

Sisterlings

Jamie Ott
Copyright © Jamie Ott 2013. All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission. For more information, please visit vampinofficialsite.com

Publication date: 3/24/2013

Five 'o' Clock
Chapter 1

Every time someone walked by her cubicle, the metal partition rattled, and the papers stapled to it flapped. At least a dozen times a day, Jim flew past, slamming his feet across the floor. He knew this annoyed her, yet he did it anyway.

Here he comes again. Bam, bam, bam, his feet went. He walked as if he were on an airport treadmill. Each time he approached, his eyes met hers. In them, she saw amusement at her discomfort and inability to do anything about it.

Sometimes, he purposely grazed his elbow into the partition, making it pop out. Although she knew to expect this, she still jumped in her seat each time. The idea to stick her foot out of the side of her cubicle and trip him flat onto his face played itself in her mind; however, she kept her body directed at her computer screen and typed slowly.

Her report could have been done half an hour ago, but it was that day of the month again: the one where they celebrated everyone's birthday with cake in the kitchen. They stood around and pretended to be interested in each other's lives. In overjoyed voices, they acted as if it was pure ecstasy to be around each other.

Anna glanced at the time on her screen; it said 4:30 pm. It dawned on her that it was very quiet on the floor. She whirled around in her seat and saw that everyone had gone.

'Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday to you...'

The song traveled down the hall from the kitchen. Now, she typed at lightning fast speed to finish her report and get out of the building before they returned.

As she did this, the usual feeling of shame set in: Shame that they knew how little she wanted to be a team player, but also, shame that no one invited her anyway. They didn't like her because she wanted to be left alone. This made her odd, and this made them disregard her.

Inwardly, she scoffed at herself, as she realized how ridiculous she was. She wanted to be left alone, in the first place. Luckily, she got her wish, because now she could leave without saying goodbye.

Oh how she hated goodbyes. Why could people never just say it and go on with their lives? No, instead it always involved questions, like "What are your plans for the weekend?" or "Going out tonight?" Or they try to tell you every little thing that's on their mind; meanwhile Anna's mind would go crazy with trying to figure out how to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

"Done," she muttered to herself as she hit the last key.

She clicked the print icon, and then exited out of the windows. Barely, she stood above her seat to make sure the printer, across the room, flashed its light which indicated that it had received the job.

Anna glanced at her screen: five minutes until five.

She clicked shutoff, grabbed her purse out of the drawer, and her jacket off the back of her chair. Like a runner breaking into a sprint to cross a finish line, she practically ran across the room to the printer, grabbed her report and stapled it; pounded her feet back in the opposite direction, dropped her report in her boss's office tray, and made her way to the elevators. As the doors closed, she caught a glimpse of her coworkers returning to their desks with cake in their hands.

Anna tapped her foot and watched the digital floor counter. She didn't breathe again until the doors opened, releasing her from hell. Julie, the receptionist, had her nose buried in a book. She looked up with a smirk, and went right back to her page. Julie was used to Anna sneaking out early, and had covered for her numerous times in exchange for tips. Today, however, the clock behind the desk said exactly 5 pm.

Once out and under the gray sky, a smile pushed back her cheeks. Rain tapped her head and slid down her face. Always, these things made her happy. If only it would rain more, then she could reside herself to her guilty pleasure, one that most people thought was terrible: staying home. But when the weather was like it was today, it was okay to be alone.

She walked with a purpose down Broad Street and turned right. Tourists soaked up the sidewalks, as usual, that time of year. At the light, she paused running a list, in her mind, of all the things she needed to get so she wouldn't have to leave her apartment that weekend. When the last cabs rode by, she hurried across the street with the rest of the mob that was out that day.

Up ahead was her favorite liquor store with over a thousand different wines in its wares. If you were a favorite customer, which she was, Mike would let you peak. Not that she could afford any of it, but sometimes he was good to her, occasionally slipping little gems into her hands.

"Hey, Mike," she said.

He was the only one in her life who got a genuine smile from her. And it wasn't because she was attracted to him, but because he represented her escape. Being there in the shop, she knew she was one step closer to entering the clouds.

"Hey, Anna. Good news: I'm getting rid of the Casamatta. I need to make room for a couple new orders."

"Oh, sweet!"

Casamatta was hardly the finest, but it was a great basic; fruity and satisfying. Now that Mike reduced its price, she could stock up on it, and then with her savings, buy a couple Sterling Platinums that she'd wanted to try.

At the counter, Mike looked, intensely, at his computer. When she approached, he stood up and gave her a little flier.

"We're having a tasting next Friday. You should come and bring a friend."

"I don't have any," she said and handed him her card.

"How can you not have any friends?"

"People are busy; they have lives."

"Well, come anyway. Maybe you'll make a friend."

She smiled and signed the receipt.

"I'll have the case delivered in an hour."

Next, on her mental list, was her favorite deli. Located over in the fish district, she headed east. The closer she got to the harbor, the harder the wind blew in her face, chilling her to the bone. Most probably hated the smell of sea food and salt so thick in the air, but for her, it was exciting. There, her senses became most alert.

The Co op Market didn't have any doors, just an open metal wall. She walked around the aisles of fish; some of which still flopped on their tables. With a grin, she hand wrestled a salmon and a blue fin into two separate sheets of newspaper, taped them and put them in bags and knotted them so they wouldn't flop out of her basket.

In the back, she filled up on pickled artichoke hearts, chilled asparagus, sun dried tomatoes in olive oil and crackers. The butcher, though he never said a word to her, had come to expect her every Friday, for he always had several turkey and roast beef sandwiches, loaded with veggies, ready to go.

Under the weight of her groceries, she made it back to her building without dropping a single thing.

Jim held the door open for her.

"Hi, Anna," he said. "A man left a box for you; it's upstairs."

"Thanks, Jim."

She set her damp grocery bags on the short counter that was attached to Jim's reception desk. Her mailbox was in the room just beyond that.

Bills and junk again. She stuffed them in one of her grocery bags.

Jim pressed the elevator button for her.

Her apartment was on the 11th floor. Hurriedly, she stepped onto the old grey carpet and all but ran to her door. Anna set her bags on the case of wine and fidgeted for her keys, but in her haste, she kept dropping them back into her purse.

The sound of a door opening came from behind.

"Damn it," she cursed.

"Hello, Anna," he said. "Can I help you with that?"

"No, Greg, go away."

"Having a bad day?"

"Especially now that I've encountered you."

She picked up her bags, knowing he ogled her, and pushed her box inside with her feet; then turned and kicked the door shut. Fortunately, they installed automatic locks recently, because doors didn't stop Greg.

Her bags threatened to fall apart in her hands. She set them on her kitchen counter and put the food away.

In the living room, she tossed the mail on the coffee table and went and pulled the string of the curtains downward. Through the rain spattered windows, gray light bathed her apartment.

Her couch made a light squishing noise as she sat, and then bent over and turned on her computer, which sat in the middle of the coffee table. Running her finger across the smooth mouse pad, she clicked on the icon that brought up her favorite television and movie site.

She pressed the corkscrew into her Casamatta and twisted it in. Cherry braced her when she pulled the cork out. The wine made gulping sounds as the liquid transferred from the bottle. Aroma filled every particle of air between her face and the glass, and as she brought it closer, spices reached through the air and coated her tongue before even tasting the liquid.

She sighed long and loud, and leaned back on the couch.

~~~

Two hours later, her bottle half way done, she found herself occupied by her other personality. That person was always bored; that person wished she had a life, something to do or somewhere to go. But in a city where doing things alone was an embarrassment it was easier to stay home. When she did go out alone, the questions were always the worst. "Why are you here alone?" and "Don't you have any friends?" were the usual.

She stood up from the couch and stumbled to her window. The sky was now a light shade of royal blue. Down below, lots of people walked past in groups. She'd spent many nights watching them: Typical Friday nights started with dinner groups, comingled with culture seekers, both which started to populate the sidewalks at approximately seven pm. Dinner and culture seekers were, then, followed by the club scene people, who, looking like drag queens and whores, started to soak up the streets by ten pm. Anna could always tell who was who by what they wore, how they carried themselves, and sometimes by their age. But never were they ever alone, except in the afterhours when drunkards and hookers stumbled by.

Well, it was now the dinner hour, she saw by the fine gentlemen in long coats below. She, herself, hadn't eaten, yet.

At the kitchen counter, in her underwear, she ate her turkey sandwich and stared at her blank walls. Then she grabbed another bottle of Casamatta, took it back to her couch and opened her mail. The bills and rent, she could barely afford. Even the wine and food was above her pay grade, but she needed some release from her miserable life. However, this week she wouldn't be paying her school loan bill, as she'd hoped.

The last bit was a piece of junk mail. It was a postcard that read 'Sisterlings: Find a lifelong friend.' The card was plain gray with white writing, and the picture of a field of daisies imposed as a background.

Clicking pause on her latest series, Taken Away, she entered the Sisterlings address into the bar. A second later, the site cleared into view. On the front page was pictures of women laughing and dining together.

The "register now" sign popped up. She filled out her information and created a profile. Browsing through all the pictures of women, some old and some young, she didn't see anyone interesting; just a bunch of average people who looked too much like the bozos at work.

Thinking there was nothing special about the site, except that it had a lezzy feel, she clicked out and went back to her wine and web series.

~~~

The next morning, she woke to the sound of wind vibrations on her window. She rolled over on the couch and rubbed her eyes.

Half asleep, she walked to the bathroom and started the shower. Hot water and steam evaporated lingering drunkenness from her skin and mind.

Back in the kitchen, she made a press of coffee and carried it to the living room table. The little mail notification icon was displayed in the corner of the computer screen. Upon clicking it, all of her messages appeared. It was all junk mail, as if anyone would write her, all except one email from Sisterlings. Curiously, she clicked the subject line.

'Hi Anna,

I'm Nica. I know what you mean when you say you get tired of people, but I think it's just that you haven't met the right kind of people. Most people are fakers, and I'm real.

Regards,

Nica'

Curiously, she clicked her name in the email which took her to Nica's profile. She was a plain looking blonde, married with no kids. In the middle of the photo, there was a white blurry spot, almost as if she'd used too much feather in Photoshop. Scrolling down the page, she saw Nica had quite a few friends and comments on her profile.

Anna tried to decide if she should reply or not. After a few minutes, she decided to disregard the email. She needed to go for a run before the streets became busy. Even though she tried to make sure she didn't have to leave for necessities, it was still important to have a bit of exercise every day.

She slipped into black yoga pants and a sweat shirt. Then she ran her brush through her long dark hair and tied it back.

The mornings were the best because hardly any one bothered her: no one in the halls or the elevators to say hello to, no one at the desk downstairs, and fewer people in the street. She could run and enjoy her neighborhood.

Outside, she caught a faint whiff of exhaust in the air. Strange as it was, she loved the way it smelled because it brought an image of herself, as a child, to mind. In that image, she walked hand in hand with her mother down the street, though she didn't remember where they were going. Sometimes, the smell brought images of many lights around her, and many people in the street. Regardless, all of them – the scents and the images - made her want to travel. They tempted her to stop everything she did, at the moment, pack up her car and leave. With only a handful of friends, and she could hardly call them that, she was sure no one would notice.

Anna tracked down to her favorite breakfast bistro and got an onion bagel with cream cheese. Across the street was a park that was empty at that time in the morning. She went to her usual bench, which was in the middle of the park and surrounded by an exotic vine of honeysuckle, called Honey-Rose, that had not only grown to the size of a tree, but had pigeon-sized bells that hung down over the benches. And the smell, unlike most honeysuckle that had a woody fragrance, this particular bush was pure sweetness, especially in the cool rain which seemed to enrich its bouquet, making it smell like a body oil.

She bit into her bagel.

A couple with a dog and a kid walked by: that was her cue. She crumpled up her bag, tossed it in the trash, and headed back to her apartment.

Back on her floor, Greg waited in his doorway for her. He held an open newspaper in hand, and looked up eagerly as she approached.

"Hey, Anna."

"Fuck off."

"Feisty," he said and sipped his coffee.

Her phone beeped from the living room.

She grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen, and then went to check her message. Anna pressed the little button and the name, Bethany, appeared. She was one of her only acquaintances, and Anna knew what she wanted. Problem was she didn't know if she could bear to leave her apartment again.

A few hours later, she realized she didn't have a choice. Bethany knew she was evading her, and wouldn't stop calling. It was a nifty knew feature on her phone that she'd learned to take full advantage of: one that would keep dialing until the phone got connected.

Bethany was a friend she'd made at her old job as a telemarketer. It was her first job, and it was pure misery. Anna was fresh out of college without any work experience. Bethany was a bored divorcee in her early thirties. She didn't need to work, but only an excuse to leave her house every day. Given their personalities, they were the least likely to be friends. Bethany didn't seem to care, and collected Anna, like an antique, into her fold. Now, ten years later, Bethany had become a thorn that couldn't be clipped.

It was four 'o' clock and she was halfway done with her second bottle of Casamatta. She gave up and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Okay, okay, I'll be there."

"Okay, glad to hear to it!"

"Can I just bring wine? Or should I get dessert?"

"Both, if you can. See you at eight?"

"Yeah, okay," she slurred.

"Be careful. Sounds like you've already had a few. Take a nap or something."

"Alrighty."

She walked into her bedroom and fell on the bed.

~~~

She woke at 7:30 pm.

Anna rolled over and moaned all the way to the shower. The scent of her cherry blossom body wash helped make her alert. She rubbed the suds all over as she went over and over the potential conversations she'd have with people that evening. Always, she needed to rehearse her answers, or else she'd just stare at them as if they were aliens. She just hoped she had enough energy to "smile, for goodness sake," as Bethany always said to her.

She slipped into a long sleeved, black dress and her rain proofed leather boots.

Out in the streets, dinner groups walked by, splashing up rain that gathered on the ground. At the bakery on the next block, she bought a tiramisu.

Bethany's home was warm as usual, with its hazy yellow light and elegant furnishings. Her guests were usually a bit younger, and sometimes much younger than Anna. Occasionally, she was known to host complete strangers from the street, even allowing vagrant types to sleep over. Repeatedly, Anna warned her that she could get killed doing that, but Bethany didn't listen. She was care free and that was how she liked it.

Despite the rain, they were out on her balcony, drinking and smoking. Bethany wore her usual black and held herself with the posture of a queen. She really was an attention whore, and sometimes, Anna suspected she had a histrionic disorder.

She set the cake and the wine on the kitchen counter and joined them.

"Hi, sweetie, this is Jack, Robert and Maggie."

They looked to be in their thirties, and thankfully, not homeless. Jack was an average man with dark hair. Robert was a redhead, and appeared to be dating Maggie who was underdressed for dinner.

"Hello," she greeted them, and forced a smile.

"I met them at the Crystal Cove last night. They were having a two-for-one happy hour and buffet. I tried to call you, but you were being a bitch as usual."

Ignoring her slight, she said, "Nice to meet you."

"Get a drink, Anna," she said and motioned to her bar in the living room.

"I've had enough, Beth."

She moved over to the little wood chair under the heat lamp.

"Jack works for Matrix as a consultant," Bethany said and took a drag off her cigarette. "Robert and Maggie are engaged."

"Congratulations," she said in as chipper of a voice as she could manage.

"What do you do?" asked Jack.

"I'm an administrative assistant. It's a really boring job, just reports all day."

"Well, you gotta do what you gotta do."

He smiled and sipped his drink.

"When are you guys getting married?" she asked in a high pitched voice while shrugging her shoulders and displaying her palms.

Anna hated talking like that, but she'd observed women at work making exchanges this way. She'd had much success in mimicking them, and just like with others, Maggie got a goofy smile and opened up like a flower, only it wasn't so elegant as a rose or a lily or even a dandelion. No, it was more like a flower from the 1950s animation, Alice in Wonderland. As a child, she felt really lucky to have a mute button close by. Now, she only felt suicidal.

"Hopefully, in June, we would like to have an outside, maybe even rainy, wedding. I love the rain; I think it's so romantic..." she gabbed on. Her eyes sparkled and light bounced, intermittently, gleaming off her teeth and eyes.

"So here's the plan," Bethany, to Anna's relief, interrupted. "We're gonna have a bit of dinner, and then we're going to that club, The Tower, and dance."

"Okay," said Anna. Then she stood up and moved across the terrace, hoping that distance would deter Maggie.

At that moment, someone knocked on the door.

"Ah, that's dinner."

Bethany left the terrace.

The next moment, two young women, wearing black pants and white tops with ties, appeared. They were waitress-for-hire from Chez Louis. Bethany ordered catering for every dinner, determined never to be responsible for bad meals.

They placed large boxes of duck and veal platters on the kitchen counter, and pulled dishes from Bethany's kitchen and set her dining table.

As they ate, Jack and Robert talked about the up and coming district elections. Bethany didn't care much for politics, so she listened to Maggie talk about the trip she was planning for her and Robert; for when they'd go to Texas and meet her family. Anna ate silently, throwing in bits of conversation at them all, where she could think of something interesting to say.

An hour later, they sipped espresso and ate tiramisu. The caterers cleaned the kitchen. Bethany paid and tipped the women.

They didn't set out for the Tower until eleven 'o' clock. At the crosswalk, Jack linked his arms in, both, hers and Bethany's.

"Boy, I'm a lucky man tonight. Robert's got one date, and I've got two."

The Tower was a thirty floor business building with a club on the very top. They took the elevator all the way up. When the hosts saw Bethany, they motioned them right in, though with dirty looks at Maggie who wore blue jeans and a plain red cardigan.

Immediately, Bethany and the others were moved by the acoustics of the band, so they went to the dance floor. Although she was stuffed, Anna helped herself to the buffet. She could never afford to eat oysters by the dozens, but The Tower could.

Finally, the others joined her at the table just long enough to order drinks from the waitress.

"I feel bad about leaving you alone," said Jack.

"She doesn't mind," Bethany replied, pulling him by the arm.

Anna sipped on a martini. When Bethany was exhausted, they returned to the table.

"Jack, dance with Anna, now."

He extended his hand.

She accepted without thought. Dancing was an excellent way to kill time without talking, except for with Jack she learned.

"You're a challenge and I like that."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, you're a quiet, mysterious kind."

The way he looked into her eyes annoyed her. She knew he was trying to convince her that he was worthy of her, like some kind of gallant knight. Men had looked at her like that before, but Anna only fell for it once, when she was a young and foolish teen. When you have no interest in relationships, it's easier to see people for who they are; it was easier to learn from one's mistakes. Jack was a manipulative womanizer who assumed Anna was stupid, and that's all he was.

At midnight, she told Jack, who cling-wrapped her arm, she was going home. Maggie and Robert slow danced; Bethany had made a handsome acquaintance; and just as she'd predicted, Jack insisted on walking her home. She hated being alone in the streets that late, so after finding Bethany and the others and saying goodnight, she left with him. All was well until he begged aggressively that she let him inside. Anna long since learned it was pointless to argue with a horny, manipulative man; the more she'd say no, the more he'd talk, sometimes repeating himself over and over. And with that, she simply slammed her building's glass door in his face.

She knew what Bethany would say later: "You need to get laid, woman!" But she didn't understand the depth of which Anna loathed people, especially those like Jack. It was one thing to be shallow; it was another to hide it intentionally. But perhaps Bethany didn't understand because she, herself, was a true manipulative bitch. On some level, Anna knew that Bethany knew this about herself, too. Besides, tonight, her orgasm was the feel of coming in from out of the cold. There was nothing better than a hot shower after a chilly walk.

A while later, fresh and in her soft fleece pajamas, she sat down in front of her computer with a blanket and watched a movie about a secret military operation.

The email notification showed up on her screen again. From Nica, it was an invite to join a chat session. She entered the room and immediately, Nica shouted out to her, 'Hey, Anna! Everyone say hi to our newcomer.'

She typed back, 'Hello.'

After the greeting, she fell silent a while and watched the conversation move across the screen. A woman with the name of Buggyboo said that she hadn't left her apartment in three weeks; another lady chatted about how her mother wanted her to see a psychiatrist because her reclusiveness wasn't normal; yet another talked about how much she hated people in general, fully admitting to being a true misanthrope. All of which sounded somewhat familiar to Anna, but she had no desire to join a bunch of whiny, unhinged ladies, so she logged out and returned to her movie.
Sociopathy
Chapter 2

Sunday was just a usual day inside, with movies and snacking out. She didn't hear from Bethany. Her guess was she probably got laid and was trying to spend time with her new guy before he dumped her like a sack of moldy potatoes.

Monday morning, she dragged herself into the office and everyone, as usual, was cheerful. Anna entertained for a moment that she might just make the day, and try to be a part of the team, until her boss, Michael, pulled her into the office.

"So I noticed you snuck out Friday."

"No, I left at five."

"No, you signed out at five."

When she said nothing, he continued with, "Well, it's gotta stop. I know you're not happy here, but I also know that something else is going on with you. Is there anything you want to tell me? Anything that might help me understand you?"

Anna was too angry to say anything. He had no business asking about her personal life.

"Have you thought about counseling? Or maybe trying another job?"

"No."

"Here's the thing: If you don't change, become a team player, I have to fire you. This means no coming in late, no sneaking out early, and yes, acting as if you want to be here, and taking initiative."

Her jaw tightened and she clenched her fists.

"Now, you have two choices: You can go to counseling and we can tolerate your damp personality, or you can sign this document."

He slid a piece of paper across the desk to her.

"This says I'll be on probation."

"Yes, I have no choice. No one feels you're contributing to our organization."

Silently, she signed the paper and walked out.

That day, even though she adjusted her desk, Jim went out of his way to knock into her partition.

"Jim, will you please stop?"

"Stop what?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

In the break room, as she poured herself a cup of coffee, the other administrative assistant, Melony, said, "Don't worry, Jim is just a jerk. He does that to a few of us here."

She sighed and said, "Yeah, I just want to kick him in the nuts."

"Oh, now, that's not proper talk for the office."

She dropped her swizzle stick in the trash.

"Want to join me and Margaret for happy hour today? We're trying to get a few others to join us, so we can get to know each other."

"Sure, I'd love to," she said with a big fake smile. This time, however, Anna wasn't sure it worked. Melony simply looked at her as if she were strange.

At ten 'o' clock, they had a staff meeting where they went over new product lines they were introducing into the company catalogue. Anna went out of her way to ask questions and take notes. People responded accordingly, and Anna felt somewhat relieved because her boss, Michael, seemed to notice. Approvingly, he smiled and nodded to her as she left the room.

For a brief moment, it seemed all would go well. All she had to do was fake cheeriness, but then, after the meeting, she went to the restroom. On her way back to her desk, she noticed she'd splashed a bit of water on her shoes, and went into the break room to grab a paper towel.

As she bent down to wipe her shoes, Margaret's voice whispered, "I can't believe you invited Anna. She is so creepy."

Anna shot up and looked around. The break room was empty, except for her.

"I know, I don't like her but we can't be exclusive," Melony's voice replied.

Anna realized they were in the hall, standing right next to the open break room door.

"And that fake smile, Melony. Seriously, she's a serial killer, if ever I saw one."

"Margaret, you should have seen the grimace she gave me today; it could have scared the hair off a cat."

They laughed and walked on.

A buzzing feeling erupted along the back of her neck and traveled down her spine. She felt her face get hot, and her breath bottlenecked in her throat.

Breathe, she said to herself. Breathe.

Calmy, she filled a Styrofoam cup with water and went back to her seat and stared at the back of Melony's head. After a few minutes, when her heart slowed, she went back to her reports, until Melony got up and went to the break room to get more coffee.

Looking around, Anna stood up and gingerly walked, with her cup of water, to Melony's desk and poured it all over her seat. The shading of the grey fiber turned almost black for a moment, as the liquid soaked in. Quickly, she returned to her seat and watched as Melony came back and sat.

"Aagh!" she yelped, and dropped her cup of coffee in surprise.

Anna kept her eyes on her reports.

"You okay, over there?" Michael called from his office.

"Yes, it's just my seat is wet!"

Anna saw that her entire backside was soaked and laughed under her breath.

Thankfully, that day Greg wasn't there to greet her when she made it back to her place. She was sure she would have assaulted him, given the way she was feeling.

She turned on her computer and checked her emails. A message from Nica popped up on her messenger.

'Hey, I noticed you didn't hang out too long in chat, last night. How was your day?'

'Crap,' she typed.

Immediately, she wished she hadn't written that. Now, the woman would have questions for her, which would mean she'd have to engage a conversation.

'Why, what happened?'

'Jerks at work. They want me to act like I'm happy to be there. Really, I'm not, and I suppose what makes it worse is they're right: I'm not a team player. Who would want me working for them? But I don't know what else to do with my life. I have no desire for what normal society offers. This would be okay if I was extra ordinary, enough so to go my own way, but I'm not.'

'You are extraordinary, and that's why you're a perfect fit for Sisterlings. Your problem is you have no place to ally your ambitions. Sisterlings, we're not only a support group, but we're a network of women helping to form a new society for our kinds, those who aren't filled with superficial sunshine, haha '

'I don't know if I belong in any networks. Really, I'm better off alone.'

'Well, just come and hang out with us this week. You never know what could come of it. We have some successful people who are just like you, and could even help you get work that you'd be good at.'

'I might like that.'

Anna went to the kitchen and got a bottle of wine and a sandwich. Then she returned to her computer, and they chatted for most of the evening. Towards the end, a woman named Angie joined their room. She was a few years older than Anna and looked like a normal woman on her profile. However, she looked more closely at her eyes, and easily, could see the real person she was: Indifferent and seemingly soulless. She recognized that look because it was often in her own photos.

'How are you, Angie?' asked Nica.

'If it weren't for the jackasses in my building, I'd be okay. A group of college guys moved in, and they think no one in the building works or needs sleep.'

'Are you gonna meet us at Joe's on Friday?'

'Yeah, I'll be there, as long as you don't expect me to say anything.'

'No one has to say anything. We can just sit there and stare at our glasses if you all want, haha.'

At that point, Anna knew she would definitely go. What a relief to do something but not have to say anything. These were exactly the kind of relationships she'd always imagined having.

The next morning at work, Melony said in her sweetest voice, "I'm so sorry you didn't make it to happy hour. Did something come up?"

"Oh, I didn't want to creep anyone out with my smile."

Melony didn't say anything. The smile fell away from her face, and she merely stared with a steely glint in her eyes. The glint was her defiance; she wasn't even embarrassed about being overheard. Not that Anna was surprised. In the world of the cheery, it was okay to punish those who were odd. Anna had met people who believed this, just as Melony clearly did.

That night, Bethany finally called her.

"I can't believe you didn't invite Jack in."

"He's a douchebag."

"Well, I gave him your number. He wants to take you out for dinner."

"Even after I slammed the door in his face?"

"He likes you, Anna. You're never gonna get married with an attitude like yours."

Of course, Anna knew better. Jack didn't like her. He said it himself: he likes a challenge. Well, that was okay because Anna liked free meals. At once, she picked up her Village Voice, and tried to see which expensive restaurants would be worth a try.

Just as Bethany said, Jack called Thursday night. Like men sometimes did, he went into boring small talk. Anna knew too well she wouldn't get off the phone unless she took control, and already he'd droned on for two dreadful minutes. So she blurted "Let's meet tomorrow at Michaelangelo's, okay?"

"Uh, uh," he stuttered. "Okay, eight 'o' clock?"

"Yeah, sure," she said and pressed the end button on her phone.

~~~

Friday was another miserable day at work, but her boss seemed to notice her efforts, though they were small. Michael greeted her on the elevator and said that if she kept it up, he'd take her off probation.

Despite his encouragement, Anna wasn't pleased at all. The office atmosphere had become uncomfortable. It felt like everyone's eyes were on her. When she walked into the break room for coffee, that morning, everyone got, strangely, quiet. Melony and Margaret stared deathly at her. Then it crossed her mind that they might have known it was her who poured the water on the chair; despite the danger to her job, this pleased her.

After work, she went home and put on her chocolate leather pants and a fuzzy white cashmere sweater. Then, gathering her umbrella, she went to meet Jack. He offered to meet her in front of her building, but the last thing she wanted was for him to think it was okay to visit her.

She walked, fast, across town and found him already seated in the Italian restaurant. He looked up as she walked through the clutter of tables.

"Hey, it's great to see you," he said.

He stood up and pulled out her seat. She put her jacket on the back and scooted in.

"So look, I'm sorry about the other night. It's just that I like you."

Anna already heard it, though, the superficial tones. They indicated indifference and lies. More specifically, they were what musicians called dissonant tones. When people spoke that way, it was a sign that they often felt completely opposite of what they said. Combine that with his shifty eyes, and she knew he was full of shit. Nevertheless, she responded.

"Okay."

She tried to think of something more to say, but nothing came to mind. So she picked up her glass of water and took a long sip.

"So how was work?"

"My coworkers don't like me, and I think they're angling to get me fired."

"Well, I can't say I blame them."

When she didn't respond, but merely watched him, he squirmed in his seat.

"I just mean you don't come off well. One has to get to know you, like I have," he said and smiled. "Here, let's order drinks."

A thin, rosy cheeked waitress came up and took their order. When she asked for a stout, Jack exclaimed, "Beer? Is that all? Bring this girl a shot!"

Picking up where he left off, he said, "Don't worry, I'm not totally judging you. I know how you feel. I have some real jerks in my office, too. One guy who thinks he's such a hot shot, like he's smarter than me or something..."

This time, as Anna listened, his voice changed tempo from higher pitch to a low and barely steady tremulous.

The waitress came and set down their drinks.

"Salut," he said, raising his glass. "Come on, girl! Drink, drink, drink!"

Lightly, she fake-laughed and shook her head.

"What, you got a headache?"

"Yes, a little," she lied.

She rubbed her left temple.

"Let's get another shot."

He signaled the waitress, and as she walked away, he licked his lips while watching.

"Now that is a woman," he said, smiling and downing his shot.

Again, when she said nothing, he squirmed in his seat.

"Oh I don't mean to offend you. It's just she's got a terrific body, if you know what I mean." Then, like an afterthought, he added, "Don't worry, yours is okay, too."

Suddenly, Anna knew exactly what his means were. Jack was not only a manipulator, but he might have had an intermittent explosive disorder, and with perhaps a touch of narcissism. She'd read about them in her books; their problems always involved rage, but unlike a psycho or a sociopath, they generally hadn't any charm. Thus Jack likely went from day-to-day feeling as though he should be worshipped, but instead, was disregarded because, in reality, he was nothing special.

For Jack, he needed more than to simply manipulate women for sex, which was by all definitions a predatory act. He needed a type, and he thought Anna was it. Silence equals weakness in some people's minds. But she knew he'd done this before: picked up women, insulted them, beat them, broke them down, and then left them.

The waitresses came and set down their food.

Jack watched Anna, eagerly, waiting for her to respond, and to show some kind of affect from his words. When he saw he was getting nowhere, he fake-smiled but it came off as a grimace. And then Anna knew exactly what the women at work meant when they spoke of her creepy smile.

"Well," he said. He exhaled loudly and threw his napkin on the table. "I'm gonna go wash up."

She smiled as genuinely as she could. When he disappeared into the bathroom, she signaled the waitress.

"Hi, can you bring me two to-go containers? We're running late. Can you bring them, right now?"

When she brought the Styrofoam boxes, she put his and hers food in them, and walked out into the rain; back to her apartment where she opened a bottle of Robert Sterling Platinum.
Chapter 3

It wasn't long before the text messages started coming.

'Where the hell did you go? Why did you do that to me?'

She ignored them.

At ten pm, a box on her messenger popped up.

'Hey all~

I'm heading to Joe's. If any of you want to join me, feel free.

Nica'

Quickly, Anna drunk down the contents of her glass and grabbed her coat.

Joe's was just like any other Joe's across America: an average man's bar with lots of wood interior and a smoky atmosphere.

"Anna?"

She turned and saw Nica sitting at a table with a phone in her hand. They shook hands, and she said, "Sorry, just need to finish this text."

Anna took the seat opposite her.

Next moment, the woman named Angie showed. True to her desire, she said "hello," and even shook their hands; then sat, silently, with her back to Anna and Nica. Her eyes roved around the room, taking in everything and everyone. Every few moments, Anna saw her eye sneak over to the side of her head where she'd glance at them.

Last, a tall woman named Sheila came. She was a bit more talkative, intelligent but also very cynical. Unlike Angie who appeared odd, Sheila looked completely normal in her suit and long, blonde ponytail, until she opened her mouth.

"Hey," she said. "I would have been here sooner, but a woman with a baby tried to steal my cab."

Sheila hung her umbrella on her chair.

"Sorry to hear that. Did you walk, here?" asked Nica.

"No, I pushed her and she fell into the gutter; it had at least five inches of rain. She and the little brat cried."

Making Anna jump, Angie blurted, "Ah ha! Haha. That'll teach the bitch."

"I thought there were going to be more people," said Anna.

"No, Sisterlings patrons generally don't like large groups."

Nica pulled a small netbook from her briefcase.

"So tell me what you, all, do when you first enter a room. What goes through your mind?"

Confused, they looked at each other.

"It's just a study for Sisterlings. People like us, we think differently."

Nica hadn't told her she worked for the site. Judging by the reaction on the others faces, she hadn't told them, either.

Angie sighed. Sheila stared. Anna, too, was reluctant to answer. This was hardly the hang out she wanted to be a part of.

"Look, just a few questions, and then I'll shut the hell up, okay?"

"Um," said Anna, "I notice where everyone is standing or sitting; whether they're attractive, and if they're wearing cheap clothes or not."

"Okay," Nica said and typed fast. "Do they look back at you?"

"Sometimes, but most of the time, they look away, hurriedly. I think people, in general, are naturally afraid of me."

"You, Angie?"

"I notice the level of noise. If it's too loud, I'll leave; if there are too many people, I'll leave."

"Wait, so how many is too many people?"

"I don't know," she said and shrugged her shoulders. "Twenty or so."

"So you must not get out much. I mean, it's impossible to find establishments without many people, especially in a city like this."

"I don't go out, ever, except to check the mail. I order everything by phone or internet."

"Sheila?"

"Because of my height, I notice the color of everyone's hair. Those with heads I cannot see – because they're taller, I count. People often look my way. One time, a lady stared and stared, so I got real close, up in her face, and said, 'What the fuck?' She was scared, haha."

This amused Angie. Anna could see the smile in her eyes.

After that, they fell into silence. They watched each other for a good twenty minutes, until a tall guy at the bar sent a round of drinks.

Without word, they accepted them. When he came over to say hi, they ignored him, even when he called them stuck up bitches and claimed that he wasn't paying for the drinks, after all.

~~~

All in all, it was a fairly enjoyable evening. Somehow, they were like a drone society of bees, swarm-like and hovering; all together but very much independent in their lives roles.

Later that night, Nica sent her a small survey, asking if she'd like to get together again. She clicked yes, and wondered if the others would do the same.

The next morning, she woke to her cell phone text message alert. Nica wanted to meet for lunch Sunday, and then go shopping at the Farmer's Market.

At noon, Bethany stopped by.

"Anna, what the hell? You look terrible."

She walked in and placed a bag on her table.

"What are you doing here?"

Bethany never stopped by, always preferring to host rather than be hosted.

"I brought you a dress I picked up at Zero's."

She pulled a red pencil line cloth from her hemp shopping bag. Bethany never used plastic where she could avoid it.

"Go try it on."

She flung it at her.

Only in her underwear, she slipped the dress over her body right there. It was pretty and accentuated her figure eight, but smelled cheap and moldy.

"So what do you want?"

"What? You don't like the dress?"

"It needs to be washed; it smells bad. Did you really buy it? Or is it a hand-me-down?"

"Oh, I'm crushed! How ungrateful!"

"Cut the shit, Beth."

"Oh, alright. Take a shower and let's go for a walk."

Anna did as she said.

Twenty minutes later, they strolled around the park vines, taking in the honey suckle scented dew.

"So what happened with you and Jack? I got a call from Robert saying you were rude to him."

Anna laughed.

"It's not funny, Anna. If you keep doing things like that, I won't fix you up anymore."

"Bethany, I don't want you to fix me up. I don't want to get married, and I don't want kids."

"Jack is loaded."

"He's an abusive jerk. One day, he'll be a wife beater, trust me."

"Well, since it didn't work out, I have a favor to ask of you."

Bethany paused.

Anna waited for her to continue.

"You must come to dinner, next Wednesday at Chez Louis."

"Why?"

"My brother is coming to town, and he's always looking for a good time."

"And you're going to pimp me out?"

"Not pimping. I just know you're his type: classy, long shiny hair, brutal, elegant. If you get him in a good enough mood, maybe I can convince him to sign off as executor to my inheritance. He's always loose around tough, beautiful women, as if rules suddenly don't matter."

"Oh, so you're using me to get money?"

"Well, yeah."

"I'll do it for $10,000."

"What?" she yelled. "You're crazy. I was thinking more like a shopping spree. Really, you think I'd give you that kind of money for no reason at all?"

"I don't need clothes and a spa day; I need to pay my bills and buy more wine."

"Tuh," she said and shook her head. "Unbelievable."

They walked in silence a few minutes.

"Ten thousand buys my silence. I'll even persuade him on your behalf. If you try to get out of our deal, I'll tell him about it."

"My goodness," she exclaimed. "After all we've been through, how can you be so manipulative?"

"You mean after all the years of you using me to your means? Sometimes doing degrading and shameful things; things that could have landed me in jail?"

She exhaled and said, "Fine, alright. If you can help me persuade him to give me control of my inheritance, I'll pay you."

Bethany stayed and watched movies with her for the rest of the day, only leaving just before dark.

The next day was bright and sunny for a change. By the afternoon, it had reached seventy degrees. Anna was happy because she could finally wear the yellow sun dress she'd purchased on clearance from Calvin Klein, right before last autumn chilled the city.

Nica sat at a table outside a café, right under the yellow sunlight. Wind blew her hair into her face. She waived Anna over.

"Hi," she said, pulling blonde strands from her mouth.

As before, she had her netbook in front of her. On the table was an unfolded paper. And on the front was a picture of a man who had been mutilated.

"Wow, isn't that interesting," said Anna. "He was bled to death."

"Yeah, it's pretty intense. A group of people, occultists they suspect, spent hours cutting him until he died."

"Yikes, like a Japanese execution."

"Exactly. What do you think of that?"

"Of execution or murder?"

"Either."

"I don't care. The guy is probably better off dead anyway. Living just isn't that great."

Nica typed into her netbook.

"Is it just us?"

"Yep."

A waiter came over and took their orders. When he left, Nica asked, "What did you think of Angie?"

"She's strange, which is the proverbial pot and kettle, I know."

"And Sheila?"

"Very severe, that one. I'd hate to be on her bad side. Wow, this is so strange. I feel like one of the women at my work. They call me creepy, and now I've met people who creep me out."

She typed a moment, then said, "If they think you're weird, imagine what they'd think if they'd met Angie and Sheila."

Anna laughed. "They'd be scared, I'm sure."

"What do you think about men?"

"I don't care for them, really."

"Do they like you?"

"If you mean, do they find me attractive, I think so."

"Sure, you're a very attractive woman, but do they linger? Can they stand you?"

"After getting the grasp of my charm, they usually go away. However, they usually don't leave fast enough for my taste, so I tell them to bug off."

"Do you remember faces?"

"Sure."

"What color eyes does the hostess have."

"Blue, I think. What is this about?"

"Just documenting the kind of anxiety you suffer. I do it with all the girls."

"I don't have anxiety. I'm misanthropic."

"Maybe slightly, yes, but you're different. In fact, you're all similar, but what motivates your conditions varies. For example, Angie is a true misanthropic personality, Sheila is borderline, and you're..."

"What?"

"I'm not sure. Somewhere between schizoid and schizotypal. You have no desire to spend time with others, and when you do, you become paranoid."

"That's not true. Often, I wish I had friends, but when I get around people, and all they do is lie, then I get turned off."

"All they do is lie?"

"Yes. The average person tells at least twenty lies per day."

"Can you tell when someone gives false statements?"

"Sometimes, but it's more or less that I can tell how fake people are."

Once more, she typed into her netbook for a few moments.

The waiter set down their lunches.

After, they made their way to the farmer's market. Anna could smell the vegetable and fruit stands from several blocks away. Spring was her favorite time because of the fresh foods season.

Slowly, they wound in and around produce tables. Anna had already bought half a dozen bags of various fruit and veggies. Nica seemed particularly interested in cherries, nuts and fruit wine.

Suddenly, Nica grabbed her arm lifted it closer to her face.

"What's that?"

On her forearm was a shadowy scar.

"I had a tattoo removed."

"Did it hurt?"

"Yeah."

"Did you cry?"

"No."

"You have a high pain tolerance, don't you?"

"Not really."

Nica drew back and extended her fist into her face. Instinctively, Anna stepped right, but Nica caught her with her left.

People around them gasped.

"Ow! What was that?" she screamed.

"A test. I wanted to see how good your reflexes are," she laughed. "Come on, you're fine."

She put her arm around her shoulder and tried to coax her along. Anna pushed her arm away and walked off.

"Hey, wait!"

Nica ran up to her.

"Look, I'm sorry. It was a joke."

Anna remained silent.

Finally, Nica stopped following.
Dinner
Chapter 4

She didn't know what to make of her sudden display of aggression, but she was certain that none of them, including herself, was all there, as they say. Nica could be one of those crazies who liked causing pain. Either way, she wasn't going to stay with an organization whose rep could behave so badly. So as soon as she got into her living room, she turned on the computer and deleted her profile from Sisterlings.

Nica texted her apologies throughout the day.

'I'm sorry,' one of them said. 'I just wanted to see how you work under the threat of attack. You were pretty spontaneous, quick thinking. I was very impressed. Please come back to the site! You're the perfect fit. I'll even let you punch me!'

'I'm not interested, but thanks,' she wrote back.

What was Nica thinking? Why would she want anything to do with her, after that? Why did she think Anna would forgive such behavior?

The next day, she got a text message from Sheila.

'I know you want nothing to do with Sisterlings, but I was hoping we could meet for drinks, later?'

'Sure.'

So after work, and the rain having returned, she took a cab to the address Sheila texted her. It's not like she had anything else to do that evening. Plus, she and Sheila were more alike than Nica or Angie.

The place was called The Hall, which turned out not to be a café but an art studio.

"Hi," she said. As before, she wore a dark suit with her hair in a long pony tail. "I hope you don't mind. I hate going to these things alone. I would have asked Angie, but she's too weird, even for us."

Anna laughed.

Smiling back, she said, "I know what you're thinking: it's weird for us, weirdos, to call someone else that."

"Yes, exactly."

Sheila held open the door for her.

"It's strange, isn't it? I never thought I'd meet someone who'd give me the chills, but Angie did it. I know that's what it must be like for others who meet me."

"And me," Anna replied.

The studio had light walnut floors and white walls with small yellow lamps. People milled about, drinking sparkling wine and eating crackers.

The paintings were all oil, which were Anna's favorite. She stopped in front of the section of black and whites.

"I should have figured you'd like these."

"Why's that?"

"Well, you're dark. The paintings are dark."

"That's not why I like these," said Anna. "It's the detail that goes into black and white oil that is amazing to me. Really, it takes much more skill and practice."

"Yes, I suppose you're right."

"You suppose? Why did you invite me here? Are you not an artist?"

"No, I'm not. I came for the free drinks, of course."

At a loss for words, she walked over to a black and white painting of ocean waves. It was almost hypnotic, with its shades progressing from white-to-gray, to dark gray, and then to black and dark black, and inky black. It takes skill to identify the hundreds of possible shades that came between black, grey and white.

"What is it you do at work?"

"Just run reports, pretty much, all day."

"I work at Sephora in Times Square."

"Oh, nice!"

She stopped and looked at Sheila and smiled. If there was one thing that excited her, it was makeup.

"Yeah, but I don't get that great of a discount, even as a manager. People always ask me for stuff, though. Here," she said and put a lipstick in her hand.

"I got that one for you today. I knew it would look great with your dark hair and fair skin."

She pulled the tag off and twisted it, finding a rich wine color.

"It's beautiful, thanks!" she said.

At six pm, Anna told Sheila that she had to get home. They promised to text each other the next day. For once, Anna knew she would keep her word, and would not even hesitate. Texting Sheila would come easier than texting Bethany. Aside from psycho Nica, perhaps Sisterlings patriots weren't all so bad.

The next two days went by smoothly. No one paid any attention to her. Michael's attitude changed, too, from approving to dismissive. He didn't smile or say high; in fact, it seemed like he was avoiding eye contact with her. This worried her, greatly. Her end was near and she knew it. The best thing for her to do was quit, but she didn't. She wasn't ready to face the anxiety of job interviews, which were the worst for people like her. When you're queer and you know it, the ultimate test was fooling people interview-style.

Wednesday morning, her coworkers seemed to be preoccupied with a body that had been found in the park.

"Authorities suspect a ring of serial killers. They say everyone should be on guard," Melony told everyone at the staff meeting.

Anna picked up the newspaper that had been left on the counter in the break room. Once more, a man had been cut and bled to death by occultists. A statement had been issued by the chief of police.

'Unknown by his wife, Mark Gold was having an affair. Upon receiving a text from his mistress, he left to meet her at a local bar and didn't turn up until this morning. Police are still investigating, and advise the public, especially men, to be aware. This is the second murder of this nature, we expect there to be more. Further, these crimes are being committed by a gang of people. Thank you.'

Wednesday morning Bethany texted her a reminder about their dinner with her brother. Feeling antagonistic, she texted Sheila and invited her to come, too. Sure, Anna genuinely enjoyed Sheila's company, but she knew Bethany would be scared of her. That alone would make dinner more enjoyable. Plus, she was sure Sheila would hate Bethany, and would be unable to hide it.

That evening after work, Sheila showed up at her place.

Anna went to the door.

"Hey!"

Anna couldn't help but grin because she knew Bethany would be mad. Not only was she bringing a stranger, but she was bringing someone with limited social graces. She wasn't as bad as Angie, but she was real rough.

"Someone's in a good mood."

"Yeah, what's that in your hand?"

She held what looked like a rectangular canvas in her hand. It was wrapped in plastic.

"It's for you."

"What, another gift?"

She ripped off the plastic and revealed a beautiful black and white oil painting of the ocean. It was the same one from the art studio.

"You didn't buy this did you?"

"What does it matter?"

Anna couldn't stop her jaw from dropping. She imagined the work the artist must have put into a painting like that. Should she return it?

Nica was right about Sheila: She was borderline. The gift giving was a sign of how severe her condition was. She regretted inviting her to dinner. It was scary because she knew that borderline personalities had dreadful tempers, could fall into deep depressions, and were potential stalkers.

Thinking it best to act normal, she said, "I always liked water paintings. Most people buy rolling landscapes and think it's so wonderful, but I think the water is better. Royal shades of blue and gray are prettier than green and brown and yellow."

"Yeah, sure," she replied indifferently. "So why did you leave Sisterlings?"

When she explained about Nica, she said, "Oh yeah, she did the same thing to me."

"What did you do?"

"I shoved her head up her ass. What do you think I did?"

Anna raised her eyebrows, questioningly.

"Well, no I didn't do that. I grabbed her by the neck and pushed her head between her legs until she begged me to stop. Close your mouth! What's wrong with you?"

It was going to be a strange evening, she thought.

After slipping into a white vintage dress, they walked to Chez Louis. The restaurant was full that night. Bethany, of course, was already seated.

"Here she is," she exclaimed.

Bethany stood up and mock-kissed her on both cheeks.

"This is David."

He bowed.

"Hello, David. This is my friend, Sheila. Sheila, this is Bethany and her brother, David."

"Hello," she said in a strange and succinct manner; then sat without acknowledgement from the others.

Already, Anna was having trouble concealing her amusement.

David appeared to be about ten years younger than Bethany. He had a kind of hazel eyes that always looked, to Anna, as if they were hot coals.

"You're just in time," said David, looking at Anna.

A woman came and set down a bottle of wine, and then went to get more glasses.

"We're about to try an Artadi Tempranillo. Bethany said you like this kind."

"Yes."

"You like a dense wine, don't you?"

"What does that mean?"

"Dark and rich, like you appear to be."

Anna looked at Bethany who was giving her a look of approval. Then she looked at Sheila whose upper lip curled.

The dinner was filled with small talk. David was a lawyer and executor to their parents' estate.

"Mom and Dad never had much hope for Bethany."

"David, do you mind not insulting me or airing our problems out in front of my friend."

"I thought you tell her everything?"

"Not everything."

"Oh, and did you tell her how you like to pawn women off on me in order to get your way?"

Anna laughed. Sheila exhaled loudly.

"You two are intolerable," she said brazenly. "I hope you're paying for dinner, Anna. Otherwise, I'll never forgive you."

Anna burst out laughing, as did David. The only one not amused was Bethany.

"Nice friend, Anna!" she spat.

Even though David knew Anna was a plant, he still asked her to dinner for the following evening. The possibility of paying off her school loan still fresh, she agreed.

After dinner, the rain pouring down, Sheila and Anna took a cab, together.

"I'm so sorry about that, Sheila."

"No, you're not. You invited me because you can't stand those idiots. You thought you'd get a laugh at me, too. I'm not stupid."

"Well, you were funny."

Then, for the first time, Sheila smiled, accompanied with a light chuckle. Anna watched in amazement as her mask-like face lit up with emotion.

"I'll text you tomorrow," Sheila said and got out.
Another day, Another Body
Chapter 5

Michael was unchanged. He didn't even say hello as they rode the elevator together. All their correspondence was sent by email. Even stranger was the look she got from Melony when she walked down the hall. She looked up at her, and instead of a lingering glare that said 'I hate you,' she looked away. It wasn't until she went into the break room that she understood why.

In the break room, as she poured herself coffee, Mandy Martinez from human resources told Margaret that they'd scheduled several interviews through their temp agency. Anna didn't need psychic powers to know the interviews were for her replacement.

Back at her desk she texted Sheila.

'Do you think you could get me a job at Sephora?'

'Yeah, I'm sure we could get you something. Does it matter how much? Pay is cheap here.'

'No, it doesn't matter. Just something, anything.'

'No problem, I got you covered. When do you want to start?'

'Well, I'd like to wait until they fire me because I think I might have a case for wrongful termination.'

'You go, girl. Just let me know when you're ready.'

In the evening, David picked her up in a limo.

They went to The Towers.

"Bethany told me about this place."

"It's very good."

But something about him turned her off. He was anxious, nervous when he talked, and though he asked probing questions, his eyes showed disinterest. It was like he wanted her to keep talking because he wanted to think about something else. When the date was over, she saw the relief in his eyes.

"Is there something wrong?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"It seems like you're somewhere else tonight."

"No, no, it's just been a long day. I'm sorry I haven't been better company."

He kissed her on the cheek, and without a backward glance, ran back to his limo.

Friday, when she walked into the office, it was to learn they'd begun interviews. It was supposed to be a secret, but she knew because Melony was away from her desk all morning. Plus, they liked to conduct interviews on Fridays in the presentations room, from which she'd seen Melony come in and out of several times. Unfortunately, they had to reschedule because Michael never showed up to work.

That afternoon, they learned why. Melony called them to an emergency meeting, and she didn't only invite the people in their department, but everyone from upstairs and below gathered on their floor.

"Hi, all," she said, speaking in squeaky tones and dabbing her eyes with tissue. "I just want you to know that Michael was found dead this morning."

"Oh, my gosh!" said a woman Anna had occasionally seen in the elevator. "What happened?"

"He was found cut up, like the other victims we've been hearing about."

Anna knew she should be sad, but all she could do was wonder if his death would prolong her firing.

After work, Anna walked across town to Sephora. Sheila was working the late shift. Anna wanted to get in on the sale on Clinique red lipsticks.

"Wait, so they found him all cut up?" Sheila asked as she counted a new shipment from Smashbox.

"Well, he had a couple cuts to major arteries: One under his arm, the other on the back of his leg and one to the groin. My guess is he bled out quickly, which is strange because if you pay attention to the other victims, they were supposedly cut hundreds of times. It took hours for them to die."

"Hmph!" Sheila said, hardly caring. "Angie is meeting me for drinks in a bit. Want to come?"

"Sure."

"What are you doing?" she nearly shouted.

"I'm gonna pay for these."

"Just put it in your pocket!"

"No," Anna said.

She walked up to the counter and gave the girl her card.

The Rainbow Room was crowded. Angie sat looking like mental patient, fidgeting and crazy eyed.

"I read about your boss in the paper. Isn't it great?"

"Oh, did Sheila tell you about that? Yeah, I suppose I'm glad he's dead."

"Gonna get fired, still?"

"I think so, but I don't care."

She waved to a waitress.

"Maybe you, both, could work for Sisterlings, too? Nica seemed interested in hiring you."

"No, I like my job," said Sheila.

"I don't know," Anna replied. "Nica freaks me out, to be honest."

The waitress came with their drinks.

"That group of guys over there," she said and pointed to the corner of the room. "They've paid for the drinks."

Then she walked off.

"Oh, great. Is it too late to send them back?" asked Angie.

"Here one of them comes. He's not so bad looking, though his friends look like they haven't showered in a week," said Sheila.

"Hi," the guy said. "I'm Pete. Would you all like to join us?"

They stared at each other a moment, then, grabbed their drinks and scooted into the low wood seats across from the guys. Pete made a round of introductions. Angie rolled her eyes the entire time. It wasn't long before the guys regretted their invitation.

An hour later, she left, and it wasn't too soon. Angie was much more talkative than she'd let on, and was kind enough to tell one of Pete's friends that he was too fat and stupid to get a woman like Sheila. Through the gray water layered blocks she made her way home.

Jim was at the top of the steps, holding the door open for her.

"Hi, there are some people who just went upstairs, looking for you."

"Okay, thanks."

She checked her mail and got in the elevator. When the doors opened, and she glimpsed her hall, she almost thought she had the wrong floor. There, in front of her door, were two policemen.
Too Close
Chapter 6

In her living room, one of the cops looked intensely at her. The other wandered around and touched things.

"I'm Officer Blake, and this is Matt."

"What's going on?"

Officer Blake pulled a little USB recording device from his pocket and pressed a button on it.

"Do you know Bethany Winthorpe?"

"Yes, she's my friend."

"When did you see her last?"

"We went to dinner on Wednesday night."

"Have you heard from her since then?"

She leant over and picked up her phone, scrolled to her messages page, and handed it to him.

"So she texted you yesterday, that is Thursday, April 2nd, in the morning."

"Yep."

"Going back to the dinner: What did you guys talk about?"

The sound of her cabinets opening and closing distracted her.

"Nothing important; we just went on about wine and elections. David told us funny stories about when they were young."

"David?"

"David Winthorpe is her brother."

"He was at dinner with you?"

"David, Bethany, my friend Sheila and I ate at Chez Louis."

"Okay," he said and pressed the button.

"Are you gonna tell me what's going on, now?"

"Bethany was found, this morning, beaten nearly to death."

Anna held her breath a moment.

"You say nearly. Does that mean she'll be okay?"

"I don't know. She's suffered brain trauma."

"Oh, no!" she said, trying to sound upset. People were supposed to be emotional when their friends got hurt. "Where's she at?"

"Mercy Hospital. There's just one other thing."

"Yes?"

"Did you every fight over money?"

"No."

"Why did she write you a check for $10,000?"

"To help me pay off my school loans, but she hasn't given it to me yet."

"We know. We have the check."

He observed her for a minute.

"It's kind of a strange relationship, though. She's older than you."

"Bethany likes to have parties and friends. It doesn't matter what age they are."

"How long have you known each other?"

"Ten years or so; we worked together."

"Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt her, for any reason at all?"

"No, I don't. And if she knew someone who did, she wouldn't have told me about it. Bethany never spoke to me about personal things."

"Well, that's strange considering how close you are."

"I never said we were close, just longtime friends. Some people like their privacy, despite wanting company."

Seemingly satisfied with her testimony they left. Anna grabbed her rain coat and umbrella and took a cab to Mercy Hospital. After a long round of explanations about how Bethany hadn't any real family, the nurse finally let her see her.

She lay on a bed with a face that was barely recognizable. Her head was wrapped in a bandage. Then as she looked at her arms, she saw there were little cuts all over her body, like in the newspaper and with Michael.

In case she woke, Anna scribbled a note for her and left it by her bed side.

The next day, interviews continued but Anna couldn't be bothered to care. Melony seemed even surlier, now that Michael wasn't there. It was also announced that she was being considered for promotion into his position.

Anna worked most of the day alone which was just fine with her. Since she couldn't stop thinking about Bethany, she hadn't any energy to look at people or to respond cheerfully when they spoke.

Something about her friend's attack bothered her. It was strange that two people, close to her, should end up victims of the city's murdering circus. She needed to be careful because she could be next. Hell, it occurred to her that it could be someone she knew.

Jim was just as annoying as ever. And after the third time he pounded by her, bumping into her partition, she looked up at him, on his way back, catching his eyes so he wouldn't look down; then stuck her foot out of the side, tripping him.

He slammed to the ground, arms flailing, papers flying. The floor and her partition rattled noisily, and everyone on her floor snapped their heads at them. Jim yelped like a woman.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Anna said. "Are you okay?"

She got out of her seat and tried to help him up, but he swatted her away.

"Don't touch me!"

He stormed off.

After work, she bought flowers and put them in Bethany's room at the hospital. David was there.

"How have you been?"

"Alright," he said. "I'm waiting for the doctor."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know. They say she might not be the same. At this point, it might be better if she doesn't wake at all."

Anna considered his remark. It was unusual for some people to be so candid. Then she went back to looking at her arms to see how they were healing.

"These cuts are so strange."

"Why's that?" he asked.

"Well, something was bothering me about this today. Now I think I know what it was: The other bodies had different kinds of cuts. Some were long and deep while others were short and shallow. That's what the news said, but these are all the same, pretty much."

He stood beside her and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Yahoo and the other presses said that the cuts indicated multiple persons participated in the bleeding out of their victims. This is why they think there might be some kind of ritual involved, but these cuts might suggest that one person did it. Now, it all makes sense. The cops are looking for one person who did this. Never did they mention cuts, when they interviewed me, but only the beatings. I think because they weren't fooled."

She looked at David to see his response.

"You put that all together, just now, did you? You're very clever."

His jaw was tense and his face looked sweaty.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't mean to upset you. I just wanted to leave some flowers for her. Will you text me and let me know what the doctors or the police say?"

"Yeah, sure I will. Actually, I'm going back to Connecticut tomorrow, for a time. I know it seems callous but I've really got to get back to work. I was wondering if you would act, temporarily, as a point of contact between the doctors and I? You know, come and visit her. When she gets released, maybe you can attend to her? You were her closest friend, I think."

"Sure."

"Great! I'll sign all the necessary papers and get back to you."

He left the room.

Sheila and Angie came by on Saturday. They were spending more and more time together. Anna was kind of glad because, though she liked Sheila, she made her nervous with her sometimes explosive behavior. Sunday at the Phantom of the Opera matinee, her favorite long-time running show, she burst out, "This is just ridiculous! I'm getting a coffee. What a stupid show! Of course she doesn't want to fuck him, he's ugly. Excuse me, excuse me." "All I Ask of You" was her favorite solo in the show and Sheila ruined it.

Her door bell sounded a few times. When she opened it, Sheila asked loudly, "What is up with your pervert neighbor? I swear I'm going to punch him if I see him again."

"I think that's a great idea," Anna replied.

"How's your friend? Did you get your money?"

"No."

"Want me to get it?"

"No, don't even think about it," Anna replied, wondering if she would really sneak into a police station and steal a check. "One of the first things the cops asked me was about the money she was going to give me. I don't want them to be suspicious of me."

"They won't be. You said she was an occult victim. Why would you be linked to that?"

Not wanting to talk about Bethany anymore, she asked, "How have you been, Angie?"

"Whatever," she replied. "Got any wine?"

That night they stayed in and watched a movie and ordered pizza. After a while, Angie seemed to relax as she got comfortable being in Anna's apartment. Sheila, on the other hand, talked throughout half of the film.

"Will you shut the fuck up?" Angie finally asked.

Sheila was like a brick. Shouting didn't affect her, but when Angie yelled at her, for some reason, she nearly always complied. Angie was turning into a good buffer for Sheila. Too bad she was craziest of them all.

~~~

As usual, she went to the farmer's market. It was another cold, rainy day. Harshly, the wind blew through her clothes. People ran after food that was blown astray from their tables. They placed heavy lids on their baskets, and draped plastic around flowers to keep them unharmed. Gripping her jacket tightly, she wound in and out of the aisles, trying pull food and flowers without ruining their displays.

Then it was like a hurricane hit. Angry rain poured down all over them. Everyone hurried to pack up their stands and leave. Anna was kind enough to help her favorite farmers, Jean and Hack, get their produce back into their truck. In return, they gave her the last of their winter squash.

She hurried down the street. In front of her favorite breakfast bistro, a woman waved at her: It was Nica. She was with an older woman, in her fifties.

"Want to join us for a coffee?" she shouted through the pelting rain.

Too wet and miserable too argue, she accepted.

They held the door open for her.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom. I'll catch up with you in a moment."

Over the gleaming porcelain sink, she wrung her shirt out. Bunching together a dozen sheets of brown paper towel, she blotted as much moisture as she could from her skin. Her bra was soaked right through.

In the café, Nica and the older woman had already found a table.

"I ordered a latte for you," Nica said. "I think that's your usual?"

"That's right."

"This is Jillian. She's a chairwoman for the site."

"Hello," Anna said curiously. How was it that Sisterlings was big enough to have a board of members?

Suddenly, the woman threw her coffee all over Nica. She screamed and jumped up from her seat with arms flailing. Anna, shocked as well, yelped. People all around stared. Anna leapt up and handed her as many paper napkins as she could. Then she went to the bartender and asked for a towel.

Crying, Nica then ran to the bathroom.

"What did you do that for?"

"She disrespected you, no?"

She had a strange foreign accent. She wasn't quite sure if it was French or Polish.

"I wanted to make you feel better. Now you can come back to Sisterlings."

Anna shivered.

Jillian didn't blink much. Her eyes were pale green with penetrating dark pupils. The muscles in her face looked paralyzed by years of no use, as in most people used their face muscles to convey emotions. Clearly, this woman had none.

"Why is everyone so obsessed with me joining Sisterlings?"

She didn't respond because Nica came back to the table.

"Well, we must be going," said Jillian. She handed her a card. "Let's have lunch next week. I think we could use you. You don't want to work for Sephora, do you? Come on, Nica!" she said angrily.

They gathered their things and left. Nica didn't even look back.

~~~

Monday morning over bagels and lox, Melony announced that she'd been promoted to manager. The first thing she was going to do was make changes to office procedure. That was when Anna knew it would be her last week there. And she was right. That very day her responsibilities were interrupted or redistributed to other coworkers, whom she was instructed to train on her daily procedure. And as she predicted, Melony pulled her into her new office on Friday.

"Well, as you know, I've been making many changes. Now, we both know that things aren't working out for you here, and Michael had begun searching for your replacement before he died. We want a real team player; someone who contributes. Frankly, it seems like you don't want to be here."

She slid a piece of paper across the desk, and handed her a pen.

Anna took a minute and skimmed it over.

"This is a letter of termination, but why do I need to sign it?"

"This is what we do in all events of termination."

But as she looked closely, she saw that in the paper was a clause; it was a release of all liabilities in regards to her end of employment. She wasn't even getting a severance package.

She put the pen down, slid the unsigned paper across the desk, back to her, and left the office.

Anna gathered her things, collected her final check from payroll and went to visit the attorney she'd read about online.

At home, Officer Blake left a message on her machine. They wanted her to come back in for questioning. Without delay, she went to the police station.

The office was stuffy and damp.

He led her into a room.

"I think what bothers me the most, about you, is you don't seem upset."

"I don't know what to tell you. People act differently when under stress."

He stared at her a moment.

"Why would Bethany give you $10,000?"

"I've already told you: to help me with school loans."

"According to David Winthorpe, she was paying you to date him."

"No, that's a lie. She set me up with him because she thought I was his type. Bethany said her brother lost reasoning when around women. We agreed that if she succeeded in getting her money released from David, she'd give me enough to pay off my loans. It's not a crime so you can stop trying to make me feel guilty."

"That's what you say, but here's what it really sounds like: you and her had some sort of scheme and when it didn't work..."

"Stop," she said and held up her hand, knowing where he was going. "I didn't kill Bethany. I'll take a polygraph if you want. I just want to get this over with, so that you can get on with your job. I want to get out of this smelly, stuffy office."

"You'll take a polygraph?"

"I have nothing to hide."

The man sighed.

"That won't be necessary, but do you have anything, anything at all, that could help us?"

He rubbed his left temple.

"Why are you asking me this? Shouldn't you be off with the state police, tracking some serial psychopaths?"

"This is not the same murder; although the person tried to make it look similar."

"So I was right, then," she mumbled to herself.

"Excuse me?"

"At the hospital, I noticed Bethany's cuts were different than what was reported. My boss, for example, was said to be cut by a dozen different hands."

"Who's your boss?"

"Michael Benton."

He looked at her a moment. In his eyes, she saw a million thoughts cross. Then ever so slightly, he shook his head to himself.

"Just a coincidence, you think?"

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

"You just told me."

"No, I didn't."

Officer Blake looked annoyed.

"If you pay close enough attention, you'll see that people tell you many things that you probably miss. Like your partner who came to my house that day? He's keeping things from you."

He furrowed his eyebrows in amusement.

"Like what?"

"Like he hates you, and thinks you're standing in his way. You two are in some sort of competition. Watch yourself, Officer Blake, he's a backstabber."

He burst out laughing.

"That was good. What was that? Some sort of fortune telling?"

"You're a moron, Officer Blake. Any misfortune you experience is because you're lacking."

She stood up and left the office.

At Joe's she met Angie and Sheila. After telling them she was finally fired, Sheila said, "Well, come in on Monday and I'll get you started on the sales floor."

"What time?"

"I don't care. I work until five pm. You can have whatever schedule you want. Just don't let anyone know I'm giving you free reign."

Despite the money which would hardly pay her rent and bills, she was excited. Makeup, toilette, perfume and discounts: What else could a girl want? She'd figure out a way to supplement her income somehow.

When she got home, there was an email from Jillian.

'Hi,

I heard you lost your job. I have an opportunity you might be interested in, if you sign back up to Sisterlings.

Jillian'

She deleted the email.

After a few minutes, she wrote a quick note to Nica.

'Hi Nica~

What happened at the cafe was awful. I hope you weren't seriously injured.

Anna'

Sunny Days
Chapter 7

Working at Sephora's wasn't as fun as it appeared to be. People were rude, it was always crowded, and they were constantly on the lookout for shoplifters, even though they had four security guards. Twice on her first day, people tried to walk out at the same time paying customers left. This way, when the alarm sounded, they could say it was the person with purchases next to them, and consequently the cashiers fault. Since the store had a no-confrontation policy, there had to be a witness in order to legally retain a person. But there were so many people that even with all their security, it was impossible to see everything. As a result, the torturous procedure of inventory was performed every single morning and night.

Working for Sheila was good and bad. On one hand, she let her do whatever she wanted, but on the other, she relied on Anna to pick up her slack. Normally, not a bad thing, but she was a train wreck. Sheila must have gotten her job by luck because she was disorganized and didn't bother to hide her vulgar nature even while at work.

Despite everything, there was an upside: Sheila gave her the highest permitted hourly and commission rate. Financially, if she could maintain sales, she might not suffer as bad as she thought. And in sales, she might have a good day, but other days might be exceedingly good.

Her lawyer had already served her old employers. There was nothing more pleasing than when she ran into Melony at Beaulieu, where her old coworkers usually had lunch. Anna went out of her way to appear there so that she could gloat in front of Melony. Anna felt triumphant as Melony shifted uncomfortably under her stare. For the first time, there was less defiance and repulsion on her face. Instead, there was fear in her eyes, and a look that said she was seeing Anna for the first time – because silence equals weakness in some people's minds.

Bethany was still in a coma at the hospital. There was no telling when she'd wake. Anna didn't get around to visiting her again until Friday after work. From the lobby, she bought another fresh bouquet of flowers for her room.

David never returned to Connecticut. Officer Blake ordered him not to leave the city. He stayed at Bethany's condo. Several times, he'd come around, trying to take Anna out for another dinner. Each time she refused. Then he showed up at her apartment one night. The bell rang and she put her eye up to the hole only to see a blue fuzzy surface.

"Who are you?" she asked through the door.

"Oh, sorry," he said and drew his arm back.

"What is that?"

"What does it look like?"

She opened the door. In his hand, he held a check.

"Can I come in? I have a proposition for you."

After she opened a bottle of wine, they sat on the couch in the living room.

"Have you talked to the police?" he asked her.

"Not recently. Have you?"

"No, not really."

He wrung his hands tightly and looked down as he said this.

"Are you sure about that?"

"I hate it when people question me," he replied with severity.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. Maybe people question you because you look awkward, and 'no, not really' is an awkward statement."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you seem like you're hiding something."

"Ah!" he stood up and sat down quickly, adjusting his pants. "You don't know anything about me."

"Wow, I struck a nerve, didn't I?"

"You struck nothing. It takes more than that to get under my skin."

"Then why are you getting upset?"

"I'm not upset."

"David, either tell me what you want or get out. You got two seconds to decide."

He looked like he wanted to tell her to go to hell, but something made him stay.

"I wanted to know what the police have been saying to you."

"Like I said, I haven't talked to them."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked.

She didn't reply.

"I'm gonna take Bethany off of life support."

"It's only been a few weeks. Why would you do that?"

"The doctors say that even if she wakes, she'll never fully be conscious or functional. She'll be looking at a lifetime on artificial support and in diapers. I know she wouldn't want that."

He waited for her to say something. When she didn't, he continued. "Anyway, I wanted to give you this."

He handed her the blue check: it was for ten thousand dollars.

"She never told you, but she requested that I make this check out to you whether I released her funds to her or not. That's pretty much the last of it. It might as well bring someone some good."

"When are you going to do this?"

"Today."

"You can't. You have to wait at least a few months. Her injuries haven't even had time to heal, so you can't possibly know what she'll be like if she wakes."

"She can't, that is, we can't afford the hospital bills. What Bethany never told you was she is down to her last nickel and dime. Don't get me wrong, it's still a pretty penny, but I'd warned her for years to control her spending. Now, what she has leftover won't carry her to retirement. Because of the way our estates are arranged, if I keep her on life support, she'll bankrupt the both of us. For that, I've made up my mind. I thought maybe you'd like to come with me? Say goodbye one last time."

"What time?"

"Right now."

"Can we meet at the hospital at seven 'o' clock? I have an errand I need to run."

"Sure, I can do that, but don't be late."

"Okay."

As soon as the door closed behind him, she grabbed her umbrella and took a cab across town. When the steps of the white building came into view, she slipped the driver twenty and hurried out onto the sidewalk.

The police station was just as stuffy as before. A few dozen civilians loitered about, talking and looking surly. On the opposite side of the room was a long security counter with bullet proof glass, through which a secretary spoke to a man. Anna walked up, behind the man, and waited.

Twenty minutes later, Officer Blake came out to greet her.

"It's David," she blurted.

"What?"

"David Winthorpe, her brother. He's the one who attacked her, and now, he wants to take her off of life support."

He watched her a moment; the information turning in his brain.

"Alright," he said. "Give me a moment."

He disappeared down the hall only to return a moment later with his jacket, and then they rode to the hospital.

Anna kept checking her watch.

"What time is he going to do this?"

"Seven 'o' clock."

"We've got some time then."

"Are you going to arrest him?"

"No, he's not doing anything illegal."

"He's the executor and power of her estate. They have to do what he says, so you've got to arrest him."

"I can't do that. The law protects him, and decisions like these are protected by the law. I'm only getting in the middle of this because I haven't been able to rule him out as a suspect. Until then, he shouldn't be able to make life decisions for Bethany, especially ones that could benefit him, in the end. What makes you think he did it anyway?"

"Something he said to me. He came by to give me a check for the ten thousand dollars, and then told me that Bethany was nearly broke. I don't believe him. Bethany spent a lot, but she really didn't buy that much. Why, she usually wore the same outfits every time I saw her. They were expensive; sure, I've seen her drop a few grand on a dress, here and there, but there's just no way she went through as much money as he implied."

"Unless she were spending the money on something else? Or someone else?" he said.

Anna thought about it a moment.

"Have you looked into their financial backgrounds?" she asked.

"Yes, we're looking into it, but we haven't gotten any reports back from our research department."

Suddenly, Anna remembered something she'd told her once a long time ago.

"They've got life insurance policies on each other."

"How do you know that?"

"She told me. They both knew that their inheritance wouldn't last forever, so they took out extensive policies on each other, so that whoever went first, well, the other would be taken care of; it was a pact they made with each other."

"I gotta tell ya, Anna, you're seriously reaching. None of this sounds as bad you think it is."

Anna sighed.

"Just don't think so much on it. Let us do our jobs, okay?"

The hospital appeared at the end of the block. Officer Blake steered into an empty space up front. Quickly, they crossed the parking lot, the lobby and went up to the seventh floor where they met a nurse at the counter and demanded to talk with Bethany's doctor.

A moment later, a tall, tired looking man beckoned them into an office at the end of the hall. When he closed the door, he said, "I'm Jim; I'm Anna's doctor."

"I'm Officer Blake, and this is Anna, Bethany's friend."

"Yes, I know who she is, and I know why you're here. I got this fax, here, but I need a reason why I should refuse Mr. Winthorpe. This fax from the police department isn't legal, so by going against Mr. Winthorpe, and not removing Bethany from life support, I'm breaking the law. Now, if you can give some reason as to why I should risk it, then that might change things, but as of now, I have to refuse."

"Jim," Anna said. "Officer Blake is in the middle of a murder investigation, so we can't tell you much. I've reason to believe that David is the reason Bethany is here. Bethany is a very wealthy woman, and if she dies, he'll get benefits from her life insurance. We don't want him to get that. He could leave the city, the country and we'd never hear from him again."

"Right," said Officer Blake. "It's not right that Winthorpe should make life decisions over a victim until I can rule him out as her attacker. I'm not asking you to break the law, I'm asking you to wait."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. A nurse poked her head in and said "David Winthorpe is here."

"Can you bring him here, please?"

A second later, he appeared in the doorway with eyes alight and his hair disheveled.

"What are you both doing here, together?"

"We're stopping you, David. I know what you're up to," Anna said.

"And just what is that?" he yelled.

"You know what," she replied.

"Doctor, I hold power of attorney, here. You must do as I say."

"I'm not refusing you, David, and I'm not refusing you, Officer Blake, I'm simply postponing the removal of Bethany from life support. Now, I've got a ton of things to do. Why don't you all argue about this outside, but not too loudly because I'll have to call security and have you thrown out, cops and all."

Doctor Jim walked across the room and motioned with his hands that they should leave.

Anna followed Officer Blake into the hall. Together, they watched David walk off.

"Well, I don't know how much time we've got. All he has to do is contact a lawyer," said Officer Blake.

"I know, but it's a start. You'll work on it, won't you?"

"Absolutely. I'll call the city attorney and see if there are any grounds under which we can revoke his executorship. In the meantime, if you need anything, call me, okay?"

"Okay."

The next morning at work, she found Angie and Bethany in the backroom stuffing their pockets with perfume samples.

"Hey," said Anna. "What are you doing here so early?"

"I'm just stopping by to poach perfume. I'll see you later, then?" she asked Sheila.

"Yep."

Angie walked out.

"For someone who doesn't like to leave her home, she's out quite a bit these days," Anna said.

"Yes, she's getting better. I didn't even have to go over there and drag her outside, this time. She came of her own accord. Sisterlings is changing her for the better."

Anna bent over the box and started sifting through the little vials.

"You know, one day, you're gonna get fired doing what you're doing."

"What do I care? Besides, I'll kill whoever rats on me, and that's not a threat."

That week was just as busy as before. Her feet were starting to feel the effects of standing all day.

"Here" Sheila handed her a little gel sole. "It won't help much, but it's a start."

She didn't hear from Officer Blake the rest of the week.

Friday was Anna's day off. That morning she slipped on a red wool sweater dress and matching red rubber boots and proceeded to running errands. First, she went to the bank to cash in money for quarters so she could do laundry in her building; then she took a pilling cardigan back to Barney's. After, she stopped for some oysters in Grand Central. By two pm, the rain had started again.

She stopped at Mike's to order a case of wine, and then went to the grocer before catching a cab to Mercy Hospital.

As before, she got out of the cab and went to the lobby drug store and bought a bouquet of flowers. When she got to the door of Bethany's room, it was to find her gone.

"Hi, Anna," said a man's voice.

She turned. Standing behind her was Doctor Jim.

"Where's Bethany?"

"Would you come into my office, please?"

Without a word, she followed him. He closed the door and sat down opposite her.

"Unfortunately, I have some bad news. David called his lawyer and threatened to sue us if we didn't do as he asked. I was called in by our board members and they ordered that she be removed from support immediately. I'm sorry, but Bethany was taken down to the morgue this morning at eight am."

A ringing from somewhere sounded in her ears. Without a word, she stood up from her seat and left his office. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed Officer Blake.
Chapter 8

For the first time in a long time, she was stricken by a real emotion, but it wasn't the typical emotion that humans felt when they'd lost people. Anna didn't feel grief or sorrow, and she didn't need to cry. What she felt was anger that David had gotten around her.

She walked down the street and caught the bus to the east side. When she stepped off at the corner of Bethany's street, she thought about how it was likely the last time she'd ever walk that way to the grey building on the end of that corner.

The doorman tipped his hat to her as she passed.

Up the elevator she went, anticipating a nasty confrontation with David, but when she entered her condo, no one was home. In fact, it appeared that he'd left. Everything was untouched. The room in which he stayed was missing his suitcase.

In the living room, he sat on the couch and stared at the walls for a while, thinking about all the times they'd had: how they'd met, all the parties and all the shopping they'd done together.

Anna got up from the couch and wandered into her room. Nothing had been touched. The room was lightly scented with Bethany's favorite Michael Kors perfume. Then she remembered the lambskin and cashmere shearling Bethany had stashed in her closet. There was no way she'd let someone else get it.

From the closet, like a thief at an open casket, she pulled a suitcase and picked through her belongings.

Her cell phone rang.

"Hi Blake."

"Hi, I'm calling to offer my condolences. I know what happened because I got a call from the doctor."

"Have you found anything on David?"

"Actually, we may have found something. David is broke; he was telling the truth about that. And although he's sharing an inheritance with Bethany, his money comes from a different account. Not only has he been spending every penny of his monthly deposits, but he's been syphoning money from Bethany's account for months, now. Whatever trouble he's in, it could be a motive. You were right, twice, in fact."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing, nevermind."

"So what next?" she asked.

"We arrest him and charge him with fraud."

"Actually, it looks like David isn't here anymore. I'm at Bethany's and his stuff is missing. He might have left town."

"Alright, well, he won't get far, so don't worry. I'm gonna go. I'll be in touch."

"Let me know when you get him."

The rest of the day, she waited anxiously for his call. Instead, she got a disappointing text that evening. David was nowhere to be found.

Sheila and Angie came by and took her to dinner at The Tower.

"You got to eat, Anna. You're so pale that the last thing you want is to be too skinny."

"Ha!" Angie laughed.

Anna wasn't trying to purge, it was like her body was numb. She didn't feel her stomach, and therefore, wasn't hungry. But when she picked up her fork and sampled the crab cakes, which were exquisite, her stomach came back to life.

In between bites, Anna told them everything about David and Officer Blake, and Bethany's death.

"So what are you gonna do, now?" asked Angie.

"I don't know. She's gone, so I guess I'd better let it go. Besides, I've got court next week. My lawsuit isn't going so well; they wanted to settle out of court for two thousand dollars."

Suddenly, they stood up and Sheila said, "Well, we gotta run."

Choking on her drink, she asked, "Where are you guys going?"

"To a party."

"What? Stay a while. Come on, I want to hang out."

"Well, maybe we'll catch up a little later. It's something we have to do," Angie replied.

"Why can't I come?"

"Because you dropped out of the group, remember?" Sheila said.

After they left, Anna felt somber and excluded. The events of the last few days were so much that Anna, for the first time in her life, needed to talk to someone.

The waitress came by and she ordered another martini and more crab cakes.

Several drinks later, and near to puking, she stumbled outside and fell against the wall. She cursed herself as her Cavalli light pink mohair sweater snagged, repeatedly, down the brick wall as she slid to the ground. Just when she got the world into focus, someone bent over her and lifted her up from the ground.

"Boy, you're strong," Anna slurred.

The woman remained silent.

Her perfume was familiar, sweet honeysuckle and something else. Next thing she knew, she was in the dark seat of a vehicle. She wanted to scream or yell but was too drunk to panic.

She turned over and tried to get a look at the lady. She wore large dark sunglasses and had long black tresses.

Anna reached out and tried to remove the sunglasses.

"Don't worry, you're safe," she said, pushing her hand away. "You're drunk, and I'm taking you home."

"Who are you?"

"I'm helping you."

Next thing she knew, she was being pulled from the limo. On her floor, they stumbled down the spinning hall. Just then her neighbor, Greg, appeared in the doorway. The woman punched him clean out. For a moment, the woman's grip on Anna loosened, and she dropped to the floor like a heavy sack. She wanted to laugh but her mouth wasn't working.

The door to her apartment opened and as she turned the knob, she noticed crusted red stuff on the sides of the woman's fingers. They made it to her bedroom where she fell onto the soft bed and that was all.

The next morning she didn't remember a thing. The last image was Sheila and Angie leaving, but her room smelled strangely like Michael Kors.

Her phone rang.

"Hello?" she struggled to say.

"Anna, it's Sheila. Today is the third time you've not shown for a shift. Look, I know things suck for you right now, but I can't allow you to be away from work anymore. Now, it's my ass."

"Okay, I'll be there tomorrow, I promise."

After lingering in bed awhile more, she dragged herself into the shower. At her favorite breakfast bistro, she ate slowly while trying to ignore the urge to vomit. Why was she was fighting so hard for her friend? Inside, she felt nothing, not sorrow or that she'd miss her. But somehow, she needed Bethany because she helped her appear normal. Still, somewhere inside her was loyalty, because why else was she going to such extremes?

That morning, she walked to Bethany's condo again. David hadn't returned. She wandered through the rooms and into her office where she sat on her chair and swung around, bored and like a kid.

Suddenly, she had the urge to snoop. She opened the top drawer and saw a bunch of files that were organized by month. She pulled the January file and thumbed through it and then back to the front of the file. At the front there was a bank statement. On the top was a single transaction credit for ten thousand dollars; below that, hundreds of debit transactions. Behind that were bills and other write off expenses, and bank statements from interest earning accounts.

She put the file back in the drawer and pulled another from behind it, and another from behind that. The data was pretty much all the same: a single credit and hundreds of debits.

Anna closed the drawer and opened the one on the opposite side. There was a metal box and a set of keys. She pulled them from the drawer and inserted a key until it was unlocked. Inside, she found stacks of check books wrapped with rubber bands. One of them said Bethany and David Winthorpe.

Carefully, she unwrapped a book. First National Bank it said. Every month on approximately the same day, a check for ten thousand was written on a ticket, and signed by David.

Pulling back the rubber band, Anna slipped the book back in and re opened the drawer with the bank statements. She re pulled the January file and found the bank statement from where the checks were written. There were four debit transactions posted every month: two were for ten thousand, and the other two were echecks to property companies.

At the top of the bank statement, she noticed David and Bethany's name was listed as the account holders. Anna wasn't a financial genius, and it stood to reason that they could have had many accounts to hold a fortune of funds, but if she was listed as a holder on the account from which her monthly allowance came, why did she need David to release funds to her? Didn't she already have the clearance to do as she wished?

Although she supposed that they probably couldn't do large transactions without the approval of the other. If that were true, then she would have to consult him to remove her half of the funds. But, why? She'd earn a higher interest rate if they kept their funds together in the same account. Banks offered as much as 15% on accounts the size of Bethany's, and sometimes more.

Just then the front door opened and closed. She wanted a confrontation with David, but not of the nature if he were to catch her going through Bethany's financial records.

She stuffed the folder back in the drawer and closed it as quietly as she could.

At the doorway, she listened to footsteps and could tell they went into the living room. Then there was the sound of carpet mushing noises under footsteps, followed by clopping noises that led her to believe he was likely in the kitchen.

On the tips of her feet, she ran out and into the living room right as David reappeared from the kitchen. Startled, he dropped the glass he was holding and took a swing at her.
More Questions
Chapter 9

It was the most humiliating thing to ever happen to her.

"Why don't you want to press charges?" asked Officer Blake.

They sat at the bar at Joes.

"I don't know," she said, pressing a plastic bag of ice on her eye. "I just wanted to get out of there. I'm humiliated. Besides, I didn't want him to call the police on me for breaking in."

"You didn't break in. Bethany gave you her keys, and he made you a point of contact."

"No, forget it. Besides, I have information for you."

"Oh no, Anna. Just let me do my job. Is this why you called me down here?"

"Just listen. I had a chance to look through Bethany's office. I found her bank statements, and while there was nothing unusual about them, I found the statements for the account where her monthly living allowance comes from. The thing is this: She told me she needed David to sign over her account, but she was already a signer on the account where her funds came from. I knew Bethany, and for all her extravagance, she wasn't that big of a spender. You were right, Blake, she must have needed the money for something else; a large expense. Now, I've met plenty of heirs, and while some have large living allowances, others have to get approval for every little thing they want to purchase. Bethany was not that kind of heiress. Pretty much, she had free reign over her finances."

He just looked at her.

"Are you hearing to me?"

"Yes, I am but I can't discuss the details of the investigation with you. I'll give you this, though: You're right, there was something that she wasn't telling you. I'd be a fool not to see it. There are always secrets when it comes to my work, and it's my job to uncover them all."

Anna took a sip of her martini.

"So why did you come down here, then? Obviously, you knew I wanted to talk about the case."

"My job is to gather information, not give it. I was hoping you had something more to offer me. I mean, you can't have possibly thought we wouldn't figure these things out? You were right about my partner, so I thought I give you a shot."

"What happened with you and your partner?"

"Let's just say he's had it in for me all along. I don't want to talk about it, but I'm onto him now. Game on," he said and shot down the rest of his beer.

"Anna," said a woman's voice.

She turned in her seat and saw Sheila standing by the bar.

"So much for being sick!"

"I know, I'm sorry."

"What happened to your eye?"

"That's an interesting story. Blake, this is Sheila; Sheila, this is Officer Blake."

"Just call me Blake."

"Get a drink and come sit," Anna said.

Anna explained about everything. Sheila laughed like a horse when she heard she'd been punched.

They ordered another round of drinks.

"Sheila, you should have been a boxer," said Officer Blake.

"I was a boxer, for a short while in my teens."

She shot a kamikaze and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

"Ever think of becoming a cop?"

"Hmm, no, it's a thought, though." You think I'd be good at it?"

"I've no doubt," he said with a smile.

Anna couldn't help but smirk at the idea of Sheila protecting citizens and punching out bad guys. Maybe if she had somewhere to focus her aggressions, she'd act like a lady when they went out.

"How was the party last night?" Anna asked.

"It was alright. What did you do?"

"Got drunk off my ass, and then magically wound up in my bed."

At about midnight, Officer Blake called a cab and helped Sheila up to her apartment. Then he helped Anna to hers.

On the stoop of her apartment building, the moonlight gleamed across his face; the night was so blue that it was black. Cool ocean wind blew all around them, chilling them to the bone. The night was a perfect backdrop for a romantic evening; the chill was a perfect excuse to snuggle up close and mush noses.

He stood real close to her and pressed his lips against hers for a moment.

"Would you like to go to dinner some night next week?"

"Nope." She walked inside and just before she closed the door, said, "Good night. I'll talk to you soon."

The next day at work was terrible, but she was determined not to disappoint Sheila.

She swayed beside the cash register, leaning on the counter for support. At noon a woman in dark sunglasses came in; it was the woman from the café, Jillian.

"Hi, can I take you to lunch?"

She wanted to say no thank you, but as soon as she parted her lips, a geyser threatened to break surface. Pressing her hand to her mouth and squeezing her throat tight, she nodded her head.

"Perhaps you'd like to visit the rest room, first?" she offered.

She lifted her other finger in a way that said "just a moment" while nodding her head. Then she bolted to the employee bathroom, in the back.

By the time she was hunched over the toilet, the urge disappeared. So she stuck her finger down her throat. She might as well get it over so that she could eat.

They walked across the street to the hotel and up to the restaurant where Jillian recommended a mimosa to help her through the day.

"The best way to stall a hangover is with alcohol. We, Russians, know this for fact."

She slid the flute across the table.

"Go ahead, give it a shot."

She took a long sip, and amazingly enough, felt as if she were waking up.

"The orange juice gives you nutrients and makes you more aware; and the champagne numbs your sickness."

"Thank you, it's very good, too."

"Well, I'm so glad I got you, finally. How are things?"

"Alright."

"I haven't much time, so I'm just gonna get to the point. How would you like to work with Sisterlings as a moderator? You would be sort of like Nica. You'd greet people and take notes. I think you'd be good for it."

"I don't know. I got too much going on, right now."

"It pays $500 a week, part time. You log on for a couple hours on Thursday and Friday, and that's it. I know you must be worried about how you're going to make ends meet. Sheila has told me everything. This could supplement your income, and it's less than ten hours a week."

She reflected on her words. It was true: she wasn't as great of a Sephora saleswoman as she'd hoped, and her lawsuit was taking more time than she'd anticipated.

"Alright, I'll give it a shot."

A grizzly smile spread her ruby red lips, baring monstrously white teeth. There was just something about this woman that chilled her to the bone, and it wasn't just her masculine voice and unblinking eyes; this woman gave off an evil aura.

"Now that you're with us, you're protected by Sisterlings. Here," she handed her a business card. "Call our legal department. Sheila told us you're having problems. We can help you with your law suit. I recommend you call them today; it's free and they're ten times better than the mountebank you hired."

She stood up and adjusted the brim of her cream colored hat.

"Lunch is on me, but I must go. I'll see you soon, I expect."

Anna didn't waste time calling Sisterlings legal department. The lawsuit was going terribly, and the stalling arguments were so petty that she'd wondered if she'd been swindled by her attorney. If he were legitimate, he needed to consider another profession.

She knew she was right about her lawyer being terrible because the very next day, she got a letter in the mail from Sisterlings. Her old employer wanted to settle for twenty-five thousand dollars. Legal wanted to know if she'd accept or wanted to press further at the risk of not getting any money.

Naturally, she called them right away, accepted their offer, signed the papers and faxed them over.

Thursday night was her first shift. She logged on and was assigned a room called newcomers. Before she was fully live and chatting, a mandatory training module popped up on her screen. She read through her initiation packet and got signed on.

She opened the room and greeted everyone as they entered. Thankfully, Anna didn't have to participate in the conversations as much as Nica, as she was a room hostess. Anna was simply a moderator and profiler, so she was only to observe.

From the little box on her live desktop she pulled up an empty profile page, and picked her first patron of the evening, Marcabes. In the first box, she recorded the topic of Marcabes initial comments and wrote about when and how she indicated laughter, if ever. She seemed cheerful and wanted to talk to anyone who would read her notes. Additionally, she was very open, and started many topics of conversation, and wrote many details about herself and her family. It wasn't long before she realized Marcabes was nothing like Anna, or the others in the room; she was simply a lonely lady.

The next person she picked was loud, lewd and critical, often making snarky comments to people who were enjoying themselves. Her name was Axebender, and it seemed somewhat appropriate, as she seemed to slash every topic with an insult.

She filled out profiles until midnight, and then, submitted them electronically. Next, she sent email greetings to the members of the room who didn't chat much. The greetings were personalized, and encouraged them to join her in the following week's chat session.

Friday, she went into the Sisterlings office to pick up her check from legal. The office was located in the penthouse of the Penmac building. Not only did they have more employees than she imagined, but they were quite busy for an internet social site.

To her surprise, both men and women worked there. She'd assumed it was an entirely female company.

As she re entered the lobby, a terribly old and severe looking man walked through the hall. He looked like someone very important. Briefly, his eyes flicked to hers. In them, she could have sworn she saw recognition. She'd never seen the man before, though, so she wrote it off.

A woman from across the room waived to her. Anna stopped walking.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Mary. I received your profiles, last night. Would you come and talk to me for a moment?"

"Sure."

She followed her down the most sterile looking hallway she'd ever seen. It was almost like it was made of stainless steel.

Mary stopped in front of a door, which she held open for Anna to pass through.

"How did you like acting as a moderator?"

"It was alright."

She slipped on a pair of purple glasses and started shuffling through papers.

"Out, out, out," she muttered, as she set a couple profiles on the desk.

"What do you mean by 'out?'"

"Well, not everyone is a good fit for Sisterlings."

"What does it matter if everyone just wants to mingle?"

"Okay, good," she said, ignoring her question. "Try to focus more on the things, they say, that might be significant. For example, on one profile you've got, 'talks about cat often' while on another profile, you've got 'curses in every text.' We want to hear about curses-in-text person. We don't care about talks-about-cat person; he or she will be removed from the site. Think of it like this: Your job is to determine who is a good fit for Sisterlings. Who needs our help the most?"

"Okay, I get it."

On the way out, she spotted Angie, who grinned and waved at her. Anna was hoping she'd come and talk to her a moment, but she motioned that she had to go, and then walked down another hallway.

She told Sheila all about working for Sisterlings when they went shopping in the village. At a discount shop, Anna sifted through racks of jeans, and Sheila was picking through cargo shorts.

"I certainly like how easy the job is, and the money is a help. Still, it's strange that a company would keep such detailed records on its clients. I don't think the clients know they're being tracked so closely. It might be illegal."

"Well, it does say that they might be approached or questioned by counselors. It's for efficiency and comprehension."

"Yeah, but why?"

"Maybe they're purely interested in furthering research of the human mind?"

Sheila picked out an army green pair of khakis.

"Want to go to a party?"

"Only if you promise not to buy those pants."

Later that night, they met Angie at her apartment. It was the first time she'd been there, and it was a disaster area with dust and smoke squeezing out the oxygen. To her relief, they didn't stay long. Loud music, from downstairs, started vibrating through the floor, so they got ready to leave.

Angie painted twice as much black eyeliner around her eyes. She wore a pretty camisole that had flower stitching. Sheila put on makeup and tousled her hair into a lofty, blonde lioness halo before they left.

"Why are you both trying to look good?" asked Anna, "for a bunch of dumb college guys?"

"You never know, they might like an old broad like me," said Sheila, picking food out of her teeth.

"I'm disappointed that, for once, you don't have the desire to hit someone, particularly a college kid."

"Anna, they're actually pretty nice. Give 'em a chance," said Angie as she put the cap back on her eye liner.

A moment later they made their way down the stairs. The floor that the guys lived on smelled like cigarette smoke.

The door to their apartment was open. They walked in and found a cheesy strobe light turning on the ceiling and a bunch of twenty-somethings lingering about.

A slightly adolescent looking guy in a white shirt and backwards cap came up and said, "Hey, Angie. I'm so glad you came. Who are your friends?"

She introduced them all.

"Hi, I'm Jake," he said. "Well, there's beer and food in the kitchen. Help yourself and enjoy."

They helped themselves to plastic cups of cheap, watered down tasting beer and went out onto the terrace.

A woman named Missy introduced herself and the others. They talked about classes and work, and potential jobs. Some of them were recent grads but most of them went to New York University.

Anna, Sheila and Angie listened awhile and sipped their beers.

"That's a nice sweater," said a woman in a black camisole. She touched her sleeve and said, "It looks so soft. Where did you get it?"

"Oh, thanks, um that's that a long story."

"Did you get it from your friend's house?" said Angie.

Anna looked, curiously, at Angie, but was then distracted by a tall, dark haired guy who'd been eyeing her since she'd come onto the terrace.

"Where do you work?" he asked.

Anna left the party at eleven pm. She couldn't take the small, useless talk anymore, or the annoying kid who kept trying to make out with her. However, Sheila made a successful mark of man, though. They were practically in coitus in the corner of the kitchen, next to the seven layer dip, and as she walked out, she spotted Angie slow dancing with a guy and girl, in the living room.

Not wanting to disturb either of her trysting friends, she sent Sheila a text, letting her know she was leaving.

When she returned home, it was to find Officer Blake in the lobby, reading a newspaper.

"What are you doing here?"

"I have some news."

He followed her upstairs, and while she made espressos, asked, "Do you recognize this guy?"

He held up a picture of the guy whom she stood up at dinner, weeks ago.

"I don't know his last name. His first name is Jack. He works for Matrix."

She explained about the date.

"Well, we found a witness who says he was in her apartment the night she was beaten. We weren't able to find anything on him, which is strange because we can locate anyone."

"Now you have a lead."

"Are you sure I can't take you to dinner some time?"

Anna sighed.

"I've wanted to try Spinaldo's for a while now."

"Expensive taste; can't be too good for your salary."

"Nope, it's not good at all."

He smiled.

"Alright, if that's what I gotta do, then Spinaldo's it is. I'll pick you up tomorrow at eight, but you'd better show or I'll never forgive you."

Anna laughed. "Sure thing."

Officer Blake jerked his head and blinked his eyes.

"What?"

"You just smiled," he said sounding amazed.

The next morning, as she got ready for work, there was a knock at her door. Through the keyhole, she saw it was David.

"What do you want?" she said through the door.

"I thought you'd like to know that they arrested someone for the murder of Bethany. I'm no longer a suspect."

Then he stood there waiting.

"What? You have nothing to say? After all you did to me, after I tried to be kind to you?"

But Anna didn't have anything to say. She was still put off by his decision to end Bethany's life so soon.

He walked off when he realized he would get no recognition from her.

As he said, Blake buzzed her apartment at five minutes to eight pm.

"We arrested Jack."

"Yeah, I know. David came to tell me this morning, but I still couldn't talk to him. I don't like him."

"That's understandable. I'd feel the same way, if I were you."

Twenty minutes later at Spinaldo's, they sipped wine.

A woman came and took their order. As soon as she'd gone, Anna pressed him for more answers.

"So I don't get it. Why do you think Jack is the guy? It just doesn't make sense."

"I can't talk about it. When it's done, I'll answer whatever questions you have. I promise."

Ignoring him, she continued, "Jack is unbalanced, yes I know, but he didn't know Bethany."

Officer Blake sighed, and then gave in.

"Actually, they did know each other, although Jack isn't forthcoming as to how. In questioning, I got the sense that he knows Bethany extremely well, and that they might have worked together on projects of some sort."

"Well, I've never heard of him, not ever."

"I hate to break it to you, but there may be many things you don't know about her. You said it yourself, just because people want company, doesn't mean they don't want privacy."

"I didn't say that exactly, but essentially, yes."

After dinner, they went to Joes and had more drinks where she learned more about Officer Blake. He moved to the city after graduating from New Hampshire State with a degree in criminal law. Originally, he wanted to be a lawyer, but after an internship, decided he hated lawyers, and ironically, the judicial system.

In the alley beside the bar, they shared a cigarette they bought from the vending machine. Officer Blake yanked Anna by her waist, pulling her close to him. It was strange feeling his heat emanate to her skin through her clothes.

He leant in and pressed his lips gently to hers. He pulled back and looked at her, then, decided to try again. This time, parting her lips with his and caressing her tongue with his. Once more, he pulled back and looked at her.

Anna was unsure of what to do or say.

A shadow fell across his face. His features seemed to sag. He released his grip on her.

"Maybe we should call it an evening," he said.
Disappointment
Chapter 10

Anna didn't hear from Officer Blake, though she texted him and left several messages. She wasn't totally clueless, and knew she should have returned the affection he showed, but she didn't know how. She didn't feel affection for him, and faking it was something she'd never learned to do.

Now that she had a bit of money to her name, she quit Sephora. Sheila was bummed out about it, but Anna needed to find her own way in life. That's why she signed up with a temporary agency and decided to take a few assignments. After a few weeks as a receptionist, data entry clerk and research assistant, she'd been assigned a job as a library tech. It was very basic work, and an extremely secluded job even with a hundred people in the place. Yet Anna never felt so at home, and thought that maybe she'd return to school for a degree in library science. She'd read that some librarians did make good money, if they had the appropriate credential. The only downside was not getting to drink coffee for hours in the morning, which was a vice she couldn't live without. She understood that liquids and books didn't mix, so she frequently snuck off to the staff room for quick fixes.

All was well until she read an article in the Voice that said a local con man had been released. She almost dropped her coffee as she leant in and saw the picture was of Jack. Blake hadn't bothered to tell her.

She apologized to her new boss for having to leave work early and caught a cab to the precinct.

When Officer Blake appeared, she said, "I want to talk to you, now!"

He opened the security locked door. Her heels echoed harshly off the walls of the hallway.

As soon as he closed the door to his office, she said, "Why didn't you tell me you were releasing Jack?"

"As I said, I'm not going to discuss the case with you."

"This is not a simple detail about the case; this is an update that's important. I would've liked to have known. You could have told me, at least, that Jack had been eliminated as a suspect."

"Any updates you want, you can get from my partner. He's right across the hall."

"Fine! I get it. You don't want to talk to me because I didn't like kissing you. You're male ego has been bruised."

"Actually, I've been removed from the case for having personal interests; in other words getting too close to you. My partner saw us at the bar the other night and reported it."

"Oh," she said, taken aback. "I'm sorry that happened."

He reopened the door.

"Get out of my office."

~~~

Mike emailed her an invitation to a special tasting at his warehouse. Although it was against her instinct, she invited Sheila and Angie. She'd always wanted to go to one of his tastings but didn't for fear of being questioned for being alone. She just hoped her new friends didn't embarrass her too badly.

That evening, she knocked on the warehouse door, which was in the back. Mike appeared in his usual ripped jeans and unshaven face, but he wore a fresh collared shirt.

"Anna! I'm so glad you've finally, finally made it to one of my tastings! I thought you didn't have friends."

Anna introduced them.

The front part of the store room she'd seen on various occasions. It was a basic storage with pallets of wine piled up to the ceiling. Covering the entire right wall was a large cherry cabinet that looked like a monster sized armoire. Anna knew that within was a few hundred single bottles of wines Mike had won in various online auctions across the world. Only once had he opened it for her, but the greed in his eyes told her he'd never part with any of what was inside.

Mike led them to a security door, and when he opened it, revealed a wooded room. It was the size of a ballroom, and just as elegant. There were dozens of racks of barrels of wine; all with signs hanging on them, noting year, varietal and label.

People moved about sampling from the barrels, and grazing the table of food in the middle of the room.

"Mike, do you make your own wine?"

"Shh..." he said. "It's a secret."

But as they wound their way through the evening, Anna learned that Mike was not just a hole-in-jeans, dirty shirt wearing, rough neck guy, but that he was a specialty wine maker. That was why he always appeared scuffed up when she saw him, often with dark purple nails and looking like he needed a bath. She'd just assumed he was a slob who couldn't keep his wine in a glass. According to a lady who claimed to be his distributor, his label, Sombre Leger, could go for thousands of dollars per case.

Angie seemed interested in the event, and its people. Sheila was already getting that bored look on her face.

"Let's get a glass and start drinking," said Angie.

"Good idea." Sheila sighed.

On the left side were the basic white varietals, and as they progressed, tasted sweeter and more experimental wines.

"Ugh," said Sheila, sticking out her tongue. "That was nasty."

"It's a young ice wine," said a man in a suite who stood next her. He appeared to be in his thirties. The way he'd tucked his handkerchief in his pocket, and the quality of his shoes, told Anna that he might have been wealthy.

"That's no excuse," Sheila said and dumped the rest of the wine in the bucket.

The man, who likely had a thing for blondes, seemed stapled to Sheila's side after that moment. Casually, he brushed off her vulgar and unenlightened comments as he strolled beside her.

"Dammit!" Angie exclaimed. "Why aren't there more attractive men at this event?"

Before proceeding to the other side of the room, where the reds were, they stopped and grazed at the food table. That way they could taste with cleaner pallets. Over fois gras, they met a man named William. He was Mike's European store supplier, and he was there from Switzerland. Angie had hoped to get his arm for the evening, but then an attractive woman with red lips came up and kissed him on the cheek.

When they were back on the wine trail, Angie asked, "So how do you like working for Sisterlings."

"It's okay, but I don't understand all the profiling. It's just a social site."

"Those who fit with group are given new privileges. They can go into hosted rooms and to meet and greets."

"Was I profiled?"

"Yep, and you were accepted immediately: you, me and Sheila. Sometimes they know who is a fit based on their profile, other times, it takes more inspection; that's where you come in. You're the first in the screening process."

"Anna," Mike called. "Come, I want you to try my Cab Franc. It's just your style."

After testing several of his reserve wines, Sheila announced that she was leaving. They watched as she left with the businessman following.

Fairly drunk, Anna and Angie shared a cab. Anna was dropped off first. She waved goodbye and they drove off.

On the side of her building, she saw a shadow move but ignored it. She opened the glass door when someone grabbed her by the neck and dragged her into the shadow of the building. Anna couldn't breathe and could barely focus, but judging by the cologne, it was a man.

As she learned in self defense class, she pushed both of his elbows upward, creating a bit of space around her neck. It was just enough to step back and slam the back of her head into his face. He'd released his grip even more, so that even though he held her, she was able to turn around and knee him in the crotch. Then she stood back and kicked him in the crotch again, with her foot.

In too much pain to yell, he went down to the ground. Reaching into her purse, she pulled her brass knuckles and proceeded to pound his face until her fist was covered in blood.

When he no longer moved, she yanked at his arm, pulling him onto his back. Barely visible through the blood was Jack's face.

Even though he was off of Bethany's case, Officer Blake showed up.

"I don't understand why you kept beating him, Anna? It's so sick and twisted."

"I'm sick?" she yelled. "He tried to kill me. How else was I to subdue him? Are you going to ignore my neck?"

"Okay, I'm sorry."

"What's gonna happen to him, now?"

"He'll be charged with assault. You need to file a restraining order, too. Here," he handed her a card. "That's where you can start the process."

"But doesn't this prove he could have played a part in my friend's death?"

He shook his head. "One has nothing to do with the other, but it is a coincidence."

"I don't understand why he attacked me, do you? I mean it wasn't my fault he was arrested."

Blake remained silent.

He put his arm around her and guided her up the stoop and back into her apartment building.

"You might think about installing a sensory webcam in your apartment," he said as they rode the elevator up.

"Why?"

"Because something is going on, and I have this feeling it's not over."

"You think he'll come back and try to hurt me again?"

"I don't know, it was just a thought. You ever get the feeling that something bigger is going on? And you might never know what that thing is?"

Anna had felt that way ever since David Winthorpe came to town.

As they got off the elevator, Greg appeared in the doorway. His eyes flashed at her and Officer Blake, quickly, and then he withdrew and shut his door.

"What was that about?"

"A long story," she said and unlocked her door.

Before going into her apartment, she said, "I'm sorry about the kiss the other night. I'm not much into relationships, but I think you're pretty cool. The truth is I didn't dislike kissing you."

"Uh, okay," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm gonna go, but call me if you need anything."

Moving On
Chapter 11

Two weeks had passed. She hadn't heard from Officer Blake. Not that she spent much time expecting or hoping for him, or his partner, to call with news of the case. Instinctively, she knew their efforts weren't leading them anywhere. So far, they'd been more concerned with keeping their privacy. On a few occasions, Anna wondered if they were so secret because they really had nothing to show for the time they'd spent researching Bethany's death.

When she realized she would get nowhere with Blake or his partner, she turned her focus to work. The library had become her home away from home. She loved being there, hidden between the bookcases, and even the scent of the mold that emanated from the pages of the thousands of books made her feel alive. There were days when she would have rather been at work than at home, which was a new feeling that she couldn't believe. Normally, she would have given anything to stay home.

Her enthusiasm hadn't gone unnoticed, either. However, so many people wanted library jobs that her attitude, alone, couldn't get her far. So as reward, the librarian's assistant appointed her to work the desk as a clerk, checking people in and out for a couple hours on Friday evenings. Silly as it sounds, this was a big deal in their organization.

Sisterlings had become more like a chore than ever. The only reason she'd stuck with it was for the money. After successfully identifying several potential members, Anna was promoted to chief moderator, which allowed her to work in several rooms at once, picking out Sisterlings types. Chief moderators also got a raise in pay; they even gave her a shot at becoming a hostess like Nica. As such, she could go into any room and pick out three candidates whom she'd, then, invite to private chats. If they went alright, Anna would invite them to a meet and greet at Joe's.

The first evening she met a group was a disaster. Marcy, Jill and Stephanie were the three she'd chosen, and it didn't last long, either. Within moments, two of them wanted to kill each other. Marcy was a Lolita-cosplay, truly sadistic, and extremely self centered woman trying to act dolly. Angry Jill was an old Manhattan type, more refined, wearing only black and holding herself with grace. When she saw Lolita Marcy, she immediately turned up her nose.

Trying to smooth things over, Anna signaled the waiter and encouraged them to order drinks. As Marcy ordered, she purposely leant over so he could stare down her bustier top. Jill's upper lip curled. When he walked off, she called Marcy a trashy whore. Stephanie, who hated the sound of people's voices – due to a possible sensory disorder – stood up and left without a word. Marcy threatened to stab Jill, who grabbed her bag off the back of the chair and followed Stephanie's example, leaving Anna to the tacky and strange Marcy.

Anna wanted to bury her head.

The following week was just as terrible. It was hard tripling them together. She really was miserable at being a hostess.

Determined to get answers, she picked up a bottle of Grey Goose, dry vermouth and cigarettes, and then stopped by Angie's place. As usual, loud music could be heard in the stairwell. Anna knew it had to be the college guys.

She knocked, loudly, on Angie's door, hoping she'd hear her through the music.

A shuffling on the other side of the door told her Angie was looking through the peephole. The locks on her door clattered and clicked. Angie pulled back the door and motioned her to come in.

Her place was cleaner than usual. The floor was shiny as if she'd mopped and waxed it. All of her things had been put away, and the place no longer smelled like a car ash tray.

"Wow," Anna said. "Did you clean this place yourself?"

"No, I hired someone to do it," she said as she relocked her door. "Have you brought me a gift?"

"Sort of."

She set the bag on her counter and pulled out the alcohol and cigarettes.

"Now that's how I like my visitors to come: with vices."

Angie pulled a couple short glasses and a shaker from the cabinet. She pressed the silver cup against the refrigerator lever, and ice fell into it.

"So why have you stopped by? It's not like you."

"Well, I hosted a meet and greet tonight."

"And it didn't go so well," she said in an understanding way. She cracked open the vodka and poured it into the shaker.

"How did you guess?"

"Your issues are not uncommon."

Waiting for Angie to finish shaking before she continued, Anna pulled a cigarette from a pack and lit up.

Exhaling, she said, "I don't understand how I keep picking such terrible threes. I'm so embarrassed, and I fear explaining this in my report. You have no idea how lucky we all were to meet each other."

"That's because Nica is talented at her job. She pays attention, and looks for traits that compliment others. Her trick is to pair one person's weakness with another's strength, even if they resist it at first."

"Is that what Nica thought of us? That we'd compliment each other?

She nodded her head and poured their drinks.

"I needed a purpose in life to ground me, but also, I needed people who wouldn't pressure me to be or do anything I didn't want. So she paired me with two people: one not likely to offer the proverbial olive branch, meaning I'd have to take the first step in beginning a friendship, and the other, a perfect blend of commonality and oblivious abrasiveness; someone who wouldn't care if I acted aloof or was rude. You are shy to approach, so she paired you with two loud mouths, Sheila and I, who would take the lead but not forcibly. I think she knew you'd warm up and become comfortable around us, and she must have been right because you're here, now, the way you are. You would have never dropped by for a social visit before."

"That's true," she said and sipped her drink. "What about Sheila?"

"Sheila is oblivious; she's like a guy trapped in a woman's body."

"She's our buffer," Anna said and laughed.

"Yeah, she is, kind of. I'm way too obnoxious for you, and you're too stick-up-your-ass for me. She's our middleman-woman."

"So what do I do?"

Anna took a deep inhale of her cigarette.

"Pay better attention. You just have to be more selective."

"Have you had much success at the meet and greets?"

"I work in the back. I never hosted."

Angie set her glass on the counter and tapped her cigarette over the ash tray.

"You never mentioned that. I've wanted to know what's going on at the 'back' for a while, now, but everyone is so secretive. What do you do back there?"

"Paperwork, mostly. I'm hungry. Want pizza?"

She walked across the room and picked up her phone.

They sat around, eating and watching movies until late. Anna wanted to go home earlier but she'd had too much to drink again. At eleven pm, there was a knock at the door. In came one of the guys from downstairs, but she couldn't remember his name.

"Hey, Anna," the guy said.

"Hey," said Angie.

She got up from the couch and kissed him. Then she turned and said, "Well, we're gonna go to bed. I've set the deadbolt so that, if you leave, it will automatically lock. But you have to twist it to get out, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

They turned out the lights. Twenty minutes later, the sounds of love making annoyed her to the point of wanting someone dead.

Sloppily, she climbed off the couch and snuck out of the door. She leaned on the walls as she walked down the stairs and left the building.

~~~

The next time Anna saw either of her friends was at an office party. Sisterlings had gained its millionth member and they wanted to celebrate with the team. They rented out a room at the Starling and provided a full bar and music. Anna wanted to stay home, but the memo email she got said it was mandatory. Now she sat at a table, alone, watching people talk and move about the floor. Some of whom didn't even work at Sisterlings, but were members of the website.

A fellow moderator and hostess she'd chatted with, occasionally, came and sat at her table. Lyssa sighed and took a drink of her pink lady.

"Well," she said. "I've made my rounds and said hello to everyone. How about you?"

"Oh, I'm just enjoying my drink and waiting for the evening to end."

Just as Lyssa was telling her about her kids, a woman in black sat down next to her.

"Hi, Lyssa," she said.

"What happened to your ankle?" Lyssa asked.

"Training in the back."

Instantly, Anna's ears perked up.

"Oh that's terrible. Want me to get you a drink?"

"Yeah, I would love that. I'll have a lemon drop."

As Lyssa walked off to the bar, the woman turned her attention.

"Hi, Anna. I'm Milly. I've heard of you. How are things?"

"Alright, thanks. I'm enjoying my work here."

"That's good. I work with Angie. She's mentioned you."

Lyssa sat down with her drink. They talked for a few minutes about what Anna knew not.

From across the room, Sheila and Angie waved. Lately, they had been spending more and more time together. Anna couldn't explain it, but this bothered her. Sheila didn't come around as much anymore. As much as she annoyed her, Anna had come to rely on her presence.

At that moment, Anna couldn't put the "back" out of her mind. What was back there?

She stood up and walked across the floor.

Just as she was about to leave the room, Angie waived her over.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I'm going to the 'back' is what's up.'"

"What?" she asked, sounding confused.

"Yeah, I want to know what's 'back 'there."

Comprehension came to her. "I wouldn't go there, if I were you. The office is supposed to be closed."

"Someone's always at the office."

"What if you get fired?"

Ignoring her question, she said, "That woman over there, the one that's limping, said she sprained her ankle in training in the back."

"I haven't a clue. I know there are several facilities, here, to help its members."

"Help them do what?"

Angie shrugged her shoulders and said, "Help them deal in society. There are prime members; they get special privileges. Really, why is it so important? Every company has confidentiality clauses. Is it really that important?"

Anna couldn't tell if she spoke the truth or not about not knowing. Angie was a unique and talented communicator who rarely gave any tells as to what she was thinking or feeling from moment-to-moment. In other words, it was hard to tell if she were lying.

"Hey, Anna," said Sheila, distracting her from her thoughts, "have a good time. Stop being so serious all the time."

"Yeah," she laughed, "Bethany used to say the same thing to me. What happened to your hand?"

Sheila had a dark red bruise traveling down her forearm to her knuckles.

"Oh, I had to show someone a little something."

That time, however, Anna caught it: the tell. Sheila was a terrible liar. So the question was: Why would she lie about having "to show someone a little something?" She'd always been forthcoming in the details of her violent life.

But then as she looked around, she noticed that quite a few of the guests and employees seemed injured or held themselves in postures that suggested physical exhaustion. She recognized the looks and poses from her own days in tai chi and kung fu class. Living in the city could be dangerous. Her parents insisted she learn self defense. She spent ten long years learning the arts.

Curiously, and suspicion arising in her gut, she sipped her wine and walked around the room. She observed every detail of every person. First, Nica who had done her best to hide the purple under her eye; then there was Michael, a psychiatrist who spoke more like Hannibal Lecter than a humanist. Earlier, she heard Lily, the receptionist, mention something about a blade room.

"What is going on here?" she muttered to herself.

~~~

Daily, the news reported on deaths throughout the city. Bodies appeared in dumpsters, slit to death. On one occasion, a male appeared covered in red welts. Autopsy suggested hot wax torture. Whoever the criminals were, they were kinky and twisted.

Surprisingly, Officer Blake stopped by the morning after the office party. She ignored the pounding on the door. Then he called her, repeatedly.

She dragged herself out of bed and, her eyes seemingly glued shut, tried to look through the peephole. Anna couldn't see anything, and started trying to wipe dried crust from her eyes. Blake must have heard her standing there, because he said, "It's me, Officer Blake."

Anna managed to open her right eye as she opened the door.

"What the hell do you want?" she hissed.

Officer Blake's lower jaw dropped.

"Did you have a good time last night?"

"Just come in," she said, smearing away mascara from her left eye.

"I just wanted to see how you're doing."

"Fine. Coffee?"

"Why don't you take a shower first? As it is, I'm resisting the urge to shoot you."

It took a moment for what he said to sink in.

"You're lucky I'm hungover."

In the bathroom mirror, she found understanding right away. Her hair stood on end as if she'd stuck her finger in a light socket – it was all the hairspray. Eyeliner was smeared down to her cheeks; lipstick had stained her teeth and was everywhere except her lips; her eyelashes were clumped together, and there was humungous molds of eye mucus in the corners of her eyes.

When she left the bathroom, refreshed but still groggy, it was to find Officer Blake sitting on the couch. In his hand, he held a cup of coffee. On the coffee table was her French press.

"Did you puke, yet?"

"No," she said and laughed lightly.

Leaning over, Officer Blake grabbed the handle and tipped the press over her cup.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"Alright, nothing new."

"That's good. How are Angie and Sheila?"

"They're fine. I'm sure they're home, recovering, too."

They sipped in silence a moment. Then he said, "Well, I wanted to stop by because I have some bad news. I thought you might want to hear it from me."

"What?"

"The case is being closed. There are no viable leads, no witnesses, no apparent motives, and the chief ordered my partner to mark it as unresolved and move on."

She set her mug on the coffee table and almost ran to the bathroom. Then her stomach settled.

"Are you too hungover to be upset?"

She shook her head and said, "I knew this would happen. I could tell you guys were getting nowhere."

"What's that?" he asked, leaning over and looking at her laptop screen. "Not to be nosey, but I was looking at it while you were in the shower."

Anna looked up from the rug and was surprised a moment.

"I don't know. I opened it last night, but figured I was so drunk that I couldn't read. I guess it's a messed up memo from work."

"Actually, it looks like some kind of code. There are several sequences of letters and numbers that are repeated; it looks intentional."

"Hmm. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. I'm big into puzzles and anagrams. See that word, right there? If you rearrange it, it spells organization, and it's repeated several times; that word right there, meeting, and that word spells time. There are a few others I've figured out."

"I don't get it. Even rearranged words are readable to the human mind, but those words don't spell organization and such. They're missing letters."

"The missing letters are the key, which you have to figure out. I guessed the first two, which are I and N. Next, through a process of elimination, you figure out the word by adding the keys. Although after a while, you can learn to read a coded message without the key; it's just a language, only modified."

"That's very interesting," said Anna, her mind turning.

"I was gonna ask you to lunch, but you probably couldn't stomach food right now, could you?"

"An acquaintance showed me that mimosas are the key to overcoming a hangover."

"Is it true?"

"For me, it is."

"I know a place where we can go."

Anna leaned on Officer Blake the entire way to the restaurant. As usual, she went to the bathroom and puked, before returning and ordering eggs benedict.

"Why haven't you been by to see me before?"

"After last time, I wasn't sure that I wanted to see you."

"I apologized," she said defensively.

"Once you bruise a guy's ego, he's not gonna want to see you again."

"Oh, so you are sensitive and have feelings?"

"No, it's just men have their pride."

"Oh, so you're insecure and unforgiving?"

"No, it's just..."

To Anna, Officer Blake looked like he didn't know what. Still, she thought it better to let it go.

Back at her place, after breakfast, she pulled up the email again. From the drawer of the table, she pulled a notepad and a pen. She tried to figure out some of the words, but her head started to spin.

Anna lay back and fell asleep.

There was another knock at her door a few minutes later.

"Why have you come back? I thought you were going to work."

"I figured you might need some taking care of."

He held a brown paper bag.

Officer Blake set the bag down on the kitchen counter. From it, he pulled a cranberry smoothie and a bottle of ibuprofen.

"What's all this other stuff?"

"I'm gonna make chili for you. It's the best thing I can do."

"So you're going to be here all day?" she asked, pulling out the cans of tomato sauce and herbs.

"You're swaying," he said. "Go sit down."

A series of sounds came from her kitchen. Anna stayed on the couch and sipped her smoothie.

He came and sat down beside her.

"Everything go okay?"

"Yep," he said. "Sauce is simmering. I see you attempted the letter?"

"Yeah, but my head, haha."

All of the sudden he started scribbling.

He handed the pad back to her.

'To: Office Memo

Hello all!

The quarterly report is in, and the numbers look good. To Stephanie, thanks for all your hard work in securing unique bids that, without, we would have never met our goals.

Congratulations to Erica, who in just one month, has taken all her targets.

"That's awesome. How did you figure it out so quickly?"

"Well, I switched the I for R, and then another half of the puzzle came to light. Here, you try."

She looked at the pad a moment; it swirled like a hypnotic funnel.

"I can't, right now."

She looked at Officer Blake, and for the first time, noticed his eyes weren't brown; they were cobalt. He didn't turn away from her; he leant over and kissed her, deeply. Dropping the notepad, she kissed him back.

That evening, naked and over chili, Officer Blake talked about taking her on a real date. Unsure of how to respond, Anna nodded her head and kissed him.

The next day, he left after breakfast. He had to stop into work, but promised he'd come back and see her in the evening. She got back to playing with the letter, until she got a call from the superintendent from Bethany's building. They had hired someone to remove her items, and if she wanted to look through them, she had until five pm. Thinking Officer Blake could help her carrying some things, she waited for him to return.

When he did show, he was glum.

"What's wrong?"

"I lost out on a promotion," he said and thumped down on her couch.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Anna. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, in fact, I wanted to go home."

"Why did you come, then?"

"Because I didn't want you to think I'd stood you up."

"Well, if you want to go, it's alright. The superintendent of Bethany's building has given me until five to pick up whatever I want from her apartment. I was hoping you'd come with, but you don't have to."

"Nah, I'll come with you. It'll get my mind off of things."

Officer Blake's car was parked down the street. He held the door open for her as she got in.

Traffic, in and out of the city, had already begun to congest the streets. Anna got out of the car, a few blocks from the building, and went ahead while Blake looked for a parking space.

The doorman tipped his hat and held open the elevator. A feeling of closure came over her because she knew it was literally going to be the last time she'd step foot in the apartment. Yeah, she'd get some fancy collectibles, but Bethany was now a memory. Soon, weeks would pass and she'd forget to remember her, especially now that the police investigation was closed.

Bethany's apartment had already been somewhat cleaned out. The only bit of furniture that was left was the old couch. Bethany wasn't one to experiment too much with her appearance. She wanted to be classy, elegant, but the one place she allowed herself to be fancy and fun was with her couches. One year it was blue and yellow plaid, the next was zebra, than it was purple, red, and now it was fluorescent pink that literally glowed for a few hours in the dark. Everything else was cured, carefully hand carved wood. Her paintings were classic images abstracted from talented but unestablished artists in the communities. Yet there, in the middle of the room, a fluorescent pink couch. She laughed to herself because she knew the color was likely why it didn't sell.

Suddenly, Blake entered the room.

"Find anything?"

"I think so."

Anna went through the rooms and poached what she could find. Mainly, spare towels and bed clothes that were brand new. In her room, there was still a stack of jeans and jackets that were untouched; makeup that was still in its packaging; skincare products with unbroken seals.

Hmmm, she thought to herself. Maybe Bethany was a bit of a hoarder.

Blake helped Anna move the things into his car. When she was done, the only thing left in Bethany's old home was her old, used goods, most of which would likely end up in the trash.

Over leftover chili and internet television, Blake complained. "Did you really have to bring back this crazy couch?"

"I like it," she said and licked her spoon.

"If we ever lived together, the couch would be a deal breaker."

Anna stopped short of a mouthful of beans. Could Blake really imagine living with her? And after only a couple of months knowing each other?
New Beginnings
Chapter 12

Anna and Blake continued to see each other on a weekly basis. Although she didn't have feelings for him, she really did like him. She enjoyed having his company, and especially at a time when she was seeing less and less of Sheila and Angie. Over lunch, sometime later, Anna got the distinct impression that they were hiding big secrets, together. They were in on something, but who knew what?

Friday night at the Yucatan, they splurged on margaritas and Mexican food. From time to time, they gave each other knowing looks; they finished each other's sentences. For a moment, Anna wondered why she even bothered coming. She always hated being the fifth wheel.

Wednesday was her free night. Blake was working late. After she left the library, she made a round to Mike's and ordered a case of wine. Lately, she'd spend so much time working, at meet and greets with Sisterlings, and with Officer Blake that it seemed like forever since she'd visited her favorite fish market.

It felt good to have a moment to herself; a night of quiet. And just like she used to, she walked home while struggling not to drop her items. The difference was now, when she exited the elevator to her floor, Greg was nowhere to be seen. When she did see him, he withdrew like a turtle into its shell.

"Sweet!" she said to herself when she realized that all her favorite shows had the most recent episodes uploaded.

She pressed a screw into a bottle of Jumilla, and then unwrapped a sandwich. But as she sat there watching her programs, she realized that something in her had changed. She enjoyed her shows, and relaxing, but she felt empty; there was no other way to describe it. Having a busy schedule made her realize something: She liked being occupied. Now, it was like she was getting used to not having anything to do.

Anna looked through her window and down at the street. People walked by, looking as if they had somewhere important to be. Then she remembered that she had something to do.

Back on the couch, she set to deciphering the email once again. Too bad Blake wasn't there to help because Anna wasn't as fast at deciphering. So far, there were five keys: S, I, N, and R. The rest of the encoding was throwing her off so bad that it was almost like a joke.

Sisterlings sent her an email asking that she stop by the office after her shift at the library, that Friday.

The minute she got off the elevator, her eyes roved the room. She looked for anything strange and unusual, especially injured people.

"Hi, Anna," said Lily, the receptionist. She seemed normal. "Nica will see you in her office."

Anna went down the sterile hall. All around her, the walls and the floor vibrated every few minutes. She wondered where it was coming from. Instead of making the right to Nica's, she went straight ahead until she faced the door that she knew went to the 'back.'

She tried the handle, but it was locked.

"You'll need a card to get in, or a code," a man said.

Anna never saw him before. He was middle aged with deep lines in his forehead.

"Oh, okay," she replied.

"Can I help you find something?"

"No, I was just wondering what the sudden intervals of vibrations were?"

"Oh, they're just exercising."

He walked off.

Nica's office was the most friendly. It didn't have the sterile quality that everyone else's office had. On the desk, there were daisies, and the walls had pictures of her family alongside her credentials.

"How have you been, Anna?"

"Great, thank you."

She sat in the opposite chair.

"I'm glad to hear that. To start, let me just say that you are a super person, and you've improved so much since you've been here. Unfortunately, we're gonna have to let you go. Sisterlings is for a certain group of women, and it seems like you're too much of a loner even for us. We're looking for people who are willing to take things to the next level."

"What do you mean by next level? Every time I've tried to understand this organization better, I've been shrugged off."

"It's not my decision. I'm sorry. You can pick up your last check from human resources on your way out."

When she found out Bethany had been murdered, she had the same feeling of numbness. A buzzing erupted along her neck and hairline. Her face was extremely warm. Maybe Sisterlings had become like a chore, but she enjoyed her work. She didn't understand what went wrong. Before, with her other employers, she expected to get fired, but now, she was confused.

She walked to the Tower.

How embarrassing it was going to be to tell Sheila and Angie. Although, come to think of it, she hadn't heard from either of them in over a week.

A young waiter approached.

"A bucket of oysters and a martini."

Several hours later, and feeling pleasantly buzzed, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet. As she did this, something fell with a loud clinking noise and slid across the floor.

"Excuse me, Miss. I think you dropped this," said the man at the next table.

"Thanks."

She held out her hand, into which the man dropped a little black rectangular piece of plastic. She'd never seen it before. Across the middle of the device was a line, indicating that it came apart. She pulled at both ends of the plastic and discovered it was a little usb drive.

"Huh," she said to herself. She was wearing a red leather jacket that belonged to Bethany, so it must have been hers.

She stuck it back in her pocket.

Her phone rang. It was Sheila. She just didn't have it in her. Anna put her finger on the red icon which sent her to voicemail.

On the stoop of her apartment building, Blake sat.

"What are you doing here? Were we supposed to meet?"

"No, I thought I'd surprise you. You know, you really shouldn't drink so much."

"Yeah, okay," she said dismissively and unlocked the door.

"So how was your day?" he asked as soon as they were in her apartment.

Anna didn't want to talk. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him into a sensual kiss.

Despite her sloppy state, she couldn't sleep. Her mind turned over and over with Nica's words. There had to be more, she kept telling herself. Then she'd ask herself, "More what?" Whenever something happened unexpectedly, there had to be a reason, not just "it's not working out." And if it wasn't working out, Anna was sure she would have suspected it. No, something was amiss.

She got out of bed and put on a kettle of water. From the little grey tin, she scooped loose tea and stuck it in the pot to simmer.

Feeling a little more clearheaded, she pressed the button on her laptop. The screen came on and she inserted the little drive she found earlier.

The tea kettle whistled.

A hot, steaming mug in hand, she sat back down.

The driver information had been updated from the internet. She clicked the little pop up icon and found the drive had two files she couldn't play.

The window asked if she'd like to search the internet to find a program. She clicked yes and waited.

Twenty seconds later, the sounds of a woman crying woke her out of her focus on the pad she was using to decode the Sisterlings email.

At first, she didn't believe what she was seeing. A crying woman was tied to a bed in a dark room while a man in a black sweater sifted through her drawers. When he turned, she saw it was Jack.

"What the hell is that?"

She jumped, spilling a bit of tea on her. Blake stood beside her, looking disgusted.

"I'm not sure."

"Let me see that."

"No, it's mine."

She yanked the drive out of the socket and slipped in her pocket.

"Do you realize that you could get in trouble for that? If it's real?"

"It's not real."

"Where did you get it?"

"No where."

After bickering a few minutes, he agreed to go to bed.

In the morning, she woke and found he'd gone, along with the usb drive.

Barely dressed and without brushing her teeth, she took a cab to the precinct. Inside, there was a long line waiting, so she texted Blake.

Blake must have called the front because the next moment, the lady behind the desk pressed the buzzer and signaled that she could come in.

Once in his office, she shouted, "Why did you sneak off with my drive?"

He stood up and shut the door.

"I'm a cop. I have responsibilities. If someone's being hurt, I can't just ignore it."

"I want it back."

"Sorry, I can't do that."

"No one's being hurt."

"Anna, do you not realize that Jack is on here with a female hostage? Doesn't that impress you? What if it means he did kill your friend? And you're holding evidence, do you know what that means? You could go to jail. Someone could think you're involved in a kidnapping."

But Anna didn't care. She wanted to know what was on the drive.

"I haven't seen what's on the drive. I want to see it and then you can have it."

"I can't do that. It's for your protection. If you really don't know what's on the drive, don't you think that could prove your innocence?"

Her temper flared like a match.

"So that's what you're all about? Sleep with me and then take advantage, is that it?"

"You know it's not like that. Did a word of what I just said make any sense to you? Stop being angry; it makes you illogical."

"I don't want to see you for a while."

As she turned to the door, he said, "If I find out you had anything to do with this, I'll be bringing you in."

"Fuck you."

She opened the door and walked out.

There were many days when Anna wished she was normal, but now, she wished she could go back to her old life. It was one thing to have nothing and no one, but it was another to be intentionally spited and left out, like when she tried to call Sheila and Angie, and again, they didn't answer. For a short while, her life changed and she had everything she wanted: friends, new job, a sense of belonging and even a sort-of boyfriend. Now, she was right back where she started. How did that happen?

Anna mused about these things as she walked home.

In front of her laptop, she zoned out while watching a zombie web series. She picked up the note pad again.

'To those in our Prague Office: Be sure to email me profiles of all your new members. If you haven't received your itinerary, please let me know (don't forget to include dates and destination).

Below, please find the roster of completed/non completed targets.

William Hosler (P)

Amy Hannigan (P)

John Heely

Monique Miller

Mitchell Ross (P)

Steve Sondeheim'

...

The list went on and on. Anna was tired but she continued to decode the names because it was a relief to have a distraction. She didn't want to think about her life at the moment. When she'd done, there were a hundred names on the list. At the bottom, it said, 'Email me your claimed targets by five pm, or they'll be assigned to someone by me. Thank you. Human Resources.'

"So the email was a list," she said to herself. "And S-I-S-T-E-R-L-I-N-G-S was the key."

She should have known.

~~~

Two weeks passed before she heard from Sheila; it was the longest time ever. Anna was over being friends with people, though, and pressed the reject button when she finally called. That same day, Angie left a message wanting to know if she'd like to get together.

Anna erased it. Perhaps she was being harsh, but more than anything, she wanted to get to where she was before; before Blake, Bethany's death, and even Sisterlings. She had a new job that she loved, and that's where her focus would lie from now on.

That was until Friday morning when the temp agency called. Apparently, her going off duty in order to meet a police officer about an investigation was not received well. The library had so many candidates that they needed criteria to cut people. Having a questionable reputation seemed like an easy criteria to dismiss.

Numb, and without a goodbye, she hung up the phone.

~~~

Several weeks had passed. During that time, Anna only left her apartment to order groceries and toiletries. She smoked and drank from morning until morning, or until passed out. Continuously, movies and television shows played on her laptop. And as she turned pudgy on her couch, she fantasized about going into hiding, forever, in some exciting city in Eastern, or informally called, Central Europe. She never wanted to see the inside of her apartment again, but that was tricky seeing as how she didn't want to leave and see people ever again.

She leant over and pulled another cigarette from the pack. She might as well just skip out on the last month's rent because there was no way they'd give back her deposit, now that she'd smoked in there.

Days went by in a blur, until one day there was a knock at her door.

Quickly, Anna clicked mute on her laptop. The knocking kept going, and then someone slipped something under the door and went away.

She pulled herself up off the couch, and stumbled to the floor by the door. Sloppily, she ripped the envelope in half, along with its contents. She pieced them together and read.

'Dear Tenant

This is a notice to inform you that you are in violation of lease code 32.b which states this is a non smoking building. As per the lease, signed by you and attached to this notice, you are hereby being evicted. You have thirty days to vacate; if you do not, you will be forcibly removed.

Property Management'

Then the door across from hers opened. Greg smiled wide at her, and bent over and picked up his paper. Looking her straight in the eyes, he grinned as he shut the door.

"I'm gonna get that fat pig," she said to herself.

Most people would get a letter and start making plans to relocate, but Anna knew what her plan was: She was getting out of town. She didn't need a plan because she'd know when to stop, when she found a place to be. Anna had no idea what she meant by this, but she supposed she'd keep going until she wanted to stop.

Whatever... she thought.

Several days later and still drunk, there was a knock at her door. As before, she clicked mute and pretended not to be there. Finally, the sounds of the locks being undone scared her.

She shot up and went to the kitchen and grabbed a large pan.

The door opened and in came Sheila and Angie.

"What the hell are you doing here? How did you get a key to my place?"

"I stole your spare months ago."

"Figures."

She put the pan down.

"You look disgusting."

"Great, will you go now?"

"No, we're worried about you. It's time you get your shit together, starting with a bath."

"Ugh! The scent is disgusting. Worse than my place," said Angie.

She went and opened the window. There was another knock at the door. Several cleaning ladies came in.

"You," said Sheila. "In the shower."

After she'd cleaned up and put on a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt, they took her to lunch at the Yucatan.

"Why have you been avoiding us?" asked Angie.

"It's the other way around. I've texted and called, and you guys never responded, so why should I respond to you? It's not like we're friends."

"We've been busy," said Sheila.

"So? What has that got to do with me? How long does it take to send a text or make a phone call? At which point, during all that time, did you not sit at a computer and use your email?"

The waitress came and took their orders.

"Why are you not at the library anymore?" asked Sheila.

Anna explained about Blake getting her fired.

"Did you kick his ass?" asked Angie.

"No, the moron doesn't know."

"Where is the usb device, now?" Angie looked very curious.

"He's got it."

Sheila and Angie exchanged looks.

"What?" Anna asked.

"Nothing."

When they got back to her apartment, it was to find it cleaned and aired out; although the smell of cigarettes still lingered.

"Hey," Anna said. "Can you tell me what this is?"

She picked up the pad and slid it across the table.

"I decoded it from a funny email I received from Sisterlings."

Sheila shrugged her shoulders and said, "Looks like a memo to me."

Angie didn't say anything.

"Yeah, it sure does look like a memo," Anna said and smiled. "Let's have a shot!"

"No, you shouldn't drink," said Angie.

"I'm gonna drink whether you join me or not. I know Sheila's down, yes?"

Anna went to the kitchen and got a dozen shot glasses and a bottle of vodka and a bottle of chardonnay – Sheila wouldn't drink anything else that was labeled wine. She placed the shot glasses on the coffee table and poured vodka into each one; then she poured them each a glass of wine.

"Cheers," they said, each picking up a shot glass and downing it.

Anna put on a movie.

"This is a funny one."

A few minutes later, she said, "Go ahead and finish the rest of these. I'm a little queasy."

Sheila didn't waste too much time, as she put down four more shots. Angie did two more and left it at that.

Sheila fell asleep during the movie and couldn't be wakened. Her snores drowned out the usb bullet sound device.

"I'm sorry," Angie said when the movie was over, "but I gotta get going."

"It's alright," said Anna. "I'm just glad you came by."

They gave each other a brief hug.

On her couch, Sheila continued to snore like a pig until early that evening. When she woke, she was still pretty drunk.

"Oh, man, I'm sorry. You know how I get though."

She sat up on the couch.

"It's okay. Here, have some coffee."

She poured the French press over a large red mug and handed it to her.

"Do you have cream?"

"I have milk, hold on."

They sat on the couch and watched another program.

"So do you think you'll ever see Officer Blake again?" she asked and then sipped.

"I don't know. I doubt it. Do you know why I was fired from Sisterlings?"

"No, why would I know that?"

Sheila bent over and grabbed a cigarette. Although her choice of timing could have been natural, Anna knew it could also be a distraction tool to help stall when answering questions.

"What did Angie say about it?"

Ah ha! She thought as Sheila, instead of directly answering, took a long drag and blew smoke.

"Just that you were doing things that concerned people in the organization."

"You mean snooping and trying to find out what's happening in the back?"

"Yeah, I think so. You have questionable alliances, is what she said."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know, honestly."

"The only alliances I have are with you and Angie, and Officer Blake. I don't know anyone else."

Sheila took a long and deep drag. Once again, her timing didn't go unnoticed.

"What have you and Angie been doing the last couple of weeks? Why haven't I heard from you?"

"Nothing, we've just been working out a lot."

"At Sisterlings?"

"Yeah."

"Sisterlings isn't just a website for whiny, loser women, is it?"

"No clue, but whatever else it may be, it's secret."

"You mean illegal?"

"I don't know. It's just what I heard Angie say."

"Do you think it has something to do with this list?" she asked, indicating the notepad.

"I don't knoooow. Why are you so curious? Don't you know about the cat that died, or whatever? Just leave it alone."

Her phone rang.

"Speak of the devil," Anna said.

She pressed the reject button and it went to voicemail. When the little prompt came up, she pressed it and it put her through to voicemail.

"What did he want?"

"He wants me to go down to the station and meet with him. Want to come with me? We can get some dinner afterward? I've wanted to try Bouchon, a little French bistro; it'll be my treat."

Despite her condition, Sheila agreed because she never turned down a free meal. She wasn't fat but she was a little husky for sauce. Bouchon's five-star lobster bisque was the diamond lure that sealed the deal.

Being outside, that evening was a pleasure to her skin, hair and lungs. An air mass was moving in from the ocean, and it was fresh and salty and coated her skin, blew through her pores; touched and brought every particle to life. She loved the taste of the salty ocean air.

Maybe I should move to Boston?

She breathed in and out, deeply.

They covered their eyes as they approached the cream colored building, which the red- sun was reflecting off of in its twilight.

As before, she texted Blake so she wouldn't have to stand in line. Sheila waited in the front room.

He led her into an office with a mirror window.

"What is this about, Blake?"

"I want to know how you came across the pen drive."

"Why?"

"I'm asking the questions. If you don't cooperate, then I'll have you labeled a suspect."

"Suspect of what?"

He opened a folder and pulled a picture of a woman.

"Who is she?" he asked.

"You ought to know."

He just stared.

"This is the woman on the clip, on the drive."

She took a second, closer look.

"I haven't a clue. I didn't really get a chance to look at the recordings, before you snuck up behind me. Then we went to bed, and the next morning you were gone – along with the drive."

At the mention of their going to bed, together, he shuffled in his seat, and briefly, glimpsed at the window-mirror.

"She showed up dead, two days ago. Have some compassion."

"I don't know her!" Anna said with emphasis. "That's terrible news, but as I said."

"Where did you get this drive?"

She sighed.

"I got it from Bethany's apartment."

"What were you doing there?"

"I was getting some things. The super of her building told me her stuff was being picked up and taken to dump. He said that if I wanted anything, I needed to be there by five pm. You know this, Blake, because you came with me."

"And what did you get while you were there?"

"What a stupid question! You know what I got: Jackets, bedding, linens, just about everything that was left. The drive fell out of a red leather jacket that belonged to Bethany."

"Okay, you can go."

Abruptly, he stood up and opened the door.

"That's it? Aren't you going to tell me why I'm here? Or who that woman was?"

He left without a word.

That night, she and Sheila partied so hard that she didn't even remember how the night ended. Past that, she drank for several days, nonstop. Occasionally, there were knocks at her door, but unless she expected food or wine, she didn't respond.

Angie called and invited her to a party Friday night; in preparation, it was the first shower she'd had all week. Come to think of it, it might have been the first time she'd brushed her teeth, too.

Sheila came by before the party and they took a cab together because they, both, wore platform-stilettos.

Anna looked around the apartment in disgust.

"I thought you said this was a non-work party. All I see are Sisterlings employees."

She turned to leave.

Sheila put her hand around the collar of her dress, yanking her back and asked, "Where are you going?"

"I don't want to see anyone. Hello, I was fired. I'm humiliated."

"You're not going anywhere. Besides, I heard that Nica wants to hire you back, but for a different, better position."

"I don't want to go back. I just want to go home and tune out."

"Just stay. She might offer you more money. If the party starts to suck, I'll leave with you. We can go to the Tower and have oysters and midnight happy hour."

Growling under her breath, she walked the room with her, and introduced herself to those she'd never met before.

"I never knew Angie had so many friends. So much for never, ever, going outside."

On the other side of the room was a woman in a black suit. She was tall and pale with cutting blue eyes and her hair up in a bun. Something about her cold, delicate features reminded her of Jillian. She must have been a powerful person, because Anna immediately noticed how everyone took many glimpses of her, often out of the corner of their eyes.

"Let's go see who that woman is," said Anna.

"She's a cold, stuck up bitch. Why do you care?"

"Just come on," she said irritably.

The woman was talking to an older man who also wore an impressive suit. Her eyes flicked in her direction, as she approached. She was intimidating, in appearance, but Anna wasn't easily frightened.

"Hi, my name is Anna and this is Sheila. Everyone is looking at you out of the corner of their eyes, so I thought maybe I'd come and meet the mysterious woman in the gorgeous power suit."

"I'm Dalia. This is Mikael. We're here from the Poland division."

She reached into her leather clutch and pulled out a business card.

"I've heard of you, I think. David Winthorpe mentioned you."

"Excuse me," she said louder than she meant. "Did you say David Winthorpe; the brother of Bethany Winthorpe."

"Yes, that's him. They own Sisterlings."

"You're mistaken, that can't be."

"No, they've always owned it."

That night, Anna lay in bed thinking about how Bethany had never mentioned the website. Why, not?

She went over the conversation, again and again. Did David realize she was working for him? Maybe that's why she was fired? Only, from Sheila, she got the impression it was because she was dating Officer Blake. Then again, there was something peculiar about the way Dalia spoke of Bethany and David, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

In the morning, she got a call from the assistant city attorney, Michael Williams. Jack was in jail again, but this time for the murder of the woman in the clip. She was gonna be called to testify about him, and give an account of his attack on her. That same afternoon, a young guy served her papers, in her doorway. Her first court appearance was scheduled for the following week.

Anna couldn't have been more triumphant. Maybe it wasn't the right fight, but she felt she was a winning participant, anyway.

She arrived at the courthouse an hour early. The attorney, Angela Miller, greeted her.

"So all I need is for you to answer these questions," she said, handing her a sheet.

Then, just for practice, they ran down the list. When Angela was satisfied, she said, "Okay, so now you just need to be prepared for the defense, who will ask you questions that are not on this list. Just answer them honestly and accurately, that's all."

That day, she learned that the woman in the clip was Agnes Taylor. She was mid forties and worked for the CIA. Apparently, she was investigating activities within an organization, called the Crest Foundation. Angela implied that Jack was under orders, from the foundation, to eliminate her.

Anna was disappointed she didn't get called that day; they simply ran out of time. The judge ordered that they'd meet back the following week.

It was a long and sleepy ordeal that day, when she made it back to court. She barely stayed awake through the testimonies, which were a long succession of rambling recollections. She looked to the right and saw that even the jury was having a hard time. What Anna needed was to go home and finish packing.

Finally, near the end of the day, they called her. Angela ran through her list of questions. Anna responded, accordingly, and the defense, James Wilkes, didn't wish to question her. Really, there was no need because Anna had proof and witnesses that the events happened as they'd said; from her night out to the time the cab driver dropped her off, and the time she called the police. Jack wasn't getting away without at least one verifiable act of violence that would cast a shadow on his case.

"Can I leave?" she asked Angela, on the way back to her seat.

"No, can you please just wait fifteen minutes? There's nothing worse than needing to recall someone when they've gone. If you stay, this will be the last day you'll need to be here."

"Okay," she said and went back to her seat.

As before, her head lulled, repeatedly, like a yo-yo. She just hoped she didn't snore in the middle of court. But every time she pulled her head back, it slid down, until she heard a name.

"It was David Winthorpe."

Her head and eyes got a sudden jolt.

"And you say it was he who gave you the orders to kill?" asked his defense attorney.

"Yes, and he promised I'd be protected," Jack said.

"Have you heard from him since?"

"No, he lied to me. I know I'm going down for my crime, and I tell you this at the risk of my life: David Winthorpe has ordered the deaths of others, before."

"Are you saying that you've killed before?"

"No, Agnes was my first kill. I screwed up. I didn't check for hidden cameras. I think she knew Winthorpe had it in for her, and I think he intended for me to take the fall."

They exchanged a few more words, and then they were adjourned.

Anna was lived. Blake never told her that Jack implicated Bethany's brother as a murderer. Briefly, she thought about going to the station and shouting at him, but then, she knew it would be a waste.

Angie and Sheila came by that evening; they wanted to know everything about the trial. Anna told them about David Winthorpe, and once again, they gave each other knowing looks and fell silent.

Then when she left the room to "get something," she heard Angie say, "Poor Agnes."

"Did you know her?" asked Sheila.

"She was at the agency, but Jillian knew that she was really with the CIA. I still liked her, though. I never thought someone so vanilla could reach me, but she did."

Pretending she'd heard nothing, she returned to the room and said she was ready to go.

"So have you found a place, yet?" asked Angie as they walked downtown.

"No."

"What are you gonna do?" asked Sheila.

"I'm gonna put my stuff in storage, rent a car and take a long vacation."

"You can't leave!" said Angie.

"Why not? What else am I gonna do? I have no plans, and I don't wish to make any."

That night, when she lay in bed, she again, recounted all the events of the last few months: Bethany's tragic death, David's suspicious demeanor, violent Jack, and now, the fact that Bethany and David owned Sisterlings. Jack was under his employ, so maybe he could have killed Bethany for money reasons.

But what made her mad is the idea that Bethany likely knew Anna had joined the corrupt website. Why was it being investigated by the CIA? And what if David sent Jack after her? Why did he never try again?

Unable to sleep, she made her way back into the living room. All along the walls, brown boxes towered. She'd lived in that place for ten long years. Although she was glad to be leaving, she also mourned the idea of leaving the place behind.

She pulled the pad of paper out of the coffee table drawer. She flipped back the page with the deciphered message.

Whenever Anna had unanswered questions, diagrams helped her put things into perspective. Her main question was the one she'd been asking all along: What's going on in the 'back'? In other words, what was their secret operations?

In the center, she wrote Sisterlings. She drew two lines out of the top and wrote Bethany's and David's name; then below those, Jillian, Nica. Below the center, she drew more lines, and filled in all the people she knew with the company.

Then in a separate visual, she wrote the strange things she'd seen: injuries, vibrations, and the email.

Thinking about the email, she flipped the front sheet over so she could look at it again.

Sharply, she breathed in. Once again, a buzzing sound erupted in her ears.

Agnes Taylor was on the list. Next to her name was a (P).

"P, p, p..." she said to herself. "Perished?"

What, Now?
Chapter 13

She didn't sleep that night. All kinds of thoughts ran through her mind: What should she do? Should she call Blake? Should she confront Angie? But then again, she knew she shouldn't do any of these things. If they were crazy enough to send Jack after her once, they'd someone for her again.

As soon as the sun came up, she called the moving company and told them to take her things to storage. Then she grabbed her travel bags and clutch and caught a cab.

Nervously, she tapped her foot as she waited in the long line of people who came in from the airport. She would have picked an in-town rental, but she wanted to return the car anywhere and catch a flight, if she needed.

Finally, she got to the window and received a key for a Scion IQ. It was a tiny car but she was on a budget.

Still, it was nice and clean, dark interior and the air conditioner was a relief, as New York was already getting summer heat.

Anna sighed with relief when she finally made it to the 90 East. She lit a cigarette and took a sip from her foam cup of coffee. As she cracked her window, her phone beeped. Nica wanted her to come to the office because she had a position she might be interested in.

Briefly, she wondered if she should toss her phone?

Fumbling, she cracked open the back and removed the battery and tossed the phone into the glove compartment.

Thanks to a bizarre draft of gridlock traffic, she didn't make it into Boston until four pm. She checked into a motel room on the North End, and then, sick of driving, decided to walk to Neptune's Oyster Bar.

The bar was cozy and full of people who hardly noticed as she entered the warm atmosphere. After having their famous crab chowder, a dozen wellfleets and a few ice cold beers, she walked through the salted ocean air to her motel room.

A cloud of fog blurred the night; it dampened her skin and hair and made it harder to see the full moon. The old fashioned street lamps barely shone out against the moisture that smothered them. All this made the streets nearly pitch blue-black.

"Shit," she muttered when she realized she'd lost her way.

Anna dug in her pocket for the map, since her phone, which had GPS, was dismantled in her car. She reached for the tiny led light she kept on her key chain at all times. Leaning against the wall, she struggled to identify her location.

Twenty minutes later, she approached the back of the motel which blended darkly into the shadows of the night.

To enter the back of the motel, she had to enter her key card in the slot. A couple fooled around in the pool. The woman was startled as she walked past.

"Sorry," Anna said.

She followed the cement path through a stucco hall that led her to the front of the motel, where her room was. As soon as she emerged from within, she faced the parking lot that was in front of the motel. Her blue Scion was parked in the front row, and she knew she was in the right place. She turned her head right and stopped dead. Two shadowed people stood in front of her door. She couldn't see their faces but her instinct told her not to approach.

Quietly, she turned on the ball of her foot, hoping they didn't already hear her footsteps. She ran the length of the hall when a familiar voice shouted, "Anna! Stop!"

She turned around and a second later, the faces of Sheila and Angie came into view.

"How did you know I'm here?" she asked angrily.

"You have to come back," said Sheila, ignoring her question.

"I don't want to come back. I'm taking a road trip."

"We know that you know," said Angie.

"Know what?"

"You have to come back with us because they won't let you go."

"Who won't?"

"You know who," Angie replied.

"David Winthorpe?"

They said nothing.

"Forget it," she said and turned to walk off.

There was a clicking.

"No, stop," said Sheila.

Then there was a muffled shot.

Anna turned. Sheila was on the ground, bleeding.

"Sheila?" she called, but she was out. "Why did you shoot her? She's your friend!" shouted Anna.

"Actually, I meant to shoot you."

"Angie, how can you turn on me like this?"

"Sorry, but orders are orders."

Angie pointed the black gun at her; a gleam of light beamed off its silencer.

Anna was already outside of the stucco hall. She dove to the left side of the wall.

A bullet sped past her. Angie's footsteps echoed as she walked the length of the hall.

From her pocket, she pulled the miniature can of pepper spray from her keychain. When she appeared in the open, Anna sprayed her.

Angie yelped. Anna, thinking back to her time in self defense, threw an angled axe kick through her arms and into her face.

She dropped the gun, and a bullet fired from the chamber, smashing into a glass window somewhere in the distance.

Angie pushed up from the ground and attempted to punch her, but with eyes swollen half way shut, missed her and hit the stucco wall. She screamed and groped her hand.

Anna picked up the gun and ran to the front of the motel.

The glass door flung back, almost shattering under her force.

"Call the police," she yelled at the desk clerk.

"What?"

"Call – the – police," she said breathlessly.

She waited in the lobby for the cops and an ambulance to come. When they finally did, she told them everything.

The paramedics ran down the hall to find Sheila, but she'd gone. The police, then, threatened to arrest her for making false emergency claims, until one of them heard a call on the radio about a house that had been shot at.

"That was Angie! That was my friend, trying to kill me."

"I'm gonna go check on it; try to corroborate her story," said Officer Vicks.

Ten minutes later, he came back.

"Come on," he said, beckoning her.

She followed him out of the office and through the stucco hallway.

On the ground, where Sheila's missing body lay, was a lot of blood.

Officer Vicks led her to front of the house that had been shot. There, another officer stood, waiting to take her statement, too.

Several hours later, the police left, and they allowed her to return to her hotel room. Anna, however, didn't waste time. She packed her bags and made her way back to the 90 East.

She made it to Augusta, Maine, by ten am. Not such an exciting place, but she'd always had a fantasy of living there in a wintry seclusion.

In need of gas, she stopped at the first gas station off the exit and fueled her car. Then she went inside to use the restroom and get coffee.

On her way out, she noticed that among all the Maine memorabilia, there was a rack of children's metal bats no bigger than the size of her forearm. She slipped one off the rack, paid for her items and left.

In the middle of downtown, if one could call it that, she found a room. She peeled off her clothes, took a long, hot shower and fell asleep on the bed.

When she woke, she walked through the downtown area. Similar to Boston, the place had a feeling of old, but Augusta also had a small time feel that she didn't mind. She learned it was true; they, too, had an excellent fish market, as she found herself on the harbor and tasting fresh King Salmon that'd been caught just a few hours ago.

Two days later, stuffed on fish and ale and stout, she took the 90 south, but as soon as she could, went west toward Ohio. Even though she came from a country area, for some reason, it just wasn't the same as when she crossed Pennsylvania's Dutch country. The air wasn't moist and salty like Maine; rather it was dry, hot and made her thirsty. She was like a fish out of water driving through that land.

On the east coast, one could drive with the windows down, but there, she kept her windows up. It was at that moment she knew that she'd always be near the water.

She looked into her rearview mirror. In the distance, the front of what looked like a black BMW moved speedily toward her. Immediately, Anna broke into a sweat.

What if it were Angie again?

Just calm down, she said to herself. Angie's hand was broken, so it can't be her.

But then as she saw how quickly it was closing the distance between them, she realized the car had to be going a hundred miles per hour. That just wasn't right.

A rest stop sign passed her; it was two exits ahead. Anna pressed the over drive button and got a burst of speed as the engine roared, and suddenly felt loose under her.

Her wheels squealed as she skidded off the ramp. She parked right in front of the gray brick bathroom. No one else was around; not parked in the lot or eating at the picnic tables.

Good, that'll make this easier.

She got her metal bat and disappeared around to the back of the building.

Two minutes later, the black BMW pulled into the station. Anna's blood pressure shot up as she realized she was right. Suddenly, she was scared and her breath, although shallow, sounded like a trumpet.

The sound of the door opening and closing echoed off the brick wall. Steps sounded their way into the bathroom.

Anna ran to the front, and then into the bathroom. In less than a second, she registered that the person, who was looking in a stall, wore sunglasses, a hat and a high collar. She only had time to look up before Anna slammed her in the back with the bat.

The woman yelled in pain and fell to the cement floor. Her face slammed off the toilet seat, making Anna cringe. A huge gash appeared in her mouth, followed by a fountain of red that covered her face in an instant.

Anna didn't waste time. She rose the bat to the ceiling and brought it down, with all of her force, onto her hand which held a gun, and then again on her ankle. Both times, the sound of crunching bones echoed off the walls. Just the sounds made her somewhat nauseous.

Ignoring her senseless screams, she picked up the gun. Then she pulled the woman's hat and sunglasses off: it was Nica.

Anna searched her pockets and pulled out her wallet and keys. She removed all her cash and credit cards, and then smashed her phone in.

"No, please!" she whined.

"Yeah, right! Are you seriously begging for my mercy? You've profiled me and others like me. Do you think I care if you die here, in pain?" She laughed. "Actually, this feels pretty good. Now, I know why you all like this hit business," she said trying to sound facetious. "Ciao, dear."

She bent down and slapped her on her broken ankle.

Anna left the bathroom to search her vehicle. There, she found two boxes of bullets, a carton of cigarettes and a six pack of bottled water.

"Thanks, Anna!" she shouted into the bathroom, as she carried her loot to the car. Then she slashed the BMW's tires and took off in the Scion.

She drove for many hours, determined to get as far away from the rest stop as possible. Just because she smashed Angie's phone, doesn't mean she wasn't traceable. From there, it was only common sense to know which direction she'd go.

She chose the most obscure roads that would lead her into the Amish country of Ohio. By midnight, she checked into a tiny room and board where a woman was kind enough to make her a sandwich, even though it was late.

The next evening was a disaster, for even though she'd done her best to choose her roads, she still ended up lost in some hillbilly town.

Starving, she stopped in a steakhouse on the side of the road. Inside, she sat at the bar and wondered if she were making the right decision. Normally, her instinct would have been to go to Chicago, but now that she knew how easy she was to track, she wondered if a place that relied less on technology would be better. After all, Chicago had cameras on every street. Winthorpe and his buddies seemed to have top notch tracking abilities.

From then on, she was going to pay cash for her purchases.

"Do you know where the next motel is?" she asked of the waitress.

The woman gave her instructions to a Super 8, but she couldn't find it, so she pulled off to the side and slept in the back of her car.

The next morning, she cursed herself when she learned that she was in West Virginia. How in the hell did she make a full on circle? She should have been near the Indian state line, bordering Illinois. Thinking of the waste of a day and gas made her head hurt.

Nevertheless, she got back on the road and took it all the way through West Virginia, crossed into Kentucky. By nightfall, she slept in a bed bug ridden motel near the Tennessee border.

She pulled a can of hairspray from her bag and sprayed the entire top of the comforter. Next, she sprayed herself with mosquito spray and slept on top of the bed.

At midnight, she woke to the sound of her door lock rattling. Bat in hand, she rolled onto the floor and crawled over to the wall, next to the door.

The door flung open. Bullets fired across the room to the other side, hitting the bed and blasting the microwave.

She slammed her bat into the caps of the person's knees, and judging by the screams, it was another woman. She stood up and slammed it into her stomach.

The woman struggled to shoot. Anna, then, whacked her face, knocking her out. She picked up her gun and removed the hat and sunglasses.

It was the dark haired woman from the party, Milly. She opened her eyes after a moment.

"What do I have to do to stop you, assholes, from coming after me?"

"They won't stop coming," she said. "Not until you're dead."

"How are you guys tracking me? I dismantled my cell phone."

"Crest has the best trackers in the world. Your guess is as good as mine."

Once again, she sifted through items, picking out what she wanted and left.

She tried to stay awake but she was too tired, so instead of staying in a cheap motel, she found the next big city and checked into a hotel with security. And just as she nodded off, there was a knock at her door.

"Oooooo!!" she growled.

"What the hell do you want?" she yelled as she swung open her door. "Blake?"

"Anna, I'm glad to see you're alive."

"What is going on here? Why can't everyone just leave me alone?"

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind," she shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to tell Blake everything because he would likely force her back to New York. Besides, she was doing alright on her own.

"Jack is dead."

"What?"

"He was stabbed in prison, and we've reason to believe that you're in danger, too. You know that organization you're with? Sisterligs?"

"How did you know I was with them?"

"We have reason to suspect they're a cover for a secret hit organization."

"Yes, I know."

"You do?" His forehead wrinkled. "Why did you never mention it?"

"Did you believe Jack? I'm sure he tried to tell you, as he tried to tell us in court, that day."

"Alright, point taken. We need to go, now. Get your stuff. We'll wait downstairs."
Full Circle Net
Chapter 14

She just couldn't believe her terrible luck. How was it that she'd been gone nearly a week and literally only made a full circle. She should have been half way across the United States, and instead, there she was still on the East Coast.

"How did you find me?"

"Seriously? After all the trouble that seemed to be following you, you didn't think people would check up, and that we'd be notified?"

The officers took turns driving all night so that they made it back to the city by the next day.

They rolled to the front of the precinct.

"Where am I going to stay?" asked Anna. "This is the worst time of year for hotels."

"I'm putting you under police protection until we can get this figured out," said Blake.

She spent the entire day in the station waiting for the police to set up a room for her. Every time she tried to leave for lunch or for a walk, Blake talked her out of it. They had to get all kinds of clearances, so that by the time they were ready to take her to a hotel, it was late at night.

Blake refused to stop for dinner at her favorite bistro.

"Do you not understand what is going on here?" he asked. "You can't be seen. People can't know that you're back in town."

"If Winthorpe and his guys are as connected as you say, then he probably already knows."

"I don't care. We're staying in."

"Fine, but we're ordering sushi and you're department is paying for it."

The room was a full suite on the top floor of a hotel in Harlem. Although it looked shabby on the outside, once in, it was clean and cozy.

Anna set her bags in the room on the bed. Blake went to inspect his room. The other two officers sat in the living space and turned on the television.

"You guys," she heard Blake's voice. "What are you doing? Go patrol. I'll call you if I need you."

"Anna," he called.

"Yes?"

"Here's a menu. Pick what you want. I'm starving."

"Can I order whatever or however much, since the department's paying for it?"

"Just don't embarrass me."

Four orders of toro sashimi and kyuri no sunomono later, and Blake was peeved.

"Should you be drinking on the job?"

He twisted off the little cap of a vodka.

"With you, I definitely should."

"I'm gonna take a shower."

"Uh, huh," he said with indifference.

Two weeks went by in the hotel. Not once was she allowed out. There were no new developments in the case, except that David Winthorpe had fled to god knows where, and he never got around to having a formal memorial for Bethany, whose ashes he was supposed to take back to Connecticut. No matter what they did, their attempts to get permission to search the Penmac building, home to the Sisterlings and suspected Crest organization, were denied.

"No evidence, no crime; no crime, no more protection," he told her the final Friday of her day in custody.

"So I can go, now?"

"Yeah, well, I talked to my boss. He says you can stay until the end of the month, since you have no place to go. You should try to get your old apartment back."

"It's probably gone by now."

"Well, I went by and had a talk with the owner weeks ago. He agreed to hold it for you."

She smiled.

"Thank you."

"I still think you should be careful when out and about. Don't be complacent."

"Oh, don't worry. I understand that they could still come for me."

"If anything at all happens, call me. Anything strange, no matter how bad you might think it is, I'll be there in an instant."

"Okay, well, I'd better get over there and see when I can move into my old apartment."

"So no more road trip?"

"Well, I wasn't really enjoying myself. I've learned that I'm not a road trip kind of person. Being confined for long periods of time with only my thoughts for company isn't fun."

He stood up from the couch, as did she.

"How about dinner this weekend?"

"Are you asking me out on a date? I thought you weren't interested in me. You hardly looked at me the whole time I was here."

"I was working."

After agreeing to go to dinner, she got dressed and went to meet her old manager. He had a new lease in hand and ready to sign.

When she walked through the door of the old familiar place, all the scents of her perfumes and the images of her old place came back to her. She felt relieved to be home again.

She called the movers and ordered that her items be moved back to the apartment that day.

Ever since returning to her apartment, she'd made several more precautions. She added two dead bolts to her door, one digital and voice automated, and the other was activated by her thumbprint. This required a new door which cost just over a grand. Everywhere she went, she had a stun gun and pepper spray, and she'd begun taking kung fu again. She was pretty good at it, too; it was as if she'd forgotten nothing over the years.

Blake took the opportunity to check in with her every couple of days. He pretended he was doing his job, but Anna knew he wanted to get back together. And yes, they did make it to dinner, but of course she was resistant to his charms. She just wasn't cut out for the relationship thing. Blake was okay with that, though.

But in all that time, there were some things that bothered her, like how much she enjoyed being pursued while on the road. The exhilaration of her life being threatened, and how she overcame her would be assassins. She was a lion who was given a taste freedom. Never did she suspect the strength and natural instinct she showed when on her road trip. Who knows? Maybe it was a clue about the kind of work she should look for in the future? Not like a hit woman, per se, but as a body guard or a police officer?

Then she laughed at herself. One needs discipline for those things; discipline and an ability to take orders from others. She had neither of these things. She was rogue from everyone, she determined.

So what was her next move in life?

This question plagued her every night, and every day as she scoured the temp agencies and job advertisements. She had no clue what to do. She shied away from everything and everyone.

On a few occasions, she went to Sheila's old apartment, even though it was empty, and sat outside, wondering where she'd ended up. Was she dead? No one from Sephora had heard from her in weeks, either. It was the same with Angie: no one in her building had seen her.

That morning, she got a text message from Blake: Sisterlings had shut down its website and moved out of the Penmac building. She had to see for herself. It was eerie when the elevator doors opened and all the furniture was gone. Her heels, tapping the floor, echoed off the walls.

She went down the familiar sterile hallway to the back where the security door was. She reached out and hoped.

The lock didn't turn.

Well, it wasn't like she could break down a security door with pepper spray. What was she thinking?

She turned and left.

One night when walking back to her apartment, she got the feeling that someone was following her.

She'd just gotten back from watching a jazz band in the seedy part of town, so she was feeling paranoid.

She stopped and turned, but it was so dark that she didn't see clearly. Shadows seemed to move everywhere around her.

Gripping her stun gun, she continued.

"Hey!" someone whispered.

She stopped again.

"Who's there?"

"It's me, Sheila."

She didn't have time to be surprised. She pulled out her stun gun.

"What do you want?"

"Please, put that away. I only want to talk."

"Why are you whispering?"

"Why do you think, idiot? I came to help, but if you don't want it, then I'll go. I've got more important things to do than risk my neck."

She thought about it a minute and then said, "Alright, what do you want me to do?"

"Sneak me into the back of your building, and then we'll go up to your apartment and talk."

"How do I know you're not gonna kill me?"

"Do you want my help or not?"

Somehow, Anna always knew she could trust Sheila, despite everything. She did save her life, after all. So without another thought, she turned and continued walking. She listened out for Sheila's footsteps, making sure she stayed some distance behind her. Then she heard her footsteps move further away as she went down the alley of her building while Anna went up the front steps where Jim held the door open for her.

He looked at her as if she were odd as she walked all the way past the mailboxes, and then returned some minutes later with a woman in sunglasses and a hat.

"So what happened to you?" Anna asked, once they were in the elevator.

"The shot grazed just between my chest and underarm. I'm fine."

She opened the door to her apartment, and they walked in without precaution.

Anna yelped in surprise, as there were two people sitting on the pink couch. Immediately, she dived onto the kitchen floor.

Sheila got a bullet in the torso somewhere, and went down. Smearing blood along the floor, she crawled into the kitchen and pulled a gun out of her jacket, but her hand was shaky.

Anna took the gun out of her hand, leapt up and took two single shots. They both fell to the floor, lifeless.

"How did you do that?"

"I learned to shoot when I was twelve, and I've always been an excellent marksman. And you! You're shot again, except this time, in the shoulder!"

"I'm terrible at this job!" she said. "I can't believe they sent two people. That means they know I'm here, and I can't go back."

"Don't worry, you can come stay with me a while. You can help me pick out a new carpet. There's no way I'm cleaning up all this blood."

Sheila laughed.

Just then, a rush of security officers ran in and screamed at Anna to drop her weapon.

Officer Blake and paramedics joined them some time later.

"This is it," he said. "The investigation is back on, I know it."

Anna smiled.

"I'm gonna go to the hospital and keep an eye on Sheila."

"I'll come with you."

~~~

By the time she reached the hospital, Sheila had already been in and out of surgery. Thankfully, the bullet only hit her shoulder, and the doctors only had to make sure there were no fragments left inside. They sewed her up and gave her pain meds that knocked her out. She was already asleep when she and Blake made it to her room, which she shared with two others.

The doctor told her she could leave as soon as she woke, which could be that evening or in the morning. Anna wanted to be considerate of the fact that she was injured, but she was also determined not to let her out of her sight until she got answers about where she's been the last few weeks, and why Sisterlings kept coming after her.

She sat in Sheila's room and read on her tablet. Blake had gone but told her to call when they were ready to leave, and he'd give them a ride home.

Then all of the sudden, Sheila started hacking and coughing.

"Sheila? Are you alright?"

A white foam from her mouth bled down her neck. Suddenly, it was just like on television. A rush of doctors and nurses came in with some kind of machine.

"What's going on? What are you guys doing? She was only shot in the shoulder!"

No one listened to her.

Anna was pushed out of the room into the hall, and as she stood there watching, a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Maybe something else went wrong? Perhaps a major artery was hit?

Through the glass of the door, she watched them pick Sheila up from the bed and lower her onto a roller.

"What are you doing?" she yelled through the glass.

Then one of the men came out and said, "Nurse."

"Yes," a woman at the front desk said.

"Call security, and have this woman taken away."

"Don't bother; I'll go."

Anna walked the streets all night. She knew what she saw wasn't right, but what could she do about it? After all, it wasn't her who signed up with a killing group. She took the risk of association.

Yeah, but she went out of her way to save me and warn me. How could I not help her after that?

At dawn, she turned around and ran back to the hospital.

"Nurse," she yelled when she got there. "I'm looking for Sheila Kasec."

"We don't have anyone by that name."

"She was here last night. Was she released?"

"Let me check. Hmmm... Are you sure she was in this hospital?"

Speechless and knowing it wouldn't make any difference to argue, she left without a word.

On her way home, she happened by a hardware store. In the window was a popcorn machine. She went in because she needed to get out of the morning heat for a few minutes. And as she wandered the aisles aimlessly, she stopped in front of the tools. There on the rack was a row of automatic screwdrivers. She slipped one off the metal rung, along with a miniature crow bar and hammer. She paid for her items at the counter.

In a quick shuffle, she walked across town to the Penmac building. When the elevator opened, she walked, fast, down the hall to the suspicious door she'd been contemplating for months. She stuck the flat end into the side of the security lock and pounded it with all her might. It didn't budge, so she sat back and tried to think. After a moment, an idea came to her.

She ran down the other side of the hall and past many offices to a back door that had a cheap keypad. Quickly, she changed the head and placed the screwdriver against the little bolts.

Twenty seconds later, the top layer fell off of the security lock. Underneath it were more screws.

Finally, the door was ajar, but it still wouldn't move. She leant into it with all her strength and pushed. Then it opened automatically, swinging back in a slow electronic fashion.

Before her was a long dark hall.

She reached for her led light and pressed it inward.

Doors, on her left and right, went down for many feet. She walked down, turning in circles, looking for any indication that she should try to open a particular door, for they all looked the same.

At the end of the hall was the other security door, but it was just as impossible as the other.

She looked left and right. On her right, she saw the faintest sliver of silver that twinkled from the floor. She followed it down and then took another right. At the end of that section was a high metal wall. As she got closer, she felt a humming noise coming from it.

She put her head up against the wall and listened.

Something was on the other side of that wall. She knew it.

From her pocket she pulled her cell phone and set it to record. Hopefully, it was picking up the noise vibration.

But there was no way she was going to get through the wall, so she turned around and left.

She texted the footage to Blake, hoping he could make sense of it. When she turned onto her block, she noticed a long black limousine parked across from her building.

A casual dressed man emerged from it.

"Miss," he called. "I'd like you to come with me."

"Who are you?"

The window of the limo slid down a bit.

"Just get in the fucking car!" a woman yelled.

"Bethany?"

"Please," said the man, indicating that she follow him.

He opened the door and she got in.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do," she shouted.

"Yeah, yeah."

The driver got in and started the car.

"What is going on?"

"Let's wait."

"I don't want to wait. Talk or I'm outta here."

"You'll go when I say you can leave. We must keep quiet for the moment. I don't know what sort of devices you might have on you. If you think my brother isn't tracking you, you're wrong."

In silence, the driver took them over the bridge into Brooklyn. They pulled into a large gated parking structure and went up to the top floor. There, George searched her as best as he could, and then declared her safe.

They walked across a cement walkway into the attached building, and then into an elevator that took them up several more floors.

When the doors opened, they walked into an indescribably luxurious penthouse. The floors gleamed, and the walls sparkled. A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling. An electric fire roared to life when the driver pressed a button on the wall.

Bethany told her to sit. She went to the kitchen. A moment later, the sound of the coffee grinder machine gargled.

Her footsteps echoed off the walls as she walked into the kitchen. Bethany stood at a center kitchen stove console.

"I can't wait. I want answers, now. I want everything from the beginning."

Anna sat on a stool, opposite her, and waited.

"Alright," Bethany said. She opened the lid on her coffee grinder and poured the contents into a glass container. After sifting a couple scoops into a French press, she filled a black kettle with water and set it to boil.

She sighed, looked at her and said, "My brother and I own a company. We inherited it from our parents. For the last fifteen years, I've let him run the company, and I got my percentage. I was willing to let him have the company, if he settled a large amount of money to me – that's where you came in if you remember, but instead, he double crossed me and tried to have me killed. After I went into hiding, I learned from George, my longtime friend who worked for David, and who drove us here tonight, that the company was broke; my brother was planning to collect on life insurance, pending my death, to finance Crest and get it back on its feet. My mother and father grew the business up into a hundred-billion dollar organization. I was angry when I learned that my brother ruined it in less than a decade, so I decided that it was time to fight back. I will get rid of David, and bring Crest back to its original state of glory."

"But why did you fake your own death?"

"One night in the hospital, I woke and I wanted to call you, but I knew something more was going on; there were too many coincidences at the time. That's why I called George to help me go into hiding. I knew that the best way to get back at David was to fool him. My brother is smart but he isn't clever. Plus, for a while there, I thought you were working for David; that you were going to try to kill me."

The kettle started to whistle. Bethany stood up and walked around the console.

"That's ridiculous. Why would I want to hurt you?"

"When I learned you'd joined the organization, I started to wonder if you were with them all along, but then, I heard of all the trouble you were having and how you'd quit the website; then I knew it was just a coincidence."

"I'm confused: Why did you think that my joining Sisterlings was an indication that I was a killer? It's just a social site, isn't it? Blake said it's only a front, I'm guessing for money laundering reasons?"

"No," she said, shaking her head and placing a porcelain mug in front of her. "You've missed the obvious connection entirely. Sisterlings is not a front, nor is it a place for lonely women, or to launder; it's a recruiting agency."

"So you're using it pick out freaks who will kill for you?"

"Well, that's a bit harsh. We look for people who can handle the job. Often this work isn't for the normal," she said and sipped her coffee. "People who live secluded lives are ideal."

"You say 'we' as if you're very much a part of Crest, yet a moment ago, you said you were only receiving profits."

"I haven't been involved, but it's still my company, and I intend to take it back."

"But, why? You're killing people. You're gonna end up in jail? Blake knows about Crest, which means other people must know about your organization."

"When you have money, problems can be made to go away."

"You have no ethics about deciding who lives and who dies?"

"We're providing a service, just like any other business. Sometimes, there are people in our lives that we need to get rid of."

Anna laughed and shook her head in disbelief.

"So why are you revealing yourself to me, now?"

"I wanted to tell you before, but you were out of sorts. That night you got drunk at the bar, it was me who took you home. I couldn't stay because I had to leave town. I had plans in motion that would get my brother out of the way for good, which would leave the company to me and restore the fortune he ruined."

"But I saw the bank statements in your office at your apartment. Everything looked legitimate, so what fortune do you speak of? And with what money can you make problems, as you said a moment ago, go away?"

"The bank statements are forgeries processed by an internet bank label we use to transfer funds between places. Nothing, there, is what it seems."

"But where are you getting money, if you're broke?"

"For the moment, I'm on borrowed dimes. To restore my family's fortune, I'll have to submit to acquisition propositions in order to save our company."

"Acquisition!" she said, taking a sip of her coffee. "I can't imagine what kind of company would want to acquire Crest."

"There are organizations like ours all over the world. Everyone needs someone dead. We cater to the needs of those who can afford it."

"How much are you asking?"

"Nearly a hundred-billion dollars and David's head."

"I don't understand why you're letting me in on this."

"I'm bringing you in because you're in danger. Not just from my brother, but from my acquisition partners. When these companies take over, the first initiative is to clean house; that means everyone dies, unless you're someone very special. You never officially joined Crest, but you got too close, and you know too much."

"But you can stop them, can't you?"

"Only if you join me, but that means you can't go back to your life. That means you disappear forever. You don't want that, do you?"

"No."

They looked at each other a moment.

"You won't consider?"

"No."

They sipped their coffees a moment.

"I don't understand: How did David bankrupt Crest?"

"I don't know, yet, but I'm looking into it. I can only hope he doesn't owe anyone money. Once he's dead and I've repossessed the company and all of his assets, I'm sure answers will be found."

"My friend, Sheila..."

"I know Sheila, but I don't know anything about her. There's nothing that I can do for anyone, right now, because everyone thinks I'm dead. If I start poking around, then David will know I'm alive and come after me again. Right now, I have to lay low."

"But I can't not help her; she saved my life, twice."

"Everyone who signs up knows that there is a chance that they might be eliminated one day. Crest does have ethics, however, and I assure you her death was likely painless and quick."

"You're wrong about that; I think she was poisoned."

Bethany didn't respond.

"Where is David, right now?"

"I don't know. My guess is initiations in another city."

"What do you mean?"

"We have recruitment and initiations in a city and then move on."

"What kind of initiations?"

"You know all the bodies? All the occult murders? People showing up slit to death?"

"Oh," she said surprised. "When will David be killed?"

"My new friends will hopefully have him taken care of soon. Also, don't speak so plainly. If someone's listening, we could get into trouble. You need to go. George," she called.

"When do you plan to come out of hiding?"

"I'm not sure. I sort of like anonymity. And with the new direction of my life, the world thinking I'm dead might be a benefit."

"And you trust me knowing the truth?"

"Yeah," she laughed. "If you tell anyone, I'll have you killed."

"Some friend," she said, feeling offended.

"I'm kidding."

"I don't believe you."

"Ready?" said George.

"Take her to the Soho apartment."

"What?"

"Well, you can't go back to your place."

She was about to leave when a question came to her. She turned around and asked, "So whose ashes did David really get?"

Silently, George drove Anna back to her place, where she packed a large suitcase. Then he escorted her to a top floor apartment and opened a door for her, and handed her a card key.

Before going in, she asked, "Have you and Bethany been friends a long time?"

"Yes."

"When do you think this will be over? And I can return home, to my old life?"

"Do you really want to return to your old life?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"I'll talk to Bethany. We'll let you know when it's safe. Right now, it might just be better for you to think about leaving the city for good."

Anna closed the door. Like her other homes, Bethany's apartment was large and spacious with a full view of the city and all its lights. It was so peaceful and majestic being there with its panoramic views. Although unlike most of her décor, which was a blend of contemporary and eclectic, the Soho apartment was a stiff contemporary with classic stark colors to contrast.

She rolled her suitcase into the chic living room and sat on the couch a moment to think. And as she sat there, she noticed that the table that faced her wasn't a table at all. The top was a layer of black rimmed glass, but the support was five and a half feet in length and appeared to be a metal box. Along the support was a line in the material, which told her the top could be lifted.

Anna walked around the table. On the back of the support were hinges. Carefully, she pushed the glass across the top, and laid it carefully on the carpet. Then she tried to lift the top which seemed suctioned on. But there was no lock or pad, so how does one get it open?

Pry it open.

She looked around the room for inspiration.

Next to the fireplace, leaning in a rack was a flat headed poker she thought would work well.

Anna inserted the head into the line of the chest and pulled it up and pressed it down until there was a space in the chest. Then she dropped the poker to the carpet and pushed up the lid with all of her might.

She drew in her breath. Inside was over a dozen hand guns, boxes of bullets, two bullet proof vests and what she could have sworn was a grenade launcher.

She pulled the long grey cylinder from the chest and examined it.

How the hell did she get a grenade launcher?

In awe, she pulled all the items out and set them on the carpet. Could Bethany have really owned all these items? She just didn't seem the type. It was funny how she thought she knew her, all those years.

When Anna had examined everything, she put the items back in the chest, closed the lid and replaced the glass top. Her stomach was growling by the time she'd done, so she searched the kitchen and found it completely emptied. She'd need to order groceries in the morning.

Wondering about Sheila, She climbed the stairs and found three rooms and two bathrooms, all of which were empty except for beds. In the linen closet, there were dusty sheets that she immediately washed and dried.

The bathroom was gleaming white with cream colored marble floors and a miniature chandelier. She filled the clam shaped bath and added a few drops of the rain scented bubble bath.

She wished she could have done more, especially for Sheila. If only she hadn't hesitated when she was at the hospital and watching what must have been a reaction to poison. Posion the doctors gave her? She wondered. She should have fought, and not let Sheila out of her sight; she should have never left the hospital. What a fool she was.

Her life was a serious mess. She couldn't go home, she had no job, and killers were after her, so yes, maybe she should just leave the city. But Boston was the only other place in the world she could imagine herself. There was no place like the coastal cities. The west couldn't compare; its smell was different, its water less salty or less dense; its sea food fresh, but different tasting. Out west was beautiful and bright, and good seafood, sure, but just different than the northeast.

Just then, there was a sound of dragging.

She sat up in the tub, wondering if she were imagining it. But no, there it was, a light sound of carpet fibers snapping, echoed off the walls.

Her heart racing, she got out of the tub and covered herself with a towel.

Out in the hall, she pressed the button on the wall, illuminating the stairwell. Looking down, all seemed normal. Then again, how could she know for sure? She'd only been there less than a few hours, and the apartment was the size of a department store.

After a quick rinse in the shower, she set up her laptop in the bedroom she was going to sleep in and checked her email. Blake texted her to check in; she texted back that she was alright.

A short time later, she went to bed. As she lay there, she could have sworn she heard creaking and swooshing noises. It disturbed her, made it hard to sleep; nevertheless, she tried to ignore it.

Finally, when she heard a scraping sound, similar to dragging a table, she couldn't ignore it anymore. She put on her jeans and a sweater and crept down the stairs.

At the foot of the stairs, the carpet made a light air blast sound as she stepped on it. She stopped, frozen, and looked around the room. Somehow, it looked darker in there, but she wasn't sure how; it was almost as if there were more shadows than before. Yet the curtains were open, and all the lights in the city could be seen, as could the moon that seemed to float right in front of the apartment's window.

Something on her right moved. Anna just saw it out of the corner of her eye, when something slammed down, over her head, blocking out nearly all light.

Anna screamed shrilly as the person yanked her head with the bag, forward onto her knees. She struggled to slip her fingers under the rim of the bag, which strangled her, and pull it up off her head. But then the person's grip shifted from both hands to one.

Instinctively, she knew the person was a man, judging by the strength of holding her with one hand; and she knew he was gripping for something, likely a gun. Anna really panicked at that moment, and her body seemed to act of its own accord.

She pulled back her arm and hand into a right hook, and struck into her apprehender's crotch. He got slightly limp and crouched over. Anna stood up, fast, accidentally slamming the top of her head into his chin. A loud crunch noise sounded out, indicating she might have bashed in a couple of his teeth. Although this hurt both of them, he was the worst for it. He screamed and something wet sprinkled all over her hands, and tapped her bag like rain.

She stepped back and removed the bag.

The man wore a mask. Realizing they had moved across the living room to the front of the fireplace, she spun around and grabbed the poker.

The man had just regained his composure, and was aiming a gun at her back when she spun around, and made like a batter. A cracking noise echoed off the walls as the gun flew across the room and unloaded a chamber.

Anna didn't wait; she beat him, relentlessly, with the poker. Blood spattered her feet and legs. Then when she was tired, she fell to the floor and struggled, with shaking hands, to remove his mask.

"B – Blake?"

All in a moment, it made sense to her. Why he kept coming around, even though she clearly didn't want him there; how he found her while on her road trip; why he continued to withhold information, regarding Bethany's case.

"So you were in on it the whole time?"

His body lay there motionless. Worried that she might have killed a cop, she checked his pulse. He was alive, thank goodness.

Hurriedly, she went to the chest and pulled out a vest and a gun and made sure it was loaded. She grabbed a box of bullets and ran back upstairs to get her cell phone.

She looked up Bethany and pressed the call button. It went to voicemail.

"Bethany, I don't know if you'll get this, and I'm amazed that this number is still working, but my friend, Blake the police officer, just tried to kill me in your apartment. I need your help. I'm leaving the city, now."

Intent on getting out of there without a seconds delay, she grabbed her purse and ran down the stairs, but then, she froze. If she left all of her things behind, then she'd definitely be questioned for beating Blake. Should she leave, or should she stay and clean up?

The decision was made for her when, at that moment a crashing sound, like the shattering of many window panes sounded from the living room.

Anna turned and ran to the door, but it wouldn't open. She slid the key card repeatedly, but the display said denied.

A sound sort of like zippers sounded from the living room.

Anna threw her purse on the ground and tightened her vest; then with gun at the ready, she moved along the wall to the opening of the living room. Just like she'd seen it done on television, she looked around the wall before entering.

The sound of a zipper came again, but from above her head. She looked up and saw a person dropping from the vaulted ceiling. Anna screamed and took a shot. Blood showered her.

Someone grabbed her by the neck, and swung her around and into the living room. Once more, Anna took aim, but the person was faster: a bullet felt like it skidded off her face. But her adrenaline was too high for her to be fazed.

Anna turned and ran through the doorless archway into the kitchen. A second later the person followed. She fired the moment he or she came into view; the person dived behind the dining set, but this left the person vulnerable between the legs of the table and chairs.

They fired at each other, a few times, each taking a painful slug. Anna got hit in the chest; the bullet broke through the vest and cracked her rib. On Anna's third shot, the person slumped silently to the floor.

Since the light of the moon was facing her, she couldn't see the person too clearly. When the pain subsided enough, she staggered across the room to the person and pulled the mask off. A woman she'd never seen before, except online; in fact, Anna was sure that she'd recruited her, herself.

She was about to turn and leave when she remembered that she'd heard the sound of many zippers. That meant there were more people in the living room.

What are they waiting for?

She pulled out her clip and was shocked to see that she'd emptied half of it. Panic threatened to swallow her.

"Stop, I need to get control of my emotions. Now, what can I do?"

She jammed more bullets into her gun while about half a dozen recipes on how to make smoke bombs crossed her mind, but all of those took time, and required her to do things like cut PVC.

She opened the cabinets beneath the sink. The only thing there was a bottle of generic pine cleaner and ammonia and bleach. Quickly, she grabbed the two empty spray bottles and the cleaners. One bottle she filled half and half with bleach and pine cleaner, creating a low grade chloroform that could kill; the other, she mixed half and half bleach with the ammonia, which she knew was a form of mustard gas. She just hoped their effect was instant, but even if her attempts at poison failed, it should scare them enough to give her time to attack.

All the while, she heard a shuffling coming from the living room. She thought she heard whispering, too. Anna grabbed a crusty, dirty towel that had, clearly, been sitting in the cabinet for ages, and tied it around her face.

For a moment, she froze unsure of what she was doing, trying to make some sense out of her chosen methods of defense. It didn't take long for the people in the living room to get tired of waiting.

The sounds of footsteps approaching came through the kitchen archway.

Anna didn't have time to put the nozzles back on the bottles, but it was probably better that way. She spun around and instantly flung a load of the ammonia and bleach solution on the persons mask. The person yelped and tripped on his or her feet, and fell to the floor. She kicked the gun out of the person's hand and then heel kicked the persons face.

The person struggled to remove the mask, so she slammed her heel on, both, his or her hands. She grabbed a small plastic trash bag from the drawer and tied it, as tightly as she could, around his head. If he or she didn't die from asphyxiation, then it would be by suffocation.

Another person entered the room. Anna sent a jump spinning crescent kick; a move that tripled her force on the person's face and knocked him or her to the ground. This time, she soaked the person's mask in the chloroform before tying a bag around his or her head.

"Two more down," she muttered.

She picked up both their guns and slid them in the back of her pants. Ignoring a light stinging of bleach on her hands, she poked her head around the kitchen archway and looked out into the living room. In the corner, someone stood watching; she took aim and shot out three rounds. She got him, but he got her, too, with a graze on her left shoulder.

She crouched to the floor and crawled to the metal chest. Amazingly enough, no one had touched it. She pulled out the grenade launcher and loaded it, while pocketing the extras.

Slowly, she walked down the hall to the door. Someone at the end of the hall saw her, and turned and ran into a room.

How many people were here and how did they get in?

She faced the door, and was just about to press the release button when she was surprised by the vault lights which suddenly came on.

She turned around.

From down the hall, Bethany and a man she'd seen only once at Sisterlings appeared in the wall.

Anna couldn't believe her eyes.

They walked toward her. Behind them, two men followed.

The wall closed like a door behind them.

"What is this?"

"This is your victory," said Bethany, "you passed the test."

Anna tried to respond, but no words came.

She jumped at the silenced whine of one of the men shooting her assailants in the head. Shots rang out from the kitchen, too.

"They have to make sure everyone is dead," said the man.

"Bethany?" she asked in a higher pitched voice.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but it was the only way to save you. I had to wager your life."

"And miraculously, you survived," added the man. "How did you do it? I researched you, and you have no training whatsoever, not even military."

She looked at Bethany and looked at the guy.

The men spread a large white tarp on the floor in the living room; then put the bodies in a pile on top and pulled out trash bags and an axe.

The man held out his arm and guided Anna into the hall; Bethany followed.

"So everyone is dead? And this was all a set up?"

"It was a test," said the man. "All the Sisterlings who've been recruited fight off. Whoever is left standing is our new dis-stressor."

She flinched at the sound of the first axe chop.

"Dis- What?"

"It's a made up dysphemism," said Bethany. "I know it's a shock, but be happy because no one is coming after you anymore."

"But now I have no choice but to work for you, is that it?"

CRACK! Another axe noise came from the living room.

"It's not as bad as it seems. You'll be compensated well, travel and get out of that rut of a life you so desperately hate," he said.

"Who are you and why do you keep talking to me?"

"I'm Dean. You'll be working for me, until Bethany makes enough money to buy back her company."

"But you killed all these people. How are you gonna get away with it?"

"Correction: We killed all these people," Dean replied. "They all knew they'd possibly be eliminated one day, they just didn't expect it to happen so soon. Some of them did try to run, but they've all been taken care of, oh, except one. Sheila Kacek."

"She's already dead. David got her," said Bethany.

"You lied to me?" asked Anna in a raised voice.

Just then a few men in jump suits walked out of the wall. They carried strange items and a large vat.

"Yes, well," said the man, indicating with his hands that they should leave. "It's about to get messy, if you know what I mean. We'll be in touch."

And together, they walked out of the front door.
Along for Now
Chapter 15

Several weeks had gone by. No one came to visit her, called her, or emailed her. During those days, she thought of everything she could to be released from her obligations, but nothing good came to mind. How does one take down an entire corporation that has existed, over half of a century, only to kill while remaining unknown? Anna was stuck, and she knew it.

During those weeks, she spent much time trying to research Crest or other similar organizations. Naturally, she found nothing because they were very secret, except there was an article about a white collar criminal in Zurich. Maxwell Lud who mentioned that Crest agents would reach him by the end of the week, and that he'd be dead. Lud was quoted saying Crest agents were silently trying to take over the Dynamite Nobel Corporation, which could be disastrous for the world. How that story ended, Anna wasn't able to find out, but she was sure it had nothing to do with what she was looking for. Her employers were solely hunters for hire, and this man, Maxwell Lud, was involved in weaponry; plus, the story was five years old, and the world was doing alright.

She was back in her apartment, where everything had been cleaned and restored, courtesy of Bethany. She didn't dare run and she didn't dare contact the police. It took many weeks for her to get over the betrayal of Blake, for even though she didn't love him, she had grown attached to him.

Nothing ever came of all the people she helped kill in Bethany's Soho apartment. Anna assumed the men that went around making sure everyone was dead, had cleaned the place. Not even his partner called to ask if she'd seen him, which made her wonder if he were in with Crest, too.

All of this led to another question: What was the name of the site that recruited men into the organization? And how interesting it was that they put men against women in the final fight?

During that time, she was achingly lonelier than ever. She had no one to talk to, no where she needed to be, and not a single obligation, and she was forbidden to return to work. Bethany had paid her a stay salary, to hold her over until her first completed job.

She spent many hours in her favorite café, wondering who of the Sisterlings still lived. Did any of them ever even realize that it wasn't what it seemed?

But mostly, she wondered if she'd ever escape the clutches of Crest. Would she ever have a normal life again? How unlucky was it that she should end up as she was. All she had to do was be contented with what she'd had, a job and peace and quiet, and none of these things would have happened to her.

Be careful what you wish for...

At the same time she felt regret, she also felt relieved that she'd never have to return to the normal that was her life once. Still, she knew she couldn't stay with Bethany, because that would only end in her death, sooner or later. If she were to escape, she would have to fight for it, and it would be a hell of a fight.

In her mind she replayed everything that had happened to her the last couple of weeks. But the one thought that came back to her, repeatedly, was that if she wanted a natural retirement, she needed to start making plans for it, now. And that meant all the works, just like in a movie: a new identity, money, obscurity and anonymity. She needed to be undetectable, untraceable, but she needed to be keyed into technology to always be able to detect her surroundings.

Many times, she considered hiring a private investigator, but would Crest find out? How closely were Bethany and her company watching? She even walked downtown many times, past the corner office where the investigator she'd chosen worked; it was so fancy that she wondered if the person within was qualified to do the kind of work she needed. He was likely used to easy white collar cases, where all he had to do was audit company financial records and transactions.

She sat on the potted stucco wall, in front of the building, drinking a coffee and thinking that she needed to get organized. Currently, she was spinning her wheels, and she'd never get anywhere without prioritizing her needs.

Anger, every so often, heated her skin like a fever that came and went. Bethany said she'd added her to the game to give her a fighting chance. What rubbish! She'd lied to her from the very first day they'd met; maybe not always outright, but by omission. Even if her intentions were good, Anna didn't think she could ever forgive her. If she ever stood in her way to freedom, Anna would be ready to kill her.

The next morning she went for a coffee and a walk down the street, wondering if any Sisterlings were left in the city.

At noon, she got the first text message she'd received since Blake died.

'David Winthorpe.'

That was it; nothing more.

How was she supposed to find David Winthorpe? Would they not send her any clues?

"I need a drink," she said to herself, feeling sick.

She all but ran home.

Her stomach gurgled even more violently when, in front of her apartment door, there was a package. She hadn't received a single piece of mail in weeks, not even a bill. Courtesy of Crest, she assumed. Were they wiping her off the paper face of the planet?

Inside her apartment, she ripped it open. Out spilled a black and white photo, a computer printout of a map, and several black items plopped to the carpet.

The black and white photo was of David, naturally. She examined the printout map, and in the center at a cross street, was a small red x.

What did it mean? Was that the last place he was seen? Or was he there, now?

She put her nose to the paper, so as to see the small print and read the names of the streets.

"The Penmac building?" she asked herself.

She'd been all through it. No one was there.

"Hmm," she said to herself and crouched to get a look at the other items.

The black hand gun was a 30 mm Glock SF; it was heavy and had only two cartridges for backup, and they were fully loaded. She probably would be expected to buy her own bullets. But she knew it would be better if she learned how to make her own. If they set up Jack, they could set her up to. Bullets had serial numbers; they were always the most damning evidence in murder trials. Slip her a traceable batch and that was that.

Next, a mask, a pair of black gloves and flat shoes with a single zipper closer on each one lay on the floor. They weren't made of any material she had seen before. The gloves were kind of like neoprene, only more flexible with a strong slip to the tips. The soles of the shoes were a strange sponge texture, but tougher, extremely flat, and when she pressed in, they were like a soft, quiet foam inside. Perhaps the gloves helped guard against fingerprints, and the shoes prevented tracks and noisy steps. However, they could have tracking devices on them, or they could leave special residue as another device that could damn her by the law, she considered. She'd also make her own... whatever the gloves and shoes were.

She went to the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine when suddenly, it dawned on her. Anna pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped into the media page. She played the video she'd taken of the wall; the one she'd sent to Blake.

He must have sent it to Bethany! How else could they have known he was still there?

So what now?

"Wait until dark."

Wait until dark, she did. At midnight, she put on her black pants, a dark sweater, and stuffed sunglasses and the mask in her pocket. In her old book bag from college, she put the grenade launcher. She realized this was crazy, that it would cause all kinds of noise, but she had no choice but to try. If she didn't do her job, they'd come for her.

Despite her instinct not to wear the gloves and shoes provided, she hadn't time to replace them, so she wore them anyway. She just hoped they weren't ready to dispose of her, once David was dead.

As before, she slipped into the building without any problems.

She walked around the back and stood in front of the wall again. From her bag, she pulled the launcher out and stuffed a grenade down its barrel. Anna stood at the end of the hall and took a deep breath, and said a little prayer to herself. Then she briefed herself in a pep talk, saying that she'd leap sideways, once she pressed the release button.

When she was ready, she lifted the launcher to her shoulder and just as her finger touched the black button, the wall started to vibrate, and then it slid sideways.

Out came David.

"I'd rather you didn't blow up my home."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the Glock.

"I wouldn't if I were you. I have something you might want."

He waved his hand at her, indicating that she should follow.

She shot just off to the right of his head. David jumped and grabbed his ear.

"I'm not playing games with you. One wrong move and I'll shoot you."

Slowly, she followed him beyond the wall. Inside was a large office with a kitchen and a bed. Off to the right, there was a hall, down which he took her. At the very last room, there was a switch on the wall. He turned it up and a light inside the room revealed a sickly woman lying on a bed, asleep.

"I'll let Sheila go, if you let me go."

"What if I just shoot you, instead?"

"Sheila's been poisoned. I've been giving her antidote. If you kill me, you won't be able to break through this special security door in time to keep her alive; it's activated by a code that's controlled by my desktop."

"I'll only agree to let you go if you can help us get new identities and disappear. Otherwise, we're both dead anyway. Killing you is only a stay."

"If you think you can disappear off the face of the earth, well, you're wrong. They'll find you; they always do. It just takes time."

"Okay, then you'll show me how to do it, then."

"How to create your own identity?"

"Yes. A couple different identities could help throw them off my track."

He looked at her a moment. She could see the wheels turning in his mind. Finally, he said, "Alright, you've got a deal."

She placed her gun in her holster.

"Okay, let's go."

"Now?" he asked stupidly.

"Yes, now. You think I'd walk out of here without our deal fulfilled?"

"Alright, let's get started."

"Why didn't you just kill her? How did you know I'd bargain for her?"

"I've been watching you, of course. I know you're weakness, Anna."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes, your weakness is unanswered questions; you can't stand them. And for some reason, even though you don't care for people, you're always compelled to do the right thing. Really, you're brainwashed by society. You should just let things go; you'll survive longer."

"You're probably right," she concurred. "I'm a robot: What else can I say?"

David sat in front of his computer; Anna stood behind him.

"Now, there is no way to make the perfect identification document. There are too many intricacies for any one person to be efficient at creating new identities. Rather than go through all the trouble of creating documents that will eventually get you caught, all you need is a birth certificate and time. Take the time to submit to all the offices for proper identification."

"But how do you get a birth certificate without identification?"

"Every year, hundreds of thousands of people have troubles with proving who they are, and tracking down birth certificates. In the most extreme cases, people are assigned identities, so all you have to do is make a claim."

"Yeah but what if you don't have a social security number? Isn't it required?"

"The application for social security is separate, and isn't necessary. You just need to apply for the birth certificate, and then you can get whatever else you need. However, given the nature of my work, I can make you two certificates, right now."

"Okay, let me go talk to Sheila. I can't just do this without asking her if she wants to do this, too."

He turned and tapped on his keyboard; then he spun around and said, "The door is open."

She turned to go down the hall, but as she took her first step, something pounded her back and rammed through her rib cage.

Anna looked down and saw blood pool down to the floor.

She tried to remain standing, but her legs wobbled.

"Get up," she said to herself, but she couldn't.

Then all went black.
Headed Nowhere
Chapter 16

Every time her heart beat, and every time she breathed, pain flared from her gut, shooting outward and reaching every bit of her body. She needed to wake up because she needed to remember something, but couldn't. Then every time she tried to make sense, her mind's process was disrupted by pain.

She moaned loudly, as the pain became more vivid, and dragged her down from the lofty layers of her mind.

"Try to be still," said a woman's voice.

She tried to sit up but couldn't.

"Who are you?"

"It's me, Sheila."

"Where are we?"

"In a car I stole from David."

At the mention of David, her memory came back.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. I heard when you came in, so I pretended to be asleep. He shot you, and I knew he would come for me next. So I waited and when he entered the room, I stabbed him in the eye with metal I pried off a rat trap that was on the floor."

"And then?"

"He ran out. I grabbed you and took you to Shirley."

"Who's Shirley?"

"She's a part of Crest, but she's also a long time friend; it was she who recommended me to the site. She's a nurse and a 'dis-stressor'. She fixed you up and gave me something for poison, but I'm not well. I think you might have to drive."

"I can't drive; I can't even sit up. The pain is immense."

"Well, if we don't get somewhere, I'm gonna pass out."

"Why didn't you just take us back to my apartment?"

"Please don't ask stupid questions. I'm too sick."

Then all of the sudden, she spun the car around fast. Anna groaned as she held onto the seat.

"What was that for?"

"I'm taking us to the Hamptons; to my parents' house."

"I didn't know you come from money."

"What are you saying? That I lack grace and intelligence?"

"No, of course not."

"Good, because I won't hesitate to roll you off onto the side of the road and let the possums get you."

"Aren't you worried you'll put your parents in danger?"

"They're dead."

Anna clung to the seat as Sheila sped onto the adjoining ramp.

"You never talk about anyone in your life? How did your parents die?"

"I don't want to talk about it, right now. My stomach and chest hurts too much. Let's just sit here in silence, and we'll talk later."

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

Anna tried to fall asleep, but the pain kept her wide awake, groaning every few moments. In between groans, Sheila heaved and painfully sighed. Between them both, it was like a symphony of pain.

"I have pain pills, but no water. We're almost there, though."

Thirty minutes later, they pulled through the gate of a house and parked in the garage. Sheila got out of the car and unlocked the house door, and went inside. Then she came back and opened Anna's door and helped her out.

"Is it all clear in there?"

"As far as I can tell."

Together, they hobbled into the living room where Sheila gently put her on the dusty couch. She ran down the hall, and returned moments later with blankets and a glass of water, with which she covered her and helped her drink down some pain pills. It took some time, but eventually, the pills kicked in and Anna drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, Sheila hobbled into the kitchen, and left through the back door. Anna tried to get up but simply couldn't. Gently, she lifted her sweater and touched the bandaging on her chest, wondering if she should air out her wound. But the area was so tender that she couldn't bear to touch it.

Sheila returned with a couple bags of groceries.

"I'll get some coffee going because I know you like that," she called from the kitchen. Her voice echoed off the walls.

"Did you get bandages?"

"Yeah, lots," she called.

"How are you feeling?"

"Well, it's the first morning I haven't puked, so that's a plus."

"Why didn't David kill you?"

"I would have thought that was obvious: because he knew you'd be coming for him. He knew that you'd side with Bethany."

She walked into the living room with a handful of gauze and tape.

"David's been known to double cross people, so you shouldn't have trusted him. He's a weasel."

She cut open the packaging and then gently lifted the taped gauze on her belly.

"Now, I should warn you that I have no clue what I'm doing, except what they taught us at Crest. This is going to hurt, but I guess I have to clean it. You can do it yourself, if you want."

"Honestly, it hurts just to move my arms. I hate to ask, but if you do it, then I can just lay here and scream."

"Alright, but I'm no gentle hand."

"I know, that's why it's better you do it anyway. Just be as quick as you can."

She stood up and lifted her off the couch and laid her down on some towels she laid on the floor. Sheila grabbed the scissors and cut off chunks of gauze and tape, and laid them across the edge of the table so that they'd be ready to go. Then she ripped the gauze off Anna's front and back, amidst her screams.

Blood flooded the floor, and it smelled funky, too.

"Don't panic; this is normal. It's not as bad as it looks; just old blood. There's no sign of infection, so don't worry about the smell."

She reached for a bottle and twisted the top.

"What is that?"

"One is alcohol and the other is iodine."

"Get that the fuck away from me, Sheila!"

"It's the only way to clean it; it's what they taught us. If you get an infection, you will die."

Sheila set down the bottle and ran into the hallway, and then came back a moment later with a cloth.

"Bite down on this."

Despite the smell of mildew and dust in the fibers, she did as she said.

Sheila doused her belly with alcohol, first, and scrubbed her front and back torso clean with a sponge. As the blood rinsed off, Anna saw that she'd been partially stitched, as the center was opened.

"That's to keep it aired out and prevent infection. The wound needs to breathe and to stay dry; that's also what they taught us."

Anna screamed to the top of her lungs as Sheila tugged the stitches and poured alcohol concentrated down the bullet hole.

"FUUUUCK!!! Are you almost done??"

Sheila didn't respond, but she went to get the water which was boiling. A moment later, she came back with two hot cups of coffee.

"Let's let the alcohol sit a moment. Here," she said and lifted her head so she could take a sip.

Sheila sat back and watched her a moment.

"You know, we can't stay here too long," she said breathlessly.

"I'm not stupid, Anna."

"David told me a little about how to get a new identity. Do you know anything about how to disappear?"

"No, they didn't teach us that at Crest, but I heard you talking to David about the birth certificate. I think it makes sense. Perhaps it is worth a try; it's either that or we have to track down professional criminals. The problem is we don't have time for either of these options."

"Even the air moving across my body hurts."

"Here," she said and handed her a couple pills. She twisted a cap off a bottle of water and lifted her head so that she could drink.

When Anna had made her last swallow, Sheila asked, "Are you ready?"

"No."

Ignoring her, she twisted off the top of the iodine and poured it all over and into the gap in the stitches. After, she went to make them a greasy breakfast while her wound aired out. Sheila was never one for fruits and vegetables.

"I'll never understand how you can eat so much meat."

"I'll never understand why you eat like a hippie."

"Can you please cut my steak and eggs?"

"God, you're such a baby. Suck it up. I've been shot twice, now, and both times I still fed myself. In fact, I'm still recovering from last time."

"Alright, jeez."

After breakfast, Sheila bandaged up her wounds again.

"Why did you save me?"

"Because you save me, stupid."

"Yeah but you saved me first."

"Because for the first time in my life, I met people I didn't want to destroy, you and Angie – before the bitch shot me."

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know. She's dead, probably."

They sat in silence. Sheila lit a cigarette, and handed one to Anna; then she lit one for herself.

"So how do we get out of here?" Sheila asked and exhaled. "You're the brains, here, and don't give me that applying for a birth certificate shit. We don't have time for that, right now."

Anna took a long drag and said, "Well, the only thing I can think is we get those birth certificate sheets."

"What?"

"David said that because he was in his business, he kept sheets of blank birth certificates. If he was telling the truth, the paper is in his office. And if you can get them, then we can get new drivers licenses today."

"And money? I'm not wealthy, I just have a house."

"I've got plenty of money, for the time being. Not inexhaustible, but enough to get us out of here. We withdraw our accounts and pay cash the rest of the way. We get debit cards when we need to pay electronically. It should be easy enough."

"Yeah, easy if I get the birth certificates, you mean. I'd be risking my neck, alone. I'm not as good at this as you are, plus I have no way to get there."

"What happened to the car?"

"I left it on the beach, last night, while you were sleeping. It'll be impounded by now."

"And traceable," added Anna. "You should have just left it behind the cliffs."

"No matter what, all vehicles are traceable. It doesn't matter where or who has it. Our only saving grace is that we will have a head start, but eventually, they will find us here."

"Okay, so we should withdraw our bank accounts and go on the run and pay cash until I'm well enough to fight. Really, if we're gonna disappear then we'll need new identities; that means we need those certificates."

"We can't wait for an application, and we can't go back to the Penmac building. The way we came after you when you were on your road trip, well, this time will be even worse. We need to get on a plane, tonight," Sheila insisted.

"You can't enter other countries without passports, anymore."

"We can go to Puerto Rico or the Virgin Islands. We can apply for certificates and passports once we get there. If we can claim it's an emergency and that we were robbed, it might be easier to get new identities. This way we can use the excuse of urgency and fear of being trapped in Puerto Rico to persuade people to let us slide, when things don't make sense."

"Yes, but we must have some form of identification to fly and to enter Puerto Rico."

"I have an idea."

She picked up her cell phone and slipped the battery back in.

"What are you doing? Are you crazy? They could trace us."

"I'm calling my friends."

Anna watched her a moment.

"Hey, Maggie," she said, trying to sound excited. "Guess what? I'm back in town."

Sheila fell silent a moment and then said, "Oh, I'm great. I'm just bored out of my mind. I had to get out of the city because it was getting too hot. This ocean air is the best. Hey? Do you want to come over for lunch?"

Sheila tapped the floor anxiously.

"Well, yeah, pick Julie up along the way. Okay, bye."

"Well?" asked Anna.

"My old friends from high school: we'll steal their driver's licenses."

"But what if we don't look alike?"

"No one ever looks like their photos. We have no choice but to try."

"Okay, so I'm just going to lay here with my belly busted open while you guys eat chips and dip, then?"

"How about I stuff this phone down your bullet hole?"

Anna shivered at the imagery.

Several hours later, Maggie and Julie sat on the back porch, watching the waves and passersby on the beach. Anna lay, as still as she could, in a hammock while pretending to be suffering from broken ribs.

"So how did you injure yourself?" asked Julie, a pretty blonde in a pink sun dress.

"I fell down a small hill. I was hiking."

"Well, Sheila," said Maggie, who was also a blonde and appeared to shop the same as Julie, only her sundress was baby blue. "I didn't think we'd hear from you ever again."

"Yeah, I've been busy. How are the kids?"

"Fine, they're all going to summer camp, thank goodness. I'm simply not ready to have them home all the time."

"What about you?" asked Julie. "Any plans to settle down ever?"

"No, no offense but I don't think I like kids very much."

"Everyone feels that way, until..."

"Until they have their own," said Sheila, cutting her off. "Everyone says that."

"Anna, you need more wine?" asked Maggie, turning in her seat.

"Yes, please, keep it coming," Anna slurred.

"Don't get drunk, Anna," said Sheila.

"Get me better pain pills, Sheila."

At this, they looked at her with disapproval.

"Give me a break. You gave me only 2500 mgs of ibuprofen each. What am I supposed to do?"

Ignoring her, they turned back to their conversation.

"How long are you gonna be here?" asked Julie.

"I don't know. Till the end of the week, maybe?"

"We should have a dinner party on Friday, then."

There was a knock at the door.

"That'll be the caterers."

Sheila managed to put together a small lunch. They discussed old times, and Sheila, though she tried to be sociable looked bored. Anna wondered what kind of child she was and how she came to be friends with them because, clearly, they were nothing alike.

Finally, Maggie and Julie seemed to have had enough. They said their goodbyes and hugged. Sheila promised to come around at the end of the week for dinner.

"Thank god," Anna exclaimed. "I just need a nap. I'm so drunk."

Sheila watched them pull out of the driveway. She closed the door and held up two drivers licenses.

"That's great, but they don't look like me. You could pull it off, naturally, being blonde."

"Don't be stupid. We'll bleach your hair."

"Wow, two blondes in Puerto Rico," she said sarcastically. "How covert."

"You got a better idea, asshole?"

"No, I'm sorry, I'm just frustrated. You're doing an awesome job. This will work, I know it. We should dye our hair again as soon as we get there."

Sheila set out for the grocery store and returned with blue bleach powder and developer. Anna was still slow to move, so she placed a bucket on the floor, and they rinsed the solution into it. As soon as that was done, they went to the bank together and withdrew as much money as they could, and stored some cash on several different prepaid debit cards with several different names. After, they went to the library, to use their computers, and booked two plane tickets to San Juan.

~~~

Anna had always seen pictures of the rundown buildings in San Juan. Looking at them from photos, she got a romantic notion, of history and people and families. However, living there was another story altogether. Sure, they could have checked into a nice hotel, but they needed to conserve as much money as they could. Plus, they didn't want to use her friends' identities too much, for fear they might get killed when Crest came after them. No, it was just better to simply disappear without any trail. They could do that in the neighborhoods, rather than the resorts and hotels that assigned transaction numbers to everything they did.

Boarding the plane and pretending like everything was alright was the hardest thing Anna ever had to do. Thankfully, Sheila was willing to give her all of her painkillers, including those for her poison sickness. All of which kept her heavily sedated, but standing was especially difficult. She had no choice but to lean on Sheila, who did her best to support her by gripping her below her hip bone, tightly. People looked at them as if they were odd, and likely thought them lezbos and that Sheila was grabbing her ass, but the pain was too great to care.

As soon as they landed, they checked into the rental they'd read about online. On the screen, it looked real pretty, but once they got there, they regretted it. The scent of broken sewer raped their senses of smell; the site of rat droppings, and strange and large insects she'd never seen before made her skin contract. Sheila was a trooper, though. She had an iron stomach; nothing seemed to bother her. Calmly, she went about the room with a long stick smashing and whacking whatever crawled, ignoring the red and green goos that splattered the hems of her jeans.

It was almost like camping indoors: You didn't want to touch anything, not the floors, not the walls. In fact, outdoors would have been a cleaner option if not for their being afraid of snakes and bugs and flying, hissing cockroaches. Thinking back to the days when ticks were her biggest fear, Anna laughed.

Later that day, Sheila covered her hair with a scarf and walked to the store and brought back several strange items.

"Couldn't you get regular bread?"

"Clearly, you've never been out of the country before. This is regular bread, in most other places," Sheila said and laid a couple baguettes on the table.

"You could kill someone with that bread. Didn't they come wrapped at least? It's probably loaded with maggots." Anna swatted a fly away from the loaves.

"No, here." She placed a rectangular braided twine on the table. "A bread basket."

"Beans, rice, pasta and what is this?" she asked, feeling horrified.

"This is what people eat here. It's for pastelillos. Here, I bought some that are already made."

She took a bite of the empanada like thing and tasted eggs, sausage and cheese.

"Not bad; greasy."

"Puerto Ricans like to fry everything."

"Think there are bugs in it?"

"Don't ask, just eat," Sheila said.

Anna felt bad because she spent most of the day lying about while Sheila worked hard to clean the place. Despite her efforts, a stale stench still permeated the air.

"Where do you think it's coming from?" asked Sheila.

"The pipes, I think, and the walls; kind of like in the ghetto parts of New York, only it's twenty times worse here. Sometimes, these smells, they stick to people. I hope that doesn't happen to us."

"Are you saying we're going to smell like sewage? Gross."

"Wow! Something actually disgusts you? I thought you were made of iron."

Ignoring Anna, she said, "Maybe we should move, soon. For now, we just keep the windows open."

She stapled a bed sheet to the wall, covering the window and keeping most of the bugs out, but flies still managed to make their way in.

"It's almost like they're coming through the walls. I can't stand this. We're leaving tomorrow," said Anna.

"Agreed."

At night, it seemed like no one in their neighborhood needed to sleep. Music poured in from every side of them.

Anna had taken the rest of her pain pills and slugged slowly on a bottle of rum.

"Maybe in the morning we can find a doctor or a farmacia or whatever."

Sheila was looking out of the window.

"The people, here, are crazy. Their kids are running through the streets when they should be in bed, men are outside, drinking and fighting and being rambunctious. I can't wait to get out of here; this unruliness scares me."

She plopped down the on the couch beside her.

"Sheila!" Anna groaned.

"Sorry, I'll sit more carefully, next time. So what next?"

"I don't know," she said and took a sloppy swig of rum.

Sheila yanked the bottle out of her hand.

"Why don't you drink your wine? I bought it for you. This rum has made you drunk beyond reason."

"The wine tastes like shit, is why. I need to get drunk in order to drink it."

Sheila sighed. "Let's watch a movie."

"Did you get a transformer?" asked Anna.

"Laptops don't generally need transformers, but I did get a converter."

She held up a little white plastic thing with prongs for Anna to see.

At midnight, just when Anna was finally dozing off, someone knocked on the door.

They looked at each other with wide eyes.

Sheila got off the couch and went into the kitchen. A moment later, she came back with the cast iron frying pan she'd purchased earlier.

"Hello, it's your neighbor," a guy said with a Spanish accent.

Sheila opened the door. Slowly, Anna turned in her seat so she could see the man. He was a tad shorter than Sheila and had dark skin and hair.

"Hi, my name is Miguel. I noticed you moved in today, and that your lights are still on. My buddies and I were wondering if you'd like to come over and have a drink?"

"No, thanks."

"We're friendly; we just like to know who's in our neighborhood."

"We're really tired; maybe some other time."

Sheila was about to shut the door, when he noticed Anna.

"Are you okay?"

"She's just had a bit much to drink," Sheila said.

"She looks in pain."

"I had a little accident," Anna slurred.

"I can help you out with that, if you come over and say hi."

"Fuck it," said Anna, teetering as she tried to stand. "Let's go. I'm bored out of my mind. Can you get me medication for pain?"

"With a snap of my fingers."

When they exited the apartment, it was like the entire street got quiet. Heads everywhere turned in their in their direction.

Miguel lived across the street. From an upstairs window, music blasted. On the corner, a couple danced.

They walked up the stairs. Immediately, they noticed that their building had a funky smell, too.

"These are my buddies, Cordero and Ivan."

They both said hello. Cordero was clearly a native, and Ivan, although he'd been there a long time, looked like an immigrant. Both were scruffy and sweaty looking. Ivan was severely tan with whitish hair. They both looked to be in their thirties, despite their leathery faces.

"I need to sit," said Anna.

"Oh, here," said Miguel, who rushed over to help her to the couch.

"What's wrong with her?" Ivan asked Sheila.

"She fell while hiking. She's got a couple cracked ribs and an injury that could turn into infection, if not careful. We need to get her more pain medication, although antibiotics are more a priority at this moment."

"My brother runs the boticario," said Miguel.

"What's that?" asked Sheila.

"Apothecary," said Ivan with a tinge of a Russian accent.

Miguel pulled out his cell phone and pressed a button.

"So what brings you?" asked Ivan.

"We're traveling together. Anna's never been abroad, and I love to travel."

"Why are you here and not a hotel?"

"To conserve money, of course. You think all Americans are rich, don't you? I don't understand why people get that impression. Ever since we got here, people have done nothing but try to sell us stuff."

"He's sending someone," Miguel interrupted. "It'll be a few minutes."

"Thank you," said Anna from the couch. "Tell her what to do about the bugs."

"Bugs?" Cordero looked confused.

"There are so many bugs in our apartment," said Sheila.

"Not much you can do," offered Ivan, who seemed to understand.

Miguel handed her a glass of rum with a splash of sugar and a lime.

When they all had a glass, he said, "Introduccion?"

"Uh," said Sheila. "I'm Maggie, and this is Julie."

There was a knock at the door.

A little boy came in with a bag and said, "Quienes son los rubios calientes?"

Anna's face got hot. She looked at Sheila who looked back at her, intensely. They'd forgotten to die their hair again. It was too late to fix there error, now; it would look suspicious.

"Aqui," said Miguel, handing her the bag. She looked inside and found a plastic sandwich bag with twenty pills. Inside the sandwich bag was another twenty. "Sorry, but that'll be twenty American pesos."

Sheila raised her eyebrows. Anna nodded her head to her, a sign that it was all good. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a twenty.

How much longer they stayed, Anna didn't know. Whatever they gave her, combined with the alcohol, knocked her clean out, yet she woke up on the couch the next morning. The antibiotics had clearly kicked in, for she could have sworn the swelling in her abdomen had gone down some.

The next day, they didn't move out as they swore. Instead, Sheila set a pot of beans to stew for the day. There came another knock at the door.

"Hi, I just wanted to check in and make sure everything was alright with your friend. She was pretty drunk when she took those pills."

"No worries; she's fine," said Sheila, opening the door for him to enter.

"Oh, I can't stay. I just came to offer my services. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I'm right across the street."

"Actually, we need someone to fix our plumbing," said Sheila. "Do you know of anyone?"

"I might look at it for a few pesos."

Anna, still stoned from her drinking and pills, the night before, didn't respond when he said hello to her. She watched him walk past her and into the kitchen.

From the couch, she heard the sound of the water being turned on.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked.

"Well, look at it. It's sooty or something."

"Sooty?"

"The color."

"Oh that's just the way it is here. Don't worry, it's safe. It won't kill you. Maybe just don't drink it at first, but you can definitely wash in it. If you want fresh water, my buddy can bring it for a few pesos. Want me to talk to him?"

"Yes, please."

After he left, Anna took the opportunity to air out her wound and then changed her bandages.

That very night Miguel returned with a five gallon drum of fresh water.

"Thank you so much," Sheila exclaimed, and handed him a five dollar bill.

Anna, too, was stoked but still too stoned to say it.

Slowly, day-by-day, her wound showed improvement, but it still hurt like hell. Anna remained hopped up on pain killers and booze as a result. Often, Sheila went off on her own because Anna was too messed up to stay on her feet for long. Also, she could tell that Sheila was sick of seeing her immobile on the couch.

By the end of the week, hardly any blood escaped her body. Anna hoped this was a clear sign that she was past the difficult part of healing – and the threat of infection. The flesh around the wound had turned into a colorful pink, and was starting to look healthy and alive. And blood tinged her entire midriff, making her look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. This freaked Anna out, at first, because she thought it was blood poisoning. Sheila explained that it was just blood drainage moving through the body.

The air in the apartment made her afraid to leave her wound out in the open for long, for fear of some air born infection or a bug crawling in. So she took to lightly sewing gauze into her shirts and wearing them over her open wound.

As Anna got better, Sheila became surlier. There wasn't anything she could say that didn't warrant a raised and angry voice from her. Anna was embittered by her attitude, but because of her condition, she had no choice but to put up with it. Every so often, she'd imagine stabbing Sheila in the throat.

By the end of the week, she insisted that she stop taking the pills and drinking. Anna was too hung over to argue. Sheila heaved her up and insisted she go for a walk.

They went halfway down the beach when Anna stopped her because the sliding motion of walking on sand was too much. So instead, they walked along the street that lined the sandy beach.

Despite the age of the structures, it was really beautiful, even in its inglorious shabbiness. The sun reflected brilliantly off the blue ocean; boats anchored and floated throughout the bay. On board, people fished and pulled and planted traps.

The air was perfect and the scent of fish empanadas could be smelled from a mile away. Suddenly, Anna was starving, so they spent the afternoon walking in and out of the harbor, sampling all of the fresh catch and eating off the carts. She never thought another bay could win her heart, more than those of New York or Boston or Maine.

People looked at them, often, and tried to sell them more than they needed. They even spotted a few mainland citizens, fat and porky, practically knocking over the stands. They seemed oblivious to the stares people gave them.

They stopped in the shop where Anna bought two new dresses; one to sleep in and the other to wear during the day. It sure sucked sitting in sweaty jeans all day, and San Juan was pretty warm during the summer.

Finally, they settled on the beach in a bar that was attached to one of the resorts. They sat at a table and drank mojitos and watched the water ripple.

Anna order several sepia, or otherwise known as cuttle fish. Sheila, unknowing, squealed when she stuck her fork in and black squid ink squirted out onto her jeans. Anna cried, literally, tears from the pain of trying not to laugh.

Revolted, Sheila got up and left the table to find something to clean her jeans.

When she sat back down, she said, "That guy over there in the cheap suit is watching us." She scrubbed at her jeans with a couple wet napkins.

Anna, whose brain was still in a fog, just barely looked up when a man in a white suit sat down at their table. He was stocky and appeared to be in his mid-forties. Three men wearing casual island shirts and shorts came and stood, silently, behind him.

"How are you, ladies, doing?"

They said nothing.

"Okay," he said, sounding amused. "I'm Salazar."

"I'm Maggie, and this is Julie," Sheila replied.

"Where are you from?" he asked, looking Sheila directly in the face.

"Boston," said Anna.

"I've been watching you for a while, now. I'm glad to see you like our food."

They said nothing. Salazar continued to keep his eyes on Sheila.

"I heard you two are looking for a better place to live. I own some apartamentos on the other side of the island. I'd be willing to give you good terms."

"It's not necessary," said Sheila. "We're quite comfortable in our place, now. We just needed to get used to it."

"Yes, it must be hard for a couple of girls from Boston, where the standards of living are much higher than here. I, too, have a high standard of living."

When they didn't reply, he continued, "So what brings you? It's not often we get women, like yourselves, hiding in our neighborhoods."

Anna's face got warm at the mention of "hiding."

"We're not hiding," said Sheila. "We're just on holiday, is that okay?"

"Oh, senorita, I just mean that I hope you guys are here for fun."

But Anna knew he was being nosey, and didn't want Sheila to say something stupid.

"Uh, I'm really tired. Sheila, let's go home. All this alcohol is going to my head."

Salazar stood up and said to Sheila, "Why don't you two come by for dinner tomorrow night? We're having a little party. Beautiful women always are a must. You two will stand out. I'll send my driver to pick you up at eight 'o' clock."

They stood a moment and watched him walk off. Just before he got into a car, he turned back a moment and looked at them.

"What do you think?" asked Sheila.

"He seems harmless, but I'm so messed up that my radar is off. I think he picked up on our bullshit, though."

"Think we should go to the party?"

"Sure, I mean, if he's a more influential citizen, here, it might be helpful to have him on our side, if someone should come looking for us."

"He's obviously a criminal of some sort. Are you sure it's safe?"

"You're probably right, but I think he likes you. That means we can use him to our advantage. But it's important for you not to look so guilty when people ask you questions."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying your face is too emotional. People ask questions, and only have to watch you for the real answer."

As they left the restaurant, they learned that he'd comped their meal.

Back at their place, Miguel was standing on the corner with a beer in his hand and talking to someone.

"Hi," he waved. "Want a beer?"

"Sure," said Anna.

They stopped. He bent over and fished two cans out of an chest of ice.

"This is Jorge."

Then, looking at Anna, he said, "Wow, I've never seen you so awake! I can see your eyes."

Anna laughed, lightly. "Yes, well, I'm better, now, thanks to you."

"I got stabbed, once, too. I swear it was the worst pain ever."

"What?"

"He's been stabbed, too," said Sheila. "Like when you fell down that hill and that branch went clean through your gut."

Anna took a sip of her beer.

"What do you know about a guy named Salazar?" asked Sheila.

"He's a local business man, wealthy."

"You work for him?" asked Anna.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Just a guess."

His friend, Jorge, finally spoke. "Salazar is the largest employer here."

"What kind of business?" asked Sheila.

"Sheila, don't ask. What's wrong with you?"

"No, it's okay. He runs the factory and financed many of the fishing boats. What? You thought he was a criminal? A Mafioso?"

He and Jorge laughed.

"Just imports and exports, mostly," said Jorge. "That's about as illegal as it gets. Sometimes he does favors for people, and sometimes we call on him to maintain civility."

"He invited us to a party tomorrow. Should we go?" asked Anna.

"Yes," Miguel said adamantly. "You should go. You don't want to start off on the wrong foot, here, and disrespect the people. Refuse once, okay, but don't refuse twice."

And so the following evening, Anna did her best to wrap her wounds as securely as possible, for even though she was much better, too much pressure and she'd start bleeding again. She wore a black dress that looked too formal for an island party, but if she bled through her bandages, it wouldn't show. Sheila wore a flowery white linen dress that made her skin look summery and tanned and her eyes sparkly like diamonds.

The car showed up as Salazar said, and drove them up a long and winding road to an estate that sat atop cliffs. Finally, they went through a large set of gates and along a hundred feet of road. To the sides of the road were plains of grass and wildflowers that'd been maintained to resemble a collage. Up ahead, a large white mansion stood out, majestically, under the orange glow of the horizon. The construction was similar to old Spanish plantation houses.

The driver stopped in front of a dozen steps that led to the house. He got out and opened the car doors for them. The door to the house opened, and a woman in black welcomed them.

She led them through a large marble entrance hall, past many large rooms, into the back where a party atmosphere had already developed.

Across the room, a band played Spanish rock. To their right was a large buffet, around which people grazed. On their left, people milled about, some close to the house and some out further towards the cliffs. People twirled and shook their hips on the floor. Anna felt a little embarrassed as she realized her black dress was too tight and too formal.

Anna still wasn't a hundred percent healthy. She insisted Sheila say hello to their host while she sat down. Next to the buffet table were dozens of tables. She sat at an empty one. A waitress put a glass of sparkling wine in front of her while another offered her sopaipillas.

A moment later, Miguel's friend, Cordero sat down.

"Hi, Anna. Feeling better?"

"Yes, much, thank you."

"The party is slow but things will pick up as the night goes on."

Salazar walked Sheila to the dance floor.

Noticing her gaze, he asked, "Want to dance?"

"I can't. I'm still injured."

"We'll be really careful. Come on." He held out his hand to her.

Hand in hand, they walked carefully in a circle. It almost passed for dancing; then the band played a fast shuffling type of song. Apparently, it was really popular because everyone started making noises and dancing more vigorously.

"I'm gonna sit."

Cordero nodded his head, and immediately started dancing with another younger woman.

Back at her table, she smirked as she watched Sheila who seemed to be a pretty good dancer. Salazar looked at her as if she were a goddess.

Anna sighed and wondered if they'd notice if she slipped away. Then she remembered there was no way she could get home.

Miguel sat down.

"Hi, Anna. I thought I'd take pity on you and come sit with you a while. Still recovering?"

"Yes, but I'm much better, thank you."

"Have you been to Puerto Rico before?"

"No, have you been to the United States?"

"Yep," he said. "I went to Florida once to visit my uncle. I didn't like it. It was very civilized but not as home-like, like here. We are all like one big family. I like that."

Sheila sat down next to her, followed by Salazar.

"Miguel, Anna," he said, "I hope you're enjoying yourselves."

"Yes sir, boss," said Miguel.

Salazar put his arm around Sheila's shoulder and laid his hand on her lap. Gently, she removed it and scooted her chair inward in a violent fashion while shaking off his arm.

Looking frustrated but determined, he signaled to a waitress, who brought drinks for the table.

Salazar lifted his glass and said, "To the most beautiful women on the island."

They each drank from their glasses, except Sheila. Salazar leant over and whispered something in her ear. To which she got a sour look on her face and walked off. Salazar followed.

"Should we be worried about him?" asked Anna. "He seems a little too persistent."

"Nah, he's just aggressive like that. He likes a challenging woman."

That night Anna watched as Sheila tried to shake Salazar time and time again. Several times, she tried to partner up with different men, but no one would because Salazar was some sort of kingpin that no one wanted to cross. Anna supposed he could have any of them fired on the spot, or even killed and tossed off the cliffs.

Somehow, Anna's table became a designation for the anti-partiers who felt they needed to be there, yet didn't care to socialize too much. Funnily enough, they appeared to be a bit more high-end than the other partiers. She distinctly heard one woman say that if not for the discount on high end liquor sales Salazar granted them, they'd have found somewhere better to be that evening. Anna turned in her seat and immediately noticed the quality of her clothes and the poise with which she held herself.

"My name's Anna," she smiled and held out her hand.

"Marianna," she said. "Are you and your friend visiting from the United States?"

"Yes, and we're not so sure about Salazar, either. He's a little strange. Would you say he's dangerous?"

"Everyone on the island is dangerous. Really, we have police but what can they do in a place like this?"

That night Anna met dozens of Marias and Juans. Most of them seemed to be related in one way or another. And they all claimed to be in the business of import and export of rum and other goods that, otherwise, would have never made it to the island, successfully, what with pirates and all. It didn't take long for Anna to gather just how dangerous Salazar and his men, and everyone at the party, could possibly be.

Marianna had taken an interest in Anna, wanting to know about her work and life in Boston.

Anna and Sheila didn't leave the party until midnight, which was when they crowded in with Marianna and her husband. Sheila thanked them over and over for getting them out of there.

"That Salazar is a pig," Marianna said a little emotionally. Her husband grasped her hand and squeezed it.

"What are you two doing while you're here?"

"Just relaxing," Anna replied.

"We need a librarian. Would you consider volunteering for a few hours a week? We can't pay you but it might be the experience you need to move forward. Normally, this sort of thing would go to the job core, but they stopped sending people a few years ago."

"You know, I think I might. I need something to do."

"You can help, too, if you want," Marianna said to Sheila.

"Oh, no, I hate books," she said.

"I'll call Senora Tia tomorrow and let her know."

"Thanks," Anna said and closed the door when they got home.

"Maybe you shouldn't work at the libray," said Sheila.

"What? Why?"

"We're supposed to be lying low. You think working in a large place, interacting with hundreds of people is safe?"

"I don't think it's going to ruin me. Besides, I need to get out of the house for a few hours a week."

"Go to the beach or something! Get a hobby."

"No! The library isn't high tech. We're going by other peoples' names. The chances of them tracking me down, here, is slim. I think I'm good enough at reading people and noticing signs so that I'll know if we've been caught. I have to do something because, no offense, but you're not exactly Miss Sunshine these days. I'm sick to death of you yelling at me all the time. Time apart will do us good; it'll keep me from killing you."

She walked into her room and shut the door.

The next morning, Sheila stumbled over to the table for coffee. Anna was filling out applications for their passports and birth certificates.

"What names are using?" she asked.

"The ones we agreed upon. You are Gabrielle Mauve, and I'm Piper Lucca. Both are very European sounding names."

With a sour face, she pulled a cup from the cabinet.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing at all."

"You know, you can talk to me. It might help you not be so angry."

"I'm sick of this place. I just want to go home."

"Why? What is making you long for home so much? I thought you hated New York? I thought you understood that our running is forever, if we want to survive?"

Sheila looked at her very seriously, and for a moment, thought she was about to get a real answer. But then there was a knock at the door.

Sheila went to the door and returned with a dozen red roses.

"Sheila! I thought you hated him! Why is he sending you roses?"

"I don't know."

"You know you can't get involved. You must resist him."

"I tried!" she yelled at her.

Sheila slammed the roses into the trash and left the apartment without a word.

Anna walked to the library that afternoon and met Ms. Tia. She was a frail and old looking woman that reminded her of crumpled paper. The only thing that seemed straight about her was her pointed nose and the glasses that sat upon it.

Ms. Tia gave her a tour of the three stories of books, and then took her around back to go through items that needed re stocking. They had an old library system that they needed help with cataloguing to the new computer system, which by Anna's standards was actually over a decade old.

The people that came in and out of the library were very nice and polite. Despite the heat of the day, it stayed nice and cool inside with a feel like the adobe houses the Native Americans were known to make. Her favorite responsibility was reading in the children's library every afternoon, which was an extension just beyond the main lobby. There, they encouraged her to read in English, before another reader would tell a story in Spanish. This encouraged the kids to actively think in English before resorting to their mother tongue.

At early evening, just before the library closed, Anna printed out the extra documents she needed for hers and Sheila's applications; signed them and faxed them to the departments of statistics and to the state department.

As Anna walked home under the cool moon light, someone called to her. Her eyes were getting better at seeing in the extremely dark and unlit neighborhoods, for she could tell that several blocks over, Cordero drove a car, slowly, up the dirt street. His eyes were on her.

He pulled up beside her and asked, "Hey want to go for a ride?"

At first, she was going to say no, but when she thought about the alternative, going home and seeing Sheila, she said, "Sure. No funny business, right?"

"No, just hanging out. If you wanna feel me up, I ain't gonna stop you."

She got in.

"Where are we going?"

"To watch the moon over the water. It's absolutely gorgeous at night; it makes you feel so alive."

He took her up and around another winding road she hadn't seen before. The scent of the ocean air was heavy; the water was dark blue-black, except the glaringly white moon and its white shadow trail across the water.

"Full moon, tonight; amazing and beautiful."

"Yep," he said and handed her a bottle of rum.

Her eyes followed the gleam of moonlight across a large, dark wave that crashed into darkness. The sounds of the water at night were more thunderous than the engine of airplanes.

"So why are you really here?" he asked.

I knew it! She thought to herself. He's trying to get information.

"You keep asking, and I'm telling you, we're here because we wanted a vacation."

"Salazar doesn't trust you."

He took a sip and passed the bottle back to her.

"What are you saying? That he wants us gone? He's going to kill us, or something?"

"No, but he wants the truth. Oh come on. We know you guys are on the run. It's obvious; just look at Sheila's face. We get your kind all the time. The only question is why? And are you dangerous?"

"Why don't you ask Sheila, if she's so obvious?"

"Salazar doesn't want to upset her. He thinks you're the brains here."

"We are not criminals. We've done nothing wrong. I'd appreciate it if you'd take me home, now."

She turned around and walked back to the car.

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"Just take me back, thanks."

When they pulled up to her door, he said, "Would you like to go to dinner with me, tomorrow evening?"

Just then Miguel walked up to the window, saving her from having to answer.

"Hey, we're barbecuing. Come on over."

Anna jumped out of the car, quickly, and crossed the street. Sheila was already there, talking to a couple guys.

"Hey," she said, walking over to Ivan the Russian.

"How was your first day at the library?" he asked.

"It was alright. Everyone was real nice."

A succulent aroma reached her. She turned around, looking for the source. Across the room, a pig was roasting on a spit. Before they knew it, the small barbecue turned into a block party. Music blasted and kids screamed and yelled as they ran up and down the street and played.

At that moment, Anna understood what was meant by the large family atmosphere. Everyone knew each other and she felt warm being a part of their happiness.

Although Sheila appeared to be having a good time, she didn't speak to Anna all evening. When their eyes met, she looked away, quickly.

Why is she so mad at me?

The next day would have been spent in hangover recovery, if not for the hurricane warnings. It was the first time Sheila talked to her without yelling, as they went around their apartment hammering wood planks to windows and securing all their items.

The sky stayed a congested looking gray. Rain beat down on the island without stopping for nearly the entire day. The electricity had been turned off by the city officials, so they were left to do nothing but twiddle their fingers. Sheila sat in a corner of the room staring at the floor and biting her lips and clenching her jaw. Many times, Anna tried to get her to talk to her about what was wrong. Sheila remained solemn.

At noon, Miguel came over and checked on them. They assured him they were alright and didn't need anything. Anna tried to give Sheila a book to read, but she threw it across the room like child.

So she spent the rest of the evening drinking wine and listening to the waves crashing, through the crack in her bedroom window.

As the weeks passed, Sheila became more and more withdrawn, and spent more time in the apartment alone. It was almost like they'd traded shoes. She started drinking too much and became belligerent. Anna, however, had once more found solace in the library. More than anything, she wanted to see it looking beautiful again. So she worked, tirelessly, from early morning until night, building new bookshelves, painting them and organizing books. She even sent out petitions to raise funds to update its collection to include more contemporary works.

Despite Sheila's decline, Anna was on a rise. She could have stayed there forever, she thought. If life were like that from the beginning, maybe she would have been more successful at it.

One day, tired and aching from hammering all day, she came home to find Sheila drunk on the couch again.

Anna sighed long and loud.

"I don't think that I can take much more of this. And by this, I mean you, Sheila. What's wrong?"

"I hate this place. I want to go home. I hate the air, the smell, and the people - all of it."

"Why? Why do you hate it so much?"

"I just want to leave."

"We can't, you know that. Not yet, anyway."

"This is all your fault."

"What?" she asked angrily. "Mine?"

"If you had just come back to the organization, none of this would have happened."

"If I had come back with you and become a killer, everything would have been alright? Do you not realize how insane that sounds? Let me remind you that you knew what you were getting into when you signed onto Sisterlings. You knew that one day, you could be eliminated, too. If anyone should be blamed, it's you for thinking there would be no consequences to your actions."

"I should have let them shoot you," she mumbled.

"Well, then, get out! Just leave, Sheila, you think I care?"

But she merely went to her room and closed the door.

The next day, Sheila didn't leave her room. She carried on as glumly as before. Anna was so livid that she didn't bother trying to get her to open up to her anymore. As far as she was concerned, they'd separate as soon as their documents arrived.

That day at the library, she worked extra hard to try and forget about their fight. She could have killed her. Over and over, in her mind, a fantasy of beating Sheila into unconscious played itself. Anna wanted to leave her alive just long enough for her to know that she'd beaten her, and for her to regret ever messing with her.

That night when she returned, Sheila was nowhere to be seen. Thankful, she sat on the couch and watched television for a while.

There was knock on the door.

"Salazar?"

"Hi, Anna, How are you?"

"Well, thank you. Sheila's not here."

"Oh, I'm not here to meet and greet. I just want to give you these." He handed her two square cream colored envelopes. "They are invitations to a party I'm having, tomorrow night. Make sure Sheila attends. She's my date."

Anna slipped the invitation under her door, and then went to her own room for the evening. She didn't know if Sheila would come or not, and she certainly didn't care.

The next day, she didn't see Sheila at all. Then she looked out of her window, in the early evening, and saw her sitting on the sand, looking out at the water. She wanted to feel bad for her, but it was hard to be sympathetic for an ogre.

In honor of Salazar's party, the library didn't open for the day. So Anna didn't have any excuse to leave the apartment. She went to the corner café in order to kill time before having to return home and likely see Sheila.

The locals had become familiar with her face. Strangely, Anna mused on how comfortable she was, and how she'd regret leaving not only the island but the friendships. Before, she would shirk away from acknowledgements of other people, and now, she looked forward to them. Being there helped her figure out the problem of her life, which was that she was a small time girl living in a big life city. Funny, the iron, because there she was, a terrible recluse who hated people, yet now had more friends in less than four weeks, than she'd had her entire life.

"Hey, Enrique," she said to young man, whose father owned the small saloon.

He nodded his head and made her a Cuba Libre.

"Going to the party, tonight?" he asked.

"I don't know."

And in truth, she didn't know. She just didn't think she could stand to schmooze that evening, as much as it sounded fun. That was the one area that still hadn't improved much; she wasn't a party person. She didn't want to see or deal with Sheila. And it would have been nice to have an evening alone, she thought.

She walked in the door of their apartment early that evening. Sheila was lying on the couch watching a movie on her laptop.

"You're late," she said grumpily. "We need to get ready for the party."

"I'm not going."

"Why not?" she asked and sat up to look at her.

"Uh," she said sarcastically, "because I don't want to."

Sheila's face seemed to relax. "I'm not going, either."

"You have to. You know Salazar will be disappointed. There's a rumor going around that you, two, are dating."

"I don't care. If you don't have to go, then why should I?"

Disappointed that she wouldn't get an evening to herself, she made a margarita and went to her room. She fell asleep watching a Spanish soap. Her Spanish was starting to get pretty good, too, as she managed to follow the conversation all the way through several scenes.

At midnight, she woke to the sounds of loud arguing. She sat up in bed and listened. Sheila was in the living room yelling at someone, likely Salazar.

Anna got up from the bed and put her head against the door.

"What are you going to do about it?" he asked.

Just then there was a suppressed gunshot.

Anna yelped and her hands jumped to her ears. She opened her door and walked, slowly, out.

"What was that?" she asked shrilly.

Salazar lied on the floor, bleeding. Sheila held a gun in her hand.

"What?" Anna asked hysterically. "What happened?"

"No time to explain. I gotta go."

She ran to her room; Anna followed.

"Sheila, where are you gonna go?"

"There's a resort on Charlotte Amalie. It should take only a few hours to get there. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just blame it on me, except think of a way that you can use my real name; that way my friend doesn't get implicated. When my passport and birth certificate comes, then you can forward them to me."

"What kind of dream land are you fantasizing in? They are gonna come after me and put me in jail. What makes you think they won't hang me for this? Whether by law or by henchmen? I'll be in jail by morning, and likely never see the light of day again. This place is old world. Do you think they care about whether I actually pulled the trigger, or had anything to do with this?"

"Then you must come with me. We'll figure it out once we get to the Virgin Islands. No one knows where we're going."

"I'm sure they'll be able to figure it out, Sheila."

"No, we have the other debit cards with other names on them. We'll pretend like we just got in and our reservations are lost. If anything, it should buy us at least a couple of days, maybe even a week or two, from the law and any personal retaliation."

Angrily, Anna ran to her room to pack her things. She really loved it there, and it did cross her mind that she might stay despite the risk of Crest finding her. She'd never forgive Sheila for this. In fact, when they landed safely and got their identifications, Anna was gonna suggest they went their separate ways. Maybe she was a drunk and lazy recluse, but Sheila was a loose cannon and a liability that she was not gonna carry anymore.

With bags full, they climbed out of the apartment window and down to the beach. Sticking close to the cliffs and fighting against the sand to take as many footsteps as they could, they made their way down the coast to the harbor.

Suddenly, Sheila whispered, "Stop!"

"What is it?"

"There are people still packing up for the night. We have to wait."

And wait, they did, silently. It was hard for Anna to refrain from asking a million questions, but the cliffs had a way of carrying people's voices, despite the thunder of the waves.

Eventually, the people finished packaging up the rest of their fish and drove away.

They ran down to the harbor. Sheila pulled out her Swiss army knife and carefully cut lose a two person kayak. They slipped their items in and set it in the water; then carefully got in, themselves.

Anna wanted to scold her but she reserved all her strength for paddling as fast as they could. It was exhausting work, especially as Anna had been working so hard on the library. Sheila seemed confident about where they were going, despite that she kept looking at the compass and then looking around them.

Mostly, what kept her from berating Sheila was fear. It was scary being out there surrounded by nothing but fog and seeing only the glare of the moon on the dark ripples of the oceans; the ripples that were so black that she was sure, if she fell in, she'd never be able to find her way to the surface and breathe again. Every so often, something would plop or splash nearby, and a few times, she was sure she spotted a fin. At one point, she looked left and saw two eyes and a head looking at her. She screamed and almost dropped her paddle.

"What is it?" asked Sheila annoyed.

"Nothing. I think I saw a sea otter or something, only in this light, it looked like a human head."

Eventually, Sheila grew weary, as did Anna. They both heaved and groaned as they forced themselves to press on. Anna didn't know what time it was, or how long they'd been at it, but the moon had shifted considerably, and the sky seemed lighter.

The sun was showing itself by the time they saw the shore of a land some miles out. Anna was exhausted, but relieved.

"We're almost there," Sheila exclaimed happily.

As they got closer, Anna panicked, for there was no sign of life and it occurred to her that they could have paddled to a deserted island. But then, Sheila was ecstatic, so Anna assumed that she'd picked the spot on purpose.

"Hurry," she whispered. "We don't want any coastal guards or harbor patrollers to see us!"

They dragged the kayak up the white sands, running as fast as they could. Once they were hidden in the shadows of the cliffs, they took off their sweaty clothes and ran back into the water to wash off. Then they changed into fresh clothes and, looking like tourists, walked carefully over to the docks, and slipped onto the streets.

Just like in San Juan, the fishermen were up and getting ready very early. They hardly noticed them as they walked up the wood planks.

On the street, Sheila laughed and exhaled, as she waived down a taxi and told the driver to take them to the best resort on the island.
Tell Some All
Chapter 17

The woman at the desk of the five star club checked them in without questions, thankfully. It was the busiest time of year, so they were very lucky to get a room to share. Once they got into their room, they fell on their beds and sighed.

Anna sat up and watched Sheila got up a moment later, and moved about the room with a smile on her face, as if their nightmare was over.

"So are you going to tell me what happened?"

"He tried to force me to have sex with him."

"Okay, but did you have to shoot him?"

"He gave me no choice. He threatened to expose us, and then he grabbed me around the neck and started to drag me out of the apartment. He's a rapist and a criminal. Does it matter if he's dead?"

"No, of course not, but our situation is precarious. I don't understand why you didn't just beat the hell out of him. Weren't you trained to defend yourself?"

"I wanted him dead! He was scum! I'm sorry if you don't agree with my decision, but there it is."

"After we leave here, I think we should part ways. This isn't working for us."

"Fine."

Sheila lay on the bed and went to sleep.

Over the next few days, they never left the resort. No one came looking for them; there wasn't even news of the shooting or the death of the San Juan businessman. Anna didn't know if this was a good or bad thing. She tried to place herself in the people's shoes. What she imagined was either they dislike him so much that they didn't care that he was dead; or him being a leader of a criminal organization and likely many assets, people were more concerned about fighting over his spoils; or the people of San Juan didn't trust in the law, and were planning a personal revenge.

The last idea scared her silly.

Anna tried to avoid Sheila as much as possible. She went jogging, got facials, went scuba diving and learned how to surf. Sheila got massages, hung out in the gyms, and spent much time tanning on the beach.

Anna had put a mail forwarding to the San Juan Post Office on the day of their arrival in Charlotte Amalie. A thing that would have been too dangerous to do, if Anna hadn't already addressed the mail to their new identities; something she did just in case someone found out their secret and they needed to make a run for it. Not that it would take a genius to figure out where they were – there weren't many islands accessible by kayak - but she didn't have any choice but to take that chance.

That Friday, luck blessed them with another opportunity to escape. Anna returned from a morning yoga class and found two envelopes on their table. She opened them and pulled out two passports and birth certificates.

She couldn't help but smile. She tossed Sheila's passport and certificate on her bed; then went downstairs to the lobby to book to tickets to wherever was cheap.

Booking was easy. She discovered that the cheapest flight was to Monaco, near the French Riviera. They had half a dozen flights every day for under $500. They could fly to Monaco and then go their separate ways; from there, they had the entire continent of Europe at their feet.

She returned to the room to find Sheila looking at her new identification. She looked up at Anna with hate in her eyes.

"You really blame me for all of this, don't you?"

"No, I don't blame you. I just can't believe I got myself into this. I like every day to be the same. I like knowing what's going to happen, and now, I don't know if I'll survive the week, where we're going or what will happen next. I mean, Monaco? What the hell do I want with Monaco? I just want to go home."

"Can't you just be glad that we've made it; that we're alive?"

The very next morning, with bags backed, they made their way to the taxi line.

"I'm gonna miss this place," said Anna.

"You really did like it here, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ruin things for you."

They rode the rest of the way to the airport in silence. When they pulled up to British Airs, they paid the cab driver and walked to machine to retrieve their tickets.

Since it was the middle of the week, the airport was slower than usual. This gave them time to get through security and customs.

When they stamped their passports and allowed them through, Anna smiled.

"I was so nervous," said Sheila.

"Me, too. In fact, I won't stop being nervous until we're in the sky."

"You know, you would have been a pretty good assassin or a secret agent."

Anna wanted to respond, but she was distracted by the sight of two people, standing in line at the café. They didn't look like vacationers, in their black outfits with sunglasses and hats.

She waited for them to turn around, wondering if they were the same hat and sunglasses that she received back in New York, when they wanted her to kill David Winthorpe.

But the line was too long. Anna was getting anxious.

"What are you looking at?"

"Those two people over there."

"You think they're here for us."

Anna didn't respond.

Then the sound of the lady at the gate called for people to start boarding.

"Put your shawl around your head," said Anna, as she reached into her suitcase and pulled out sunglasses and a straw hat. "Don't stare, Sheila; they'll know who we are if they catch us."

The lady called for the middle section of the plane to board. Anna sweated profusely; Sheila tapped her foot nervously.

"Stop it!" she said through her teeth.

Finally, the woman called for the final and back section of the plane. Thankfully, the plane was a small charter, so they got through the line, quickly.

The curiosity was killing her, though. She knew she might get caught, but she pulled a mirror out of her bag anyway, and pretended to be fixing her face. As she moved the mirror over to her right, to peek at the strangers, she almost dropped it in shock: the two people had finally picked up their coffees and turned to leave.

Anna continued to hold the mirror up and apply lipstick, slowly.

The woman ripped Sheila's boarding pass and gave her back the stub. Anna lowered the mirror just a bit so that she could take Anna's stub, too. Once more, she lifted the mirror to look at the strangers and almost had a heart attack, for they stood, looking right back at her. But then, she realized, it wasn't her exactly, they watched, but it was Sheila.

Anna looked forward and understood why. Sheila, like an idiot, watched them with wide eyes, over the rim of her glasses. They must have caught her staring, and now their faces showed recognition.

Angrily, Anna whispered, "What the hell are you doing? You just got us caught, you moron!"

They hurried down the hall and into the plane. When they were seated, Sheila asked, "What are the chances they attack us?"

"Here, in the airport or while on the plane? Don't be stupid, but I daresay, they'll likely greet us at the gate, when we land because of you."

Sheila fell silent.

Anna continued to curse her, in her mind. Then the door to the plane shut and the attendant told everyone they were about to take off.

Anna looked out of the window as the plane moved away from the dispatch. In the glass window next to the gate they just left were the two faces of the people in black. She couldn't tell if they were male or female.

Several hours later, they landed in Monaco.

They rolled their bags to the front of the airport together.

"Well," said Anna, turning to her. "I think this is as far as it should go, in case one of us should get caught. It's better that we don't know where each other goes."

Sheila looked a little worried about this. Anna, still angry, was ecstatic. All she knew was that if she wanted to survive, she had to get far away from her. Sheila was explosive and dim; trouble would only follow her. Part of her felt guilty about leaving a friend who was vulnerable, but Sheila was so nasty to her, the last few weeks, that there was no way she could care anymore.

"Here," said Anna, handing her a wad cash. "Be careful."

A yellow cab pulled up to them. Anna got in and, without another glance, rode off, leaving her behind.
Forward
Chapter 18

Anna always thought about that day when she left Sheila like that. As the years passed, Anna felt guiltier. One thing David Winthorpe was right about was she hated not knowing things, and she wanted to know what happened to Sheila. Still, she didn't dare, for fear of getting entangled. But there were many days she sat and thought about her, and there were many dreams she had in which they talked to one another. In them, she always said she was alright and not to worry; that she understood why she rejected her.

The kettle had been whistling for a straight two minutes, as Anna was still brushing her teeth. Gathering her sweater tightly around her midriff, she walked across the wood floor into her stone room kitchen. It was so authentic and old world, and not forgetting to mention cold. But she loved it; it was right out of the fifteenth century, she thought. The kind of architecture that one could only find in Europe, at the hands of those who'd been influenced by middle era architecture.

"Mooom," called her little girl.

"What is it, Caramia?"

"The bus is here. I'm going to school."

"Don't you want breakfast?"

She handed her a croissant and watched her walk out.

When she arrived in Bordeaux, she never thought for a moment that she'd actually get married; that her fate was sealed and that she'd finally reached the end of her. She only wanted to drink wine and move on, but Alec was different. There were days when she didn't really know if she loved him, and there were days when she didn't know if she loved Caramia. She only felt a strong obligation to be there for them, and to protect her little girl.

Some things just don't change, even though the circumstances do.

Since she'd been there, she discovered there was something else she did love without a doubt: opera. She couldn't get enough, and that was how Alec persuaded her. In fact Caramia, my beloved, was inspired by Puccini's O Mio Babbino Caro, from Gianni Schizzi: a one act opera inspired by The Divine Comedy. It was the dreamiest song she'd ever heard. Immediately, her mind felt as though it was afloat in the sky and clouds. Alec took her to a show every Friday night for an entire season, before proposing on a finale night.

They lived happily on a hundred acres of resting soil, but that was going to change in the next year or so. And she couldn't wait, and neither could the town that so anxiously asked about their plans for their first harvest since Alec's parents lived, which was several decades prior.

The town matron, retired Lady Count Madeux, often liked to give unwanted advice. She offered her service as a vineyard consultant, having been so for many years before she retired.

Anna would say nothing, shrug her shoulders and smile. The people in her township didn't seem to mind this too much. That was a huge difference between her life there, and back in New York. People saw her coolness as indifference and evil almost, but in the heart of Bordeaux, she was often seen as respectable and humble. They, too, misunderstood her, though, yet she was all the more comfortable for it.

In the mornings, she liked to take tea and walk the many acres of soil and imagine what it was going to be like. She'd see, in her mind, fruitful green vines, thick skinned almost large marble sized blackish grapes; workers picking and sweating, laughing and having lunch at the picnic tables.

On her way back to the house, she'd always pass the warehouse with the emptied oak vats that, until 2006, were illegal in the European Union. Alec wanted to use chips, and they had some, but she needed something more to remind her of home. Besides, oak chips just didn't do the same for her; not enough smokiness for her.

Her favorite time of year was now. It was rainy, foggy, and wet, and it reminded her of life near the harbors, except there was no salt in the air. She missed that very much. Once every year, they took a trip to the ocean, and though she hated the hot summers there, it was worth the wicked heat.

Anna returned to her house, as the chill was really starting to set in. She put another kettle of water to boil. She'd given up coffee years ago, but she drank twice as much in tea.

As she waited, she filled a bucket with hot water and soap, and set to scrubbing the kitchen floor. She didn't even bother with a broom anymore, because between Alec and Caramia, there was too much muck to bother.

The doorbell rang. She'd been waiting on a package from Germany all day. One thing that was a pain about France was the small dress sizes, so she often ordered clothes from the East and North of Europe. They had many more tall and thin people, and clothes to fit them.

She dried her hand on the dish towel and went to the door.

Anna pulled back the thick wood, but no one stood on the porch.

"Hello?" she called out.

No one responded, and there was no movement. She walked out onto the porch to look around for the post woman. As she turned to go back in, her foot slid.

Anna looked down and saw that she stood on a large, oblong orange envelope.

Chills stabbed her flesh until it was hot. Instinctively, she didn't want to look, but then she had no choice. She had to know.

Anna bent over and picked up the envelope and quickly ripped off the top. Inside was paperwork from the European Union regarding their franchise and prepaid taxes need to operate.

She exhaled with relief.

Lately, she'd been having more dreams of Sheila; perhaps that's why she was jumpy. Plus, she knew there was always a chance that Crest would find her, and she'd have to run for it. Even though she didn't know if she felt love for her husband and daughter, these thoughts bothered her; they brought a few tears to her eyes once. That was as good as love; that was as good as it was going to get for her.

Back inside, she closed the door and went to her desk to pull out her glasses. She'd gone increasingly near sighted over the years.

She froze in front of her seat. There on the desk, on top of her spreadsheets were large black and white photos that hadn't been there before.

She reached for her glasses and slipped them on. Her breath stilled in her lungs.

The photograph was of a blonde woman who appeared to be sleeping, except for the hole in her head. She looked older, different, extremely fat, but she knew it was Sheila. She lay on a bed in a pool of blood.

That was it. Now was her time.

No, she said to herself. I will not run. I won't give up another life. If I have to kill them all...

As she examined the picture, she noticed a picture frame on the nightstand behind the bed. There were two people in the photo.

She reached for her magnifying glass. She couldn't make it out, but it looked like a picture of a teenage boy; the woman in it had to be Sheila. The boy was blond and that was all she could make out.

It occurred to her that they had only landed in Europe ten years ago. Why, her Caramia was only seven years old, so how was it that Sheila had a teenager?

Of course, the answer came easy. Maybe that's why she was so upset when they left the United States, Anna considered. Still, it figured that they'd find Sheila first, which meant she must have returned to the United States, or come out of hiding. She was always so careless.

She turned the photo over. Someone wrote an address on the back; it was in Paris.

"So she just a few hours away the entire time," she said to herself.

Anna wrote a note for Caramia, who would be home before Alec, and then grabbed her purse and got in her car. She had no choice: it was either they come to her, or she went to them. There was no way she'd put her daughter in danger.

Five hours later, she parked in a lot down a few blocks from the address, and walked back up the street to a grey building on the corner.

"That must be it," she said to herself. "That's where my idiot friend was killed."

And of course, her troubled followed Anna, as always.

She stood off to the side and watched the building, trying to decide what her next move should be. Thoughtlessly, she turned to cross the street when something large hit her, knocking her, painfully, to the ground.

She opened her eyes and saw the grey sky. Panic swallowed her; tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Did they get her? Was she dying, now?

A woman's head appeared over her, blocking out the grey sky. She said, "An ambulance is coming" in French.

"Prendre cette," she said, handing her the letter she kept on her at all times, in case something happened to her.

"Envoyez cette lettre, s'il vous plait" was all she could say. "Poster, poster."

Her heart sped up, traumatically and painfully. Somehow, she knew that was it for her; she was about to die. And that was okay because she'd finally lived.

END
More about the series:

Part II – Due out 2013-2014

Ten years have passed, and though she's grown complacent, she's never forgotten. When she learns of the ultimate demise of her estranged and only friend, she must see it for herself; to learn if Crest is really coming for her.

Anna has survived the most crucial part of being a Sisterling. Now, ten years older and gone to seed, she knows her chances of escape are slight, especially now that she's a mother. But Anna is obstinate, and harbors a desire to save not only her family, but Sheila's son. One way or another, she's going to get those who killed her friend, who lied to her and who forced her to abandon those who love her.

Series to date:

Sisterlings

Match Hit – Sequel to Sisterlings (Due out 2013-2014)

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