 
**Veto**

Author Jan Sumner

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Jan Sumner and JaDan Publishing

**Smashwords Edition, License Notes**

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

VETO
Chapter 1

The lid of the mailbox slammed shut, startling him from his daze. Was this really happening or some nightmarish slumber from which he would soon awaken?

Oh, it was real all right - as real as anything he'd ever been through in his life. The very fact that he was trying to escape made it real, all too real. Whatever the case, Ty had tried to explain it all in the letter to Morgan. But how in the world would she understand? After all, this was her father he was talking about. Not only her father, but also the leading Republican candidate for President of the United States.

He couldn't worry about that now; he had to disappear. He kept going over it and over it in his mind while waiting for what seemed like an eternity for the plane to leave the gate. "Did I leave any tracks - could they possibly know where I'm going? How could they? I took every imaginable precaution and no one knows where I'm going...except me."

"Sir, could you please fasten your seat belt? We'll be taking off soon."

"Oh yeah, sorry, I was just..." Just confused, afraid, and most certainly bewildered by how his life had spiraled out of control.

Up to this point, Tyler Flynn had been relatively successful and happy. He'd met Morgan at a mutual friend's party a little over a year ago, and it was chemistry at first sight. She was working for her dad's campaign and, besides being beautiful, was brilliant as well. But what attracted Ty was her wit and warmth. He'd never had much use for politics, or maybe more accurately, the people in it. Morgan, however, was like a breath of fresh air. She seemed real, genuine, and maybe a little naïve, at least about political affairs. It had been over two years since his breakup with Laura. She'd had every intention of getting married, but Ty just knew something wasn't quite right. The longer they were together, the more he knew it wasn't going to work out. It ended abysmally. He'd only dated off and on since then and wasn't really looking...until Morgan strolled into his life.

It was everything he had ever hoped for - love, passion, laughter, great tête-à-tête, and romance. It was a match made in – well, Chicago. Since 1957 Ty had been running his own insurance loss/control business and, after four hard years of paying his dues, now had several sizeable customers, and the work, besides being varied, allowed him some freedom to pursue other things – like Morgan.

They both liked to sail on Lake Michigan, go to Cubs games, dinner and a movie, but their greatest enjoyment was each other. He never dreamed he could get this close to someone. They'd lay holding each other and have soft whispering conversations that would go on for hours. He loved her more than he thought possible.

They'd been seeing each other for about two months when he finally met her family. Her father, Cornell Eastman, was having a fund raising dinner at the Chicago Hilton in downtown. He was coming off of a very successful two-term residency as a United States senator and had now turned his attention, aspirations and finances toward the presidency. At first meeting it was hard to get a gauge on the man. He was, after all, being political. He was about six feet tall, slightly overweight, partially bald, but had a commanding way about him...a man in charge. Ty could feel the magnetism and sense of power about him. Ty had certainly read about him and had heard nothing but great things about him from Morgan. Jennifer, his wife, seemed a little more distant and decidedly less political. She was classy with a warm softness about her, yet there was a palpable inner strength. It appeared that at times she was playing the game, but she wasn't at ease with it. Given his knowledge and recently discovered insight into the political arena, Ty liked her. Then there was her brother Steve, tall, thin and fragile, whom Ty had never met until now. Morgan never talked about him much, only that he was two years younger and moved in a different circle. He was there, but reluctantly so. Ty tried to strike up a conversation, "So, Steve what have you been up to?"

"What? Oh you know, just working and things."

Ty could see this was going to be less than informative. "Really? Where do you work?"

"I'm sorry. Can we discuss this later? I really have to go."

With that, he rushed out a back door of the hotel. It didn't really matter. Ty wasn't going to have much to do with him anyway, he figured. The evening ended on what appeared to be a positive note - Cornell's rousing speech. Morgan and Ty at last made their way back to Ty's apartment.

"Wow, what an exhausting evening," Ty gasp while collapsing on the couch. "Do you have to do this all the time?"

"Well, as often as I can. It's for my dad you know." Morgan whispered nestling in next to him.

"Yeah, I know. But do you really enjoy it?'

"Enjoy? Huh, I'm not sure that's the word that fits. Maybe, fulfilled," she said, looking worn out.

"Fulfilled? That's curious. How so?"

"Ty, I know this is all new to you and it's really not your interest, but politics have occupied my life since I can remember. At first I hated it. I was young and didn't like all the attention. TV, radio, newspapers, if it wasn't one, it was the other. It seemed someone was always asking us questions or taking our picture. That's tough when you're a kid, just trying to be...a kid.

"But it meant so much to my dad. He'd always been there for me, well at least to the extent he could, and I've just always felt I owed it to him. Does that make sense?" He could see she was torn - loyalty to her dad at a tremendous personal sacrifice.

"Yeah, certainly that makes sense. But that's not what I asked you. Is there any part of it that brings you happiness?"

"No! Will you please drop it now?" Her tone had changed.

"Sure. Sorry, I just wondered."

As they snuggled on the couch, Ty just couldn't help himself. "So what about your brother?"

She looked at him with sad with tired eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Never mind. You asked me to drop it, so I will."

She sighed and nuzzled her head into his chest. In seconds she was asleep. He held her close, hoped she could feel how much he loved her.

"Sir? The flight attendant asked leaning in toward Ty's seat. "Excuse me sir. Would you like something to drink?"

"No... I'm fine." He reclined the seat and looked back out the window into the endless blue sky wondering if he'd ever get to see her again.

Chapter 2

"Morgan! Come on let's get going. You know we have to be there by eleven."

"I know Mattie, but it's only eight thirty. Give me a break!"

Mattie, who was not only Morgan's closest friend, but also helped with her dad's campaign, was, as usual, in a hurry. To some of Morgan's friends, this quality was irritating, but Morgan found it somewhat endearing. Plus, they were always on time.

"Oh, here's your mail. I grabbed it from the mailman on the way in. But don't be reading it now, we have to GET GOING!"

"Okay Mattie, just let me see what's there. You and I both know we still have plenty of time. Heck, they won't even start the introductions until after ten."

"Alright, but you know how I hate being late."

Mattie flopped down on the couch and stared aimlessly up at the ceiling, as she was wont to do, when having to wait. Hearing a gasp from across the room, there sat Morgan with the most horrified, desperate expression on her face Mattie had ever seen.

"My God Morgan! What's wrong?" She said jumping up quickly.

As she hurried across the room, she could see that Morgan was shaking like a leaf. Morgan looked up from what she was reading, with terror in her eyes.

"You're scaring me Morgan! What's wrong?"

There was no response, only trembling hands and flowing tears. Mattie hugged her, trying to lessen her pain. Morgan had been through some tough times with her family, school and the political scene, but Mattie had never seen her like this, so distraught. She held her for a while until Morgan fell away and collapsed in the chair. Mattie could see a letter crumpled in Morgan's hand, but was afraid to ask.

"Mattie, would you please give me some time alone? I'll be okay; I just need to sort through this."

"I've never seen you like this Morgan. Are you sure you'll be alright? I can stay, to heck with the reception."

"No, please. I need to be alone," she said adamantly.

"It has to be that letter. Morgan, what's in...?"

"Mattie, please! Respect me on this. I promise I'll call you later."

"You'd better, because you know I won't wait long. I haven't even left yet, and I'm worried about you."

As the door closed, Morgan, still in shock and disbelief, began reading further into the letter from Ty.

My Dearest Morgan,

Before you read another word, I want you to know one thing unequivocally. I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love anyone. I fell in love

with you the minute I met you and love you even more today. Whatever happens in our lives, you must remember that.

I have sent you this letter because I had to leave. I didn't want to. God knows I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But something horrible has happened.

As Morgan read on, it seemed unbelievable what Ty was telling her. Eugene White, her father's chief legal counsel had been killed seven weeks earlier and, although horrifying, it had been judged accidental. White and her father had been together for many years, and her dad took it very hard. But when you're in the throws of a presidential campaign, you have to pull together and keep going. That's exactly what the Eastman family did. Morgan certainly knew Eugene White, but always found him to be distant. He was, however, completely devoted to her father. Besides being a brilliant attorney, he seemed to have a certain insight into the political process that had become almost more valuable than his legal expertise. Now, Cornell Eastman's right hand man was gone. A significant dent had been placed in his drive to the White House. Eugene was not married and had no children. His father was dead and his mother was in a nursing home suffering from Alzheimer's and wasn't even aware that her son had died. Morgan continued to read on.

Remember when Eugene White was killed and it was thought to be accidental? Well it wasn't. Or at least I'm pretty sure it wasn't, because of what's happened to me since.

Morgan, I'm not quite sure how to tell you this. I figured I'd just keep it to myself, and I guess I hoped it would just go away. I sat on it for some time, because I knew if I told you, you wouldn't believe me, and it might bring an end to our relationship. That was the last thing in the world I wanted, so I just kept my mouth shut. Then Eugene was killed and everything fell apart.

Morgan felt like she was wandering in a heavy fog. She loved Ty every bit as much as he loved her. What in the world was happening? Why was Ty gone and why the letter? Through her mystic haze, she could hear ringing. It was the phone. Maybe it was Ty calling to tell her this was some hideous mistake.

"Ty, is that...?"

"No Morgan, it's me Mattie. Are you okay? Do you want me to come back over?"

"Oh... Mattie, I was hoping it was...no I'm alright. I just need some rest."

"What's wrong? What's happened with Ty? Morgan you know you can talk to me – I'm your best friend."

"I know Mattie, and I'll tell you when I can. But right now you have to trust me and let me handle this my way."

"Okay, but you know I'm here for you. You just call, and I'm there in a second."

"Thanks Mattie – good night."

Morgan was exhausted, but she had to keep going. She had to know what happened to Ty.

I'm not sure how to tell you this, so I guess I'll just say it. Several months ago I was doing an inspection in an older part of downtown. It was an old boarding house, secluded, dark and for the most part empty. I've done a hundred of these places, they're all pretty much the same. This one was about eight stories and, as I've told you before, I always start in the basement and work my way up. About the fifth floor I was standing in the corner checking a fire extinguisher. It was dark and I moved in close to read the gauge. Several doors down I could hear men's voices. Familiar voices. I started to move slowly toward the doorway. I hadn't gone two feet when the door opened and out came...Eugene White. I ducked back into a doorway and watched him walk down to the restroom. I couldn't believe it Morgan, what was Eugene White doing there...in that place and with who? The door was cracked open a little so I tried to maneuver so I could see inside. I could see some clothes on the bed, but that was it. I didn't know whether to stay, run or what. It seemed so out of character. I moved back into the shadows of a doorway and waited for him to come back to the room. The whole time I kept thinking how surreal this was. A few minutes later here he came. As he approached the door he stopped and stared in my direction. I was paralyzed with fear. What if he saw me, what would I say? I guess I was too stunned to realize, he was the one who'd have some explaining to do. He turned and went into the room, closing the door behind him. I moved over by the door, trying to hear what was being said. I could hear them fairly well, and recognized the other voice. This is the really hard part Morgan. The other voice was...your dad. They began laughing, and – Morgan I'm so sorry. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I turned and walked away, went home and felt like dying. I couldn't sleep. It wasn't true, it couldn't be.

It was though Morgan. I saw it, and heard it. I don't know if you remember a few months back, but I came up with some pretty lame excuses not to see you for a few days. I couldn't. I was so torn. Should I say anything, and if I did, what would happen then? There's no way in the world you would have believed it. I'm not sure I believed it. But the fact is, it happened, and I was there. I finally decided to just bury it. They hadn't seen me, so no harm. I could sit on this, especially if it meant us being together. I thought I was safe with my secret. I know they hadn't seen me...but someone else did.

Morgan sat in a stupor. And now there was that damned ringing again. I'm too tired, she thought, This is probably a dream anyway. The ringing had stopped, but only for a moment. Again, and again. She snapped out of her haze, "Maybe, just maybe it's..."

"Ty? Is that you?"

"That's it, I'm coming over, and you're going to tell me what's going on."

"Damn it Mattie, no I'm not. I told you I'd tell you when I can. I appreciate your concern, but please leave me alone. I'm okay. Okay!"

She didn't give Mattie a chance to answer this time. She hung up the phone and went back to lie on the couch. With the letter still clutched in her fingers, she slipped into a dream. She could see Ty working the rigging on her dad's sailboat.

"Isn't this the best? Don't you just love coming out here? The water splashing, the wind blowing. You know Morgan, I love this almost and, that's almost, as much as I love you."

"Oh, sure Ty," she said laughing. "I know how much you love sailing. I just hope I'm in the same ballpark."

Pulling her into his arms as they slipped across the water, "Ballpark! You're the infield, outfield and everything in between. Wrigley doesn't hold a candle to you, although it is slightly older and makes better hot dogs."

Even in her anxiety she missed him...deeply.
Chapter 3

As Steve Eastman made his way up the stairs of the old apartment house, he kept wondering how he might disappear - detach himself from the Eastman family, move on and be left alone. He and his sister Morgan had never really talked about it, so he really didn't have a take on how she liked all this political stuff. But he was sure how he felt. He hated it!

As he approached the door, he could hear Pines of Rome by Respighi, seeping into the hallway. Was there a more beautiful piece of music ever written? He and Tim didn't think so. They were almost as fond of Respighi, as they were of each other. This was probably the greatest burden to bear for Steve. For months he'd had to sneak around with Tim. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. God forbid any of this leaked to the press, what with his oh so important father running for president. He opened the door to that delectable smell of Fettuccini Alfredo that Tim seemed to have a special gift for making.

"How was the reception?"

"The usual - boring," Steve said unexcitedly. "You know Tim, I don't know how much longer I can go on with this charade. It's only going to get worse. The closer he gets to the nomination, the more scrutiny there will be."

"Steve, it will work out. I've told you I'm okay with the way things are, so you need to calm down and enjoy what we have. If he doesn't get the nomination, we can move forward with our lives. If he gets it...well we'll deal with that when the time comes. Come on, I've made your favorite pasta, piggy's on (their pet name for Respighi), let's have a pleasant evening."

Ironically Steve had met Tim Hull at one of his father's fundraisers. Tim was there protesting Cornell Eastman's stand on gay rights. As usual, Steve had shown up to make his token appearance. He knew how his dad felt about gays, "Half a bubble off center" as he used to call them, which had for all intents and purposes killed any relationship they might have had. Even though Steve chose never to admit it, it hurt him deeply.

His dad had taken him aside one afternoon at the house and asked him, actually it was more like told him, that he was aware of his life style and that if he had any concern for his family, he'd keep it under wraps, "Or the covers, so to speak," then laughed out loud. Steve was embarrassed and humiliated, and even though he agreed, he swore to himself that someday he'd make him pay for that remark.

Tim and Steve chatted at the fundraiser and immediately clicked. Steve thought it was as if Tim felt his pain and anguish. He did. Maybe not on this level, but something similar. Tim told him he was originally from Seattle, where his family was big in banking. When his father found out he was gay, he was ostracized from the family. It devastated his mother, who died shortly after from what most people thought was a broken heart. Tim never forgave his father.

"Tim, I've thought a lot about this, so hear me out. I think I need to go to my father and tell him I want to come out. To hell with what it might do to his precious campaign. Why should I have to suffer so he can succeed? We care about each other and I'm sick of hiding it."

"Well, I'm tired of hiding it as well. But don't you think the better choice is to wait and see what happens? I mean it's not a sure bet he's going to win, and you and I both know two votes he's not going to get. I mean, how funny is that? He can't get his own son's vote." They both burst out laughing.

"Listen Steve, I've been through this too and it's sometimes interesting how these things work out. One minute these guys are toasting dignitaries and the next minute they're just toast." They couldn't contain themselves, they almost hurt from laughing.

"Yeah, you're right. I'll bide my time – for now. But, if it looks like he's going to win, I may have to do something."

Tim looked at him quizzically, "What's that mean - do something?"

"You know, talk to him; tell him what I'm going to do, come out. What did you think I meant?"

"Oh, nothing...I guess."

"Tim, I may not like my father or what he represents, but he would have to truly do something despicable to me or my mom or Morgan, for me to retaliate."

"Like what? Quietly kick you out of the family and then talk behind your back to family and friends, telling them how queer you were and how he couldn't believe you were actually his son?"

Steve could see the hate in Tim's eyes, the bitterness and anger. He'd never seen this before. It scared him.

"Oh, they cluck their little heterosexual tongues and slowly, but not so gently, erase you from their lives. Is that what it would take, Steve?"

Steve sat there stunned. He'd never heard Tim talk like this, let alone seen him so outraged.

"I don't know. Maybe. I guess, yeah, that would probably do it. Are you alright? I've never seen you like this."

"Sure, I'm fine," Tim said slowly calming down. "Pass me some more wine and I'll probably forget I ever said anything."

Sometimes Steve stayed the night, sometimes he didn't. This night he decided to go home. Tim's remarks and deep-seeded hatred of his father kept haunting him. What bothered him the most though was he kept wondering if he too could hate his father that much. After all, he had asked him to hide his lifestyle, stay away, secluded, except of course when he wanted him to show up at one of his fundraisers or receptions. Then it was okay to try to look like the All-American family. No imperfections, no flaws, no secrets.

But, his father was in fact "erasing" him. So, if he came out or threatened to, he'd have to disappear. Just like Tim.

Maybe that 'something' he mentioned to Tim, was in fact more than just talk. He'd have to wait and see.

Chapter 4

"Jack, what time are you meeting Bartlett?"

"She said she'd be there around one."

Democratic Senator Don Marks, and his chief aide, Jack Johnson, were hoping Sonja Bartlett, whom they'd hired secretly, would provide them with some incriminating information on presidential hopeful, Cornell Eastman.

Sonja had completed law school at Northwestern. She was a tall, statuesque young woman, who had supplemented her income by doing some modeling. She had long dark hair, almond eyes, beautiful by everyone's account. While attending law school, she went to work for a local law firm and found herself engaged in investigative work. Mostly search and find stuff, but she loved it and was very good at it. The firm had actually offered her a job as their full time investigator, but she'd decided to finish school and see what happened. What happened was – she loved investigation more than law and became an independent private investigator. She'd made some great contacts and learned the ropes in her three years with the law firm. Two years later, she was on her own and had established a reputation as a thorough and relentless private investigator.

Late one afternoon, she got a call from a Mr. Jack Johnson. He told her he'd heard good things about her and possibly had some work for her. When quizzed about who he was and what this was about, he became vague. He did, however, ask her to meet him in a small downtown restaurant. She cautiously agreed.

She recognized him by the Cubs ball cap he told her he'd be wearing. He was a lean man with thick black hair and a face that spoke of subservience.

"Miss Bartlett?

"Yes, I'm Sonja Bartlett."

"What do you say we take that table over there in the back," he said pointing to an out-of-the-way booth.

As clandestine as this seemed, it was also intriguing. They moved silently to a secluded booth at the rear of the restaurant. Sonja kept thinking as they walked, "Who is this guy and what's this about?"

"Here, this looks quiet. Okay with you?" he asked.

"Sure, can I ask you what's..."

"Ms. Bartlett, do you have any idea who I am?"

"No. No I don't. Should I?"

"Ms. Bartlett, are you in any way politically inclined?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you follow or are you active in any way in local or national politics?"

"No, not really. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I represent a particular faction that would like to have a certain political figure observed."

"Observed for what?"

"That's none of your concern. All we're asking you to do is check him out."

Sonja was uneasy. All this secrecy made her feel uncomfortable.

"Mr. Jackson, why me? There are a lot of PIs in Chicago."

"You should feel honored, Ms. Bartlett. You came highly recommended."

"By who? You know what, it doesn't matter. I think I'll pass. There's way too much hidden agenda here. But thanks anyway."

As she got up to leave, he reached out and grabbed her arm. His grip was firm and she could tell he meant business. It wasn't threatening, but purposeful.

"Please, sit down."

Reluctantly, she slid back into her seat. But if he didn't clarify things real soon, she was gone.

"Okay, I'm listening."

"Ms. Bartlett, the political world is a world of darkness. You only see what the press and media allow you to see. And their goals are to expose and exploit. Do you think that's bad, Ms. Bartlett?"

"I don't know. I guess, I never really considered it."

"Well, this is a good time to rethink it. Our feeling, my group that is, believes in privacy. But if what goes on in private could or does have a negative impact on how that person deals with the public or compromises his or her political stance on certain issues, we feel that should be brought to everyone's attention. Would you agree with that?"

"Yes. I would agree with that."

"Good. It is on that basis we would like you to pursue this inquiry. This is a high level individual, who we think might have compromised his run for office. All you have to do is check into his interests, associates and daily activities. Does that sound fair and reasonable?"

"Maybe. Who are we talking about?"

He paused a moment, sizing her up. "Before I tell you, you need to realize that once I do, I will deny having ever had this meeting if you refuse to take the job and, if you say anything or make accusations later, we will take action against you. Do you understand?"

She nodded reluctantly, almost fearful not to accept.

"His name is Cornell Eastman."

"Are you kidding? He's running for president. I think you have the wrong investigator."

As she again rose to leave, he reached once more and grabbed her arm.

"Ms. Bartlett, how does $100,000 sound?"

Staggered by a momentary rush of disbelief, she quickly sat back down.

"Are you serious?"

"As I can be, Ms. Bartlett, as I can be!"

Unbelievable, $100,000! This could really get her off the ground, build her reputation, and take her to another level.

"I'll do it. But only if it's as you say, a check of his habits, interests and daily activities. I won't get into finances, payoffs or anything of that nature. And this deals with Mr. Eastman only. No family members."

Johnson stared across the table at her, "Agreed. Here's $50,000 to get you started, with the rest due upon completion of your report. I will meet you here every third Thursday for updates. You are not to discuss this with anyone else and give your reports only to me. Understood?"

"Yes, understood."

"Good I want to be clear about this. You have built a nice little career and we would hate to see anything happen...well, I'm sure we can trust you!"

Sonja had heard veiled threats before, but this was different, this was serious. That was fine. There was no way she was going to jeopardize what this could mean to her business, her "nice little career" as he put it.

Driving home, she kept thinking how this just came out of nowhere. A phone call, secluded meeting, and now she's on the way to the bank with fifty big ones. Well, she loved investigative work, and it didn't get much bigger than this. A presidential candidate. Mind-boggling!

Chapter 5

He sat staring out the window at the Chicago skyline. He could feel a knot in his stomach and painful tension running up his back into his head. Everything had been going so well. Now things were beginning to unravel.

Cornell Thomas Eastman sat all alone with his thoughts. This campaign was supposed to be a thing of beauty, a glorious ride to the White House. Then Eugene's death, many questions would undoubtedly follow.

He remembered when Eugene came to work for Eastman, Jensen & Smith. The firm was one of the more prominent law practices in Chicago and was leading Cornell Eastman into the political arena. He enjoyed the trip, especially the power and fame that seemed to accrue as he went. Eugene White came aboard with a strong foundation in contract law, but more than that he seemed to have an insight into people. It was uncanny. And it was one of the first things that Cornell found interesting about him. The political mystique had already seeped into Cornell's aspirations and he recognized in Eugene a man who could bolster his efforts.

Eugene White, a man of intelligence, with a disdain for women. Cornell could never understand that part of his personality, but felt it was better left alone. Beyond this, Eugene was a very private man. A small man with delicate features, who seemed to live in the shadows. Little was known about him away from the office. He came in, worked hard and disappeared. He did, however, have a gift for analyzing people on a political level. Cornell planned on harnessing this power and using it to help take him where he wanted to go.

He wasn't sure exactly how to approach Eugene about being part of his political team, but thought the straightforward approach might work - it did. Eugene was very receptive and indicated how much he admired and respected Cornell. This came as somewhat of a shock, because Eugene had always been so reserved and unapproachable. Nevertheless, the friendship and partnership were struck. Quickly, Eugene became an integral part of Cornell's political machine. He handled the money and contract aspects with aplomb. But his true value was in that x-ray vision he possessed. Cornell marveled at how he could read people, sense their uncertainties, apprehensions and most importantly if they were telling the truth. It was truly a wonder to behold. The bond between them grew stronger with time. The mutual respect and admiration increased almost daily. When two people are cast into a war-like situation, fighting to move ahead, gain ground and achieve a common goal, they learn to count on each other in a special way. You don't ask if the other one is doing his or her job, you just know it gets done. Ultimately, you work as one. Cornell and Eugene personified that end.

Cornell left the law firm to pursue politics and Eugene went with him. They quickly became known as Batman & Robin. Not so much for what they did, but how they did it.

But there was turmoil brewing in Cornell. He didn't know why, but he found himself attracted to Eugene. He believed Eugene felt the same way, but nothing had ever been said. For a long time he kept it to himself. After all, he was happily married, had two children and with any luck, was going to run for president. Sexual improprieties were not something he wanted or needed. He'd seen and heard enough of this sort of thing about other candidates, and there was no way he was going to cross that line.

Late one evening, well into his second term as senator, the game plan was being put together for the run for Republican presidential nominee. It was around one in the morning and everyone had taken off, except for Eugene. Eugene would set these meetings up in nice downtown hotels, so they could have privacy and, just as important, room service. They'd had cheap pizza and expensive wine, which had become a trend. Cornell was exhausted and complained of a slight headache and tension in his neck. As they downed the last of the wine, Eugene offered to give him a neck massage. One thing led to another and before he knew it, he had crossed that line. For the next few days, the tension was oppressive. What had he done? With everything at stake, how could this have happened? He wasn't sure, but it had. Worse yet... he'd enjoyed it.

They soon settled into a routine, which meant meeting in dark, secluded hotels in parts of town known for their privacy. They'd borrow staff cars, or Cornell would take Warren, his security guard's car. They would put on ball caps, dark glasses and park several blocks away, then rendezvous at various times of the day or night. They had it down to a science. It went on for months – until Eugene was killed.

Not only had Eugene and his death taken a toll on Cornell's political future, it had also affected his marriage. Jennifer had always been patient and supportive, but when you're running for president, the family pressure is overwhelming. That in itself is a lot to deal with, and she'd held up well. But this, this would be more than she could bear. Undoubtedly, she'd noticed how they had drifted apart over the past few months. No intimacy, no romance, just no time for each other. He hoped she would stack it up to pressure and nothing more. Sadly, Eugene was dead, and Cornell felt sick inside, but it had ended the affair...he thought.

Chapter 6

Sonja had been following him for days and it had all been pretty routine - in fact, boring. Meetings, receptions, dinners, work in the office, go home. If this is what running for office was like...ah, but then there was that $100,000. Although nothing was probably ever going to happen that would even remotely be considered interesting or controversial, she'd stick with it and enjoy her trips to the bank.

One afternoon, while having a late lunch and reading an E.L. Doctorow novel, she noticed Mr. Eastman's car come out of the parking garage. The car windows were darkly tinted and she couldn't tell if he was alone. He was probably just heading off to another meeting or speaking engagement. Reluctantly, she wrapped up her sandwich, put the book down and started tailing him. She'd followed him enough that the places he went were always the same, and she felt like she could almost get there ahead of him. Not this time. For some reason he started wandering through town and seemed to be driving in no particular direction with no specific purpose. This was a first. She'd never seen him do this before. Hey, this might actually get interesting, she thought. As they headed into a less than desirable part of town, Sonja's curiosity was getting the best of her. Where in the heck was he going, and why? They drove like this for half an hour. Finally, he pulled up and parked on a dark side street. She stayed at a discreet distance, with her camera at the ready. He got out of the car with a ball cap on, obviously trying to be anonymous. She decided to cruise at a safe distance behind him. He walked down two blocks and over one, and then disappeared into the Herbert Hotel. She'd been at this long enough to know when things were getting strange, and this was about as strange as it gets, for a presidential nominee. Maybe, just maybe, she was on to something. She parked the car close by and waited until he'd been inside for several minutes.

The place looked lonely, dark and dingy. What in the world would Cornell Eastman be doing here? She figured it was one of two things. Either drugs, and there'd never been any sign of that in his life, or illicit sex. Again this had never been part of his lifestyle. She was definitely confused, but all the more determined to find out what was going on. She donned her incognito apparel, a large overcoat, which would accommodate her camera and hyper-sensitive sound gear, a floppy hat, and made her way into the building. She had no idea where he might be, but by moving through the building slowly from top to bottom with her sound equipment, she'd find him.

Sure enough, on the fifth floor she picked up his voice, along with another man. It was definitely Eastman's voice, but she didn't immediately recognize the other one. After listening for a few minutes, she moved down the hallway past the restroom and stationed herself with her night camera in a dark secluded doorway. This was an old building and the halls and stairways were dimly lit, making it difficult to see. She waited quietly. An old man with a cane struggled by, not noticing her, and disappeared into a room down the hall. She heard a door open. A man was walking down the hall toward her, then turned and went into the bathroom. It was hard to recognize him at first, but she silently shot away with her camera. As he entered the bathroom she could see who it was - Eugene White. She certainly knew who he was and had seen him many times with Mr. Eastman... but never like this.

This had gone from exceedingly boring to – extremely interesting. She waited for him to come out and got snaps of him all the way back to the room. She was about to slip away when she noticed another man approach the door. He was too far away and it was too dark to tell who he was. He listened at the door for a moment, then stepped back into the dark and vanished. Not wanting to be discovered, she made her way down a back stairway and out a side door, into the car and off to a local photo lab, where she rented time, to develop the film. She'd learned a long time ago that it was best to take care of this herself. That way only she saw the evidence. As she processed and examined the pictures, it appeared there was another figure in the background. As Eugene White walked back to the room, she could vaguely make out another man standing in a doorway down the hall. He was trying to stay hidden. "Ah," she thought, "You can't beat that infrared lens."

She enlarged and enhanced until she had a fairly clear picture of him. Sure enough, there he was hiding in a doorway just down the hall from the targets. Who was this guy? What was he doing there, and why the interest in Eastman and White? He was undoubtedly the same man who had approached their door when she was leaving.

She didn't know who he was, but she was going to find out, and include it in her report to Mr. Johnson. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if Mr. Johnson was shooting it straight to her. Could it be he was double dipping on PIs, having someone check on her? She figured anything was possible, after what she'd just seen. She'd be on her toes now, more cautious, observant. There was an unpleasant smell emerging. She just didn't know where it emanated from, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know...but was afraid she was going to find out.

Chapter 7

Although emotionally drained and physically exhausted, Morgan brought herself back to reality. She was feeling melancholy and it was easy for her mind to drift back to the good times. She wanted to, needed to, read on, but was fearful. This could only get worse. It had been hideous so far, so there was a part of her that was reluctant to go on. She brushed her hair back, wiped her face off with some tissue, and continued.

As I've already told you, several days went by before I could talk to you. By that time I'd decided to just keep this my secret. You and I picked up where we'd left off and I really thought everything was going to be okay. About two weeks went by, after Eugene's death, when in the mail I got a blown up picture of me standing in the hallway outside that room in the Herbert Hotel, where your dad and Mr. White met. It sent chills right through me. How was this possible? I hadn't seen anybody else, other than an old man with a cane, and I know he hadn't seen me.

That's when it all started Morgan. More pictures, then menacing notes and finally phone calls. Each one, more threatening, more terrifying. I thought about going to the police, but then I'd have to expose your father and jeopardize us. The police would certainly want to know what I found in that building that would cause this kind of reaction. I guess I hoped it would go away...but it didn't.

This was when I realized Eugene White's death was no accident. The letters began accusing me of being involved in his death and finally that I'd actually done it, and they could prove it.

Done what? We all assumed Eugene had died accidentally, as it was reported. He'd fallen in front of one of the CTA trains while waiting on one of the platforms. Remember, you and I talked about why in the world this guy would ride the El to work when he could have had a limo take him. I think your dad told you it was just one of his idiosyncrasies. Well, whatever it was, we all thought it was just bad luck. It was bad luck alright, but by design. Someone had him killed and was now trying to pin it on me. It didn't make sense. Why would I want him killed, what would be the motive? It didn't matter. I had no way of responding, because I didn't know where this stuff was coming from. There would be letters and pictures jammed inside my door and phone calls from pay phones. They were really railroading me Morgan, and I didn't know why.

Then it came to me. It was because of you and our relationship. They knew we were seeing each other, your father was running for president and I'd seen your dad and Mr. White at the Herbert Hotel. They were obviously there getting pictures and I just happened to stumble into it. What better fall guy than me? I was involved with your family and was at the scene of your dad's compromising meeting. They could probably even find "their" witnesses to say I was on that platform when Eugene fell (more like pushed) to his death. It was all beginning to come in clear now. These people wanted to expose and discredit your father and were going to use Eugene's death to do it. But they needed a set-up guy...me! They could say I bumped him off at the request of your father, because Eugene was going to come out about their relationship, which would have killed his campaign and your family. And I did all this because I didn't want to lose you.

Morgan put the letter down, stunned. Could this be true? She knew Ty and he didn't make things up, certainly not something like this. It all seemed so far fetched. But he was gone and Eugene had died. My God, she thought, this was actually happening.

It was time to call Mattie and start doing a little checking of her own. Mattie was someone she could trust with the most intimate details of her life and she'd need some help. Not knowing who "they" were from Ty's letter, she figured Mattie was the only person she could trust. There was a lot at stake - her family, her father and Ty. If she only knew where Ty was, if they could only talk. She called Mattie, not telling her anything on the phone. Just that she needed to see her right away. Knowing Mattie, she'd be there before Morgan could finish the letter. She sat back down and began reading once more.

Believe me Morgan, I thought long and hard about this. The only solution I could see was to run. Not because I'm afraid, although I am, but because if they didn't have me to blame it on, they just might not have anybody. I was the only one in the picture and the only love interest in his daughter's life. If I disappeared, where would they go with this? I don't know for sure, but it might just put them in a bind.

I can't tell you where I'm going or when I'll be back. But I will get in touch with you some way. Please be careful and stay out of this. You know I love you more than anything in the world and I promise we will be together again!

My Love Forever!

Ty

She would definitely be careful. But stay out of it? No way!
Chapter 8

Sonja was overwhelmed with guilt, anger, frustration and complete disbelief. She'd been lied to. Sure, she had the $100,000 and had done her job just as they asked her to. But framing a guy for murder, that was not part of the deal.

She was a good, even exceptional, investigator and, when Jack Johnson hired her for this job, she checked him out. She actually found it fairly easy to find out who he was and who he was working for. She knew he was the chief aide to Senator Don Marks and figured they were simply trying to dig some dirt on Cornell Eastman so they could derail his presidential campaign. If, in fact, Mr. Eastman was corrupt and/or had compromised himself, she had no problem divulging those facts. On the other hand, if it was Mr. Marks and Mr. Johnson who were crooked and had used this information to destroy someone's life for their gain – that was wrong!

But what could she do? They were powerful men and, if they could arrange an elaborate scheme like this and have a man killed...well, they certainly wouldn't let her stand in their way. As a matter of fact, she was probably as expendable as that guy in the picture. But why give her the $100,000? They must have known she would have taken less. Certainly, they wanted her to do a meticulous job and one hundred bills would assure that. It might also just buy her silence. She had, after all, played a part in this, albeit unwittingly. She was culpable to an extent and they knew it. There was the leverage they needed. Heck, they didn't have to bump her off, they could railroad her just like that other poor sap.

She had to do something. Dangerous or not, she couldn't let this happen.

"I'll get out of town," she thought. "Where I can think and make some plans and not be around if Mr. Johnson comes calling."

She had an old girlfriend, Karen Wills, who lived in St. Louis. One phone call and she was on her way. This would give her the space and time to come up with a strategy. She cleaned out her office of all incriminating evidence, packed her car and headed south on interstate 55. She'd made copies of all her work because, as she learned a long time ago, you just never know. Oh man, was she glad she'd done it, it might just ave her life and the life of...who was that guy? That's where to start. Find out who he was and what he had to do with the Eastman family or campaign.

It would take her several hours to get to St. Louis, but she welcomed the break, it gave her time to think - time to reflect. Life is ever changing, one minute you're checking out Mr. Jones cheating on Mrs. Jones and the next you're involved in a potential murder case involving a presidential nominee. As the miles rolled by, she began to reconstruct what had happened.

The only incriminating evidence she had on Mr. Eastman was that secret meeting he had with Mr. White. Which included that picture with Mr. X in the background. And how did they (Mr. Jackson and Marks) know who he was? She hadn't told them. She didn't know, and they hadn't asked her to find out. Then Eugene White was killed. At first the papers called it an accident, then began to link it to a mysterious man who might have had a motive to kill him. Mr. X! That's how they were doing it. Mr.'s Marks and Johnson were leaking information to the press until they had Mr. X trapped and Mr. Eastman ruined.

Finding Mr. X. That was the key. Who is he? Where is he? It wouldn't be easy, but that was the challenge. She just hoped she wouldn't be too late. There was something in her gut that told her he didn't do it. He was being set up. But if he didn't do it...ah, there's the Arch. It wouldn't be long now - she could get a good night's sleep. She hoped Mr. X, wherever he was, could too.

Chapter 9

Paris looked beautiful, even from the sky. He would soon be on the ground hoping to commingle and become part of the landscape, which would be easy in Paris.

Ty spoke enough French to get by and had been to France several times. Paris was one of his favorite cities in the world. He knew his way around and decided to stay in a little hotel on rue Vaneau. It was close to the Metro and there were plenty of little sidewalk cafés in the neighborhood. It was not a tourist area and he could blend in.

As the cab moved quickly through the streets, his mind began to focus on what had happened to him. It was hard to believe, but here he was in Paris, on the run. This had to be safe. There was no way, he hoped, they could trace him here. He'd parked his car in downtown Chicago unlocked with the keys in it. He knew someone would steal it in a matter of minutes. He hated to do it, he loved his Volvo, but in his mind this was a matter of life and death. Hopefully, they'd take the car, alter it, and move it out of state before anyone knew the difference. He'd then taken the subway to the airport and paid cash for his ticket. Oh, he knew they'd figure he flew somewhere and, could certainly check and trace him to Paris, but Paris is a big city, easy to get lost in. Yes, he'd taken all the precautions he could think of.

Now, here he was with a second floor room overlooking the street. It was quaint and very Parisian. As he sat on the bed, the immensity of what had happened overtook him. He laid back and began to feel sick. He'd never felt so alone.

Morgan would have read the letter by now. What could she possibly be thinking? Worse yet, what would she do? He had told her to be careful and stay out of this, but he knew her too well. There was no way she'd take this lying down. But what would she do? Who could she trust? Mattie!

He sprang from the bed and began to pace around the room. He needed a plan. He couldn't just hide out in Paris. He had to figure out a way to help Morgan without disclosing where he was. There had to be a way to contact her indirectly, so as not to put her in jeopardy, but how, and through whom? Mattie!

He felt a little better, not so alone. If he could just figure out a way to contact Mattie... who knows, he might actually be able to help. A little dinner, a little rest, maybe things would be clearer in the morning.

* * * *

"Goodnight Mr. Eastman."

"Goodnight Dennis," Mr. Eastman said to his aide. "Tell Warren I'm going to stay here tonight and get caught up on some work."

"You bet sir. I'll see you in the morning."

As Dennis closed the door, Cornell Eastman could feel himself slipping into a deep depression. He'd destroyed it all - his presidential campaign, his family, his career...his life.

He'd fought it for years, this homosexual urge. Once in college, he had actually given in and had a brief affair with another student. But it was short - lived and he realized that, if he truly wanted a political future, this could not be part of it. Then this thing with Eugene White, followed by his death. It would all come out and he would be blamed.

He stepped into the hall to tell Warren to bunk down in the adjacent room. Warren Gold had been his security guard since the beginning and was a devoted man. However, he had been able to ditch him on occasion, usually to meet Eugene. He would do it again tonight, for a different reason.

Why not just stay right there in the office and do it? Why would it matter? Whether there or somewhere else, the impact would be the same. But it just wasn't private enough. What if Warren got there too soon, and saved him. No, this needed to be taken care of away from his office. A lonely, depressing place to match his life. He knew exactly where to go.

He waited a few hours and then slipped quietly down to the garage. In what seemed like only a moment, he was parked at the back of the Herbert Hotel. He sat staring at the gun in the seat next to him. Deeper and deeper he felt himself sinking. There was no other answer.

He found an open door in the back and worked his way up the stairs to the fifth floor. It was all too familiar and far too distressing. He wandered down the hallway in a trance, until he found what looked like a vacant room. He felt like he was moving in slow motion. He closed the door and pushed the bed against it. He wasn't sure why, but it seemed like the right thing to do. The gun felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. As he held it in front of him, he began to shake. "Oh my God," he thought. "What if I miss and only shoot off an ear?" If this wasn't so desperate, it would almost be funny. He steadied his hand and placed the barrel of the gun in his mouth. It began clanking around against his teeth. He bit down and cocked the trigger.

"What am I doing? Has my life reached such a low point, I'm willing to end it?" Jennifer, Morgan and Steve came washing through his mind. He hadn't told them anything. Hadn't left a note...nothing! What would they think? It didn't matter now, they'd get over it and, he wouldn't have to face them, or the truth.

His thumb squeezed the trigger, when suddenly the bed jolted, almost causing the gun to go off. "Hey, who's in there? This is our room. Open the door damn it."

He carefully removed the gun from his mouth, now thankful it hadn't gone off, stuffed it in his coat pocket and moved the bed away from the door.

"What are ya doin' in here buddy? This is our room so get the hell...hey aren't you...?

Cornell quickly ducked around the corner and down the back stairs. They looked pretty drunk and who'd believe them anyway. All the way back to the office he kept wondering what he was going to do. He couldn't even kill himself right. Making his way back undetected into the office was the first thing that seemed to go without a hitch. He sat staring into space, completely at a loss, then drifted into an exhausted sleep.

* * * *

"Bonjour Monsieur," the waiter at the café stated hurriedly.

"Bonjour. Le petit dejeuner, s'il vous plait."

He hadn't slept a wink, but somehow felt refreshed. How to get in touch with Morgan? He kept mulling it over and over in his mind. He could go through Mattie, but if he called or mailed a letter, it could be traced. There had to be a way, but how?

As he sipped his coffee, he began to think, maybe Mattie wasn't the right way. Possibly, the best way to go was right to the top, Cornell Eastman. After all he'd seen, or at least heard, what happened between Eastman and White. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. It represented the only bit of leverage he had. Especially, if this sordid affair hadn't become public yet. Yes, he was on to something. If he could get to Eastman before whoever took those pictures did, he might still have a chance. He gulped down the last drop of his coffee and beat it back to his room to put his new found strategy into action.

* * * *

Morgan sat Mattie down and explained the whole thing to her. As Mattie listened, she became more shocked, horrified and angry with each passing sentence.

"Morgan, I can't believe that son of a..."

"Mattie, hold it. That's still my dad you're talking about."

"I know. I'm sorry. But this is beyond belief. I mean, how did this happen? What was he thinking?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out."

"How?"

"I've thought about this from every angle I could think of and the first thing I need to do is talk to my mom. I don't know how much she knows, if anything, but I do know I need to sit down with her and at least tell her what I know and how I feel about it."

"How do you feel about it?"

"Hurt, confused, sad. You know Mattie, I saw my dad change over the years, and I thought it was just the pressure. But this - this goes way beyond pressure from the job. It wouldn't matter if he were running for office or not. What he has done has hurt this family deeply, and the biggest victim will be my mom. I need to be there for her."

Mattie was having a hard time assimilating all this, but one thing she did know, Morgan was right. She did need to be there for her mother.

"Morgan, I can't imagine how you must feel and, probably never will. But whatever you need from me, you've got it."

"Mattie, that means the world to me. I'd like you to come with me when I talk to my mom."

"Are you sure? I mean that's going to be pretty difficult, and..."

"Yes, I'm sure. She knows how close we are and I'm going to need the support. It's not going to be easy."

Mattie agreed, but was not looking forward to it. Morgan was her best friend and she'd always liked and respected Mrs. Eastman, but now, to see her raked over the coals...well, it was going to be hard to watch.

Chapter 10

Sonja had grown tired and frustrated sitting around in St. Louis. She knew it was time to head back to Chicago. She also knew it was time to find the mystery man, Mr. X. As dangerous as it might be, Chicago held the answers.

She thanked Karen and hit the road. Once back in the windy city, she'd start with newspaper clippings and then some research through her friends at the police department. There had to be something. People always leave tracks no matter how hard they try not to.

As she pulled up to her apartment, a chill came over her. It looked dark and foreboding and she had an uneasy feeling. Maybe nothing had happened, maybe they'd forgotten about her – or maybe they were waiting for her.

Carefully and quietly she unlocked the door, desperate to be silent. She cracked the door open just wide enough to slip through, then slid in and closed it gently behind her. She leaned back against the door in the dark and could feel her heart pounding so hard she was afraid if someone was there, they'd hear it. She stood motionless with fear – waiting.

Her dad had taught her a little trick on seeing in the dark. Whatever it is you're trying to see, don't look directly at it. Look off to the side or above it, and you'll be able to more easily see what you're actually trying to focus on. She slowly scanned the pitch-black room trying to find a flicker of light. There, in the back down the hall in her bedroom. It looked low along the floor, faint, but glowing. She stared so hard it almost hurt. Then suddenly it disappeared for a second. Something, or someone had passed in front of it. She clinched her fists and felt her heart race again. Maybe they didn't know she was there. But if she turned on the lights, they would certainly know. Then what would she do? No, she'd have to maneuver in the dark. After all, this was her apartment and she knew her way around. She took her shoes off and stepped forward, trying to be as quiet as possible. With gun in hand, her plan was to head directly to the glow at the back of her bedroom. Her foot landed in something warm and wet. Oh, my God, she thought - what has happened here? She stopped and backtracked back to the front door. She had no choice, she had to take her chances and turn on the lights. She'd do it fast and if something was going to happen, maybe she'd have the advantage. With one quick flick she hit the switch...nothing happened. Terror filled her entire body. Now what? She could still see the glow at the rear of the apartment, so ooze or not, she'd try it again. It felt just as bad the second time, but at least this time it didn't surprise her. Gradually, she made her way along. The room didn't feel right, even aside from the slime on the floor. It she could get to the hallway, maybe that light would work. Something grazed her right leg, she wanted to jump but knew she couldn't. After what seemed like an eternity, she reached the hall wall and the light switch. She paused for a moment and then flipped it. After all this darkness, it was like a flash bulb going off. It did stay on though, and she could see fairly well. The first room she could see was her bedroom. Someone had been there and had torn it up. The glow was her clock radio lying on the floor. Her bedroom window was open and some paper had apparently blown in front of it. She breathed a sigh of relief, at least no one was hiding in wait for her. It was the same in the living room and kitchen - ripped apart. They had broken her fish tank and that ooze she'd felt was the kelp and plants from the tank lying on the floor. It didn't look like they'd taken anything, just messed it up and broken things. She made her way into the bathroom and there stuck to the shower door, was a note.

"Sorry you left town in such a hurry. How was your friend Karen in St. Louis? Stay out of this, or somebody will be investigating what happened to YOU!"

A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, most of them frightening. What in the world had she gotten herself into? Was there any way out? Should she just pack it in and leave? She began picking things up, still dazed by what had happened. No, she wouldn't run. She couldn't, she'd been taught better. She'd clean things up and then head to the police station. Not to report what had happened, but to talk to a few friends she had there. She wasn't sure how to approach it, but somehow she had to find out if any information had leaked out on Cornell Eastman.

Sure enough, one of her good friends in the department told her they had gotten some information off the street, which seemed to point Eugene White's murder in his direction, through a third party they were trying to find. She pressed a little harder, but came up empty. This was all she was going to get from the police.

She knew who this third party was...Mr. X. Well sort of. She had a picture of him...sort of. Okay, where to start. He'd undoubtedly left town, and probably in a hurry. Now, if she was going to run and try not to leave tracks, how would she do it? Her best bet would be to get to the airport undetected, pay cash for the ticket and leave the country. She was sure that's what he'd done. And he could have taken the subway right to O'Hare. But what if he didn't live near a stop, would he want to walk all that way, take the additional time and be conspicuous? Probably not. What about a cab? No, that could be traced. He might drive near a stop, leave his car and then hop the train. But if the car was left too long, it would either be towed or stolen. If it was towed and impounded the police would trace it. No, he wanted the car to be stolen, hoping it would be driven out of state, or at least out of the city. He could then do the train, plane and out of the country.

She'd start with abandoned and/or stolen cars. She knew about the time that he'd left so that would narrow it down some. If she came up with something there, she could start pursuing names and would then be on the trail. If she struck out, she'd have to rethink her strategy.

She was afraid to go home, so she rented a room in a downtown hotel with good security. The next morning she started digging. As she hacked her way through all the paper work, she began to think this might just be the wrong approach. Hundreds of cars were stolen or left abandoned every month in Chicago. But most of the newer cars were reported stolen, while the abandoned cars were usually junkers. She'd look for a fairly new car, not reported stolen but towed. Bingo! Of the cars that fit that description and time frame, there were only two possibilities. One was a new BMW, which had been traced back to a Dr. Richard Walton, who was out of the country and had been for several weeks and, the other one was a two-year-old Volvo registered to a Tyler Flynn. It had been towed, because a merchant had complained it was parked in a limited time space and, it was parked near the train. They both fit the time frame she wanted, but she'd start with Tyler Flynn's Volvo.

She figured the cops hadn't done anything about this because they didn't know what she knew. The threats, the photos, the affair. They also had no reason to suspect Tyler Flynn. Finding out where he lived would be easy. Finding out where he'd gone, wouldn't be.

* * * *

"Hello - mom where are you?"

Morgan walked down the long hallway with Mattie in tow. She was nervous, afraid and anxious. She just didn't know how much her mom knew or how she would take this. They found her sitting in the family room reading a book.

"Oh, hi honey. How are you? She said closing the book. "I didn't hear you come in. Please, come sit down." She got up to give Morgan a hug.

"And how are you Mattie? It's good to see you."

"I'm fine Mrs. Eastman, how are you?"

"Mattie, we've been over this before, call me Jennifer."

"Alright, I was only doing it out of..."

"Mom, can we please sit down and talk?"

Mattie sensed Morgan was getting apprehensive and wanted to get on with it. She quietly moved to a chair at the end of the room. Morgan put her arm around her mother's shoulder and they sat down together on the couch.

"How are you doing?" Morgan asked looking deep into her mom's eyes. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine honey. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was concerned, what with the campaign, and then Eugene's death. I should have talked to you earlier about all of this."

"Really Morgan, everything is fine. I know your father is under a lot of pressure and I don't see as much of him as I'd like. But I know how busy he is and how deeply Eugene's death affected him."

Morgan sensed her mom knew nothing of the affair and the possibility Eugene had been killed rather than dying accidentally. This was going to make it tougher, but there were no alternatives, she had to tell her. Her mom looked so innocent and sweet with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Morgan suddenly had a rush of sadness and wasn't sure she could go through with it. Oh, how she hated to tell her, but she had to do it. She loved her too much not to.

"Mom, what I'm about to tell you is...is going to shock and hurt you. And I want you to know I wouldn't do this unless I absolutely had to. You mean so much to me, which makes this even harder."

"My God Morgan, what in the world could be so terrible? Is it your father, is he alright?"

"Yes mom, he's okay."

"Thank God, for a second I thought you were going to tell me..."

"Mom, listen! It's about dad and Eugene."

"What? Eugene - Eugene's dead. What are you talking about? Oh, I know your dad misses him and how important he was to..."

"Mom, they were having an affair!"

There it was. She couldn't believe she'd blurted it out like that. Mattie leaned forward in her chair stunned. Morgan fell back on the couch feeling sick to her stomach. Her mom turned and looked at her with an almost frightening expression.

"No! How could you do this? How could you tell me something like this? How would you know? I've lived with this man for over 34 years. Don't you think I'd know about something like this? Don't you think there'd be signs? No, Morgan, you're wrong and I can't believe you'd come here and say something like this about your own father."

Morgan felt like she was going to throw up. She jumped up and ran from the room. Mattie got up to go with her.

"Mattie, what do you know about this? You're Morgan's best friend. Why would she do this?"

Mattie turned and took several steps toward Mrs. Eastman.

"Because she loves you and... because it's true." Mattie ran out of the room to find Morgan.

Jennifer Eastman slowly rose and went upstairs to the bedroom. There in the drawer of the nightstand she removed a letter from their son Steve. She'd kept it hidden from her husband. She'd read it, but didn't believe it. Steve had problems with his father and she knew it. She also knew he'd blamed his father for most of them. But this, accusing and threatening, it scared her. She opened it and read it again.

Father Dearest,

Well, the secret's out. And I know what it is. You're a disgrace! You may have never wanted to claim me as your son. Well, guess what? I'm disclaiming you as my father. You hypocrite, making fun of me for my life style, then having an affair with Eugene. Don't worry I won't tell anyone, but I don't want to see or hear from you again. I guess everybody's a "half a bubble off center" one way or another!

Your ex-son

Steve

She crumpled the letter in her hand. It was true, and now she'd turned away her daughter, who'd only come to help her. She ran from the room, hoping to catch Morgan before she left. As she got to the main hallway, she could hear Morgan's car leaving the driveway. Heartbroken, she made her way up to the bedroom and collapsed on the floor.
Chapter 11

Don Marks was a man of ambition and determination. He had planned this political assassination well. They'd used Sonja Bartlett to dig up the dirt they needed and then, through calculated leaks to the press, had planted a seed of doubt about Eugene White's death. Now he felt it was time to go for the coup de grace.

He walked to Jack Johnson's door and leaned in. "Jack, come in here, please."

Jack came in, sat down, sensing it was time to pull the plug. "Yes sir."

"Jack I've been thinking about this and I think it's time we went for the kill, if you know what I mean."

"Yes sir, I think I do."

"Good, so we're agreed."

"Yes, Mr. Marks, I'm ready to do whatever..."

"Fine - tell me what happened with Ms. Bartlett. Where is she? What's she doing and, do we have to worry about her?"

"No sir. She left for St. Louis and I don't think she's come back yet. We did visit her apartment and left her a message."

"What do you mean; you don't know if she's back yet? What the hell are you doing, Jack? It's imperative that you know where she is and what she's doing. What if she's come back and has decided to dig into this? She's good at what she does; that's why we hired her. If she should stick her nose in the wrong places, it could jeopardize everything we've worked for."

"Believe me sir, I don't think she'll do that," Jack said, starting to feel nervous.

"And just why not, Jack?"

"Because sir, the note we left made it pretty clear she was to stay out of this, or...suffer the consequences."

"How explicit was this note Jack? I mean how far did you go with this threat?"

"We just told her to stay out of it or they'd be investigating what happened to her."

"And how did we leave this note?"

"Well, sir, we trashed her apartment, killed her fish and put the note on the shower door."

"Killed her fish? How terrifying. I'm sure the site of dead guppies put the fear of God in her. Tell me you're kidding Jack, please."

Jack thought about saying he was kidding, but he knew Mr. Marks would find out and then he'd truly be in some deep trouble.

"No sir, that's what we did."

Rising up from behind his desk and looking angrier than Jack had ever seen him, Marks slammed his hand down on his desk.

"That's brilliant Jack!"

"I'm sorry sir, I only meant..."

"Get out there and find out where she is and what she's doing – NOW!"

Jack was on his feet and out the door before Mr. Marks could sit down. He wasn't sure what his next move was going to be, but he knew it had better be right.

* * * *

The house looked darker than usual. Cornell Eastman pulled into the garage wondering if Jennifer was home. He'd worked late at the office again, and had called to let her know he'd be home late, but there was no answer. He entered the back door finding no lights on anywhere in the house. Even if she wasn't home, it was odd she'd have left the house dark. He began turning on lights, making his way upstairs. The house was strangely quiet. Reaching the top of the stairs, he turned down the hall to her bedroom. As he moved toward the bedroom doorway, an uneasy feeling came over him. It was as if something or someone was waiting for him there in the dark. He reached for the light switch, "Don't you dare turn that on," a familiar voice said from the back of the room.

"Jennifer?"

"Who else would it be?"

"Jennifer, what's going on? Why are you hiding in the dark?"

There was a long and eerie silence. He reached for the switch again and then thought better of it.

"Can I please turn on the lights?"

"No!"

"Damn it Jennifer, I want to know what..." Then it hit him. She knew, but how much and from whom?

"Can we talk about this? I guess you heard what happened?"

The silence was killing him. He stood for a minute, his shadow outlined in the doorway. This was hopeless. Silently he turned to walk away.

"Jeff, how could you do it? What could you have possibly been thinking? You threw everything away, including us."

Now it was his turn to say nothing. What could he say, how could he explain what he had done? He moved back into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands. This woman had been through thick and thin with him, stood by him when others doubted, given him two children and had raised them mostly by herself. All this while he was building his career and becoming a big shot politician. Yeah, this was a great reward for all that. He might as well have just stabbed her in the heart.

"I don't know Jenn. I have no explanation. Something just happened."

He could hear her crying in the corner. He wanted to get up and go over and hold her. He didn't.

"No explanation? That's it? How about sorry Jenn? I don't know what happened I just kind of went nuts, thought I'd embarrass, humiliate and destroy my family, my career and my life. Don't worry we'll get over it.

You know, I thought I knew you, but I guess we've just been apart too long. You off becoming a star, while I ran the home, raised the kids and supported you in every way I could. And this is the..."

"Jenn, I can't tell you..."

"Shut up you son of a bitch, I'm not finished! And this is the thanks I get? YOU HAD AN AFFAIR WITH ANOTHER - MAN!"

It was tearing his heart out. He could hear her tears, feel her sorrow. The anguish in her voice was so heavy that he didn't think he could listen to another word. He was crying, remorsefully. He hadn't cried since he was a kid. But now it was as if he was crying for every wrong thing he'd ever done. For every person he'd hurt, for every lie he'd told...for Jennifer.

"My God Jenn, I'm so sorry," he said, his voice trembling. "I know there is nothing I can say or do that will help, but please believe me, if I could change it, I would. Tell me what you want me to do. I'll do anything to save us."

There was an empty feeling in the room. He stood, moved toward her, maybe it they could hold each other, "Jenn please."

"Get out!"

"Please, don't do this, I'm sorry, I..."

"GET OUT – NOW!"

With tears pouring down his face he ran from the room, down the stairs and into the garage. It was dark and cold; he laid across the hood of his car and sobbed. He needed to leave, drive as far away as he could. He jumped in the car. There was an envelope stuck to the steering wheel. He ripped it open, not thinking how it got there.

How does it feel? You better get ready, cause here it comes!

Bi – Bi

Suddenly, he realized someone had been in the garage while he was upstairs. He went from heartsick to terrorized. Who would have done this and why? His emotions were about to explode. He shot out of the garage and sped up the street. He had no idea where he was going, away, far away... maybe all the way.
Chapter 12

Jack Johnson knew he'd better find Sonja Bartlett and he'd better do it fast. He would start at her apartment. If she had come back, he'd be able to tell. He got a hold of the Chef and they met there. She had been there, but it didn't look like she was staying there - probably too scared. Well, he now knew she was back in town and undoubtedly starting to snoop around.

Johnson figured she'd start with the police. She had good contacts there, but so did they. He could find out if she'd been making inquiries. He sent the Chef on his way, telling him to watch the apartment and if she returned to let him know, then tail her. He made his way back to the office to let Mr. Marks know she was back in town and they were on it.

* * * *

Ty was going crazy. First he thought getting to Mattie was the best way, then directly to Mr. Eastman, but what if Mr. Eastman actually had something to do with the murder. He'd be tipping his hand and his location. No, the best way to go was straight to Morgan. She was the only person he could absolutely trust. He'd find a pay phone somewhere and call her. He had to talk to her, make sure she was safe, and let her know he was too.

He hopped a cab to the train station. From there, he'd take a commuter flight to London. If the call was traced, they'd think he was in England. He timed it so it would be around 6 a.m. in Chicago. Morgan would certainly be there at that time - if she was alright. Flying over the Channel, he became doubtful and unsure of himself. What if he was jeopardizing her safety? What was he doing? What if she wasn't there, then what? No, she'll be there, she has to be.

As the plane landed, he could hardly contain his anxiety. He shot off the plane, then realized he was going to have to wait a few hours. It was only three in the morning in Chicago. That was fine; he'd get something to eat and look for an out-of-the-way phone.

By 1 p.m., London time, he'd found a phone hidden away in the back of a large office building in downtown. It was perfect. As the phone rang he could feel his stomach tighten.

"Hello," a sleepy voice responded.

"Morgan, is that you?"

"Ty, my God, where are you? Are you alright?"

"Morgan, I miss you so much. Tell me you're okay."

She was wide-awake now and very relieved. "I'm okay, sort of. Well, not really. Ty, everything here is starting to come apart. You were right. Dad and Eugene were having an affair and I had to tell mom. She didn't take it well. She turned on me, but I know it was only because she was so hurt and disbelieving. How could I expect her to accept that? Where are you, love of my life? Are you safe?"

"Yes. Let's just say I'm out of the country. I love you Morgan and miss you so much it hurts."

"I've been sick worrying about you Ty. This doesn't even seem real. What are you going to do? I know if you come back now, you could be risking your life. As much as I want to see and hold you, I know that's not possible right now."

"No, it's not," he said in a depressed voice. "To be honest I'm not sure what to do. I want to help you, but I don't know exactly how."

"Stay there Ty. I'm planning to see my dad and find out what he has to say about all this. Then I'll try to talk to my mom again, and then I guess I'll talk to Steve. I'm not even sure he knows what's going on. You know he and dad haven't been very close over the years."

"Yeah, I know. But whatever you do, promise me you'll be careful. I'm sure they'll be watching you, hoping I'll show."

"Well don't," she said in a very confident voice. "I can take care of myself, and Mattie's helping me."

"Good, but stay on your toes. This is way more than either one of us has ever had to deal with. These are powerful people with no regard for what happens to us."

"I'll be careful. Will you call again?"

"Yes, but I don't know how soon. It will be at this same time if that's okay with you?"

"Anytime's okay. But I'll plan on this and always be home. You don't know how much it's meant to hear your voice and know you're safe. I love you Ty."

The dial tone was like a rude intrusion into the only peace he'd had in weeks. He sat limp for several minutes. At least he knew they were both safe...for now.

* * * *

Mr. Marks was hanging up the phone as Jack Johnson walked in.

"Mr. Marks, she's back in the city."

"Yes, I know Jack. I just got off the phone with our friend at the police department. She's been there asking questions."

"About what sir? She didn't report our visit did..."

"No, Jack. She was inquiring about abandoned or stolen cars. If she's as good as I think she is she'll soon know what we know and who we're trying to pin this on."

"Yeah, but she won't know where he is, anymore than we do."

"Don't count on it, Jack. She's very industrious and proficient; two qualities that may seem somewhat foreign to you. Now get out there and – FIND HER!"

"Don't worry sir, we will," he said, hesitating to ask the next question. "And once we find her?""Follow her! She will probably lead you to Mr. Flynn. Once we find him I can turn Woodburn at the Tribune loose on it. That should put an end once and for all to Mr. Eastman and his aspirations."

"And once we find Flynn, what happens to Ms. Bartlett?"

"Don't worry about it Jack. You just find her and stay with her. She'll lead you where you need to go. I'll take it from there."

Jack was feeling dirty. He'd been with Don Marks a long time and had done some questionable things, but murder? No, he wasn't sure Marks actually had anything to do with it directly, but this whole thing was starting to smell, even for politics. Once Bill Woodburn got a hold of it, it would be like a runaway train, and lots of people could get hurt. Woodburn had been at the Tribune for years, and was known to be a guy who "Got the Story" at all costs. Jack liked Ms. Bartlett and was having a hard time trashing her life. Sure that's politics, but she came from the outside and didn't deserve this. Plus, he didn't trust this operative that went only by the name of "Chef." Jack had dealt with various operatives in the past, but this guy was different - evil. He asked him once, "Why the name Chef?" "Because I can cook up whatever you need," he said with a malevolent grin. He knew what he was doing, but seemed to have an inherent anger about him - something Jack couldn't quite put his finger on. He didn't like him, and he wasn't sure what might happen if "Chef" got to Ms. Bartlett first. Despite Mr. Marks' implications, Jack did know his way around and had a few good contacts of his own. He had to find Sonja Bartlett before the Chef did.

* * * *

Darting down the highway it suddenly hit him. He was running like a whipped dog. That's not how Cornell Eastman had moved up the ladder and become a presidential candidate. He slammed on the brakes, swerving off the road onto the shoulder. He sat thinking about all that had happened, what he'd done to his family and what a coward he was. "No," he thought. "I'm not going to let them kick me around like this!"A quick U-turn and he was on his way back to take what he had coming and try to salvage what was left of his marriage, family and career.

As he pulled up to the house, he could see Morgan's car in the driveway.

"That's fine," he thought. "We can get on with this right now. I only wish Steve was here."

Morgan and her mom were sitting in the family room, crying. As hard as this was going to be, he felt good about the fact he was finally facing it.

"Jenn – Morgan, can I talk to you?"

They looked up, wiping the tears from their faces. They were too stunned to talk. They just stared in disbelief. His eyes began to well up and in a trembling voice he said, "I love you both so much. Can we please talk?"

Jennifer dropped her head and began to sob. Morgan slowly rose and walked over to her dad. She looked deep into his eyes and could see the pain and sorrow. She reached out and embraced him. As they sat and talked, the grief and anger started to subside, at least for now.

* * * *

Through motor vehicle records, Sonja found Tyler Flynn's address. Approaching the apartment building, she kept wondering how he got involved in this. What was he doing at the Herbert Hotel? Maybe she'd find out inside his apartment. She'd left her car at a friend's house and was driving a rental, just in case they were looking for her. There was no doubt in her mind Tyler Flynn was Mr. X and on the run. Nevertheless, she was going to be very careful. It was late and she had no trouble getting into the building. She found his name on the listing in the lobby and made her way up to the fourth floor. It was a nice, quiet, older building, well kept; he had one of the end units. She'd gotten very good at picking locks and this one was no different. She eased through the door and flipped on her flashlight. No one was there, nor had there been for some time. The plants looked dead and there was dust everywhere. She turned on some lights and began looking around. There had to be some clues where he might have gone. His office was in a back bedroom; she'd start there. It appeared, by looking through the work on his desk, that he had something to do with insurance. They were loss–control reports. That was it! He must have been there inspecting the building for an insurance company. If that were true, then his finding Eastman and White was an accident. He'd simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She felt terrible. He was truly innocent in this, and was now running for his life. And worse yet, she'd played a major role in it.

Well, there was still the hope she could find him before they did and help him. The first thing she noticed was a large picture on his desk of himself and Morgan Eastman, boating. Sonja was aware Morgan had been dating someone, but had no idea it was Tyler Flynn. She'd been too busy following Jeff, to zero in on his children. Plus, Morgan didn't live with her parents. This cast a whole new light on things. There was obviously a strong possibility that Morgan would know where he was, but Sonja was going to stay clear of that initially. She'd already done enough damage and didn't want to put Morgan in danger as well. She continued to sort through things, hoping to find some clues. He was very well organized, which made her searching easy. In a bottom drawer, she found some photo albums. The oldest one had some pictures of Ty and some of his college buddies on various trips. Places like Florida, Southern California, Hawaii and Paris, France. There were pictures of his parents at family reunions, the usual stuff. The last album she looked at had pictures of Ty and another woman. In the captions he'd written, "Laura and me in Paris." She began to flip through all the pictures. He'd been there with his school buddies, his family and then with this Laura. He obviously loved Paris. Could it be that's where he went? She'd learned a long time ago, when people run, they will generally go where they can fit in and feel comfortable. She sat at his desk mulling over her options. She felt Paris was a good place to start, and if anyone would know, it would be Morgan. If there was only some way to contact her and convince her she was on their side and was trying to help. She knew she had to do something, and fast. Marks and Johnson were undoubtedly on his trail as well.

With his obvious love of Paris, maybe he had some favorite spots, where he liked to stay. She started sifting through receipts and records hoping to find anything about his trips there. For the time being, she decided she'd stay away from contacting Morgan. That might just complicate things. If she could come up with something here, that would the best way to start. He had receipts separated into vacation and business. She came across vacation receipts from France and specifically Paris. There were a number from cafés, galleries and the like. There were also hotel receipts. The only repeat was from a hotel called Libertel Sevres – Vaneau, located at 86, rue Vaneau. He'd stayed there twice. She looked back at the pictures, and there he was with Laura standing in front of Hotel Vaneau. That's where she'd start and backtrack from there.
Chapter 13

Steve and Tim had decided to take a long weekend and get out of town. Steve was starting a new job on Monday at a large independent book store downtown, and they thought it would be a nice get-a-way before his first day. Tim had gotten him the job. Tim was a buyer for the same store and traveled the country, as well as internationally, buying rare and collectable books.

Early Friday morning Steve got an urgent phone call from Morgan. It was about their father. She wanted him to come to the house early Saturday morning so they could all discuss what had happened. Morgan now knew about Steve's letter to their dad. She told him how critical this was for the family. Of course, his initial response was, "Tell him to go to hell." But Morgan emphasized how important this was to her and their mom. Grudgingly, he agreed.

He informed Tim they were going to have to postpone the weekend trip, which didn't go over well. He tried to explain he was only doing it for his sister and mom, but it caused Tim to swing into one of his mysterious moods again.

"So, what are you going to say to good old dad?" Tim asked sarcastically.

"I don't know," Steve said taken aback a little. "This sort of caught me off guard. I haven't had time to think about it."

Tim appeared angry and ready to fight. "Really, well you better think about it soon, and I for one would like to know what you're going to say?"

"Tim, what's going on here? Why are you so upset about this?"

Tim, sensing Steve didn't understand his true feelings, decided to back off.

"Sorry Steve. I don't know, sometimes I guess I just get frustrated with our situation. I didn't mean anything. We'll make the weekend up later. Besides I have some work I can do."

"Okay, you're sure it's alright?" Steve asked, somewhat relieved.

"Yeah, it's fine. I've got plenty to do."

"Is the next trip out of town? Because if it is, maybe we could make that our long weekend."

"Well, we'll see. I may have to go out of town soon, but I think I'll have to do that one alone since you have a new job. But yes, sometime we'll go. Let me know how it goes with your...with Cornell."

Steve felt reassured. In his mind, Tim was far more important than his father was. But he'd promised Morgan, and he certainly wanted to do the right thing for his mother.

Pulling into the driveway brought back all the old feelings and pain - how his father had belittled him and criticized his life style. Now, here he was going to try and console him and tell him it was alright, after the way his father had treated him. If he didn't love his mom and sister so much and care about their well being, he'd tell the bastard off in person. He had to sit in the car for a few minutes to gain his composure. Finally, feeling he had it together as much as he could, he opened the front door.

He could hear talking in the family room and figured that's where they were. He hadn't seen his father for quite a while, other than at political functions, and not on a one-to-one basis since that infamous "Half a bubble off center" remark. He'd read the papers, heard the rumors, and Tim told him he'd heard from reliable sources that his dad and Eugene White had, in fact, had an affair. It was on that basis that he wrote the now ill-famed letter.

He couldn't believe it. His father looked so much older... and sad. His mother immediately got up and gave him a long hug and told him how glad she was he'd come. Morgan did the same. His father just sat on the couch, looking up at him with a depressed and embarrassed gaze. There was a long, awkward pause. His mother, sensing the tension said, "Steven, come sit down. I can't tell you how glad I am you came. It's been too..."

"I only came for you and Morgan, mother."

"Well, yes, I know dear, but nevertheless you came. How's Tim?"

"Tim's wonderful mom. I think you and Morgan would like him."

This was not taking the direction Morgan had hoped for. She knew she had to stop this before Steve wound up throwing Tim in her father's face.

"Steve, you told me on the phone you're starting a new job on Monday. What will you be doing, and for whom?" Morgan asked trying to change directions.

"I'll be working for the Nottingham Book Store downtown. You know the one with all the wonderful rare and collectable books?"

His mom trying to make him feel more at ease asked, "What will you be doing for them?"

"Just checking books, sorting, shelving and some sales."

"That sounds great Steve," Morgan said in a "let's end this" tone.

Morgan knew this was going to be awkward at best, but it had to be done. She wasn't exactly sure how to get it started, but thought maybe her dad should say something first.

"Dad, we're all here like you wanted, so go ahead and say what you need to."

He looked terrible - tired, miserable and humiliated. He sort of sat up straight and looked each one of them in the eye. "It's impossible to explain what I did, or why I did it. Just please know, I love you all very much and had no intention of hurting any of you."

Steve just couldn't contain himself, "Really, well that's exactly what you did, especially to mother. You have no idea..."

Morgan jumped in, "Steve! Let him finish."

"Sorry, it's just hard to listen to...go ahead, I'll be quiet."

"You know Steve, I certainly owe you one of the biggest apologies. After the way I treated you and the things I said. I read your letter and you had every right to condemn me. I had that coming. But I'd like for us, all of us, to start anew. I'm not sure how to do that, but there's nothing in the world I want more."

He suddenly bent over and started crying. Jennifer went and sat next to him, offering to hold his hand. Steve found it revolting and contrived. He got up and left the room. Morgan, exhaustedly ran out of the room after him.

"Steve, wait, don't leave."

"Morgan, are you buying any of that - I'm sorry, but can't we just forgive and forget and move on?"

"You saw him," she said pleadingly. "Does he look like a man trying to pull another political maneuver? Come on Steve, he's beaten. Give him a break. He's still your father."

"Don't go there Morgan. He's your father, not mine. I only did this for you and mother. He and I have had nothing to do with each other for years, and I hope it stays that way. So don't think he can apologize and everything is going to be wonderful. I will never forgive him for what he did to me and how he's treated you and mother."

"Okay, but come back in, hear him out and then you can go. I'll talk to him after that and explain that things are probably not going to change between the two of you."

"Probably? Never! Alright, I'll come back in. I'll hear him out and then I'm gone. I can't give you more than that Morgan."

Morgan was disappointed, but she understood. It was the best Steve could do. She really didn't know his hurt, but could see it was real.

"Okay Steve, if that's all you can do, I'll make it work."

Cornell had composed himself some and continued on about guilt and pressure from the job. In the end, he said he had no excuses for his actions and begged for forgiveness and, in the end, he got it from his wife and daughter – but not his son.

* * * *

The Chef had followed Sonja off and on for days. Through his contacts at the police department, Jack Johnson found out where she was staying. From there it had been pretty easy to tail her. He was not surprised when she went to Tyler Flynn's apartment. They figured they'd let her do the snooping and if the police got wind of who Flynn was, her fingerprints, not theirs, would be everywhere in his apartment. They certainly knew who Mr. Flynn was and were just as anxious to find him as she was. He'd even stood right outside the door of the apartment - even thought about going in and "getting" the information out of her, and then...well that would be overstepping his authority. No, he'd wait and follow her. Mr. Marks was right. She'd lead him right to Tyler Flynn.

She'd stayed for quite a while, and when she left, she was in a hurry. That was a good sign. It meant she'd found something and was going to act on it. At last they might finally get this show on the road and find Flynn and finish this. Marks and Johnson hadn't handled this quite the way he would have, but they were in charge, so he had to adhere to their rules...for now.

In the excitement of packing her bag, she realized she'd never been to Paris. She knew it was a very big city and she spoke no French. This was going to be a challenge. She'd actually called the hotel saying she was looking for her brother, describing the man from her pictures. They told her there was such a man registered. She asked them not to tell him because she wanted to surprise him. It was a long flight from Chicago to Paris, so she'd have plenty of time to study maps and make her plans. If the hotel on rue Vaneau was fairly large, she'd stay there. Tyler Flynn, if in fact he was there, would never know, but she'd know him from the pictures. Then what? She couldn't just follow him around. He'd notice that and take off again. Maybe she should just go right up to him and tell him who she was and what had happened? No - he's already suspicious and might think she's there to bump him off, then disappear again. The best thing to do would be to stay a discreet distance and just play it by ear for a few days. Maybe he'd do something that would allow her to approach him. If it wasn't Tyler Flynn, well, she'd have to start over. They'd been in the air for a few hours and she was tired. She laid her seat back and fell asleep.
Chapter 14

Jack Johnson sat in his car outside their office, worried. There was a part of him that was anxious to tell Mr. Marks that they'd found and followed Sonja Bartlett. There was also a part of him that was deeply concerned. Once they found Tyler Flynn...well, what was going to happen to her? A voice in his head told him she'd be alright. She was smart and could handle herself. She'd been doing this for several years and had learned to be cautious. But, was she a match for the Chef - especially if she didn't know he was coming? Probably not, but he was at a loss as to what to do.

Well, first things first. He had to tell Marks what was going on. Maybe from that he could get a feel as to what the plan was. Mr. Marks' door was closed, which meant "stay out," but Jack could hear him on the phone. He couldn't tell who it was, but the conversation was definitely contentious. Marks slammed down the phone and it grew very quiet.

Great, Jack thought, I hate when he's like this, because I sometimes have to pay the price for things going wrong elsewhere. He'd waited what he thought was a sufficient amount of time for Mr. Marks to calm down and knocked on the door.

"Come!"

Jack hoped his good news would sooth the savage beast, or at least pacify him a little.

"Good news Mr. Marks. We found her. She's on her way to Paris."

Mr. Marks just stared out the window.  
"Mr. Marks, did you hear me? We found..."

"Yes Jack, I heard you – and yes that is good news. Tell me about it."

"The Chef had been following her off and on for several days. She finally went to Tyler Flynn's apartment. She was there digging..."

"Jack, cut to the chase. How do we know she's on her way to Paris and are we with her?"

"Sorry sir. She boarded a plane for Paris late yesterday and, yes we are with her. Chef is on the same plane."

"Now Jack, you have to guarantee me he is not going to act until I say so."

"He won't. He told me he'd call in daily and report what was going on and wait for instruction."

"Good, make it very clear he is to do nothing until I tell him to – understood?"

"Yes sir. Sir I do have one other question."

"What is it Jack?"

"Once we find Tyler Flynn, what happens to Ms. Bartlett?"

"You know, Jack, if I didn't know better, I'd think you had a soft spot in your heart for her."

"No sir, not a soft spot. But you know, we hired her and have sort of trashed her life, and well, sir, I'd hate to see anything happen to her."

"Jack, what could possibly happen to her? She'll lead us to Mr. Flynn; we'll make sure he takes the fall, along with Eastman, and she can go her merry way."

There was a disquieting tone in his voice, but Jack had no choice but to go along with this for now.

"Fine sir, I was just curious."

"Jack, on another matter, I just got off the phone with Bill Woodburn. He's absolutely chomping at the bit to get rolling with this story. I told him about the affair between Eastman and White and he went nuts. He wanted to know what could possibly be better than that. I told him to hold his horses, that this could also involve a murder. Well, that shut him up...for a minute. Then he was back at it, 'Come on, come on, let me run with this.' But, you know, after I explained the juicy prospect of a homosexual affair and a murder, he agreed to wait. But I don't think for long. We've got to get to Flynn soon."

"We will sir. Chef thinks Bartlett knows exactly where he is. My guess is we should know something in a couple of days."

"Good. Keep me posted, no matter what time of the day or night."

"I will sir."

Jack left, still uneasy about the future of Sonja Bartlett. But there was one consolation. Chef would only be getting his instructions from him, so the possibility did exist that he had some control over her fate.

* * * *

Cornell Eastman had decided to take some time off. He was tired, humiliated and emotionally drained. He moved into one of the spare bedrooms at the house and told his office he was not taking any calls. They informed him the press was starting to call, wanting to know what was going on - especially one reporter from the Tribune, a Bill Woodburn. He was forced to issue a press release, which stated he was having some health problems, nothing serious and would have more to say in the near future. He was just too exhausted to think about how he was going to handle the inevitable. He knew it wouldn't be long before the story broke about the affair. What worried him the most though was, he knew they would somehow try to tie him to Eugene's death. All he could do was try to convince his family that he had nothing to do with it. Hopefully, Jennifer and Morgan would be sympathetic – Steve, however, was going to be different story.

Morgan called Steve and asked him to meet her for dinner. She just wanted to see if there was any way he would soften his stance and forgive his father, at least a little. He agreed to meet her. She was also hoping that, with their dad not around, he might be more open to the prospect. They met at a nice, quiet bistro just off of Michigan Ave.

"Steve, thanks for meeting me. I'm sure you have a lot to do, especially with the new job."

"No, it's fine Morgan. I'm glad we could do this."

"Well, tell me about your new career."

"Let's see, I've been there two days, haven't been paid yet, the people I work with seem fine and I like being around books. So, I guess I like it so far." They both laughed. What little bit of tension that had existed, vanished.

"So, tell me about Tim," Morgan asked trying to understand and accept her brother's lifestyle. She did empathize with him more, given what had happened with their dad. But in some ways, it still seemed strange. She just couldn't imagine having a relationship like that with Mattie.

"Oh, he's wonderful. We, strange as it may seem, met at one of father's fundraisers. Tim was there protesting the Eastman stand on Gay Rights. Is that unbelievable? I mean..."

"Steve, can we please leave that alone. I know you and dad have been at odds for years and he's made a horrible mistake. I was actually hoping we could talk about that."

She could see Steve was somewhat gloating in their father's misery. But she also knew there was a side of him that was compassionate. She was going to appeal to that side.

"I said all I needed to at the house, Morgan."

"I know, and I won't ask you to say any more to him. All I'm asking is that if the press, or just people in general, talk to you about him and what's eventually going to come out, that you be respectful and decent."

He started shaking his head and had that look on his face, "Nope, no way."

"Steve, I know it's a lot to ask, but the harder he falls, the greater the impact on all of us. You know I feel different about dad than you do, and that's fine. I'll never know how much he hurt you, but all I can say is I'm sorry. Please, put all your hatred and anger aside, at least for now, so the whole family doesn't go down with the ship."

He stared at her with an almost vacant look. For a second, it made her feel a little uneasy, but he seemed to snap out of it and got a slight grin on his face.

"Okay, but I'm only doing..."

"I know, for me and mom, and we love you for it."

This was actually the best and warmest conversation they'd had in years. They were truly enjoying each other's company.

"So, you told me how you met Tim, but I forgot, what does he do for a living?"

"He travels and buys rare and collectable books for various bookstores. As a matter of fact he's out of the country right now on a buying trip."

"Really, does he have to travel often?"

"No, not too much, I'd say every month or two."

Morgan could see Steve missed Tim and was anxious for his return.

"You really care for him don't you?"

"I do Morgan. More than I've ever cared for anybody. Are you alright with that?"

"Of course I am. After what you've been through, it's great to see you so happy. When he gets back, maybe the three of us can go out for dinner. I'd love to meet him."

Steve almost started crying - what a turn around. His bond with Morgan wasn't ever great, it just wasn't. Here for the first time he actually felt like he had a sister. He couldn't help thinking how sad it was that their relationship was growing out of a family disaster, rather than a sense of family love - just another reason to blame his father.

Chapter 15

It had been a long flight and it was still about two hours before they would get to Paris. When she awoke she discovered she'd slept right through dinner. She was hungry, but felt like she could make it to Paris and then get something to eat at the airport. She always kept some crackers in her purse and they'd just have to do the trick.

The young girl, who was on her way to Paris to "find herself," was not in her seat next to Sonja. As she dug through her purse, a cordial looking man across the aisle leaned over and said, "You missed dinner, huh?"

"Yes, I guess I did."

"Well, I kept some of the carrots and celery sticks and I have one cookie left. You're more than welcome to them."

"No, thanks, I'll be fine. These crackers should hold me over."

"Are you sure? They'll probably just go to waste – please take them."

"Really? Well, okay, if you insist," she said with a thankful grin. "Are you going to Paris on business or pleasure?"

"Business – although it's difficult not to have a pleasurable trip when in Paris. Is this your first time?"

"Yes, I'm really looking forward to it. I hear it's absolutely beautiful."

"Absolutely! And why are you going?

Sonja could hardly get the word, "business" out, when her young seatmate came back and sat down, and worse yet started talking, again...incessantly. Sonja leaned forward and nodded a thank you to the helpful man across the aisle. The plane touched down at de Gaulle. Sonja's life was about to change, forever.

As Sonja waited at the taxi stand, she could see her friendly food provider from the plane several taxis down. He nodded a polite goodbye. She jumped in a cab, requesting a quick trip to 86 rue Vaneau. She was bubbling over with excitement and apprehension. What if he's there? How would she handle it? And what if he isn't there, then what? As the cab zipped through the traffic the anxiety began to build. About the time she thought she was going to explode, the cabby said, "Madame, 86 rue Vaneau."

She'd made it, and there set the Sevres – Vaneau Hotel. She paid the cabby and stood outside the hotel for several minutes, just looking around. She'd done all kinds of stakeouts and searches. Found people who didn't want to be found, but had never been involved in anything like this. She could almost feel the adrenaline rushing through her veins. She'd called ahead and made a reservation, just in case. She was able to get a room for only three days, so she'd have to move fast. She decided her best approach would be to sit in the lobby reading, and watch for him. After all, he had no idea who she was. There was also a small brasserie at the corner, which would provide a good observation post. It was mid-day and she was hungry, having not really eaten on the plane. She'd brought another novel with her and took it to the sidewalk café.

She could sense the excitement of Paris. Even though she seemed to be off the beaten path, it was there - the traffic, the noise, people walking everywhere eating long, warm baguettes of French bread. It was wonderful.

She'd been there over an hour, drinking in the sights along with her cappuccino, when she noticed a familiar face heading toward the hotel.

"What are the odds?" she wondered. "My first day here and I spot him. Am I good or what."

Then she realized, before she became too intrigued with her own craftiness, she'd better come up with a strategy to speak to him. Still, she was feeling pretty good about her investigative skills. I mean, this guy disappears from Chicago and she finds him her first day in, Paris! It was enough to make Hercule Poirot proud. She waited a few minutes so he could get up to his room, then took out 20 francs and walked up to the receptionist.

"Pardon me, the gentleman who just came in dropped this outside the door. Could you please tell me what room he's in, so I can give it back to him?"

"Certainly mademoiselle. He's in room 204."

"Merci beaucoup," she said hoping she'd pronounced it correctly.

Up the stairs she went. She knew this was probably too lame of an excuse, because he was bound to be highly suspicious and anyone approaching him could set him off...running again. No she'd have to work it such that he opened the conversation. The best way to do that was to try to bump into him, literally, in the lobby, coming in the front door, or maybe follow him and set it up at a café. Then see what happened.

The next morning she followed him to a nearby café. She got a table close to his and ordered some coffee. He just sat and stared out at traffic. Her hoping he'd speak first was not going to happen. She was going to have to make the initial move. She leaned over to him, "Excuse me, are you from America?" Startled and somewhat apprehensive he said, "Yes, yes I am."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to bother you, I was just wondering. This is my first time in Paris, and I don't speak the language very well, so I was hoping for a friendly face and someone who spoke English."

"No, that's okay. I was just daydreaming about home." The longing in his voice was almost palpable.

"Really, where's home?"

"Washington, Washington D.C."

He was obviously trying to hide the fact he was from Chicago. She'd play along.

"D.C. is wonderful. I've been there many times. It's especially beautiful in the fall."

"Yes it is. You know, I better get going. It was nice talking to you."

"Yes, thanks. Enjoy Paris."

He was heading back to the hotel. But this had worked out perfectly. She could now run into him in the lobby and feel comfortable talking. Besides he had no idea she was staying there, which could just be an amazing coincidence. Sonja figured she'd try again that evening. She didn't want to rush it, but she didn't know how much time she had. The sooner she could make him aware of who she was and what she was trying to do, the better it would be for both of them.

By four she was sitting in the lobby reading her book. The hotel required that you hand in your key each time you left, so there was no way he could just sneak out the door. Once she saw him, she could say hello and act surprised. About five-thirty, here he came. As he handed in his key, she blurted out, "Well, hello again."

He turned in sheer amazement, "Are you staying here?"

"Yes. Isn't that funny?"

Finding this funny, wasn't the first expression he got. Then a slight grin, then he seemed almost relieved to find a friendly face.

"Yes, well, funny, I guess so. What are you doing here, I mean..."

Sensing she'd thrown him off balance a little, she said, "I'm here on business and this hotel was recommended to me."

"Oh, really. What kind of business?"

"Cosmetics. I'm here buying cosmetics for a large cosmetic company."

She could see he looked a little skeptical. And why not? She was lying.

"I just got the job a few months ago and have never traveled abroad before. All my work has been in the good old U S of A."

"Yeah, I wondered, since you said this morning you hadn't ever been to Paris before and didn't speak the language."

"Well, they thought they'd toss me into the fire, I guess. So here I am," she said, hoping for a laugh. No laugh, just a smile. Well, why not go for broke. She had to get on with this.

"You know, I was about to go to dinner and, if I'm not being too presumptuous, would you like to join me?"

She figured this would either scare him away completely, or he might just go. She could see he was pondering it, "Here I'm on the run, I shouldn't trust anyone, but she looks innocent enough and I'd like to believe her."

"Sure, that will be fine. I was about to go get something to eat anyway."

This was going to be her best, and maybe her only, chance.

"Wonderful, let me run upstairs, put my book away and get my purse. I'll be right back."

He waited anxiously. Should he be doing this? Who was she, really? He didn't have the answer to either question, but for some reason he was going to go ahead with it. There was no attraction, although she was very attractive; it was just a friendly face from America. One thing for sure, he was going to tell her right off, he was involved with a wonderful woman and hoped to marry her soon.

"Thanks for waiting...you know I don't even know your name."

"Michael."

"Well, nice to meet you Michael, I'm Sonja."

They kind of strolled through the neighborhood talking about how beautiful Paris was. There were a number of cafés along the street and they finally popped into one. Sonja made sure they were seated in a quiet corner so they could talk.

"Michael, do you mind if I ask what you do for a living?"

"Sonja, I need to tell you something right off. I'm attached. As a matter of fact I might as well be engaged."

"That's wonderful," she said trying to act surprised. "Tell me about her.

What's her name?"

"Morgan – her name's Morgan. I just didn't want you to get the wrong impression."

"Michael, believe me I had no hidden intentions here. I figured this was just what it is – dinner."

"Good, that's a relief. As to what I do, I'm in insurance."

"You mean like, selling insurance?"

"No it's called loss-control. I go out and inspect commercial properties for fire and liability hazards. I'm sure that sounds technical and probably boring."

"No, actually that sounds like it might be interesting," she said, wondering how in the world she was going to let him know who she was and, more importantly, that he could trust her.

"Well, yes, it can be. Over the years, I've pretty much inspected every type of business imaginable."

"Is business good in D.C.?"  
"Yeah, it's pretty steady. You're in cosmetics, right?"

"Well, we sometimes like to call them beauty products, but yeah, cosmetics."

"And where do you call home?"

Well, here goes. It was time to start moving forward.

"I'm from Chicago. Have you ever been there?"

He could feel the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and a slight chill passed through him. He began to wonder if just maybe...no she seemed legit.

"Chicago, you bet. A great city, very alive. I've been there a number of times."

"Really, business or pleasure?"

She could see he was feeling a little more at ease with her and didn't choke or bolt over the Chicago reference.

"Some of both, mostly pleasure, I guess."

"Yeah, there's plenty to do, the Cubs, Field Museum, Harry Caray's, the lake. But we have our problems too. I'm sure you've heard of Cornell Eastman, our presidential candidate? Well it seems he's gotten himself into some hot water. Have you heard about this down in D.C.?"  
He was stunned. This was incredulous. He had no idea what to say, but he had to say something.

"No, no I haven't heard anything about that. I don't follow politics much."

"Ah, I was just curious."

"You know Sonja, this has been great, but I'm tired and we probably ought to call it a night."

"That's fine. I've enjoyed it too Michael."

She felt like she'd broken the ice enough to take the next step. She thought if she talked to him in his room, it would be more difficult for him to take off. As they got their keys and started upstairs, she said, "Michael, would you mind if I stopped at your room? I'm kind of having a family problem, which is part of the reason I'm here and, there just aren't any Americans to talk to. Plus you seem like a very nice guy. I'd only stay a minute." Against his better judgment he agreed.

"Okay, but I really need to get going early in the morning." He sat down on the bed and she pulled the chair out from the desk.

"I don't know how I can help you, but fire away."

She looked at him, debating the best way to start. He seemed like such a nice guy and she felt so sorry for him, and she'd helped put him in this condition. Straight out – it was the only way.

"Ty, you don't know who I am, do you?"

He grew rigid and began to get up off the bed. The look on his face was both frightened and frightening.

"Please Ty, I'm here to help you. As a matter of fact I came all this way to help you. You've got to believe me. Our lives may depend on it."

He stood in disbelief. There was no way, he'd planned it too well. But here she was, and she knew who he was.

"How? How did you find me, and why should I believe you?"

"How, doesn't really matter now. What matters is that you believe me. I know what happened, because...because I'm the one that took those pictures of you at the Herbert Hotel."

"Great, so you followed me over here to finish the job. You've got some nerve showing up here, acting friendly and then pulling this." He could feel the rage building inside. Ty wasn't a violent man, but he wasn't so sure he could contain himself.

"Ty, just hear me out, then if you want to throw me out the window, I'll let you."

His anger began to subside a little. After all what did he have to lose?

"Go ahead, I'm all ears," he said in a stern tone, sitting back down.

"Let me first say it was purely accidental that you wound up involved in this at all. I was hired..."

"Wait! Wait a minute. What do you mean accidental?

"Please, let me finish."

"Okay. Go ahead, but get to it."

"I was hired by Senator Don Marks, through a Jack Johnson, who works for him as an aide of some kind. They wanted me to follow Cornell Eastman and check on his comings and goings, habits, that kind of stuff. Looking back I think they already knew something was going on with him. They just wanted me to confirm it." She could see Ty was calming down and absorbing every word she was saying.

"Anyway, I took the job and, for the most part, it was pretty boring, until that day at the Herbert. I'd followed him there thinking the whole time, this was very strange. Well, you know the rest. I was there checking him out and you showed up. It wasn't until later, when I went through your apartment, that I saw what you did for a living. Then I figured it out. It was part luck and I guess part skill. So, here I am and, I want to help you!"

Ty sat looking hard at her for a few seconds. It all added up, and there was no two ways about it, she was sitting right there in front of him. And if this was true, she was risking her life as well.

"Let's say what you've told me is true. Why would you risk your life for me? I mean, what do you get out of this?"

"You may not believe this Ty, but I get the chance to right a wrong. What's happened to you isn't right, and I wasn't raised to turn away when I've done something wrong. Whether you accept it or not, I'm here to fix this – it's as simple as that!"

Sonja slumped back in the chair. She was so relieved. What had happened to Ty had been gnawing at her and, now at last, she was able to confront him with the truth.

"I'll tell you Sonja, you are one brave woman. You remind me a lot of Morgan."

"Well, I'll consider that a high compliment. I'd love to meet her someday. But right now we have to think of the best way to handle this. If I know Marks and Johnson, they know I'm here."

"Here? You mean at this hotel?" He said shocked.

"I don't know, but I wouldn't put it past them. They're shrewd and ruthless men. We can't be too careful."

"Now that you've scared the hell out of me, what do you suggest?"

"Believe me Ty, I've thought a lot about this. We need to fly back to the states as quickly as possible, then immediately get to the authorities. The sooner we spill the beans on this the better."

"But Sonja, what about Eastman and Morgan? This is going to destroy their family."

"Ty, this is all going to come out anyway. As a matter of fact, it's probably already started. What we have to do is save you. If Morgan is as strong as you say she is and, I'm sure she is, then she'll survive this and better yet you'll be there to help her."

He was convinced, and he certainly wanted the chance to clear himself and be there for Morgan when it all collapsed.

"Okay, Sonja, I'm in."

"Good, let's get packed and get out of here. I'll meet you in the lobby in ten minutes."

For the first time in a long time, Ty had a hopeful feeling about the future.

Chapter 16

"Where are you?"

"I'm sitting in a car across the street from their hotel. They're both in there and have spent some time together talking. What do you want me to do?"

"What do you think their next move is?"

"My guess is...hold it, they're coming out together."

"Follow them man, and once you know where they're going, call me."

"What about Johnson?"

"Forget him, you call me direct – understand?"

"Yes sir – got it," the Chef said cynically, angered by the way he was being talked to. Who the hell did Marks think he was? Chef had been down this road many times and knew when the time was right to take final action. Marks might be a Senator, but what could he possibly know about this sort of thing? Nothing! When this got to the point something had to be done...he'd do it. Marks would just have to live with the consequences. After all, Marks couldn't really afford to expose him. Plus Chef had his own score to settle with Eastman.

* * * *

Ty and Sonja caught the first flight back to Chicago. It cost a bundle, but Sonja had some dough, from a big case she'd been working on. All the way back on the plane they discussed different scenarios of how to go about proving what had actually happened and who was responsible. She'd convinced Ty that they should immediately go to her contacts at the police department. She would tell them everything she knew. That should at least give the police a place to start and, hopefully, start the process of clearing Ty.

Ty kept staring out the window, remembering his flight over, when he was wondering if he'd ever get to see Morgan again. Now, here he was on his way back and he could hardly stand it. He'd only called her the one time. Boy was she going to be surprised, seeing him in the flesh. As the flight droned on, Sonja decided to get up, walk around and stretch her legs a little bit. Moving through the aisle several rows back she saw a familiar face.

"Hi! What a coincidence, we're heading home the same time. Thanks again for the food coming over, it really did help."

"Hey, I'm glad I could help. Did you enjoy Paris?"

"Yes, it was wonderful. And you?"

"Oh yes, I always enjoy Paris."

Sonja figured she'd better get back to Ty, who was undoubtedly getting nervous about the threatening trouble they were heading into back in Chicago.

"Well, it was good seeing you," she said finding it a little suspicious he was on the plane.

"And you. Maybe we'll run into each other in Chicago. You just never know."

She nodded and headed back to her seat. Their plan was simple and would hopefully be successful. As soon as they got back to Chicago, they'd check into a downtown hotel. They'd check in at staggered times and get separate rooms. That way no one would know they were together. Sonja would immediately make some phone calls to her friends at the police department, while Ty would get in touch with Morgan. He couldn't wait. Just to see her again and know she was safe. Then, with any luck, they'd get police protection and the investigation would not only clear Ty, but also bring Marks and Johnson to justice. Sound strategy - they just hoped it worked.

"I'll tell you Sonja, the windy city never looked so good," Ty sighed as the plane circled the airport.

"Yeah, I'll bet. You probably weren't sure you'd ever see Chicago again were you?"

"Nope, but there she is...and looking great! I know you risk a lot to do this, and I'll never forget it."

"Ty, let's just worry about what we need to do to finish this up so you're a free man again."

They'd decided to stay at the Grant Park Hotel in downtown. It was in close proximity to the police station and there was lots of traffic and action on Michigan Ave. This could help provide cover for them, until things got moving in the direction they needed.

The press had been hounding Cornell Eastman. While Sonja and Ty were in Paris, he'd been forced to make a statement. He'd held a press conference and told everyone he'd come down with a virus and had been forced to take some time off. This coupled with Eugene White's death had really knocked him out. Plus Bill Woodburn from the Tribune had started writing articles insinuating there had been more than a business relationship between Eastman and White and that possibly White's death wasn't accidental. The political machine Cornell Eastman had so carefully constructed was crumbling.

Sonja and Ty had decided, once they hit the ground, they'd go their separate ways, except for a planned rendezvous in one of their rooms at the hotel. That way they'd never be seen together. Ty grabbed the first cab, anxious to get to the hotel and call Morgan. Sonja waited a while. By the time she got to the hotel Ty would be settled in. She'd make some calls, Ty would have talked to Morgan, and they planned to meet in Sonja's room at 11 p.m. It had been a long and restless flight. They were both tired. Sonja decided to take a quick nap before the long ordeal began. Tired or not, Ty immediately called Morgan. Much to his disappointment, he got no answer. He too decided to take a short nap.

Sonja awoke to a tapping noise. The room was dark with only a faint light coming through the hotel windows. She rolled over to see what time it was...ten p.m. She started to sit up, but got an eerie feeling that she wasn't alone. She reached for the light beside the bed.

"Don't do that Sonja."

She turned cold, petrified with fear. "Who are you?" She could only see a dark outline sitting in the corner.

"It doesn't matter who I am. It only matters who you are and what you know."

"What are you talking about?"  
"Come on, don't play dumb with me. You know why I'm here and who sent me."

"Marks and Johnson, that's it isn't it?" she said while trying to feel for her purse.

"Are you looking for that cute little gun you keep in your purse? Well forget it. I've got it right here in a safe place. Let's cut the crap, I want you to turn around and lay face down on the bed with your hands behind your back."

His voice sounded vaguely familiar. "Do I know you?"

"Let's just say we've bumped into each other a couple of times."

"Yeah, I know who you are; you're the guy on the plane...who gave me the food."

"Boy, you are good. I can see why Marks hired you. And by the way, thanks for leading us right to Flynn. I would have found him eventually, but you just made it a lot easier. NOW ROLL OVER, or I'll have to get mad!"

She slowly rolled to her stomach. She could feel her heart pounding against the bed. He crossed her hands and then cinched them with twine. He yanked her to her feet and looked her right in the eyes. It was still to dark too see him clearly, but she knew who he was.

"Okay brave guy, what's next? You gonna smack me around and tell me if I ever say anything you'll kill me?"

"No, not exactly."

"What then? Just beat and rape me?"

He shoved her toward the bathroom. The tub was full of warm water.

"Get down on your knees," he said in a frighteningly calm voice. She began to struggle and tried to get her hands loose.

"You can't be serious. What have I ever done to you?"

She felt the blade against her neck. "I said, get down on your knees!"

He yanked her down grabbing a hand full of her hair.

"Come on! My God please don't do this!"

He pushed her head into the water. She felt the warm water rush into her eyes and nose. She tried kicking, but he was kneeling on her legs. With one smooth stroke, he slit her throat. The warm clear water began to turn dark red. Sonja slumped into the tub - lifeless.

* * * *

Ty was only able to sleep about an hour. He tried Morgan again, still no answer. He'd go get something to eat, then come back and try again. By the time he had some dinner, bought a paper and got back to his room it was 9:30 p.m. He tried Morgan again, still no answer. He thumbed through the paper, but kept wondering if Morgan was alright and, how this was all going to work out.

A little before eleven he made his way to Sonja's room. He knocked quietly. He knew she was expecting him, but there was no response. Finally, he tried the door. It was unlocked. He stuck his head in, "Sonja?" The room was dark, but he could see the light shining under the bathroom door. Not wanting to surprise her, he walked toward the bathroom, "Sonja, are you okay?"

A strange feeling came over him. It's as if he knew something was wrong. He slowly pushed the door open, then dropped to his knees in horror. Her limp body half submerged in the bathtub full of her own blood. He began to panic, "Oh my God, what am I going to do!" Then it hit him.

"They know we're here!"

He wanted to run, but he couldn't leave her like that. She'd died trying to save his life. He decided to pull her out of the tub and cover her up with a blanket. He'd never seen a dead person up close before, let alone a friend. He began to shake and feel lightheaded. The look on her face, the weight of her body, with no life in it. He gently carried her to the bed and covered her up. He wasn't thinking clearly, this was just too crushing. What was he going to do? He'd go back to his room and call Morgan. He had to warn her. He paused at the door, looking back at Sonja's covered body. The grief was overwhelming. Quietly he slipped out the door and made his way back to his room. He made sure no one saw him leave. As he nervously dialed, he kept thinking, "Please be there, please."

An eager voice at the other end said, "Ty, is that you?"

"Yes, Morgan, oh my God it's good to hear your voice."

"Ty, where are you?"

"I'm here, but something horrible has happened."

"What, what's happened? Where are you?"

"I can't tell you over the phone, not from here anyway. I'll call you back in twenty minutes."

"But Ty, what's going..."

"Morgan, please. I'll call you back."

He sat for a minute wondering how soon they'd find Sonja, and once they did what would happen then. It was around midnight. He left the hotel looking for a pay phone.

"Morgan, can you pick me up at the corner of Cermak and Michigan in fifteen minutes?"

"What? You're here in Chicago? Yes Ty, I'll get there as quick as I can."

He stood staring out at Lake Michigan, still in shock over Sonja's death. He couldn't wait to hold Morgan, just hold her, feel her warmth and love, letting him know, he still had a chance.

He could see her car coming down the street. He felt like jumping through the window as she pulled up and parked. She threw open the door and ran around to give him a hug. "Ty I've missed you so much!" They stood holding each other in the dark.

"Morgan, let's get in the car and drive. I have a lot to tell you."

As they drove Ty explained it all to Morgan. How he'd had to run and how Sonja found him. The role she'd played in this and how it had cost her - her life. Morgan finally pulled over and parked. She sat silently. She didn't know Sonja, but was heartsick over what had happened.

"Ty, what are we going to do?"

"I'm not sure. But I have to get back to the hotel, get my stuff and get out of here."

"You can't go back there. They'll be waiting for you. If they knew she was there, then they know you were there too. No, please don't."

"Morgan, I have to get my clothes, shaver...or they'll be able to trace it to me. Let's just go by and if it looks clear, you can drop me off in the back. I'll sneak upstairs, get my stuff and meet you at the end of the block."

"Okay, but you'd better make it fast. Now that you're back, I don't want to lose you again."

"Don't worry; I'll be in and out in a heartbeat."

As they drove up Michigan, they could see flashing red lights. Ty slid down in the seat as they went by the hotel. Someone had found Sonja. The police and ambulance were there.

"Keep going Morgan. I can't believe this - I don't have a chance. I might as well just go turn myself in. You know their going to think I did it."

"How? You guys weren't together...were you?"

"No, no, but whoever killed Sonja has set this up so I'll take the fall. My stuff's there and I was in her room. My fingerprints will be there."

"Okay, let's just go back to my place for the night and try to figure something out."

They drove silently back to Morgan's apartment. Their lives had gone from bad to worse – and it wasn't over yet.
Chapter 17

The phone woke him from a dead sleep. He looked at the clock...2 a.m.

He nestled it to his ear, "Hello."

"It's done," a solemn voice said on the other end.

"What's done? Who is this?"

"Bartlett – she's out of the picture."

Marks sat straight up in bed. "What do you mean she's out of the picture? I told you to keep me posted and I'd tell you what to do!"

"No need, I took care of it myself. I'll be in touch."

The phone went dead. Marks sat staring into the dark. What had happened? How could Chef take it upon himself to kill Bartlett? He didn't know, but he was damn well going to find out. He got up and went downstairs and called Johnson; maybe he'd know something.

"Uh-huh...hello?"

"Johnson, wake up. Chef just called and told me he eliminated Bartlett."

"What! I knew this would happen, damn it! I never liked that guy, now he's gone off and killed an innocent woman. That son of a bitch! If I find him, I'll kill him!"

"Yeah, that's a great idea. What we need now is calm, rational thinking, not another murder."

"Yes, I know, but..."

"Listen, I'll meet you in the office in half an hour. We can sort through this and work out what we need to do. Now don't go off half cocked. Get into the office – understand?"

"Yes sir, I'll be there."

Exactly what Jack Johnson feared, had happened. Sonja Bartlett had been killed by a psycho he never trusted, and who knew what this guy had planned next. Not once had Chef ever called him, then he finds out Sonja's dead. By the time he got to the office, Marks was waiting for him.

"Mr. Marks, can I ask you a question?"

"What is it Jack?"  
"Did Chef ever call you, because he sure as hell never called me...like he was supposed too." The delay in Marks response told Jack all he needed to know.

"Well, Jack, to be honest, I had him call me. The guy seemed a little head strong and, I thought, if he reported directly to me, there wouldn't be any confusion."

So, Marks had decided to just cut him out of the loop. Jack could feel himself heating up.

"Well, that was brilliant. Now we have an innocent dead girl on our conscience."

"Hold it right there Jack! I'm running this show and don't you forget it. If you'd stop and think a minute about this, you'd see this worked out just the way we wanted it to."

Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Just the way we wanted it to? Are you crazy, he killed Sonja." Jack felt like leaping across the desk and smashing Marks' face in.

"Jack, Jack, settle down. Listen to me for a minute. There was no way we could let Sonja live. As much as you liked and respected her, we had to eliminate her. I knew, and so did you, that once she saw what was happening she'd turn us in. Her honesty would take over."

"Oh, so because she was honest, she had to die. Well, I don't know about you, but I feel sick about this whole mess."

"That's too damn bad Jack, because you're in this as deep as I am. Now, do you want to fold up on me – or do you want to hear how this has worked to our advantage? Either way, I'm moving forward. Your choice."

Jack went over and sat down on the couch in Marks office. He was truly sick to his stomach and, when he looked at Marks, it was with pure loathing. He sat quietly, mulling over what to do. Marks was right about one thing – he was in this up to his neck and, as much as he detested what had happened to Sonja, there was nothing he could do about it now. Plus, by hanging in, he might just have a chance to settle up with the Chef.

"Okay, I guess I was just a little overwhelmed. What's your plan?"

"Jack, this couldn't have worked out better. Believe me, I'm sorry Ms. Bartlett was killed, but Tyler Flynn was there, in her room right after it happened and, he was staying in the hotel. It's going to be pretty easy to hang this on him."

Marks went ahead and explained how Chef had jumped the gun, but it was only a matter of time before he would have given him the go ahead anyway. And in actuality, Chef's timing was perfect. The police were now looking for Tyler Flynn for one and possibly two murders, Marks had turned Woodburn loose and the Eastman political machine was crashing. The excitement in Marks voice made Jack nauseous. He went home aching with the pain at what had happened. If not for the chance to get to the Chef...well, who knows what he might do.

* * * *

"Morgan, what am I going to do. The police think I killed Sonja and Eugene. The only person who knew I was innocent was Sonja, and now she's dead. I don't see any way out of this."

Morgan pulled him close. They held on to each other, hoping by some miracle it would all suddenly go away. The reality though was, he was right. The only person who could prove his innocence had been killed.

"Wait a minute Ty. Whoever killed Sonja is still out there. He obviously knows what happened and is responsible for all this. That's who we have to find."

Ty began to pace around the room. "You're right Morgan. But how in the world do we find this guy. I can't go out looking for him. As soon as the police spot me, I'm dead. You know I can't even stay here. I've got to find another place to hide. I'm amazed the police haven't shown up already."

"Me too. That's why I called Mattie while you were taking a shower. She's on her way over and is going to drive you up to Milwaukee. You can find a room there and stay out of Chicago."

"I can't ask you or Mattie to do this. That's harboring a fugitive and you could go to jail. No, I'll find a place to..."

"Ty, listen to me. We know you didn't commit any of these crimes. You're being set up. All we have to do is prove it. If the police can't find you, then hopefully neither can the real killer. But if he's out there looking, maybe we can find him."

"How – how in the world are you going to find a killer? I don't want you involved in this. The guy's already killed Sonja and, probably Eugene. He certainly wouldn't hesitate to kill you."

"No, not me. My dad's security guard, Warren, is bound to have some great contacts in the investigative business and, even though my dad had an affair, Warren knows he didn't kill Eugene, or have him killed. He's still loyal to my dad. I'll go to him and see if he'll help me. You just get out of town. Go out the back way and meet Mattie at the end of the alley. She'll be waiting."

"Morgan, I don't know what to say, except I love you. You'll never know how much. We're going to beat this one way or another."

He held her in his arms, not wanting to ever let go. A long kiss and out the back door to the alley. Mattie was waiting. He knew once they crossed the border into Wisconsin, this became a federal investigation and the FBI would get involved. Mattie had picked up an early edition paper. There it was, "Private Investigator Murdered!" Not only had they found his stuff, but they'd also found the knife used to kill her in his room. The reporter had also linked this murder to the death of Eugene White. The police felt they were after one man responsible for both murders – Tyler Flynn. He tossed the paper in the back seat as they sped along in the dark.

"Can you believe this guy, Mattie?"

"Who?"

"Oh, this Bill Woodburn at the Tribune. He's already got me tried and convicted."

"Ty, you just worry about staying hidden. We'll find out who's behind this."

"I hope so Mattie - I hope so." Ty drifted into a light sleep as the car disappeared into the night.

Ty hadn't been gone half an hour when the police showed up. They questioned Morgan intensely, but she denied having seen Ty, or even knowing he was in town. Having come up empty, they left, but told her not to leave town. The next morning she called her dad, then went to see him. He still didn't look well, but was in a little better spirits. She explained how Ty was being set up as the fall guy for Eugene and Sonja's murders and she needed help to prove his innocence.

"Dad, I need your help. Ty..."

"Come on honey, let's go sit in the backyard." He grabbed her arm and escorted her to a quiet corner of the back yard.

"Morgan, this has become so complicated, and it's possible they could have the house bugged. We can talk safely out here. From now on we can't discuss this on the phone."

"Yes, you're right dad. I guess I hadn't thought of that."

"Now, tell me what's happened. Have you seen Ty, and is he alright?"

Morgan explained everything from the beginning and that Ty was safely out of town. This was the first time she'd had the opportunity to tell her dad what had happened. How Ty had unwittingly gotten involved. How Sonja tried to save him and lost her life in doing so. Her father was stunned. It was bad enough he had ruined his own family, but now he was punishing people outside. Morgan told him of her idea, about finding an investigator they could trust, to search for the real killer. She thought maybe Warren Gold, her dad's security man, could help them. He agreed and told her he would immediately talk to Warren about it. Morgan decided to stay the afternoon and spend some time with her mom. She too was looking a little better, but the pain was still visible in her face. They talked for several hours, mostly about the old times, when Morgan and Steve were young. It was soothing therapy for her mother. Before she left, her dad came in and took her to the backyard.

"I talked to Warren. He's going to get in touch with a man he knows who might be able to help us. As soon as I've made that connection I'll set you up with him. I'll do what I can to help you, but the press has a microscope on me and I don't want to jeopardize this."

Morgan thanked him and left. For the first time in a very long time, he felt like he was doing something right, something good. They'd agreed to only communicate through Warren.

The next person Morgan needed to talk to was Steve. With everything that had happened they'd lost touch. She felt bad about it, because they had just connected for the first time...ever. As soon as she got back to her apartment she called him. He too was aware of what was happening with Ty and agreed to meet her for dinner in a small café he knew would be private.

"Morgan, I'm so sorry all this has happened with Ty. Have you heard from him? Is he alright?"

"Yes I've heard from him, and yes, he's alright."

"Thank God! I know how much you love him."

"Steve, I wanted to talk to you to let you know I'm going to help him any way I can. He's innocent. He had nothing to do with any of this, but someone is setting him up to take the fall."

"Morgan, you don't have to convince me. I'll do whatever I can to help you."

He could feel her concern and anxiety and sincerely wanted to help. He thought how strange it was that through all these years they'd had virtually nothing to do with each other, and now, because of all this adversity, they were becoming close.

"Right now I don't know what you could do to help, because I'm not sure what I'm going to do. But believe me, if I need you, I'll call."

"You'd better, or I'll never forgive you."

"By the way, how's Tim?"

"Good. He's very busy. I haven't seen him much lately. He was out of town buying books and just got back a couple of days ago. We're going to try to get away when things settle down."

"I'm glad you're so happy Steve. We still have to do that dinner, the three of us."

"Anytime Morgan. But right now you have more pressing things to worry about. We'll get to it."

They parted ways, each heading to their respective apartments. Morgan hoping she'd hear from Mattie to find out if they'd made it safely to Milwaukee, Steve hoping Tim was home so he could talk to him about how he might help Morgan. Apart as usual, but together for the first time in their lives.
Chapter 18

Cornell Eastman sat alone in his study. As much as he wanted to move forward and put all this behind him, he just couldn't. He poured over it and over it in his mind. How did this happen? Why did this happen? He knew better, and yet he'd weakened...and well, all this ensued. He had moments when he truly couldn't believe it. He was having one of those moments.

"Sir; Mr. Eastman, are you alright?"

Standing in the doorway was the ever-faithful Warren. He had a look of concern on his face as he gazed in at his boss.

"Oh, yes, Warren I'm fine. Just daydreaming a little. What can I do for you?"

"Sir, the situation we discussed? Well, if you'll come with me I think I can show you part of the solution."

For a brief second Eastman had forgotten about the 'situation.' But then remembered his discussion with Morgan and accompanied Warren to the backyard. There sitting in a lounge chair was a tall, angular man with a pleasant, yet serious look. As Eastman approached, the man stood to greet him.

"Mr. Eastman, this is the man we discussed to help Morgan."

Eastman extended his hand, hoping this was in fact the answer to many of their problems.

"Mr. Eastman, it's an honor to meet you. Warren has spoken very highly of you, and I would be proud to help you in any way I can. I'm Jake Mozzetti."

"Well, Mr. Mozzetti, it's nice to know someone still has faith in me. Believe me I feel the same way about Warren. But on a more serious note, I don't know how much he has told you, so why don't you fill me in on what you know."

"To be honest he hasn't told me anything, only that you and your daughter need help finding someone."

"I see. Warren could I speak to you a moment? Will you excuse us Mr. Mozzetti?"

"Certainly, and please call me Jake."

Eastman nodded his approval and took Warren aside. "Warren tell me all you know about this guy. There's a lot riding on this and I can't be too careful with Morgan's safety."

"I know sir. I've thought long and hard about this. Believe me, Morgan's well being is foremost in my mind too."

Warren explained how he'd known Jake for 18 years. They'd gone to the Philadelphia Police Academy together. Warren had gone into the Secret Service and Jake went out on his own after 10 years of police work. He quickly became one of the top private eyes on the East Coast working for some very powerful and influential people. Warren guaranteed him that this was absolutely the best man for the job and that he trusted him implicitly. Reassured, Eastman went back to talk to Mozzetti. He asked him if he'd read the papers and knew about what was happening. Mozzetti told him he had, but that was all he knew...what he'd read in the papers. Eastman filled him in from the beginning and let him know in no uncertain terms how important it was to find the real killer, while making sure his daughter was safe. Mozzetti agreed and departed, telling Eastman he'd get back to him, through Warren, in a few days.

* * * *

It was late when her phone rang, but she didn't care. She'd been waiting for the call all day.

"Hello."

"Hi, Morgan, it's me."

"Ty, thank God! Are you safe?"

"Yes. We got into Milwaukee about an hour ago and just drove around looking for a secluded motel. We found a little dive on the north end of town. It should work fine. Mattie just dropped me off and turned around to head back to Chicago. Be sure and tell her how much I appreciate what she's doing."

"I will. Now, you just stay out of sight and let us take it from here. We probably shouldn't talk too long. I miss you, and love you."

With that she hung up and Ty went to bed, while Mattie sped along in the dark, back to Chicago.

* * * *

Steve unlocked Tim's door hoping to find him home. His anger at his father had been replaced by his need to help Morgan. He was anxious to discuss it with Tim. The apartment was dark. He decided not to wait. As he turned to leave a voice from the shadows said, "Steve, is that you?" Steve jumped two feet in the air. "Tim? My God you just scared the daylights out of me. What are you doing sitting there in the dark? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine...just thinking."

"Well, how was your trip?" Steve said turning on a table lamp.

"It was fine."

"Tim what's the matter? Do you want me to leave?"

"No. No it's okay. I'm sorry, I was just...how are you Steve?"

"Good. I missed you Tim. I'm glad you're back. First tell me about your trip and then there's something I really want to talk to you about."

Steve could see Tim shifting out of his malaise and returning to the present.

"My trip? Well, let's see - pretty much the same old thing. Now, tell me what's this pressing thing you need to discuss with me?"

Steve filled him in from the beginning, as if Tim knew nothing of what had happened, right up to his last dinner meeting with Morgan.

"Wow, that's incredible. I knew some of this stuff from things you've said in the past and what's been in the paper, but you have certainly filled in some gaps. This is all pretty hard to believe. Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm not really sure, because I'm not sure how I can help Morgan."

"Well, do you know what Morgan is trying to do? Is it save Ty, or your dad or both?"

"I think her main concern now is Ty. Dad is pretty much history with regard to his political career and isn't on the hook for these murders. Ty is the one they think did it."

"What do you think Steve? Did Ty do it?"

"No! Absolutely not!"

"You seem pretty sure."

"I am. There's no way."

Steve was getting a little irritated with Tim's cavalier attitude about something so important to him.

"Okay, assuming you're right and the press and police are wrong, then who did do it?"

"You know Tim, I was hoping you'd help me here, not get confrontational."

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to help you sort through this. I think that right now you're thinking with your heart and not your head. You know as well as I do there is a possibility, however remote, that Ty did in fact kill Sonja. Think about it for a second Steve. He had the motive and the opportunity. She takes pictures of him spying on your dad and White. Then White gets killed. Then Sonja gets killed. You'll have to admit there is a connection  
there."

"You're starting to sound like the press. I'm telling you he had nothing to do with it. I trust my sister!"

Sensing he'd pushed Steve far enough Tim backed off...a little.

"Alright, assuming he had nothing to do with it. What is Morgan trying to do to help him?"

"Well, she's not sure yet, or at least hasn't told me yet. All I know is if I can help her in any way I will. I guess what I'm asking you to do is support me and be there if I need you. That would mean a lot to me."

"I know. Of course you can count on me. Just keep me posted and let me know what I can do to help. If there's some part of this I can help her with, I would be more than glad to do it."

"I knew I could count on you. That's what makes you special to me. By the way, Morgan still wants the three of us to get together for dinner."

"Anytime – I'd love to meet her. I shouldn't have another trip for a while."

It had been too long since they'd been together, so they settled in for a cozy night of 'piggy' and pasta.

Chapter 19

Eastman knew it was time to call a press conference and honestly own up to what had happened. He'd set it up for the Hilton in downtown and now had to convince Jennifer, Morgan and Steve to attend. He knew that was a lot to ask, but it wasn't only for him. He sincerely felt that having them there when he admitted his wrong doings might help purge some of their anger toward him. Jennifer and Steve would be the most difficult to persuade. Jennifer had seemed to soften over the past few days, so maybe she'd be receptive. He found her in the back yard reading in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

"Jennifer, can I talk to you for a minute?"

She closed the book and looked up at him. Her eyes sparkled in the sunlight and he realized how beautiful she was.

"Jenn, can we please talk?"

She nodded as her eyes wondered out over the yard. It was a beautiful day and she seemed very relaxed. He told her he was planning on calling the press conference to explain his position and what had happened. He hoped she'd be there along with Morgan and Steve.

"I know this is a lot to ask, but it's not just for me. I'm more than willing to take what I have coming. If you are all there and see me own up to what I have done, maybe, just maybe, it will help us all start healing. Believe me Jenn, that's the only reason I'm asking. If you don't agree with me, or just don't want to attend, I'll understand."

She sat quietly, still gazing out over the landscape. He wasn't sure what to do so he just sat back in his chair and waited. As he watched her, it finally sank in how devastating this had been to her and how deeply he'd hurt her. But through it all, there she was, strong, resilient, and he was proud to say, still his wife. Finally, she turned and looked him in the face.

"Okay, Jeff. You might be right. We certainly need to start the healing process and I'll go and stand by you. And for the well being of our children and my sanity, I'll try to forgive you. But forgetting...well, let's just leave it at forgiving. I can't give you more than that right now."

His eyes welled with tears as he reached out and took her hand. With all his fame and success, she was the true champion in this family. He quietly got up and left her to her reading. He had done at least one smart thing in his life.

* * * *

There was a light tap, the signal tap. Morgan jumped from the couch and ran to the door. Mattie had made it back – safely.

"Come in. You can stay here tonight."

"I'll tell you Morgan, I've never been so scared in my life. All the way back I kept thinking I was being followed, or was going to be run off the road, or who knows what."

Mattie stood there in the kitchen as Morgan made some coffee, trembling like a newborn calf. Morgan drew her close and hugged her.

"Mattie, I'll never be able to thank you for what you're doing."

Morgan poured them a cup and they sat down on the couch still holding hands. Mattie's hand was still cold and shaking.

"Mattie, listen to me. Ty called and he's safe and said to thank you for all your help. Also, my dad called me and said he's hired a private investigator to find out who's behind this. He said the guy's very good. If Ty can just lay low long enough, maybe the investigator will solve this."

They talked on into the night. Mostly about old times, school, friends, that sort of stuff. It was a good distraction. The next morning Morgan's dad called and told her to meet Warren at the Field Museum. He was then going to take her to meet Jake Mozzetti at a secluded location.

They didn't say much in the car, small talk mostly. Warren had always been rather solemn, but Morgan knew he was loyal to her father and would do anything to help them. As they pulled up to Orland Lake, she could see a large van parked off the road. Warren pulled up next to it and told Morgan to get in the van.

"Where are you going Warren? I don't even know..."

"Morgan, it's alright. I'll be close by. Mr. Mozzetti is waiting for you."

As she opened the door of the van a reassuring voice said, "Morgan, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Jake Mozzetti."

He made her feel relaxed with his calm demeanor. He told her a little about himself and what her dad had told him and how he was starting to put a backdrop behind what had happened.

"Morgan, I want you to tell me everything you know about this case, starting from the beginning. Don't leave anything out, no matter how unimportant it might seem to you. Sometimes it's those small, seemingly incidental facts that lead to major developments. Now, I'm going to record this and take notes, so just keep going and try to remember every detail...okay?"

Morgan started at the very beginning, how she met Ty and continued, up until she had to tell him where Ty was.

"You know Mr. Mozzetti, I'm just not comfortable giving out that information right now. It's not that I don't trust you...but, well, I'd just rather not. I hope you understand."

"Certainly. It's not something I need to know right now. But I hope you understand that at some point I'm going to have to talk to Ty. As you well know, time is not on our side."

She agreed. Mozzetti opened the van door and in a matter of seconds Warren appeared outside. All the way back to her car, Morgan tried to subtly extract information from Warren about Mozzetti and what he was doing. But as usual, Warren stayed low key and would only divulge that he trusted him and told her if anyone could solve this it was Mozzetti.

By the time she got back to her apartment she was exhausted. She liked Mozzetti and certainly trusted Warren, but Ty's life was at stake here and she just wanted to be sure. She dozed, but fought sleep. Ty would be calling any time. Sure enough about eleven her phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Morgan, it's me."

They talked for quite a while. She explained how her dad had hired a private investigator and that she'd talked to him that very day. Ty had the usual questions about who he was and asked if she could trust him. She told him not to worry and that, although she'd given him a lot of information, she had not disclosed his whereabouts. Ty informed her he'd seen on the news that the FBI had gotten involved and she was bound to be at the top of their list. She told him she was ready and was going to stick to the same story she'd given the Chicago police. They bid each other a loving au revoir and said goodnight.

* * * *

Marks and Johnson had been conferencing all night. They too had seen the news about the FBI's involvement and realized that the Chef could take them down. They needed another plan - what to do with the Chef. Everything was working fine until he went off on his own and killed Sonja.

"Mr. Marks, we've dealt with operatives in the past, but none like this guy. Where in the world did you come up with him?"

Marks sat deep in thought, not really hearing the question, but wondering the same thing.

"What? I'm sorry Jack, I didn't hear you."

"I said, where did you come up with this guy? We'd always had a lot of success with Benedict. Why the switch?"

"Because Jack I knew this was going to take more than just some wire taps and surveillance. Benedict had been fine for that kind of thing and had really helped us keep the wolf at bay. But when Eastman got the Illinois Bureau of Investigation involved checking out some of the scams we'd pulled, we both agreed a more drastic approach was needed. You do remember that don't you, Jack?"

"Yes, but this guy's crazy. And now he's making us crazy. If he gets caught and talks, he's going..."

"Jack, hold on a minute. We've been through some pretty rough times and we'll figure out how to get through this one. We need to keep our wits about us and zero in on what to do with the Chef - agreed?"

"Yes sir, agreed."

This wasn't going to be easy, because Chef wasn't crazy. That would make it too simple. He was in fact ruthless and cunning, and there was no way he was going to take the fall for these two. How do you out fox a fox? That was their predicament.

First up was a meeting with him. They could act concerned about what was happening with the FBI and seek his opinion. If he was willing to disclose any of his plans that would give them some room for maneuvering. If the meeting idea failed...well they'd have to come up with something else. Marks agreed to contact Chef and set something up as soon as possible.

* * * *

Mozzetti knew he didn't have the luxury of time. Now that the FBI was involved Ty was on borrowed time. He'd done some research and discreet interviews and felt it was time to sit down with Mr. Eastman and get down to business. He called Warren and set up a meeting out at the lake. Warren and Eastman made of couple of car changes along the way and felt the location was safe.

"Mr. Eastman, good to see you again sir."

"And you, Mr...Jake. This certainly is a clandestine approach."

"Well sir, I think you'd agree, we can't be too cautious."

"Oh, I know Jake, I was trying to be...let's get to it. What do you need from me?"

"I need you to go back to the beginning, not of this, but your political career. I need to know of anyone along the way you might have crossed or turned into an enemy."

"Jake, as you ascend the political ladder, others will naturally get knocked off. I have crossed and crisscrossed many people, any number of whom I might consider an enemy."

"I know sir. But just limit it to those who would have the power to do something about it."

"Okay...but that could still be fairly extensive."

"Mr. Eastman, you tell me. Were you set up? Does Tyler Flynn have anything to do with this? And who has the most to gain by your fall? Does that help? Eastman sat and thought for several minutes.

"You know, five years ago when I was the majority leader in the senate I got word of some money laundering by one of my fellow senators. His name was Don Marks. I never really liked him much. He always seemed a little shady, but the reports I got crossed from shady into illegal. I headed a task force, which worked hand in hand with several government authorities. We definitely found some irregularities but could never really prove anything. He always seemed to be one step ahead of us. It did, however, damage his political career and aspirations. He blamed me for it, both privately and publicly. Since then he has gotten back a certain measure of his power, but nothing like he'd hoped for. He's a man who would unquestionably hold a grudge."

"I see. But do you think he has the power and resources to commit murder?"

"Wow, that's a tough one. I don't know; maybe. I know he hates me, but murder? I just can't say Jake; I'd like to think not."

"Well, sir, this has been a big help. You've given me a direction and a place to start. If you think of anyone else, tell Warren to contact me."

"Believe me Jake, you'll be the first and only one to know."

They parted ways and Eastman and Warren again did their driving by stealth routine. Jake too was going to have to be covert, for he was up against a very formidable foe. He just didn't know how daunting - yet.

Chapter 20

Right on schedule, the FBI began their interrogations and Morgan was one of the first. The initial round of questioning was rather general with all the who, what, when, where and why's. She spoke to Warren about it later, and he told her they were just putting everything together and would without question trap her on her phone calls to Ty if they could. This would, of course, make her an accessory and they'd press charges. Even though she knew this was coming, it was still devastating. This was all the family needed - more scandal. Her dad set her up with the family attorney and they waited. Mattie called Ty to let him know everything that was going on.

"Ty, the FBI questioned Morgan and it looks like they're going to arrest her as an accessory."

"Oh no! I knew it; this could only turn out bad for both of you. That's it. I'm turning myself in. There's no point in keeping up this charade. Maybe while I'm in jail, this private investigator can figure things out."

"I don't know Ty. Do you think that's the best thing to do?"

"Yes! You and Morgan have risked enough. You know they can get you too, Mattie."

"I know. It all just seems so unfair. You didn't do anything wrong and neither did we. All we tried to do was help you."

"Well, unfortunately life isn't always...hold it Mattie someone's at the door."

Mattie could hear loud voices. She stayed on the line until someone said, "Hello?" She hung up and got sick to her stomach. She couldn't call Morgan and tell her about it, and now something had happened to Ty. She felt lost and alone. She curled up on the couch and tried to get very small.

The FBI read Ty his rights and took him away. The sad and ill-conceived attempt to escape had come to a close, and regrettably, Morgan and Mattie were going to pay a price as well.

* * * *

Marks and Johnson had arranged to meet Chef at the John Hancock Building in a secluded office that Marks had access to. They sat anxiously waiting. "Do you think he'll show?" Jack said nervously.

"Oh, he'll show. He has as much at stake as we do," Marks stated with his usual superiority.

"I know sir, but the guy's malicious and I for one don't trust him in the least. Who knows? He might be thinking about bumping us off."

"Jack, Jack, get a hold of yourself. He's not going to bump us off. As a matter of fact, he might even be worried we'll do that to him. This guy's a lone wolf and works as a mercenary. He knows I have strong political ties and that I know some powerful and influential people. If anything, we have the upper hand here. Pull yourself together. It's going to work out fine."

"Yeah, I know you're right, but sometimes..." There was a knock at the door. Jack opened it, and there stood Chef, with his usual smug look. "Is Marks here?" Just the sight of him started riling the anger in Jack. Before he could answer, Chef walked past him and sat down.

"So, what's up fellas? Why this cloak-and-dagger meeting? Are we afraid, because the big, bad FBI is involved?"

Jack couldn't contain himself, "Why you son of a..."

"Jack, calm down," Marks said sternly. "I think any man of prudent judgment would be concerned. And to be honest, I'm quite surprised you're not."

"Well, I guess that's the difference between us. You two are new to this, while...So what's this about?"

"We are concerned about the FBI," Jack said defiantly. "And I'd like to know what happened with Sonja Bartlett?" Jack was getting mad and about to go across the room and jump down the jerk's throat.

"Hey, back off lackey. She had to be done and you both know it. I didn't come here to listen to this, so if there's nothing else..."

"Hold on." Marks knew Jack had to get that off his chest, but now it was time to get down to brass tacks. "Whether you acknowledge it or not, we're all in this together, and I think it would behoove us to work as a unit. If we stay unified, I think we can survive this. Apart, well, probably not. You're obviously experienced in this and we're open to suggestions."

"I see." Chef got up and moved to the window. He leaned on the rail and Marks and Johnson could almost hear him thinking. Several minutes went by. With each passing second, Marks and Johnson grew more uneasy. Finally he turned and said, "Gentlemen, you're on your own!" Then started to the door.

"Wait just a damn minute. That's it, 'You're on you own' and off you go? I don't think so." Now Marks was getting infuriated. "I was trying to be polite, but I'll tell you right now you're not walking away from this. We need each other here. If one goes down, all go down. Do I make myself clear?"

Chef stopped dead in his tracks. Turning, he walked back to Marks, reached out and grabbed his coat lapels and pulled his face up to his. Then whispering in his ear he said, "If you ever talk to me, or threaten me like that again, I'll kill you. Do I make myself clear?" He let go and stepped back. Then winked at Jack and walked out the door, leaving it open. Jack stood frozen. He and Marks looked at each other in total disbelief. What were they going to do? What can you do with a fearless assassin? Marks sat down while Jack closed the door. Turning back to Marks he said, "Man, what have we gotten ourselves into? This guy's an absolute psychopath. What did he say to you?" For one of the few times in their relationship, Marks was speechless.

"Mr. Marks, what did he say to you?"

"He said if I ever threatened him again, he'd kill me."

Jack sat down and put his head in his hands. They both sat for some time, contemplating what had happened and wondering what they would do next. There was no doubt about it, they were dealing with a shrewd killer. Something neither one had ever had to deal with before.

* * * *

Karen had been devastated by the news of Sonja's death. They'd been close

in college and had only sporadically stayed in touch since. Then out of nowhere Sonja calls and asks to come to St. Louis and stay a few days. She'd seemed troubled and left rather abruptly. Then Karen read of her murder in Chicago. It all seemed incredible, and now here she was with this package. Sonja told her to take it to the Chicago police if something happened to her and give it to a Sgt. Carol Hawkins. They were old friends and had helped each other out from time to time on difficult cases. Sonja trusted her completely. Sonja hadn't told Karen anything about the case she was working on because the less Karen knew the better off she was. But now the absolute worst had happened and Karen was going to be involved – like it or not. She'd take a couple of days off at her bookstore, make her way to Chicago and find Sgt. Hawkins.

* * * *

Mozzetti had been tailing Marks and Johnson for a couple of days. Nothing unusual had happened other than the late night meeting with a guy at the John Hancock Building. Mozzetti didn't recognize the guy, but got a few shots of him and would find out who he was soon enough. Now, with Ty having been arrested and Morgan soon to follow, he had to move fast. This guy at the Tribune, Bill Woodburn, already had Ty tried and convicted of first-degree murder and inferred he had something to do with the death of Eugene White. Woodburn's eagerness and insight into some of the facts seemed unusual to Jake. It was almost as if he had inside information about this case. There was something there, he just had to find out what.

He reported to Mr. Eastman, through Warren, of his findings. He felt in his gut there was something going on with Marks and Johnson and possibly a third guy he'd seen them meet with. He didn't know who the guy was but that was next on his agenda.

* * * *

It was a cold winter day... a day of complete despair. The FBI arrested Morgan as an accomplice after the fact. A feeling of absolute hopelessness had swallowed up her family. Cornell Eastman was beyond anguish and her mom was totally despondent. Steve had gone to the house to be with his mother, and he too was overwhelmed with sorrow. Morgan's hearing was the next day and hopefully she'd be released on her own recognizance. Their attorney felt there was good chance she would be. Steve called Tim to tell him he was going to stay at the house a few days to comfort his mom. Tim asked him if there was anything he could do to help.

"No Tim, but thanks for offering. I'll let you know if that changes. I'm just going to stay here a few days and take care of my mother, but I'll call you soon."

"That's fine Steve. I should be around for the most part, just a few small trips, but nothing more than a day or two. I'll stay in touch, or if you just need to talk about what has happened, you know you can call me."

Tim always made him feel better, but he was still concerned about his mother. She'd gone into a deep depression and Steve was having a hard time getting her to eat or talk. He knew all he could do was try and comfort her and let her know he loved her. Cornell too had fallen into a depression, but Steve still could not bring himself to offer comfort. In his mind, it was his dad's fault this had happened in the first place. These feelings all within the same house brought a tension you could cut with a knife.

* * * *

"Excuse me. I'm looking for a Sgt. Carol Hawkins." The desk sergeant told her to take a seat and he'd call her. Karen sat nervously waiting. She couldn't help but wonder what was in the package and how it related to Sonja's death. There was a part of her dying to know, and yet there was a bigger part afraid to find out. Either way, here she was.

"Yes, I'm Sgt. Hawkins." Karen looked up to see a warm smile, with steely blue eyes. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, Sergeant. I believe we have a mutual friend, well former friend."

"I see, and who would that be?"

"Sonja Bartlett."

Sgt. Hawkins reached out and grabbed Karen's arm and escorted her to an interrogation room down the hall. Karen held onto the package as if it would provide some sort of protection. Once in the room, she carefully placed it on the table, but kept one hand on it. Sgt. Hawkins could see she was uncomfortable and wasn't even sure why she was there.

"First of all can you tell me your name?"

"Karen, Karen Wills, and Sonja asked me to bring this package to you if something happened to her and well..."

"Okay, calm down. First tell me how you knew Sonja, then we'll get to the package."

"I'm sorry, I've never been in a police station before. I'm a little nervous."

"That's okay, just start from the beginning."

Karen told her of their friendship through school and then how several weeks ago Sonja called and said she needed to come and stay with her a few days. Before she left she had given her this package and told her if anything happened to her to take it to the Chicago Police and give it to Sgt. Hawkins. So here she was.

"I see. Well, do you suppose I could have a look at the package?"

"Oh yes, of course," Karen slid it across to her. "You know Sgt. Hawkins..."

"Please call me Carol."

"Carol, I'm not good at this cloak and dagger stuff, so if you're through with me, may I leave?"

"Well, I'm sure that will be fine, but first let me look at what's here, then if I should have any questions..."

"Questions! Questions about what. I never looked inside that package. My friend's dead, I'm here in Chicago at the police station with some kind of package that contains who knows what and would just like to leave and get back to St. Louis."

"Karen, I understand. But you have to understand that we have certain procedures and rules we have to follow and, this is a murder case and, like it or not, you have become part of the investigation just by bringing me this package. Now, I believe all you've had to do with this was you followed Sonja's wishes and, if you'll bear with me a few minutes, I'm sure I can get you on your way. Fair enough?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. This all just seems so strange and eerie to me. I hope you understand. I'll wait while you do whatever it is you have to do."

Sgt. Hawkins got up and left the room. Karen sat playing with the strap on her purse, as she was wont to do when anxious. After what seemed like an hour, Sgt. Hawkins came back into the room with another officer, a Captain Clancy. He asked her a few questions and, once they were satisfied she was only a messenger fulfilling a dead friend's request, they let her leave. Most of the way back to St. Louis, she cried. She and Sonja hadn't been that close over the past few years, but they were still friends and her murder was finally sinking in. The Arch and her bookstore were going to look mighty warm and friendly.

Chapter 21

"Sgt. Hawkins, I'll take it from here," Captain Clancy said firmly. Carol Hawkins stood there in disbelief. "Excuse me sir, but what's going on here? You know I have a vested interest in this." Captain Clancy moved up close,

"Sgt. Hawkins, hear me and hear me good, I'm taking this from here – understood?"

"Yes sir – understood." She slowly turned and walked back to her office. She and Capt. Clancy had never been what you'd call close, but they'd always had an amiable working relationship. But this seemed out of character. He knew she'd been a friend with Sonja and how much it meant to her to find the killer. Now, to just cut her off... it wasn't right. She wasn't quite sure what to do about it, but she knew one thing - there was no way she'd just withdraw from the investigation.

* * * *

Mozzetti had arranged a meeting with Mr. Eastman to go over what he'd found and show him pictures of the third man at the Marks – Johnson confab. They had decided not to make their meetings secret anymore, now that Ty and Morgan had been arrested. Eastman had made a public statement that he'd hired his own private investigator. Jake showed up around noon and sat with Mr. Eastman and Warren in the study.

"Mr. Eastman, I think you really hit on something with Marks and Johnson. They're both pretty shady characters. I checked out your previous investigation of them and you were right, they stayed just ahead of you. I won't go into it now, but I think I could have nailed them had I been involved back then. Anyway, I have some pictures here I want you and Warren to look at and tell me if you recognize this guy."

Jake showed them several pictures of the Chef leaving the John Hancock Building. Cornell and Warren studied them for several minutes, but couldn't come up with anything. Warren told Jake the guy looked familiar, but he just couldn't place him. He'd think about it and let Jake know.

"Damn it Jake, you don't know how much I wish I could tell you I know who that guy is...but I don't."

"That's alright sir, it was probably a long shot anyway. I have some feelers out with various agencies and I'll come up with it. As for Marks he's been involved with some, how shall I say, dubious individuals? This guy's got some associates in organized crime and my sources tell me he hired a guy to tail Ty. My guess is to frame him for Sonja Bartlett's murder. And, I'll bet it's this guy in these pictures. Obviously, I can't prove that right now, but I'm working on it."

"Jake, you're doing a great job, but I don't have to tell you we're really up against it here, time wise."

"I know sir and I'm doing everything I can to expedite this, but sometimes you just have to wait for things to develop."

"I know Jake, I'm sorry; it's just so hard to watch your daughter be arrested when you know damn well she didn't do anything wrong and you feel responsible for it."

Jake had no idea what to say and began scooping up all his paper work. Mr. Eastman got up and walked to the window, folded his arms and stared out into the heavy gray afternoon clouds. Warren and Jake quietly exited the room. As they approached the front door, Steve came around the corner on the way to the kitchen. Warren introduced them.

"Steve this is Mr. Mozzetti. The private investigator your father hired." Steve extended his hand, "Nice to meet you Mr. Mozzetti. If you'll excuse me though, I need to get my mother something to eat."

"Certainly, it was nice to meet you, Steve."

Once out the door Jake asked Warren, "So, what's the deal with Steve and his dad?"

Warren explained how they been estranged for years. Steve was gay and he and his father had never seen eye to eye on it. Then Mr. Eastman had an affair with another man, and well...it only exacerbated their relationship. He was only hanging around the house to help his mother.

"Wow, this family really has gone through it, haven't they?" Jake said while getting into his car.

"Yes, but they're basically a good family. I've been with Mr. Eastman for many years and I know him to be a good man. We all foul up once in a while," Warren said closing the car door.

All the way back to his room, Jake kept mulling it over in his mind, 'Why was Eugene White killed, and who would have had the motive to do it?' As he saw it, there were probably several possibilities. Certainly, Marks and Johnson, but what about Steve? He apparently hated his father and just might have wanted to expose him. But would he put his family through all this just to achieve that satisfaction? What about his wife, Jennifer? She definitely didn't fit the profile, but if she knew her husband was having an affair with another man, might she not become desperate enough to eliminate White to save her family? And, of course, there was the possibility Ty actually did it - either on his own or at the request of Morgan. If she too wanted to save the family, knew about the affair, and wanted White out of the picture, they might have actually collaborated. Last but not least could it be Eastman himself. But would he destroy his career and family by eliminating White? Probably not. The most obvious, however, were Marks and Johnson, and the guy who might have actually done it...the mystery man. His gut and the mounting evidence told him to follow the Marks lead first and see where it led. Within the next twenty-four hours, he should have a good idea who the guy in the photos was.

* * * *

"Good news sir. You'll never believe what I have in my hands." There was nothing but dead silence on the other end of the phone. "Mr. Marks, are you there?"

"Yes?" Marks recognized Capt. Clancy's voice. "Yes, what is it Clancy? This better be good."

Captain Edward Clancy of the Chicago PD had been involved with Marks for many years. On the take as it were. When they needed inside information, the strange disappearance of evidence, or on occasional indirect threat, Clancy was their man. He'd been passed over for a promotion and had compromised his integrity and career all in the name of money. Marks had promised him that, as he moved up the ladder, there would be a position in his organization commensurate with Clancy's dubious talents. Clancy was right at home with men like Marks.

"Oh, it is sir. You see this girlfriend of Sonja Bartlett's came into the police station with this package and asked for Sgt. Hawkins. Sgt. Hawkins then came and got me and..."

"CLANCY! What the hell do you have for me?"

"Sorry. The package she brought in has all of Sonja Bartlett's investigative material - notes, pictures, statements; the whole nine yards."

"Wow, that is good news. I'm sorry I yelled at you Captain, it's just been a rough week. So tell me, who else has seen this...package?"

"Only Sgt. Hawkins."

"I see and, is that going to be a problem I need to worry about?"

"No sir. I've taken care of it."

"Absolutely, positively, Captain Clancy?"

"Definitely, sir!"

Marks arranged to have Clancy meet with Johnson and give him the package. This wasn't good news, it was great news! Without anything additional to what they already had, the police would continue to assume it was Tyler Flynn that was responsible for Sonja's death. Marks began to think that maybe they would get away with this after all. But he still had no idea what Chef might do, and that was a major concern. With Sonja and her evidence out of the picture, however, there was nothing for Chef to do. This was beyond great news it was...kismet.

* * * *

He sat alone in the dark, mulling over his options. Should he stay or go and would they eventually put all this together and track him down? He was growing weary. Chef felt like he'd been on the run for years. They hadn't caught him yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time. He'd been well paid, but forced to compromise himself in hideous ways. Killing came with the territory; he knew that and accepted it. Through the years, his life had meant little to him, so why should anyone else's matter. It was a job – nothing more and nothing less. But what if he had wanted to change and, try to lead that so called normal life? How would he do it? Where does one start after all these years of deceit, subterfuge and assassination? He had no idea and was not even sure he wanted to. One thing was sure: for the first time in his life, he'd begun to feel at home in Chicago. He actually had some friends who had no idea what he really did for a living, and he loved the city. If he was forced to run, he'd do it reluctantly. Marks was certainly one of the most conniving people he'd dealt with, and his power and connections were a concern. Then there was the other party involved, which made this one of the most complicated situations he'd ever undertaken. For the first time since he could remember, he felt a little disorientated.

Suddenly, he jumped to his feet and yelled out loud, "snap out of it!" He knew he had things to take care of, starting with Marks and Johnson. Johnson seemed to be the pawn and definitely the weaker of the two. If there was a chink in Marks' armor, it was Johnson. If they forced him into a corner...he'd use it. For now though, he'd leave well enough alone and let them make the next move. After all, Marks had way more at stake then he did.

* * * *

Morgan had been released on her own recognizance and went back to her parents' home to be with her mom and give Steve a break. Mattie was also arrested as an accessory and she too was released on her own recognizance. Morgan invited her to come to the house, but she preferred to go back to her own apartment. Ty's bail had been set at one-million dollars. Mr. Eastman had lined up one of the better defense firms in Chicago to handle his case and had made it more than clear that the Eastman family was supporting Ty and they truly believed that he had nothing to do with the deaths of Sonja Bartlett or Eugene White. His political career was over and the best he could do now was try to salvage his family and some self-respect.

Morgan would go see Ty in jail. He looked terrible. He had no way of raising the million dollars and the Eastman family had dramatically depleted their resources on Mozzetti and the defense for Morgan and Mattie. Unfortunately, Ty would have to wait this out in jail. It was killing her. She knew he was alone and had no one to talk to. Bob Patterson, of Patterson, Patterson and Lowe, the firm now representing him, told her he was holding up fine but was getting progressively depressed. She could see it every time she visited him. She tried to boost his spirits, but he had a sense of inevitability about his situation. He was sure they'd find him guilty.

* * * *

Steve went home to be with Tim and get away from the oppressive atmosphere at his parents' house. He told them he'd be back in a few days, he just needed to catch up on a few things. He was worried about his mother, she seemed so... fragile.

He'd called Tim and they'd arranged to meet at one of their favorite little watering holes in downtown. Steve felt like he needed to be out in the public with some music and laughter.

"Oh, Tim, it's so good to see you. This has been a living hell."

"Come on, sit down and tell me what's going on," Tim offered reassuringly.

"First of all, I'm dreadfully worried about my mother. I've never seen her like this. She looks sick and depressed. I don't know what to do for her."

"Steve, slow down, take a deep breath and try to relax for a minute. You know you're doing all you can right now. You're there for her. She knows that. What's your dad doing...if anything?"

"Oh, I don't know. He's there and he hired this private investigator that he hopes will find the real murderer. But he's the one who brought all this on us, so I had virtually nothing to do with him. I was there for mother and Morgan only."

"A private investigator – he is desperate."

"Well, that's what I thought, but who knows maybe the guy will come up with something and, if he helps my mother and Morgan, I'm all for it."

"When did he do this?"

"I don't know, several weeks ago I guess. I met him, he seemed like a nice enough guy, but I really didn't have a chance to talk to him. He was there one afternoon meeting with my father and Warren."

"Warren?"

"Yes, I've told you about Warren. He's my dad's security guard. Morgan told me Warren had lined up this private investigator for father."

"That's interesting. Did Morgan think the guy was making any progress?"

"Yeah, she did. One night, after mother fell asleep, we sat and talked about all this. She told me there was no way Ty could have done it and she'd had a meeting with this guy and told him everything she knew. Apparently, father had too and from that he felt he had a few good leads. The best one involved two of his old political adversaries. A Marks and somebody. I don't remember. As you well know, I could care less about my father's political career. Now, can we talk about something else and try and enjoy ourselves? I've had enough gloom to last me a lifetime."

It felt great to be out in the world again, and it felt great to be with Tim. They didn't talk about the Eastman family misfortune again the rest of the evening.
Chapter 22

Mozzetti was sorting through all the information, trying to put two and two together, when the phone rang. It was his contact with the FBI. They'd gotten him what he needed to know about the 'mystery' man. His real name was Doug Winters, although he used a number of aliases. He had a record, but had never been nailed for anything big. He was thought to be a hit man for high rollers and people in power. None of it had ever been proven though. He'd been seen in and around the Chicago area in the past few months, but there was no direct link between him and the two murders. Neither the FBI nor Chicago police had pursued him in this matter. He was virtually impossible to pin down and unless they had iron clad evidence they let him be. He was too slick to get tripped up on technicalities. Anything brought against him had to be open and shut.

Jake felt a little discouraged. He knew in his heart and soul this guy had played a part in Sonja Bartlett's death. But how in the world could he prove it? Not only did he have no evidence, the guy's a professional and accustomed to living in the shadows.

But he had to have made a mistake. They always do. The more he contemplated it, the more he figured if there was a leak in the dike, it would be somewhere around Marks or Johnson. Marks was obviously the power guy and called the shots. Johnson was apparently his gopher. That's who he'd pursue next – Johnson.

* * * *

It was a clear crisp morning. Marks had arranged a meeting between Johnson and Capt. Clancy in a park on the south side. It was going to be short and sweet. Exchange the package and leave. Their cars pulled up beside each other, windows down and zip, just like that, Johnson had the package.

He immediately drove back to the office. Marks waited anxiously. This could be the end to all their problems. If all Sonja Bartlett's evidence was in this package, they'd be home free. Tyler Flynn would take the fall, and Marks just might have the facts that would prevent Chef from doing anything. He sat drumming his fingers on the table. In what seemed like a monumental amount of time, Johnson finally came shooting through the door.

"Here it is sir," he said breathlessly.

"Great! Let's have a look at it."

Just as Clancy had indicated, there were notes, pictures and a diary of all her activities.

"Boy, Ms. Bartlett was certainly organized and thorough wasn't she?" Marks said sorting through the material.

Johnson had no comment. He sat looking down at the floor between his feet. This was great, it spelled it all out. She had the photos of Ty, her daily activities of following Eastman and then some disturbing comments about being followed. This was verified when she came back from St. Louis and found her apartment trashed. There was even the note she'd found on the shower door, "Sorry you left town in such a hurry. How was your friend Karen in St. Louis?" It was all there, and now best of all, it was all...his. He could sense that Jack was still suffering from some lingering guilt over Sonja Bartlett's death.

"Jack, why don't you go home and get some rest? I know this has been very hard on you and you could use a little break. The way I see it, we're in the clear with what I have here. I'll take it from here."

Jack slowly rose to his feet, nodded his head and walked out the door. He was exhausted and just couldn't shake this feeling of remorse over Sonja's murder. Marks was right; he did need a break. Maybe he'd go fishing, or fly to Florida and see his brother. He had to get away for a while.

Marks immediately called the Chef to tell him of their good fortune. As usual he was decidedly unimpressed, or at least sounded that way. By mutual agreement they decided not to converse any more. As far as Marks was concerned, it was over. He did, however, point out that he was in the possession of some rather incriminating evidence...but of course he was not going to use it. Chef's pointed response, "You'd better not!" Marks got the point.

* * * *

Jake got a call from Warren telling him he needed to come out to the house as quickly as possible. They just might have a break in the case. Jake was cautiously excited, but couldn't figure out how this could have happened without his knowledge. Nevertheless, he got there as quickly as he could.

Warren was waiting for him at the front door, "Jake come on, there's someone you need to meet." Hurriedly they went into the study. There, sitting with Mr. Eastman, was an attractive, but serious woman with steely blue eyes.

"Jake," Mr. Eastman said excitedly. "This is Sgt. Hawkins of the Chicago PD."

"Sergeant, I'm pleased to meet you." Jake said, still wondering what was going on.

Mr. Eastman couldn't contain himself. "Jake, Sgt. Hawkins has been telling us about a package that was brought into the station and...oh, you tell him Carol."

Jake could see Mr. Eastman was beside himself with anticipation. Carol Hawkins proceeded to tell the whole story of the 'package' as it was now known. She further told him about tailing Capt. Clancy and taking pictures of him giving the package to a man she knew to be Jack Johnson.

"What prompted you to do this Carol, if I might ask?" Jake questioned.

"Sonja Bartlett was a friend and a good person. She always dealt with people straight up, and I knew when this happened to her, it was because she'd been tricked by some real pros. I decided right then I was going to pursue this to the end."

She seemed honest and this was certainly an admirable thing to do, but Jake found it curious that she'd come to Eastman first and not her own police department or the FBI.

"Well, you're certainly a brave woman, but why here, why us? Why not your own department or the FBI?" Jake still had a few doubts.

Mr. Eastman was about to explode. "Jake, why are you doing this? This is new and incredible information. Why are you questioning her?"

"No, it's alright Mr. Eastman," she said calmly. "That's a legitimate question. I'll tell you why... because Capt. Clancy is a very powerful man in the department and if I went to higher ups or the FBI, he'd have my hide, or worse. I knew having worked on this case and from reading the papers that Mr. Eastman had hired a private investigator. I figured it was my best and safest choice. This way maybe you can crack this and I won't lose my job, or life. I hope that answers your question Mr. Mozzetti."

Her penetrating blue eyes never blinked. Jake believed her. He then asked her to tell him everything she knew about the case and Capt. Clancy. Most of what she told him he already knew, but the package and Capt. Clancy's involvement were new and critical pieces to the puzzle. Jake asked Mr. Eastman if they could use his study, so he, Warren and Sgt. Hawkins could devise a plan.

Jake figured with this information they could work through Clancy and nail Marks and Johnson, which would in turn smoke out Doug Winters. Great plan on the surface, but how would they implement it? Part of the concern was the safety of Sgt. Hawkins, both professionally and personally.

They decided to have Warren call Capt. Clancy anonymously and tell him he saw the exchange in the park. This would first, keep Sgt. Hawkins out of the picture and, second, force Clancy to contact Marks. If Jake had this figured right, Marks would immediately contact Winters. Marks was, if nothing else, a self-preservationist, and there was no way in the world he was going to take the fall for Sonja's death. He'd do anything to save his own skin.

Once they got this going, it would certainly cast doubt on the case against Ty, which in turn would affect Morgan's trial. Jake figured all they had to do was get the ball rolling and then let the fed's take it from there.

Sunday evening was drawing to a close and they'd all racked their brains, considering every possibility, every angle. The plan was in place. They decided early Monday morning Warren would call Capt. Clancy and plant the seed. Jake would be ready to follow him. Sgt. Hawkins would go about her business as if nothing had happened. They let Mr. Eastman know what was going on and went outside. Jake stopped them by his car, "Well, here goes. Let's hope this falls the way we want it to and, thanks Carol for coming forward. This could well be the turning point in the case."

Carol thanked them both and as she drove off Warren said, "Thank God she stepped up. She seems like a brave woman."

"Yep, I couldn't agree more," Jake said sliding into his car seat. "Okay, you call Clancy first thing and then call me right away. I'll be waiting to tail him when he leaves the station. There's no way he's going to contact Marks from the police station. I imagine he'll go somewhere else and call him, or if we're real lucky, go right to his office. That, however, is a long shot. Whichever, I'll be on him like a wet blanket."

"You got it. Then let me know so I can tell Mr. Eastman."

"Warren, thanks for getting me involved in this case and thanks for all your help. I owe you one."

Warren waved his hand as he headed toward the house, "Forget it Jake. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Jake drove out of the driveway slowly, looking at the house as he left. He couldn't help thinking how strange all of this was. Who knows? This might have been the next First Family, and...well he had to get back to work. Get ready for tomorrow morning. It was going to be a big day.

Chapter 23

A few minutes after nine Clancy made his way out of the police station at a brisk pace. He was middle aged, bald and had partaken of a few too many desserts. This was probably as fast as he could move, Jake thought. He drove downtown to a large office building. Jake followed him inside. Sure enough he made a phone call. He talked a few minutes in an animated fashion, hung up and left in a hurry. He didn't go back to the station. He headed home. Jake called his contacts at the FBI and told them to move in on Marks and Johnson. He was following Clancy and would meet them at his house.

He had tipped his friends at the Bureau about what was happening and told them he only wanted to participate in the capture of Doug Winters.

Marks was caught trying to leave town and, true to form, denied everything. The mysterious package had vanished, but Jack Johnson had not. When he was brought in for questioning, he spilled his guts. He could no longer live with the guilt of Sonja Bartlett's death and told them everything. When shown pictures of Doug Winters, he identified him as the Chef. He told them how Marks had hired him through some of his seedy contacts and all the Chef was supposed to do was follow Sonja, and set up Ty Flynn for the murder of Eugene White. But instead he killed her. Jack broke down during the questioning. He admitted to some dreadfully shady deals with Marks, but this was too much. He'd never bargained for murder. He told them how much he hated Winters and hoped they'd catch him. But more than anything he hoped Winters got what was coming to him.

When asked the whereabouts of Winters, Jack said he didn't know. Winters always called in or just showed up. He had no idea where he lived or how to contact him. Marks had clammed up and was only talking to his attorney. Jack had no idea who killed Eugene White. All along it had appeared to be Ty Flynn, but now with this confession and the arrest of Marks and Johnson, Ty, Morgan and Mattie were in the clear.

Maybe Eugene White's death was an accident, or maybe Chef had done it...but why? It appeared now they'd never know. Marks and Johnson had been arrested for the death of Sonja Bartlett and, apparently Doug Winters, A.K.A. The Chef, had gotten away... once again.

Cornell Eastman was having a coming home party of sorts for Morgan, Ty and Mattie. Even though he'd been paid well and told by Mr. Eastman he'd done a wonderful job, Jake felt shortchanged. Here he'd been so close to Winters and yet...well. Who knows? He might run into him down the road.

He had to shake it off and join in the celebration. After all, the truth had come out and the innocent did go free. The house was full of people, with champagne, a live band, dancing, and fabulous food. It was good to see everyone happy for a change, especially Ty and Morgan. Jake didn't really know many people, but it was just fun to mill around and see people laughing and having a good time. Even Jennifer Eastman appeared to be in good spirits. She was laughing and talking to Steve. Jake had never really gotten to say much to Jennifer, but had admired her from afar. With everything that had happened to her family, it looked like she'd weathered it well. Oh, she'd had her ups and downs, but why not. She'd been put through the grinder. It was good to see her relaxed and enjoying her family once again. He didn't want to intrude, but wanted to pay his respects.

"Pardon me Mrs. Eastman. I just wanted to say hi and tell you how much I admire you," Jake stated in a dignified manner.

"Well, thank you Mr. Mozzetti. I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate what you've done for all of us. You've been a Godsend."

"Thank you. Believe me it was an honor to be of service. If you ever need anything in the future, don't hesitate to call me. And Steve, it's good to see you again."

"I, too, would like to thank you Mr. Mozzetti."

"Please, will you both call me Jake. My business associates call me Mr. Mozzetti. My friends call me Jake."

"Certainly...Jake," she said with a warm smile. "It's great to see everyone so happy isn't it? Well, almost everyone," as she reached out and hugged Steve. "Steve's a little down. He was hoping Tim could be here, but...what did you tell me again dear?"

"Tim had to go back to Europe on a special book buying trip."

Jake could hear a little longing in his voice. "Oh, I'm sorry Steve. When's he coming back?"

"I'm not sure. He just left me a note and said he didn't know how long it would take. He'd call me when he got back."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be back soon. If you'll excuse me, I have a busy day tomorrow, heading home you know and I should probably get going. It was great to see you both again. And remember, if you ever need anything..."

On his way out Jake stopped and congratulated Ty and Morgan and found Mr. Eastman to say goodbye.

"Jake, you were wonderful. We could not have done this without you."

He could see Mr. Eastman was feeling no pain and for the first time in a long time was actually having a good time.

"Thank you sir - it was my pleasure. I just wish we could have found Winters."

"Yes, that is a shame, but from what I hear the guy's impossible to catch. As long as he's out of our lives, I guess we should be grateful."

"Well, that's one way of looking at it sir. I wanted to say goodbye to Warren, but I haven't seen him. Is he here?"

"No, he had to fly home. His mother's ill."

"Oh no! I hope nothing serious?"

"I think she'll be alright. She's been in poor health for years and has her ups and downs. He just wanted to be with her."

"Yes, of course. Well, please give him my best and tell him I'll be in touch. Again sir, thank you for everything."

Jake left and as he drove out of the driveway, the atmosphere was dramatically different. Only a few days ago there was a pall of despair hanging over this house... now, it was rocking with laughter and music.

Jake would head back to Philadelphia and never talk to the Eastman family again. Marks and Johnson were tried and convicted of second degree murder and given twenty-five to life. Clancy was tried as an accomplice and given five to ten years. Ty and Morgan got married and enjoyed each other, the Cubs, and their weekends on Lake Michigan. Steve never saw or heard from Tim again. Jeff and Jennifer lived in the same house, but in separate bedrooms. They put back on the face of propriety for family and friends.

Chapter 24

He awoke to a stinging pain in his neck. The windows were open to let the sea breeze in, so he thought it might be some kind of insect. He then felt his body going numb. He rolled onto his back and stared up into the dark. There was someone standing by the window. He could barely see their outline against the moonlight.

"It's curare. I thought you should know, because in a few minutes you'll be dead. It paralyzes the muscles and then you'll just stop breathing."

Slowly, and deliberately Chef said, "Who...are...you? I...have...to...know."

"It doesn't matter. I'm alive and you're..." He reached down, felt that Chef had stopped breathing. "Not!"

It was late and as he walked into the room he could see him sitting at his desk in the dark.

"It's done sir."

"You found him? Where?"

"I figured it would be one of two places and sure enough. He always liked the white beach at Sol Mar in Cabo."

"Can you believe that jackal? Playing both ends against the middle. He takes money from me to get rid of Eugene and Sonja Bartlett, while he's taking money from Marks to do the same thing. Plus the son of a bitch was sleeping with my son. You were right about one thing, Mozzetti was the one to flush him out. My guess is he'd have blackmailed me sure as the sun coming up."

"I know, I never really liked him. As a matter of fact I kind of enjoyed doing it."

"You know, I'll always feel bad about Sonja Bartlett. If Marks hadn't gotten her involved she'd still be alive. And Eugene - I really was fond of him, but he wanted way more than I could, or would give."

"Yes, I know sir."

"You know, of course, he never meant that much to me."

"Yes sir."

"Well, Warren I'm going up to bed."

"Then goodnight sir."

"Warren?"

"Yes sir?"

"Will you be...coming up later?"

"No. Not tonight sir. It's been a very long day!"

