his family. Any time she had ever brought it up, he was so quick to change the subject.

"I had no idea..." She was completely focused now and consuming every word.

"No one does. I've kept it quiet for so long. I thought if I just never talked about any of it again, it would all just go away. That worked for a while, but whoever said you can't outrun your past was right. It will always catch you." He left the window and sat down on the couch across from her.

"I loved that little girl Andi--my sister, Mariah. I was there the day she was born, and I don't think I ever went more than a day without seeing her, until I left for the academy. Then, I came back, and I was going to build my life there with her and my parents...before everything happened."

"What happened?" Her guard was slowly dropping as he told his story. He may have kept things from her, but he had never lied to her.

"She was eight. She was in second grade, and she loved school. I mean she really loved school. She would come home and just go on and on about what she learned and what they did. She couldn't wait to go back the next day, and she was so smart! So much smarter than I was at her age." He was getting lost in the memories he had spent years trying to forget.

"She sounds adorable."

"Oh, she was. She was my whole world. She was dyslectic, so she struggled with reading, but she was so determined to get better. The school suggested that my parents enroll her in after-school tutoring with her reading teacher, Mr. Vincent." He stopped. She could instantly sense a physical change in him. His body had stiffened and his veins were protruding from his arms and neck.

"What happened?" Andi asked, hanging on his every word.

"Mr. Vincent started tutoring Mariah after school, and for a while her reading improved. She was so excited to be getting better, but then...something changed." He wasn't looking at Andi, but at the floor. It didn't even feel as though he was having a conversation; it felt more like he was telling the story out loud in a way he never had before. It was like he was hearing it all for the first time.

"All of a sudden, she didn't like reading anymore. She would come home, and we would all be expecting to hear about her day and what she read, but she didn't want to talk about it. The first few days, we just thought maybe it was the season. It was November in Kansas, so it was mostly snow and rain, but her attitude kept getting worse. Her grades were slipping, and she started telling Mom and Dad that she didn't want to go to tutoring anymore."

She started to say something, but Matt continued, cutting her off.

"She just kept saying that she didn't like it anymore, and that she didn't want to go. Mom told her that she had to. Her grades kept dropping, and she thought that without the tutoring, Mariah would always struggle in school because of the reading..." He paused and looked away from her. He was holding back years of pent-up emotion. She moved over to his couch and went to put her arm around him.

"We should have listened to her." 

# CHAPTER TWELVE

Andi just looked at him, trying to decipher what he was trying to say. He took a deep breath like the story was physically painful to tell.

"She came home from tutoring one night, and everything changed. I was in my room, sorting through college scholarship applications, and I heard her come home. I heard her screaming and crying. I went out into the walk-in of the house, and my parents were there with Mariah. My mom was crying, and Dad was kneeling down next to her." Water started rolling down his face, and his words were broken as he spoke.

"And there she was. She had this pink dress that had ladybugs on it that she loved to wear to school. She was so proud of it. She begged and begged for Mom to get it for her at the mall, and she would have worn it every day if they would have let her."

For a minute his face shifted into a smile as he clearly was remembering his little sister in her little pink dress. But as he continued, his tone was anything but happy.

"That little pink dress was torn to shreds. At first I thought that was why she was crying, but then I saw the bruises, and the scratches. For a couple of hours, she couldn't stop crying long enough to tell us what happened. So we all just held her, waiting to know what was wrong, even though I think we all knew. We just couldn't be sure until she told us. I was the one she told. She asked if she could talk to me, and I told her she could tell me anything."

He was full on crying, and there was no hiding it. He couldn't recall the last time he had cried. It had been so long it was like a foreign experience to him.

"We went into my room, and she told me that Mr. Vincent had been touching her." Andi's hands flew up to cover her mouth while she gasped in disbelief.

"That was why she didn't want to go to tutoring," she said, barely above a whisper.

"Yeah. It had been going on for weeks. That night though, she finally resisted, and told him that she didn't like what he was doing. So he...." Matt struggled with the words, "...dragged her to the bedroom. He raped her." He felt dead inside after he said it. His eyes were far away, and he was trying not to feel the pain he was all too familiar with. She was crying now too, and had both arms around him. The room filled with silence until he was able to continue.

"He told her to come home and tell Mom and Dad that she was climbing a tree at recess and fell and that was why she had the bruises and cuts and her dress was torn. I just hugged her. I couldn't let go. I told her how strong she was for telling me, and that she was a good girl. I told her she did the right thing and that she was so brave.

"I told my parents what happened. They didn't know what to do, but I did. That night I snuck out my bedroom window and started running. He only lived a few streets down. I just kept thinking that I should have seen it, I should have listened to her when she said she didn't want to go, that I could have done something sooner."

"What happened when you got there?" she asked looking at him from his side.

"You already know what happened."

"You wanted me to hear your side. I want to hear it all," she said.

"I didn't go there to kill him. I just went there to threaten him. I knew it was going to be his word against an eight year old girl's. People knew him in our town; he was respected. Mariah might have never gotten justice for what he did. I wanted to scare him into confessing."

"He didn't agree?" she asked.

"He laughed. He fucking laughed at me. I couldn't take it; I hit him. He fell, and I started kicking him, but that motherfucker he kept laughing. I was so angry I didn't know what to do, and I couldn't deal with it. He was smiling while my sister was at home, crying and scared to death after he raped her. I stomped on his head until he stopped smiling. I dragged him into the bedroom, and I screamed at him, asking if that was where he did it, if that was where he raped little girls. He said that Mariah was his favorite...and I lost it. I started hitting him and I couldn't stop. I wanted to stop. I just couldn't Andi, I just couldn't."

"And you killed him."

"I did. I killed him." It was the first time he had ever said it. "The police had gotten a call from a neighbor about the noise, and they got there right as I was leaving. So I started running. They followed me home and caught me. I was questioned, arrested, and later tried for murder."

"And they found you innocent?" she asked.

"I didn't say a word the whole trial. I spoke to our family lawyer, that was it. Some blood samples got mixed up during testing, so they couldn't use any of the blood evidence in court."

"What about all the other evidence?" Andi asked. She was now holding Matt's hand tightly.

"I told you, it was a small town. My dad knew everyone, including everyone on the jury. Word got around about what happened to Mariah, and they found me not guilty, even though they all knew I was. I left after that, and I haven't spoken to my family since."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because--I disgraced our family and our name. That town might have understood why I did what I did, but they never looked at my family the same again, and it was my fault. What happened to Mariah was public knowledge, and she had to grow up with that all because I couldn't keep my fucking anger under control."

There were no more tears. He was caught up in the memory. Not of the murder, not of his sister's pain and suffering--he was caught up in the memory of his family. Of how things used to be. He hadn't thought about any of it in so long. He missed it.

He missed his mother yelling at him for kicking his shoes off in the living room when he came home from school. He missed the way his dad would come home and picked his mom up like a princess and spun her around the kitchen. He missed being irritated by Mariah always wanting to play some silly card game with rules she made up. He missed home, and he missed his family. He looked to his side at Andi, who hadn't spoken since he finished telling her the story. He studied her face, looking for any sign of what she might be thinking. He was about to break the silence and plead with her to say something, but as he started to speak, Riley emerged from the bedroom of the hotel suite.

Andi jumped off of the couch and hurried over to her, guiding her out of the room and back into the bedroom. As she did, Riley struggled to look back at him. She gave a small wave with her little hand. He raised his and waved back slowly, forcing a smile. After a short delay, Andi came back into the room. He stood up, feeling like this was his cue to leave. He looked at her for an instant, gave a small nod, and walked toward the door.

"Matt?"

"Yes?" he answered, turning quickly to face her.

"Thank you for telling me. I understand why you did what you did. I just need some time to think about everything. I just need time," she said.

"I get it. You know where to find me," he replied.

He turned and left the hotel room. He knew that what she had given was all he could have asked for. She had listened. She let him tell the whole story. And what he had given her was his complete trust and faith. His life was entirely in her hands from that point forward.

She was a criminal prosecutor, and according to the terms of his case, it could be reopened if any new evidence were to surface. She had a confession. She had personally witnessed his detailed admission that he had killed Michael Vincent. She had everything she needed to put him away for a life sentence, but he didn't care. Since he was a child, he had never given anyone his absolute trust, until now. She was different. She was different because he loved her in a way he had never loved anyone. He wanted to be honest with her, and if it meant spending the rest of his life in a cell, he was prepared to face that.

He walked along the sidewalk for a while, not even knowing whether or not he was going the right direction. He wanted to think. He contemplated what might happen next. He thought about where he might go from there. She wasn't going to let him back into her life or back around her daughter, and that was all that he wanted. He considered selling everything and starting over. He pondered selling the car, the jet, the penthouse, and the company. He could take all of the money and start over somewhere else. The problem was, he didn't want that. He could deal with not having any of those material things. What he couldn't deal with was not having them.

A cab was approaching from the direction he was walking, and he put his hand in the air. The taxi pulled over on the other side of the street and waited for him to cross and get into the back seat. Matt looked out the window as the cab began to move, taking in the city again. It truly was beautiful. He had never spent much time on the east coast; maybe he would try there next--maybe someplace like Maine. They were well into the commute when he suddenly thought of Scott, the cab driver who had saved his life. Everything had happened so fast he had forgotten to get his information when he was leaving the hospital. He hadn't noticed when he first got in, but now he could see from the cab company's name on the dashboard that it was the same company that Scott worked for!

"Excuse me, sir," he said to the driver. "Do you buy any chance know another one of your drivers named Scott?"

"Yeah...Scott Wood," the driver answered. "A damn good man."

"Yes he is. Listen, it's really important that I get in touch with him. Do you know where he lives or his cell phone number?" Matt asked.

"That's not gonna be possible, son," the driver said.

"Look, I know it probably against policy to give out employee information like that, but I'm willing to pay you. It's very important," Matt continued.

"You don't understand; it's not possible."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because..." the driver hesitated slightly. "Scott's dead." 

# CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"Dead? Oh my god! What happened?" Matt said, stunned.

"Suicide. His cousin found him in his bathroom with a gun in his hand and a bullet hole through his temple," the driver said. "Did you know him well?"

"No," Matt answered quietly. "He just, uh....he saved my life. He saved my life, and I never got a chance to thank him." The rest of the ride was quiet. Neither said a word until they pulled up in front of his building and the driver broke the silence.

"Hey listen, Scott was real close with his aunt and cousin. They were really all the family he had. They are having a small funeral for him on Friday at five at the Miller Funeral Home on the west side. Maybe it's not the norm, but at least you'd have a chance to pay your respects. Just a thought," the cabbie said.

"Thank you, I think I will. Thank you very much," Matt said before exiting the cab.

As he walked into his building, he knew he had to go. He had to somehow say "thank you," even if it was at a funeral. He owed this man that much.

Matt spent the next few days working from home, staying in close contact with Claire and making sure the business was running smoothly in his absence. He still hadn't had a chance to let his employees know what was going on or why he was arrested during their work party, but that would have to wait.

Friday came quickly, and he was nervous. He thought about how strange it would be for Scott's family, if there weren't many people there, for some guy that Scott only drove for once to show up to his funeral. He debated with himself the entire morning on whether or not to go, and in the end, he decided he had to. The Phantom rolled quickly to the west side of town to the funeral home. It had been in the shop for weeks after the damage that was done to it by Chaser and Matt was relieved to have it back. The fact was that if the car hadn't been destroyed, he would never have met Scott, and wouldn't be on his way to a funeral. On the other hand, if he hadn't had to take a cab to the bar that night, Scott wouldn't have been there, and Matt very well could be the one being buried in the ground.

He pulled onto the street where the funeral home was and parked several streets away. He was sure he wouldn't be there long, and the last thing he wanted was to get blocked in. He slowly walked toward the building; it was an old, white brick colonial, and the parking lot and both sides of the street were filled with cars. Scott certainly seemed to be a great guy, so it wasn't surprising to see this kind of a turn out to celebrate his life. He approached the steps up to the entrance of the building and paused. He was considering turning around, but before he could, an employee of the funeral home opened the door for him to come inside.

"Welcome. Thank you for being here. The showing will be in the room all the way to the back, and there are some refreshments just to your right as you walk in," the lady said.

"Oh, uh, thank you," he answered.

He slowly entered and began to walk slowly toward the back of the building. The hallway was lined with photos of Scott Wood, and in every single one, he was smiling or laughing. He appeared to be such a happy person, and genuine. It was sad to think that underneath there must have been such a deep sadness.

As Matt entered the big room where the service was to be held, he immediately spotted a woman sitting alone in the front row of chairs, looking at a sort of shrine of Scott.

There were different photographs, yearbooks, and swimming trophies. They even had his goggles laying on the table. He could see the woman was sobbing. There was no doubt in his mind that this must be Scott Wood's aunt. Matt slowly and quietly walked up to the front row of chairs and timidly moved toward the woman.

"Hi," he said, inadvertently startling the woman as he pulled her from her trance. "I'm so sorry to bother you; my name is Matthew." He held out his hand for her to take in hers.

"Patricia," the woman said while taking his hand. "Thank you so much for being here. How did you know my Scotty?"

"Well ma'am, that's an interesting story. I only had the honor of meeting him once. I rode in his taxi about a month ago." He could see she was a little curious about his statement. "I know that it's odd that one of his passengers would be here--especially one that he only met one time--but I had to come here and thank him."

"Thank him for what, dear?" she asked.

"He saved my life." Matt sat down in one of the empty chairs next to Patricia, and went on to tell her the story of that night at the bar and how he was left for dead. "If Scott hadn't found me and taken me to the hospital, I would have died in that alley."

"Oh," she had again teared up at the story. "Well, that was my Scotty. Wouldn't hurt a fly, but he would do anything to help someone else."

"He seemed like a great man. I am so sorry about what happened ma'am," he said.

"Don't believe what you've heard," she snapped.

"What do you mean?" he asked. She looked around to make sure they were alone before answering.

"The police think I'm crazy," she started, "but I know Scotty would have never take his own life. He was the happiest man you'd ever meet; he loved life." She leaned in closer and began to speak in a whisper. "Someone did this to him. Someone killed him and made it look like a suicide. I just know it."

Another murder? Could it really be a coincidence? Sure, murders happened all the time in Chicago, but this was the second time in a month that a person (or people, actually) had died who he was directly connected to. First the construction crew, and then Scott. Patricia looked as though she was about to continue with her theory when a young man entered the room and walked towards them.

"Oh, this is my son--Jacob, Scotty's cousin," Patricia and Matt both stood as the young man approached them.

"It's nice to meet you; I'm Matt." Jacob just nodded.

"I was just telling him about how the police won't listen to--"

The young man cut her off. "Mom, that's enough! Not here. We aren't here to drown everyone in our conspiracy theories. We are here to pay our respects to Scott. Just drop it," he said in a low tone. Patricia was obviously upset by these comments. She stood up and walked toward the door, leaving Jacob and Matt standing there alone.

"I'm sorry about her. She is having a really hard time with this," Jacob said.

"She seems pretty set on this idea that someone else is involved."

"There's no doubt there--someone killed Scott. This just isn't the time or place for that battle."

"So you think so too? You think someone killed him and staged the suicide?" he asked.

"I know so. I found him. Dead in our bathroom at the house. I know for a fact he didn't kill himself, and not because of the reasons my mom has. Not because he was such a happy guy and he could never do this. I have evidence. It's not evidence to the police, but it's evidence enough for me," he said.

"Evidence? If you don't mind me asking, what kind of evidence?" Matt replied.

"Apparently it's the kind that's 'inadmissible in court,' but when I found him on the floor, he had a bullet hole in his left temple and a revolver in his left hand."

"Alright. How does that prove it wasn't suicide?" Matt asked.

"If you were going to shoot yourself in the head, what hand would you use?" Jacob answered. Matt thought for a moment.

"I would use my right hand," Matt said.

"Because it's your dominant hand, right?" he asked. Matt nodded yes. "Scott was right handed, not left. What do the police think? He decided to be ambidextrous in his final moments? I don't think so." Matt thought long and hard. It was a good point. Why would Scott have used his weaker hand to shoot himself? It didn't make any sense. "We aren't giving up. There are a few officers downtown who are quietly looking into it."

"Yeah, don't give up. You might be onto something here," Matt said. "I wish you luck with it. If your theory is right, Scott of all people deserves justice." They shook hands, and Matt turned toward the closed casket, and put one hand on top of it. After a moment of silence, he whispered, "Thank you, and I'm so sorry."

Matt left the funeral home quickly after that. He felt like he was going to be sick. This was all too perfect to be coincidence. He was attacked at the bar, and the men who attacked him are murdered in a motel. Now the taxi driver who saved his life is dead, perhaps murdered as well, but staged to look like he killed himself. He dropped into the Phantom, leaned forward, and rested his head on the steering wheel. He pulled himself together by telling himself he was out of his mind. It was his brain playing tricks on him. The construction crew murders occurred because they probably had made a lot of enemies. And Scott really did commit suicide--his family members were just in denial.

He drove back to his place and let his mind decompress. He let all of the thoughts and anxiety leak out of his mind. By the time he parked the Rolls in the parking garage of his building, he felt a little better. He actually felt relieved that it was a weekend for the first time in years. He generally worked through the weekends, but this time, he figured he would take the time to relax and try and get back to normal.

He went up to his penthouse, took off his suit, and went into his study. He poured himself a double shot of bourbon, threw it back, and poured himself another. He put a few blocks of ice into his glass and sat down behind his desk. He opened up his laptop to see what he had missed: 507 unread emails. He spent a few hours scrolling through them, replying to some and forwarding others to Claire. Right as the clock was about to strike midnight, he got up and walked out of the study and down the hall toward the bedroom. On the way, he stopped in the entryway to arm the security system for the night.

When he pushed the button labeled ARM, nothing happened. The screen on the control panel lit up showing an error in a door sensor. Each door had a sensor at the top, and if the door was not shut, the sensor would not arm. There were only two entrances into the penthouse: the front door, which was to his left and closed; and then there was the back door which led to a staircase in case of emergencies. He rarely ever opened that door, but according to the security system, it was open.

He slowly bent down and pulled up his pant leg, exposing the small handgun he had secured in his ankle holster. He drew it from the holster and aimed it out in front of him as he walked down the hall toward the back door. He tried to walk in silence, carefully setting each foot down softly as he moved. He put his back against the wall near the end of the hall. He would have to go around the corner to the right to get to the door, but if someone had come in, they could be right there.

He took a few deep breaths, slightly pulled the slide back on his pistol to make sure there was a bullet in the chamber, turned off the safety on the side of the weapon, and quickly took the corner. He broke out into the open with the gun pointed out in front of him, but there was nothing. Nothing, except the door standing wide open.

He walked over to it carefully, keeping his gun ready to shoot. He came to the top of the staircase and looked down. The stairs went about twenty steps down and then cut to the right for the next section of staircase. He had only even seen the staircase once, the day the realtor showed him the penthouse. He began moving down the steps, taking one at a time slowly and quietly. He came to the turn and again prepared himself before going around the corner. As he did, again he found nothing.

He decided it had to have been the maintenance guy for the building, or maybe his cleaning lady. It was already late, so he concluded he would call the building manager in the morning to ask if anyone had been inspecting the stairwell. He began to climb back up the staircase, but as he did, he thought he heard someone taking steps behind him. He spun around, only to see a still-empty stairwell. It was late, and he had had a few too many drinks. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him. He turned back and climbed back to the penthouse, closing the door behind him.

He made sure it was locked and returned to the entryway to set the alarm. That night he had trouble falling asleep. He was overwhelmed with everything that was happening: Chaser trying to pin the construction murders on him; having told Andi about Michael Vincent; Scott Wood's death and his family's theory. The only thing he could do was get back to work and put all of it out of his mind. What was done was done. There was no going back; there was only moving forward.

As he slowly drifted into sleep, a hidden pair of eyes watched him from the bedroom door that was cracked open--the same pair of eyes that had watched him sleep so many nights before. They had watched him go to work every morning, and go home every night. They had been watching when he was attacked at The Grizzly's Gut and when Scott Wood carried him into the hospital. Today they had watched him go to a funeral, and now they rested on him as he slept.

The person, hidden in darkness, slightly pressed against the bedroom door opening it further. They entered the bedroom and walked around to the right side of the bed where Matt slept. They stood there, studying him, every detail--his hair, his jaw, his lips, his exposed shoulders. The figure sat down lightly on the side of the bed next to him. They looked down and focused on the revolver in their hands. All it would take was one bullet. One bullet could kill them both if done the right way. No. Not tonight. The figure stood up and walked around to the other side of the bed. Carefully, they laid down next to Matt and watched him. Before leaving, they whispered one thing...

"Sweet dreams, Matthew."

# CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The following weeks went by quickly. Matt had fallen back into his old routine, and was finally beginning to feel normal again--back to the way he was before Andi. His employees were torn. They had started getting used to the new Matt: the man who understood there were things that mattered outside of work, the boss who appreciated all of their hard work. Now, it was as if that person had never existed. He was back to his old ways of showing up early, staying late, putting work above all else, and expecting them to do the same. They missed that Mr. O'Bannon. The thing was, so did he.

He missed being happy. He missed having something outside of work that was more important. He missed having something to look forward to, someone to leave the office for. That part of his life was over, and as hard as it was, he had to accept it. Getting back to work and pushing forward was his only option.

He arrived to work on a Monday morning, and to his surprise, Claire was already in the office. "Good morning Mr. O'Bannon," she chimed. She had already set out his calendar for the day alongside his coffee.

"Good morning. What are you doing here so early?" he asked.

"Well, you have gotten so refocused lately, I guess it was motivating," she said.

"I see...well, good I appreciate the initiative." He sat down behind his desk and started looking over his calendar for the day. She stood there across from him as if she was waiting for something. "I'm sorry; is there something else?" he asked.

"Mr. Williams called from LogiCorp," she replied.

James Williams was the CEO of one of the largest software companies in the country. Matt had been trying to bring them on as an account for years, but had never had any luck.

"Mr. Williams? What did he need?" He was trying to hide his excitement. In all these years, and all the attempts at contact he had made, James Williams had never called him.

"He would like for you to come to LogiCorp for a meeting to, as he put it, 'discuss the future.'" she answered with a giant smile.

"The future?" This was exactly the kind of thing that he needed to get out of his slump. "Tell him I can be there tomorrow!"

"I already have! The jet has been prepped and I have postponed all of your meetings for the week," she said.

He arrived at the airstrip and pulled up to the Gulfstream 550. He remembered every detail about the day he bought it. It was the day he felt he had truly made it in business. He parked the Phantom in his reserved parking spot and boarded the plane. He greeted the pilot and got settled. The trip to Miami was a two-hour flight. He would spend the entire time going over his proposal, his presentation, and everything he knew about LogiCorp. This could be his one opportunity to land the account, and he was going to be ready. They landed in Miami, and there was a limousine waiting at the airstrip.

"Mr. O'Bannon?" the driver asked, approaching him.

"Yes," he said.

"Mr. Williams has arranged transportation to headquarters. I am to take you there and ensure that you are comfortable." He opened the back door of the limo as he spoke.

That afternoon was a whirlwind. He met with Mr. Williams as well as all of the executives from LogiCorp, and they signed a five-year consulting contract on the spot. The trip could not have gone better. He was actually beginning to forget about everything that had been going on back home and had a new enthusiasm about his future. LogiCorp would be his biggest client, and there was even talk of him relocating to Miami for a while to personally oversee the changes they had discussed. That night they had dinner and drinks to celebrate. James acted as if he and Matt had been friends for years. But as they socialized, Matt had one thing on his mind--the cabin.

One of the few pleasures that he had in his life was getting away to his remote cabin in Minnesota once a year. It was located a few miles east of Ely, and was built a mere half mile from a little-known body of water called Brimstone Lake. The cabin itself was completely hidden away up in the mountains, surrounded by trees and wildlife. There were very few tourists in this area of the state; in fact, there weren't many who visited Minnesota at all, which was the very reason why he had chosen to build his place of solitude there.

His goal was to be alone. He like the peace and quiet. He preferred it to the hustle and bustle of the city, but he was also a realist. He knew he would not be able to run his empire from such a remote location; he had to be in the heart of it. But once a year, he would retreat back to his cabin and tune out the world. He had rules he had set for himself in order to go to the cabin. It could only be for one week, once a year, and it had to be well deserved.

One week, once a year, was the maximum, because he feared if he spent too much time there, he would eventually choose not to go back to Chicago. He loved the way he was surrounded by nature, how he could wake up in the morning to find a group of deer in his front yard. He loved that there was zero cell phone reception and no internet, and the fact that no one could get ahold of him. He valued the small town of Ely; it was so similar to the town he had grown up in.

Ely had a population of less than four thousand people. There was a single road that led through the town that brought visitors to a few shops on the left and a few restaurants on the right. The Pizza Hut was the only chain eatery in the town; the rest were homestyle cooking, owned and operated by locals. Everyone knew each other by first name and didn't care much about the last. The residents were mostly blue collar and very simple in their lifestyles. Most worked hard from Monday to Friday, spent Saturdays with family or friends, went to church on Sunday morning, and went to bed early Sunday night to be well rested to start it over again the next week.

The only other rule for going to the cabin was that it had to be earned. He did not preplan a trip to the cabin or go at the same time every year. He kept it as a reward for himself whenever he had a big accomplishment. This rule kept him motivated to work more, push harder, and be relentless so that he would ultimately "earn" a trip to the cabin. Landing the account with LogiCorp was certainly one such accomplishment.

It was the biggest account he had won since being in business, and in addition, it was one that he had been after for years. Years of cold calling, asking, begging, and pleading had finally secured one opportunity to win the business; that one opportunity was all he needed. Hours upon hours of practice and preparation had been enough to lock them down as O'Bannon Consulting's newest client, not to mention largest.

If he was honest with himself, he may have been more excited having earned his trip to the cabin than he was for the new customer. Not thirty minutes had passed after leaving dinner and drinks with the staff at LogiCorp before he was on the phone with Claire, insisting that she make the appropriate arrangements immediately with the pilot and airstrip. He always rented a car when he made his trip to Ely from a small mom-and-pop car rental company near the airport called Cheryl's Auto Rentals.

It was owned and operated by an older widow name Cheryl Larson who had inherited it from her father when he'd passed away. She and her husband had run it together until he was killed in a car accident, and since that time, she had been running a one-woman show. She didn't care much for cars, or for business, but she truly loved dealing with people. He had come to know her as well as anyone over the years, and she was one of the few people he didn't mind having a causal conversation with. He always opted to arrange that part himself. He hung up with Claire and immediately went to the contacts in his phone. He selected Cheryl's and waited while it rang.

"Thank you for calling Cheryl's; this is Cheryl! How may I assist you on this beautiful day?" She had sort of a southern twang, which, she explained during one conversation they'd had, was the only remaining vestige of the time she'd spent growing up in Senoia, Georgia. She'd moved to Ely when she was twenty-two to marry her now late husband Jerry and had never left, nor wanted to.

"How is it that you're able to make me smile with one just sentence over the phone?" he said.

"Lots and lots of practice, Matthew O'Bannon. How you doin' darlin'?"

"I am doing well. I am going to be out that way tomorrow morning for a week. Think I could get a ride from you on such short notice?"

"In all these years, have I ever once told you 'no?'"

"Maybe the time I asked you to dinner," he joked. Cheryl was in her mid-sixties and was definitely more of a mother figure than a love interest, but the innocent flirting always brought a smile to her face.

"Oh my goodness, you're makin' me blush already. I don't think you could handle that sweetheart! What time should I have the car ready?"

"You're probably right, but a man can dream. I should be there no later than nine."

"I will see you then sugar."

He hung up the phone and wasted no time getting to the airport. Claire had been filled in on everything that he would be missing, and she knew how to handle it. When he got to the airstrip, the Gulfstream was prepped and ready for takeoff. He didn't have any luggage, but he didn't need any. He kept a stocked wardrobe at the cabin which consisted of jeans, boots, and flannel button-ups. He looked forward to the dress down almost more than anything else. It was the one place he felt that he didn't need to be putting on a show.

"Captain John, how are we looking?" Matt greeted the pilot and nodded to the co-pilot.

"Everything seems to be in order, sir. Just doing a second check on all the particulars and we'll be rolling."

"Excellent. I appreciate how quickly you got everything situated, by the way. I know it was last minute. Hopefully I didn't cause any problems with the wife."

"Not at all--she was happy to be rid of me!" he chuckled to himself as he responded.

Matt smiled back and moved toward the middle of the plane. Much like the Rolls Royce, this jet had been custom built for him and he had carefully researched every detail before approving the final order. The couches on either side of the cabin were custom as well as the bed in the tucked away bedroom in the back. Toward the front of the plane on the right was a bar stocked with top shelf spirits along with some edible refreshments. Fresh fruit was a must and the cabinet was always supplied with his guilty pleasure: barbeque potato chips. On the left he had insisted on an oversized reclining chair for his flight attendant, Leon.

"Shall I prepare a scotch on the rocks for you this evening, Mr. O'Bannon?"

"You read my mind."

After a few of those, Matt slowly fell into sleep. Something about the subtle warmth that flooded his body from the alcohol combined with the steady hum of the jet engine carried him into a deep slumber on nighttime trips--this, in addition to the fact that it was already very late. It was after two in the morning when he had left the powwow with the board of directors at LogiCorp, and by the time they were airborne, it was almost five thirty in the morning. It was only a four-hour flight from Miami to the airstrip in Ely, but that was all the sleep he would need. He hadn't been sleeping well anyways since he had told Andi about his past.

He was awakened when the jet touched down on the tarmac. It was always a few minutes between landing and exiting the plane, so he used this time to refresh for the day ahead. The airstrip had a shuttle service to Cheryl's Auto Rental, which was about three miles in the direction of Ely. The driver dropped him off in front of the storefront, and nothing had changed. It was actually more of a shack than a store--a wooden structure with two windows in the front, one on either side of the front door, and which looked as if it would fall over at any moment. He walked toward the door, but before he was able to get to the front step, a gigantic dog bound around the corner.

To say the animal was huge was an understatement. Standing on all fours, even from twenty feet away, it was clear that this dog's head would meet his chest. The skin and fur that covered its chest wavered over the exposed muscles. It's paws would surely cover his entire face. It slowly began to stride toward Matt, stopping every few paces to analyze the situation. At five feet, the dog broke into a gallop. He arrived at Matt, stood up on its hind legs putting both front paws over his shoulders, and began to lick his face unmercifully.

"Ugh, Zeus! Down boy!" He tried to be stern, but it was hard to do so while laughing. He lifted Zeus's paws off his shoulders and placed them back on the ground. "There, that's a good boy." He rewarded him with a good scratch behind his ears.

"Some things never change." Matt turned to his left to find Cheryl leaning against one of two posts holding up the roof that covered the front porch area. He really was happy to see her.

"And some things do; I swear he gets bigger every time I come through."

"Yeah, and that was the point of getting him in the first place. He's supposed to be my security, but all he wants to do is lick everyone to death." They moved toward each other and met in an embrace. "Aww, how are you doin', darlin'?"

"Better now--I'm happy to be back."

"Well that makes two of us. Now, have you been eating enough? You're lookin' thin." She had a motherly way about her--always making sure he had the right clothes on, that he was eating enough, and that he remembered to "live in the moment," as she put it.

"I do believe I have," he replied with a chuckle.

"Now you know damn well I'm not talking about all that take-out junk. When's the last time you had a good, home-cooked meal?" She knew him well.

"If I'm being honest, probably the last time I was here." That was true. Last time he was in town was over a year before, and he had eaten at Gator's Grilled Cheese Emporium, his favorite local restaurant.

"Well then you better march that cute little butt right into town for a bite to eat before you do anything else." Her face was stern; she didn't joke about eating.

"I'll do my best. Now how's that boy of yours?" Cheryl had a twenty-year-old son named Kyle who lived and worked in Ely. She'd had big hopes for him growing up, but he had fallen off the wagon a bit after his dad passed away.

"Oh, he's doin' just fine. Still workin' over at the plant. He don't love it, but it pays the bills. He stops by from time to time to help me get things in order."

"He better--he has the best mom in the world. The least he can do is help out around here." Matt flashed her a genuine smile. She smiled back, but quickly dropped it. He noticed immediately that there was something she hadn't told him. "What aren't you saying?"

"Oh, nothin' at all darling. I don't want to burden you with my problems."

"You're never a burden to me. Now what's going on?"

"It's just this family moved into town, a bunch of cousins. They started working at the plant, and they have sort of pulled Kyle in."

"And new friends aren't a good thing?"

"I wouldn't call them 'friends.' I don't know...they just don't seem like the trustworthy type to me. They are always causing trouble in town, and they are starting to drag Kyle into it."

"Do you want me to try talking to him?" Since Kyle's dad had died, Matt had made it a habit to try to spend some time with him when he was in town.

"Oh no, sweetheart. It's not your problem! I appreciate it, though. I'll be right back with your car, sugar."

She quickly walked around the side of the building to the car lot. There weren't many cars there, but then again, there weren't many visitors either. Three or four minutes later she drove around the side of the building in a fire red Jeep Wrangler. It was definitely different than what he was used to, but that was part of the reason he enjoyed going there. He took the keys from her and accepted a hug before jumping into the driver's seat and pulling out onto the dirt road that led to Ely.

He had intended to keep his promise of trying his best to stop in town for food, but he decided mid-ride against it. He didn't want food; he wanted his cabin. He wanted his cup of coffee while he sat on the back porch and watched the forest. That was his peace. That was his freedom. If there was anything he had worked so hard all of these years for, it was that. He drove eight miles up into the mountains and pulled down a long dirt driveway that led to a small log cabin.

It was nothing to brag about, even though he could have afforded to build a log mansion, but he liked that it was small. He liked the simplicity of life there. He didn't need a huge cabin, just like he didn't need his high-end suits or his luxury car. Life at the cabin was simple, just like he wanted it. He walked in the front door and everything was exactly how he left it, down to his signature coffee mug that always sat on the far left end of the countertop.

He spent that night and the next day in bliss. He read a couple of books, and sat on the porch taking in the mountains and thought. He didn't think about work, or the problems back home, or even about Andi. He thought again about starting over. He could get rid of everything and live the rest of his life here, simply. He wouldn't even have to leave the cabin to do that. He considered it for a long time, and it was five in the evening the day after he arrived before he realized that he was hungry and hadn't eaten since he got there. Cheryl wouldn't be pleased.

He drove into town and ate at Gator's. Like everything else, it was simple, but he was always surprised by how good a simple grilled cheese sandwich could taste. There was a local bar that was walking distance from the restaurant, and an ice cold beer sounded better than it ever had before. He walked in, sat down at the bar, and ordered a drink. He was halfway through his second beer when a group of men walked in and approached the bar. Matt immediately recognized one the men--Cheryl's son Kyle. He got up and walked over to him.

"Wow, you really are growing up, aren't you kid?" Kyle turned and smiled at first, but then he noticed the looks of confusion from the others in his group and dropped the smile.

"Hey, Matt. I was wonderin' when you'd be back in town."

Matt was about to continue catching up, but a member of the group got his attention when he raised his voice at the bartender.

"You said you wanted a gram and that's what I brought you! There is no negotiating! Two hundred dollars, or you're gonna have some problems."

The man was holding several small baggies in his right hand--heroin. He looked at Kyle, who was already waiting for his response to the situation. Matt didn't say anything; his look said it all. The bartender traded folded-up bills for the baggies and disappeared into the back as the group turned to walk toward the exit. Matt grabbed Kyle's wrist as he turned to go with them.

"Kyle--"

Another group member slapped Matt's hand away and stepped in front of him. No words were exchanged. He glared, then turned and pushed Kyle out the door after the rest of the group. Kyle looked back, and it was clear to Matt that he didn't want to be a part of what was happening. He had gotten himself mixed up with a bad group, and now they weren't going to let him walk away.

They loaded into a van that was parked not far from the bar. Matt jumped in his Jeep and followed, staying a ways behind them to avoid alerting them. They led him to a small white house just outside of town. The windows had been boarded up and the paint on the sides of the house was peeling badly. He pulled the Jeep behind some trees and crept toward the house. There was a window on the east side that was low enough that he could see inside.

It was the kitchen, and it was a wreck--trash, beer bottles, and seemingly used syringes laying all over the counters and floor. There were five men scattered around the kitchen, and Kyle was sitting at a table across from the man who had yelled at the bartender. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he saw what the man was doing; he was holding out a syringe to Kyle. He tried to read Kyle's lips as he spoke, but had no luck. Although he couldn't hear him, he knew by the way Kyle was shaking his head that he was refusing.

The man sitting at the table turned and said something to one of the others. He nodded his head "yes" and moved behind Kyle, putting his arm around his neck. Another man moved to the table and pulled Kyle's left arm out and pushed his shirt sleeve up, exposing his forearm. Matt had seen enough. He ran around to the front of the house and slammed his shoulder into the front door, busting it in. The men reacted quickly, filtering out of the kitchen into the entryway, but it was too late. Matt had already drawn his gun.

"Kyle, get outside! Now!"

Kyle didn't ask questions. He moved past Matt and hurried out of the house. Matt then turned his attention back to the group of men who now held their hands up in the air. He got a good look at them for the first time. "Men" wasn't the right word; they were kids. All of them were maybe in their mid-twenties. He aimed his gun at each of them slowly, moving from one to the other. Each flinched as the sights set on them. They were afraid for their lives, and that was exactly what Matt wanted.

"I don't know who you guys are, and I don't care. That kid outside is no longer a part of this. You're going to stay away from him. Do you understand?" They all nodded their heads rapidly. "I really hope you do, because if hear about any of you going near him again, I'm going to come back here. And if I have to do that, I will kill each and every one of you."

They cowered where they stood, and all murmured, promising to stay away. Matt lowered the gun and left the house. He met Kyle by the road, and they walked in silence back to the car. They drove back toward town, and were several minutes into the ride before either of them said a word.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Matt asked.

"What the hell were you thinking?! I didn't need you to come busting into my life! I can handle myself!" Kyle yelled. Matt slammed on the brakes, causing the car to skid several feet before coming to a halt. He looked over at the twenty-year-old in his passenger seat.

"You can handle yourself? Is that what they told you? You're running around with drug dealers, so you're a big man now? Don't need any help? Let me see your arms." Kyle didn't move. "Let me see your arms!" Slowly Kyle lifted his sleeves and showed his inner forearms. They were smooth; no needle tracks.

"You can be happy you haven't fallen that far yet. If I hadn't showed up when I did, you wouldn't have had a choice. There was enough shit in that syringe to kill you. Do you know what that would have done to your mom?" Matt asked.

"I'm sorry, okay?! I don't have anyone anymore! Dad was my best friend, and he's gone! What am I supposed to do?!" Kyle's voice began to shake as he fought back tears.

"Kyle, you and I are a lot alike. I know what it's like to be alone, to not have anyone to look up to. It's a hard way to become a man, but this is not the way. You have an amazing mother who loves you and cares for you. She's worried about you. She already lost your dad; she can't lose you too." Kyle looked out the window and nodded, showing his understanding. Matt handed him a card with a number written on the back.

"I want you to have this."

"What is it?" Kyle asked.

"It's my cell phone number. If you didn't have anyone before, you have someone now. Call me anytime, day or night, and I promise you I will answer."

Kyle looked at the number then back up at him. After a few seconds of silence, he quietly said, "Thank you."

They drove into town, pulled down a side street, and parked in a driveway in front of a little blue house. As they got out of the car, the front door opened and Cheryl appeared on the porch.

"What's going on?" she asked. Kyle just hugged her and then walked into the house. She watched him and then turned back to Matt with a confused look.

"You were right--those cousins were a problem. But I handled it. I also had a long talk with Kyle. He's not completely gone, Cheryl. He just needs some guidance."

"That he does. Ever since his dad died, he's just been stumbling through. He seems so lost."

"He is, but I am going to do whatever I can to help him find his way." Matt handed her the same card he gave to Kyle. "I want you guys to call me if you ever need anything. I can't always be here, but I can get here right away if you need me. I want to help him." Cheryl responded with a hug.

It was clear it had been a long time since anyone had offered them any help at all, and he was happy to be that person. He drove back to the cabin, looking at the stars as the Jeep moved down the road. They were so clear here. He couldn't see them at all in Chicago, but here, he was convinced he could see every star in the sky. He got back to the cabin and walked toward the bedroom ready to pass out. But as he approached the room, his phone began to ring.

Everything in Matt's world went through Claire, and very few people had his direct cell phone number. Anytime it rang, generally it was extremely important. He pulled the phone from his pocket and the caller name on the screen took his breath away: Andi Walker. 

# CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Hello?" he said.

"Matt?" It was Riley.

"Riley? Hi honey! What's going on? Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Matt, something happened to Mommy." Her words were mumbled like she had been crying.

"What happened sweetheart?" He tried to hide the concern in his voice.

"She fell down the stairs! She's at the hospital, and she won't wake up!" He could tell she was crying now.

"Okay, okay. Where are you?" he said as calmly as he could.

"I'm at the hospital too," she answered.

"Alright, I need you to stay right there. It's going to be little while before I can get there but I am coming okay?"

"Hurry!" she yelped.

"I'm coming, Riley. Don't worry; everything will be okay. I'm coming!" He hung up the phone, started up the Jeep, and peeled down the dirt road en route to the airstrip. On the way, he called to alert his pilot that they needed to take off immediately, and that it was an emergency that could not wait. Then he called Claire.

"Mr. O'Bannon?" she answered.

"Claire! I don't have time to explain, but Andi is in the hospital. I need you to call every hospital in the city and find out which one she is at. Text me the name and address the second you have it. It's an emergency!"

He hung up once he had finished his request. When he arrived at the airstrip, the jet was ready to go. He boarded quickly and they took off. It had been such a long day, but he couldn't sleep. The whole flight he just looked out the window at the night sky. So many things were going through his head. What happened? Was Andi dying? Would he ever get a chance to see her or talk to her again? What would happen to Riley?

These ideas flooded his mind for two and a half hours until the plane finally touched down in Chicago. He got off of the plane, sprinted to the Phantom, and peeled out of the parking lot. Claire had texted which hospital and the address where Andi was, and he knew exactly how to get there. Ironically, it was the same hospital he had been in after the bar attack. He sped through town. He didn't even know what the speed limit was, nor did he care; he was going as fast as he possibly could, weaving around cars and down side streets. He pulled into the parking lot of the hospital and skidded to a stop in front of the entrance.

He ran inside and found the visitors desk. He hurried them to pull up which room she was in and then ran down the hall until he reached her door. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath; he assumed Riley was there too, and didn't want to scare her any more than she already was. He slowly opened the door and walked into the room. Andi was laying on the bed attached to several machines, and Riley was sleeping on a small couch against the wall. He moved to Andi's side and looked her over. She had a bruises on her arms and neck. And there was a long row of stiches along her forehead; she must have hit it when she fell.

"Matt!" He turned to the wall behind him to find that Riley had woken up and was now running toward him. He bent down on a knee and caught her in his arms. He held her there while she cried until she calmed down.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Everything is going to be okay. Who else have you or the hospital people called?" he asked.

"They called Grandma. She is coming, but they have lot of snow in Michigan where she lives," Riley said.

"Okay, what about your dad? He hasn't come to get you to stay with him?" Matt could hardly hide his disgust as he said the words.

"Oh, um, Mommy doesn't want me to see him," she said.

"What? Why not honey?" he asked.

"He got mad at me last time I went to his house because I told him you were Mommy's boyfriend," Riley said.

"He got mad at you?" Matt asked.

It wasn't until now that he noticed that Riley had some bruises of her own. He was immediately filled with anger. He reached out and gently touched one of the bruises.

"Did your dad do this?" he asked.

She slowly nodded her head yes, and the tears started again. He pulled her in and held her again until a doctor entered the room a few minutes later.

"Ah, you must be Matt," he said.

"Yes, uh, Matt O'Bannon," Matt answered.

"I expected you'd be coming by," he said, pointing at Riley with a smile. "This little one wouldn't let me forget it." Matt smiled at her as well, and then turned back to the doctor.

"What is going on with Andi?" he asked.

"Look, these conversations are never easy, so I am generally pretty blunt," he said in a hushed tone, "she is in a coma, Mr. O'Bannon, and we don't know if or when she might wake up," he said. Matt's heart sank as the doctor continued.

"The trauma her head suffered caused a lot of issues. We were able to take care of most of the problems, but in terms of her waking up....all we can do is wait and pray." The doctor looked at Riley, then back at Matt, and guided him over to the far corner of the room.

"Listen, Miss Walker does not have an emergency contact in the system, so you'll have to do. This isn't my job or my business, but I feel it's the right thing to do to let you know the truth," he said.

"Let me know the truth about what?" Matt asked.

"This woman didn't 'fall' down any stairs," he whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"The extent of her injuries couldn't have been caused by a slip and fall. She might have gotten a slight concussion at the worst. This was a long fall. I cannot say with absolute certainty, but in my professional opinion, this woman either jumped down the stairs, or she was pushed."

Matt let the words linger. He knew Andi. She would never try and take her own life and leave Riley alone. If what the doctor was saying was true, she had to have been pushed. All at once, all of the dots started to connect: the murders of the construction crew, Scott Wood's death, and now Andi's fall. There was one person who was connected to each of those events and people other than him: Detective Chaser. He knew about the attack at the bar--most likely even arranged it--and when Matt lived, he couldn't have the construction crew sell him out. Scott must have seen him there and was a witness. Andi was trying to take away his rights to see Riley. It all made sense now. Chaser hadn't just put his hands on Riley; he was a murderer! This was going to end, and it was going to end that night.

"Doctor, I need your people to take very good care of that little girl. Her grandma is on her way, but until then, she is going to need to stay here, where she is safe," he said. "I have something I have to take care of."

He left the room and walked toward the exit. His breathing had accelerated and his heart was pounding. He had felt this particular way just one other time in his life--the night he went after Michael Vincent.

He walked out front and got into the Phantom. He sped out of the parking lot and took a hard right. He flew down the road in a state of complete rage. He kept going over it again and again in his head. Chaser...he killed the construction workers and was going to try to pin it on Matt. He killed Scott and staged it as a suicide. He hurt Riley. That beautiful, sweet little girl--he put his hands on her. This thought caused his grip to tighten around the wheel. His knuckles went white from the pressure. Andi tried to do the right thing, and he tried to kill her too.

He whipped the steering wheel to the left and into the parking lot of the police station. He parked the car and ran inside. There were officers everywhere, and he walked into the middle of the department looking all around for Chaser. Several officers turned and stared at him.

"Can I help you, sir?" a police woman asked.

"Yes, it is very important that I speak with Detective Chaser," he said.

"Oh, Detective Chaser is not in at the moment. Is there something that I can help you with?" she asked.

"No, no. Well, maybe. It's an emergency--it's about his daughter. He isn't answering his phone. It is important that I speak to him. Is there any way you can tell me where he is?" The woman was hesitant for a moment, but eventually pulled her radio from its place on her shoulder.

"Dispatch, you got a location on Chaser? Over," she said.

"Currently over at the old car part factory building on Bellmont Street," the voice on the other line answered.

He thanked the officer and returned to the car. The factory on Bellmont was abandoned. It was home to many drug deals and homeless people. He knew exactly where it was. He had at one time considered buying it to renovate and rent out, but it had seemed to sink into the crime of that neighborhood.

He drove for about twenty minutes until he arrived on Bellmont Street. He slowly pulled up and parked on the curb in front of the building. He was careful not to shut his door too loudly; he didn't want Chaser to know he wasn't alone--at least not yet. He crouched and moved toward the entrance. The front door was wood with glass panels. Several of the panels had been shattered, and the paint on the door was peeling. He cracked the door just wide enough so that he could squeeze into the building.

The entry area of the building was small. There was a staircase to the left and an entrance to the office areas to the right. Behind the reception desk, were double doors leading into the factory. Each door had a small window at the top where you could see inside. He crept up to the doors and looked in. The place was completely ransacked and abandoned; there was trash everywhere and sleeping bags along the walls, he assumed where the homeless slept. There were little areas all along the floor with ashes from fires people had started in the building for warmth.

It was dark. There were no lights at all and it was dark outside as well. The only light was the one shining from the flashlight in Detective Chaser's hand. He was in the middle of the factory area and was shining his light along the walls. He was there investigating a drug trafficking ring in the city. Some evidence had led the department to this building as a main distribution point. He was looking for anything that might help with the case. It was deathly quiet until a voice broke through the night.

"Is this what you've been waiting for?" 

# CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Chaser whipped around drawing his gun.

"Who's there?!" he shouted.

"Did you think I wouldn't come after you? You put your hands on that little girl. You hurt your own daughter! And you tried to kill her mother for protecting her."

"....O'Bannon," Chaser said.

"You hired that construction crew to come after me, and when they failed, you killed them." Chaser looked around as Matt continued to speak from the shadows. "Scott Wood saw you there that night, and he could have been a witness. So you killed him and made it look like a suicide. You hurt Riley. You terrified a little girl--your own daughter--who trusted you, and when her mother decided to take her away from you completely, you tried to kill her too."

"Show yourself! Did you just come here to talk me to death?!" Chaser screamed.

Slowly Matt came into the little bit of light that was shining from the moon into the factory. He walked toward Chaser who was pointing his gun straight at his head.

"You did everything you could to take them away, but it didn't work." He continued to advance toward Chaser. "And when it didn't, you hurt the ones who used to be your family. The mistake you made was you hurt the ones who are my family now." He arrived a few feet from the detective.

"Alright, you said your piece." Chaser smirked as he slightly waved the gun reminding Matt it was there. "Now what?" For a moment, there was only silence. "Let me tell you what happens now. You die. I go back to the department and tell them you were a crazed stalker. You tried to kill an officer of the law, and I had no choice but to defend myself. Then I take Riley, whether she likes it or not, and I tell her that big bad Matt couldn't do a damn thing about any of it."

He raised the gun level to Matt's face and in the blink of an eye, Matt flung his right foot into the air and kicked Chaser's hand to the side. He threw himself into him, tackling him to the ground, but Chaser still had the gun in his right hand. Matt grabbed his right wrist and started slamming it into the ground over and over. Chaser grabbed Matt's throat with his free hand choking him while they struggled with the gun. He slammed Chaser's hand for a final time, and the gun bounced out of his grasp. Matt maneuvered around him and kicked the gun toward the far wall. The momentary distraction was all Chaser needed. He landed a right hook to Matt's jaw, causing him to fall to the side. They both jumped to their feet and put their fists up ready for combat.

"You ready for this boy?" Chaser mocked. "You're not the only one who's killed with your bare hands."

"Yeah, but the first time was an accident; this time won't be."

He moved toward the detective and threw a straight left punch. Chaser blocked it and returned a right hand. Matt took the hit, spun around, and hit him with a back fist. He was disoriented for a moment and Matt took advantage. He brought his right foot into Chaser's abdomen, making him keel over. He grabbed two handfuls of Chaser's hair, held him in place, and drove his knee up into his face. He followed up with a right uppercut, sending the detective onto the floor.

Matt walked toward him, intending to hit him again, but he was met by a side kick thrown from the downed detective. He staggered backward as Chaser got back to his feet. He charged at Matt, but Matt was ready. As Chaser reached him, Matt tucked his arm under him and redirected the momentum, flipping him over and onto the ground. He crawled on top and began throwing his fists down into Chaser's head. A few were blocked but more landed. It seemed to be coming to an end when BAM, Chaser hit him with the flashlight he had taken from its sheath. Matt was seeing stars and trying to shake them when he got hit with another shot from the metal flashlight. He fell to the side next to Chaser, who was trying to get to his feet.

Chaser had taken a lot of damage and was a little disoriented himself. He could see a ladder a few feet away that went up and was secured to the second floor. He crawled toward it. Matt looked up and saw him climbing the ladder. He crawled after him. He was catching up to him on the ladder when a kick from above sent him back down to the floor. He landed on his back with a thud, all of the air driving out of his lungs. He took a moment to regain his breath and descended up the ladder again. He arrived at the top, and Chaser was nowhere to be found. There were several small rooms on this floor along the balcony that overlooked the factory. He began walking along the balcony, looking into each room searching for the detective.

"Come out you son of a bitch! Get out here and face me like a man! Let's end this!" Matt yelled.

"Yes, let's."

The answer came from behind him, and as he turned a broomstick came into his vision. Whack! The blow sent him flying backwards onto the floor. Chaser moved toward him and raised the end of the broomstick above his head and brought it down hard on his ribs. He screamed in pain. Chaser hit him again and again. He did everything he could to protect his ribs, but he was sure that some were broken. Chaser brought the stick down for another hit, but this time Matt caught it. He pulled it toward him making Chaser fall down on top of him. He wrapped his arms around Chaser and rolled over so that he was on top. He clasped both hands around Chaser's throat and started to squeeze. Chaser was pulling at his hands, struggling and gasping for air.

Chaser's eyes were beginning to roll back into his head when he reached up and grabbed Matt's hair from the back. He pulled backward, bringing Matt up slightly, and then plunged his right knee into Matt's injured side. Matt yelped and slammed to the side onto the floor. Chaser got back to his feet and began kicking Matt in the stomach repeatedly.

"Was it worth it?!" he screamed as he kicked Matt again and again. "I warned you a long time ago that if you didn't stay away, I'd make you my bitch!"

He threw another kick, but Matt caught his leg. He shoved it backward, making Chaser stumble just a few feet, and he lunged from the ground into Chaser's midsection, picking him up and driving him toward the railing. He slammed Chaser's body against it and it gave. They went through the railing and fell through the air from the second floor landing hard on the ground floor. Matt landed on Chaser and then rolled off. Both men lay there motionless. Matt was staring at the ceiling. He wanted to move, but he didn't think he had the strength. Ch aser was the first to show any sign of life.

He rolled to his left onto his stomach, wincing in pain. He looked to his right, and a smile came to his face. Chaser had landed right next to his gun. Pushing through the pain, he picked it up and slowly rose to his feet. He staggered over to Matt and pointed it at him, a smirk of dominance on his lips. He wasn't smiling for long, because Matt has also landed next to something--the metal flashlight. He drove it into the side of Chaser's knee, resulting in a cracking noise.

"AHHHHHHHHH!" Chaser screamed and fell to the ground. Matt jumped onto him and grabbed the gun. He jammed it into Chaser's forehead.

"Do it!" Chaser screamed. "Once a killer always a killer! If Andi wakes up, she'll never be able to deny that you're a killer!"

Matt cocked back the hammer on the back of the gun. Chaser said nothing more; he simply looked at Matt and waited for what was to come next. Finger on the trigger, Matt began to squeeze. He could feel the pressure building, and knew it was only a matter of time before the hammer would release and send the bullet through Chaser's skull. It would be over. Andi and Riley would be free. Everything he had done would be resolved. Justice would be done, and he was going to be the one to deal it.

Just before the gun went off, he flashed back to the night he went to see Michael Vincent. He couldn't stop that night. He let out all of his rage, and he had never been able to control it after that. He took justice into his own hands, and it had haunted him ever since. It was why he was here now. It was the reason this had all happened. He had killed Michael Vincent. This time was different. Yes, he had come here to kill Will Chaser. And now he had him; his life was in Matt's hands. Matt thought about that night, about how things could have been different. His life had been torn apart because of that night, and now he was in that position again. But this time he was in control, and he had a choice. He looked into Chaser's eyes and slowly lowered the gun.

"I'm not that guy anymore, and you're not worth it." Matt threw the gun to the side.

He stood up and wiped the blood from his face. This was over. He would prove everything Chaser had done, and he would do it the right way--true justice. He walked toward the exit. Chaser watched him as he went. He knew he had been beaten, and he couldn't let that go. He moved quickly to the gun and stood up pointing it at Matt.

"I'm not worth it?! We aren't both leaving this building alive, and now it's my choice. It's been fun, but this game is over."

He began to squeeze the trigger. BOOM! A gunshot rang through the air. After a second, Matt looked down at his torso, confused. There was no blood, no bullet hole, no pain. He looked back up at Chaser, whose eyes were now disconnected from the universe. With the gun still pointed at Matt, he fell forward onto his stomach revealing a large red stain on his back. Matt pulled his eyes up from the body to focus on the gun that had gone off and was now pointing at him. Standing in the middle of the factory floor, holding the smoking gun, was Claire. 

# CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"Claire?" Matt didn't understand what he was seeing. "What... what are you doing?"

"Did you think I was going to let him kill you? After everything that I've done to protect us?" she said. He was confused. Everything she had done to protect them?

"Claire, I don't know what you're talking about. What do you mean 'protect us?'" He asked with true sincerity, but couldn't help but notice she was still pointing the gun at him.

"What do I mean? Are you kidding? The construction crew? They tried to kill you! They might have come back to finish the job if I hadn't done what I'd done," she said.

"You? You killed the construction crew?" he asked.

"Of course I did! They hurt my love; I couldn't just let them walk away from that," she said.

"Your love?" he said.

"Matt everything I did was for us! So we could be together! That all was almost destroyed because of that fucking taxi driver," she said

"The taxi driver? Scott? No!" he said.

"I had to! You almost died because of him! If he hadn't driven you to that bar, none of that would have happened," she said.

"No Claire, he saved my life!" Matt said, in complete shock at what he was hearing.

"I don't care!!! Your life shouldn't have been in danger in the first place!" she screamed at him, and there were tears rolling down her face. Her eyes had that cold distant look he had seen a few times before.

"Claire," Matt held out his hand, "give me the gun."

"Why?!" she screamed and refocused the gun on him. "Why should I?! You're just going to run back to that fucking bitch again! She should have died on those stairs."

"Andi... you pushed her? You tried to kill her?!" he said.

"Of course I did! She was in the way. She was threatening everything we have," she said.

"Claire, we don't have anything. You work for me, that's all." Matt spoke carefully, trying not to upset her.

"Don't have anything? What about all the mornings I followed you to work or all the nights I followed you home to make sure you were safe!? What about all the nights I laid next to you while you slept?!" She was screaming and moving toward him. "I knew you didn't understand. If you did, you would have never started seeing that fucking slut. I let you live all this time because of our love!"

"You let me live?" he asked.

"Of course I did! You were trying to leave me for her! Do you have any idea how many nights I thought about killing you and then killing myself? All because you tried to leave me for some young piece of ass!"

"Claire listen to me. You need help. Just give me the gun. I'll make sure you get the help you need. Just give me the gun." He moved toward her slowly.

"No! Don't fucking move! All you care about his her and that stupid little girl. What about me?! I've been loyal to you for years! I have given myself to you completely, and you wanted to throw me out like trash!!!" Her make-up was running down her face with the tears as she screamed at him.

"What are you going to do? Keep me at gunpoint forever so I'll be with you? I am never going to be with you! I am in love with Andi, and I love that little girl! They are my future, not you! Now give me the gun!" he shouted.

BOOM! Another shot echoed through the factory. But this time, there was pain, there was a bullet hole, and there was blood. The bullet had gone straight through Matt's shoulder and had sent him onto the floor. He held the wound as he stood up.

"I am your future! We are meant to be together! I am going to pull the plug on that skank and end this once and for all!" she screamed. "Then we are going to die. Together. And we'll be bonded for the rest of time." She re-aimed the gun at him, put her finger on the trigger, and began to pull.

"Drop it!" a voice broke the moment. Claire looked to the door to find a squad of policemen standing in the entrance with their guns drawn and pointed at her. "Drop the gun! Now!"

"Leave us alone!" she screamed. She moved the gun toward the group of cops, and one of them fired one bullet hitting Claire in the leg. She fell to the ground and dropped the revolver. The policemen moved quickly and put handcuffs on her. They stood her up and two of them began dragging her to the exit.

"NOOOOO!!!" she screamed as she struggled against them. "Let me go!!! We have to be together! We are supposed to be together! Let go! Matt tell them! Tell them we are in love! Everything is okay--tell them! Matt!!!" They dragged her outside and put her in the back of a squad car.

One officer helped Matt outside. Moments later, an ambulance arrived at the scene. They checked out his wound and told him he would be fine. He was taken to the hospital, the same one where he had been before, and where Andi now was, still in a coma. After they stitched up his shoulder, a police officer came into the hospital room.

"How you feeling?" he said.

"Not too bad," Matt answered.

"Good. Listen, I've read through your statement and generally there would be some charges coming for all of this. But, we just got done questioning your assistant." He said.

"And?" he asked.

"She admitted to everything. The construction guys, the taxi driver, your girl down the hall, and to killing Detective Chaser. Said she did it all because you and her were, in her words, 'meant to be together,'" he said, making quotation marks in the air with his fingers. "Long story short, you're free to go. Take care of that shoulder."

"Thank you, officer. Thank you," Matt said.

The officer left the room, and Matt left shortly after. He ran down the hallway to Andi's room to find Riley standing next to her bed. She saw him and ran to him. Despite the pain it caused to his injured shoulder, he caught her and picked her up spinning her around.

"Hi honey, I am so happy to see you." He set her down and bent down to her level. "Everything is going to be okay now."

He explained everything the best he could, about how her dad wouldn't be coming around, and that she did not have to be afraid of him anymore. Explaining exactly what happened could wait for another time. He met Riley's grandma, and apologized for everything that had happened to her daughter. He explained what Claire had done. Andi's mom took Riley to the food court for ice cream, leaving him alone with Andi. He pulled a chair over to the side of her bed and sat down. He didn't know if she could hear him, but he had so much to say; he had to try.

"You are so beautiful," he said while gently rubbing his hand down her cheek. "I miss you, and Riley misses you. I'm sorry, so sorry--for everything. Everything is going to be okay now. When you wake up, everything is going to be okay. I... I love you Andi. I love you so much. I love you, and I love Riley. I know you might never let me around either of you again, but I will love you for the rest of my life." He closed his eyes fighting back the tears. Riley would be back soon, and he didn't want her to see him this way.

"I love you too." He opened his eyes and looked up. His eyes met Andi's.

"Andi! You're awake!" He jumped out of his chair and hugged her, and this time there was no holding back the tears. "I didn't know if I'd ever hear your voice again! God I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too," she said. After a few minutes, Matt decided that, good time or not, Andi needed to know about Chaser.

"I have to tell you something... Will is dead," he said.

"He's dead?" she asked, eyes wide.

"Claire shot him... and me too." He moved his shoulder toward her so she could see the stitches. "She killed a bunch of people, Andi. And, she tried to kill you too."

"I know," she said

"You do?"

"She pushed me down the stairs of your building," she said.

"What do you mean?" Matt asked.

"I went to your place to see you. I had something I had to tell you, and when I got there, she answered the door. She told me to stay away from you, that you didn't want me anymore. I was freaked out, so I went to leave and she followed me. I told her she was crazy and to leave me alone. The elevator wasn't coming fast enough, and she was acting weird, so I went to take the stairs and she shoved me. That's the last thing I remember," she said.

"I am so sorry, Andi. This is all my fault."

"No it isn't! She is just crazy."

"Well, she can't hurt anyone anymore. She admitted to everything; she's going to prison," he said. "But what did you go to my penthouse to tell me?"

"It's over--you're free," she said.

"Free? Free of what?" he replied, confused.

"Free of your past," she answered.

"I don't understand," he said.

"The District Attorney is a friend. She has complete access over all criminal files in our system. That sealed file that can be reopened at any time... it's been deleted. It no longer exists," Andi said. Matt didn't say anything for an instant. So much was lifting off of him. All the running. All the hiding from his past... it was over.

"I don't know what to say," he said.

"Just say you love me again, and never stop saying it," Andi said, smiling despite her weakness.

He smiled back. "I love you." 

# CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A few months later the three of them were cruising down a country road with the radio quietly playing in the background.

"How much longer?!" Riley whined from the back seat. It was understandable. They had been in the car for about eleven hours.

"Only a little longer baby." Andi reached back and ruffled her hair. She smiled at Matt in the driver seat. They had stopped a little over an hour ago for gas and some food. It had been the fifth or sixth stop of the trip, because Riley got very restless very quickly. Up ahead, a small town began to emerge into their view. As they arrived at the edge of the town, they passed by a small sign on the side of the rode that read: Welcome to Council Grove, the True Heart of Kansas.

Matt slowed to the twenty-five-mile-per-hour speed limit and rolled through the village. On the right side there were a few shops: a flower shop, a barber, and a small vitamin shop. On the left there was a dentist, a doctor's office, and a veterinarian. The only other buildings in the town were an ice cream stand, the post office, and the school. The school looked as though it could fit a maximum of twenty students.

They started passing some residential streets on either side until they got to Hockaday Street. He sat at the stop sign for a second, having second thoughts. His hands were sweating; he wasn't sure how to do this. Andi reached over and put her hand on his arm.

"It's going to be okay," she said.

He trusted her. He took the righthand turn onto the street and traveled eight houses down until they arrived in front of a small yellow house. It hadn't changed at all. The lawn and landscaping were still pristine. The tree in the front yard was perfectly trimmed. The roof hadn't been replaced yet, even though it desperately needed it. The detached garaged in the back left corner of the property was open exposing a 1967 Chevy Nova, the prized possession of the man who owned the house. Matt parked on the street and the three of them got out of the car. He slowly led the girls up the driveway to the front porch and knocked three times. Several seconds passed before a woman answered the door. She looked to be in her mid-sixties, short with brown hair and hazel eyes. It took so much to get the words out.

"Hi Mom." 
