 
366

Guardian

Book One

By

A.L. Crouch

_Dedicated to my warm and loving family; to my children who breathe inspiration into my life, to my mother who always gave me a soft place to land, and to my husband who makes me feel as though I can do anything. You all are my angels and my proof of heaven on earth_.

Angel of God,  
my guardian dear,  
to whom God's love commits me here,  
ever this day,  
be at my side  
to light and guard,  
to rule and guide.

Chapter 1

Hope is a hard thing to kill. It clings to the desolate spirit of a person and remains vigilant when all else falls away. I never considered the possibility that at the age of ten my life would end. It was a child's way of thinking, full of naive anticipation and expectancy. Even as our car plummeted towards the ground and came to a crunching halt below, I clung to the one thing that wouldn't die. Hope.

I didn't feel the pain at first, only the pressure that pinned me down and made it impossible to escape this new twisted reality. The pelting of the rain on the ground confused me, roused me into consciousness. The night was starless and black. I strained to see through the dust and smoke and shadow.

Something was on top of me, crushing me. When lightning flashed, I saw that the floor of the car was now above me, the vacant seat belts dangling to my right. The left side of the back seat had come apart from the frame and now had me trapped under its immense weight. I could barely move my head, my arms and legs pinned.

I screamed for my mom and struggled to look up to where the front seats should be. Among the twisted and mangled metal, I found what used to be the passenger seat. It looked now to be meshed with the enormous pine tree which had broken our fall. My throat tightened with panic as my eyes darted around the wreckage in search of movement.

My eyes burned with the white hot suddenness of the lightning which ripped a cry from my throat as the answering thunder growled to life. As it echoed off the tops of the blackened mountainside, I saw it. My mother's bloodied arm lay across her seat. I followed the line of it to the outside of the car where I caught a glimpse of her blond hair, now soaked in crimson. I screamed to her. No movement.

"Gary!" I cried, straining to see the driver's side of the car. "Gary, wake up. Please wake up. Mom needs help. Wake up!"

With the next flash, I saw that Gary's seat was still intact, though now suspended above me in the front of the car. His arms dangled from his seat above. I screamed to him again, a hoarse cry, and winced at the pounding in my head. A slight movement from Gary's hand gave me the motivation to scream louder, the hope to keep trying.

I stopped when I heard the footsteps. They sloshed against the sodden earth behind me as they approached the car. Relief washed over me as I struggled to take a deep breath.

"Help us please!" I cried to our rescuer. "My mom isn't moving. She fell out of the car. I'm stuck, help us please . . ."

I listened as the footsteps approached the right side of the car where my mother lay motionless. It was hard to see out of the shattered window on that side. Another flash, a glimpse of denim. A hand, covered with a brown leather glove, stroked what I could see of my mother's blood-stained hair. There was so much blood. My mind refused to register its significance.

"Please. Is she alive? Help her . . . please!" I cried.

There was no answer, only footsteps. They slowly, purposely, retreated to the rear of the car and came up beside me on the left.

"Hello? Please call the police! Get help," I panted, the reality of the situation setting in. I could see Mom in the background, still motionless and red.

As the footsteps approached my door and slowed, Gary moaned and brought his dangling hand to his head.

"Gary, wake up. Help is here."

"Alex?" I heard him mumble.

Twisting my head as much as I could, I tried to get a better view of my side of the car when Gary's door tore open with abrupt force. _Thank God_ , I thought, _Gary is going to get out. He's going to get me out so we can help Mom._

With the next flash of lightning, the gloved hand reached into the car for Gary. Before the brightness faded, light glistened fleetingly off of a shiny object in its grasp. With the ensuing darkness came an eruption of thunder and over the rolling clap I heard Gary shriek into the night. Frozen by my immediate confusion, I held my breath and waited anxiously for the next bolt of lightning to illuminate the scene.

When the next flash came, my eyes darted straight to the front of the car. I watched the gloved hand pull away from the driver's seat and struggled with my blurred vision to make out the shiny object clutched in its fist. The hand held a slender knife. The handle, crafted in the shape of a snake, curved around the palm. The blade now trickled with fresh blood. Gary's hands fell, lifeless, back to a dangle. They too were splattered with crimson. Then darkness.

Panic pulsed through me like a static charge and threatened to shatter me from the inside. _This couldn't be happening, none of this was real._ Then footsteps again. They moved back toward the door beside my head. I threw myself against the seat that trapped me until my left leg was able to wiggle slightly. Concentrating every bit of strength I had, I struggled to free it from the seat even as the leather-covered hands worked the handle beside me. I thrashed about as much as I could, but to no avail.

The hands beat and tugged at my door but could not open it. Then footsteps again. They stalked back up to the driver side of the car. I held my breath and tried to decipher their next move in the blackness, but all I could hear was the hammering of the rain against my upholstered prison.

When the world lit up again I struggled to take in my surroundings as fast as I could. Before I could focus, the gloved hands came at me, the blade flying towards my face from the front seat. I screamed and turned my head away from the strike. The hands jerked to a sudden halt, the console and rubble stopping them just short of my cheek. Darkness again. I cried and beat upon the seat above me as the hands struggled to get to me. It was all I could do, yet even at my young age, I knew it was useless.

It was then, amidst the panic, that I heard a soothing, velvet whisper against my ear. A familiar voice separate from the horror surrounding me. With the words came the steady strumming rhythm that had always calmed my soul.

"I am with you Alexandra. It will be okay," the voice said. "I need you to sink further into the seat right now, okay? As far inside as you can. That's good Alexandra, just like that. It's almost over."

When the gloved hands reared back, instead of thrashing to get free, I sucked in all the breath in my body and squeezed further into the depths of the fallen seat. I wasn't able to get more than an inch further in when the hands came at me again, shoving harder against the wreckage to get at me. Sinking further and further into my seat, I listened in stark terror as my attacker struggled and heaved against the remains of the front of the car. The blade scraped against the metal on top of me.

When I could go no further, I close my eyes and focused on the steady, strumming rhythm that I had come to know so well. The sound of it always signaled his presence. I wasn't alone in this. He was with me and that thought comforted me even as the thrashing hands above came closer with each forward thrust.

Then, in the distance, a screaming jostled me from my focus. _No, not screams. Sirens!_ Help was coming. The scraping and grunting stopped abruptly. For a moment all I could hear was the gentle strumming and the wails of the sirens steadily approaching. They rose in pitch to match the screams which I then realized were escaping from my own throat.

Another flash and the gloved, knife-wielding hand made a final, desperate attempt to reach me. It thrust forward with acute force. The biting sting on my forehead tore the remaining breath from my lungs and choked my screams. As the wreckage was once again plunged into darkness, the hands pulled back. I braced myself for the next jab. There was no energy to keep fighting. The world around me was spinning. I listened for the strumming . . . for him.

"It's over now Alexandra. You're safe," the voice whispered.

The footsteps retreated from the car. They moved quickly back the way they had come. _Running. They were running away_. I was in too much shock to be relieved. My head burned and throbbed and the pain made it hard to catch my breath. When the next flash of lightning came, the world appeared red and thick. Blinking back the moisture, I watched the blue and white flashing lights surround me. And then I saw him.

His familiar face smiled reassuringly to me from the front of the car and I stared into his deep blue eyes. In the next soggy blink he was gone, the strumming replaced by footsteps, dozens of them, all running towards me. The fog in my head thickened and I struggled to cry out for help.

"Help me. I think they're dead," is all I was able to say before the world was plunged into darkness one last time.

Chapter 2

"We're just descending. Nothing to worry about," a voice behind me said, startling me awake.

I rubbed my eyes as the past dissolved into a forgotten dream. The middle aged man leaning over me gave my shoulder a pat and took his seat behind me.

"Sorry, I guess I dozed off. I'm not a huge fan of flying. I try to remain unconscious for as much of it as possible." I straightened my blouse and wiped the sweat from my temple with the back of my sleeve and wondered if I called out again in my sleep.

The view from the window showed that the small passenger plane was maneuvering through an expanse of wispy cloud, making it impossible to gauge our distance to the ground.

"Well I'd say your plan paid off. You missed one hell of a storm about 30 minutes ago. Shook me up a bit and I fly all the time," the man behind me chuckled. "Mind if I join you?"

"Sure," I said not wanting to be rude.

The man was pleasant looking enough, with the perfect spattering of gray in his sandy-blonde hair to categorize him as distinguished. It was his smile though that stood out. It was brilliant, flashy, practiced.

"Good thing is right, I dislike storms even more," I understated as he sat in the empty seat beside me.

The captain turned on the fasten seat-belt sign and announced our final descent into the Asheville Regional airport. I fumbled for my purse, yanking a brush through my long, sleep disheveled hair and worked on calming the nerves started to coil around my throat. Within minutes we would be safe on the ground in Asheville, North Carolina. That realization panicked me more than the entire tumultuous flight.

"Well I hope you enjoy Asheville. Are you visiting family? Taking in the Biltmore?" the man asked, persisting in the conversation.

I was too grateful for the distraction at this point to be annoyed. I was never much of a small talk type, but at this moment it made things feel more mundane and less like the cataclysmic event my mind had built this trip up to be.

"Actually, I'm visiting family up in Saluda, about thirty-five miles away."

It was almost the truth.

"You're kidding. Believe it or not, that is exactly where I'm headed in the morning. I'm just meeting with a client here in Ashville today. Isn't that funny," he chuckled and offered another practiced smile.

I pegged him for a salesman. A bad one.

"Well then, you must have family in Saluda. That's the only reason anyone ever goes there," I said and chanced another look out my window.

The plane had descended below the blanket of downy cotton and the mountains, dappled with autumn color, peaked just beneath it. I had forgotten how glorious they were, the enormity and majesty of them stimulating some childlike admiration buried deep within my core.

"Actually, got a couple of buildings up there in need of renovation. I'm contracted out from Raleigh, so I'll be staying for a week or two. You must have family there then, I'm guessing? Maybe we'll run into one another."

"Oh I don't plan to stay long. Just taking care of some family business and then I'm headed back to Chicago," I answered, turning to him.

The plane teetered to the right, throwing the view of the ground below and the airport into the windows across the aisle and then straightened out again. We would be on the ground in minutes. I shook off the anxiety that gripped my shoulders and threatened to hold me captive in my seat.

"So you're a contractor?" I asked shakily, giving the man my own forged smile _. Guess I had been wrong about the whole salesman thing_. "What buildings are you renovating?"

"Yes ma'am, I am. Though I dabble in real estate from time to time," he answered. "Let's see, they want to add on to the gazebo right there on the main street, and the elementary school in Flat Rock is looking to expand their auditorium."

"Upward Elementary?" I asked, my pulse quickening.

"That's the one."

I could only offer a weak grin in response. Of all the elementary schools in the area, he was going to the one I had attended. I wondered if I would have the courage to visit it myself. Probably not, which was fine. It wasn't part of the itinerary that would get me back to Chicago in a hurry.

When the plane touched down, the man offered me a rough hand and another flawless smile. "The name's Rick Brightman. Hope to see you around, even if your stay is brief."

"Alex Nolan," I said and shook his hand. "It's a small town, the odds are in our favor."

  *

It was a struggle to keep my thoughts positive as I blew through the terminal and retrieved my single suitcase from the baggage claim. _The faster this is over with, the sooner I'm on a flight back,_ I told myself. Taking a moment to steady my nerves, I strolled out into the cool mountain air and took in a deep breath of it despite myself. The scent of crisp pines had been as impossible to forget as the emerald landscape which rolled in waves around me in all directions.

I scanned the curb for my ride. Judging by the vehicles parked at the curb, this part of the country clearly preferred large, 4-wheel drive SUV's over the compact sedans I was accustomed to seeing in the city. They were all muted in color, each speckled with red earth. It had rained recently.

Instead of the standard police cruiser I was expecting, I found a sizeable Ford Explorer, painted the right shade of black and boasting the blue and white "Saluda Police Department" insignia. I admired the metal beast, running my finger along the glossy finish and taking in the 17-inch chrome wheels and tan leather seats through the windows.

"You're going to have to sit in the back seat just like all the other criminals." The deep, booming voice came from behind me.

"Uncle Sulley!" I smiled, taking in the features of the man who for a short time had been my uncle, and a man whom I had loved as a father for as long as I could remember.

A man I hadn't laid eyes on in fifteen years.

He was broader than I remembered. Six feet tall and heavy-set, his once medium-brown hair was now kissed with a tinge of white beside his ears which made him look as authoritative as the shiny silver badge he wore pinned to his crisply pressed uniform. His brooding, puppy dog eyes were the same though, save for a few delicate wrinkles around their edges. Those eyes now burned through me with shock and amazement. His stout jaw hung agape.

"My God in heaven, you look just like her," he whispered. "I mean . . . your hair is darker, but it's uncanny. You looks just like she did before . . ."

I had been told how much I resembled my mother. We had the same small stature, high cheek bones, and hazel eyes. My head however, was adorned with a multitude of mousy brown hair, much unlike my mother's golden tresses. I could only assume I had inherited it from my father, though I had never cared enough to ask anyone who had met him. It was just now dawning on me how my resemblance to my mother might affect the people in Saluda. The people I left behind.

The tension wafted like a lingering odor, so I did what I always do in uncomfortable situations. I made a joke.

"Well it's easy to look like her when you have her same eyes." I smiled sheepishly.

Sulley let my words register a moment before breaking out into raucous laughter. He grabbed me up into a bear hug, which threatened to crush my lungs and rocked me back and forth. I clung to him a moment and allowed myself to feel genuinely happy to see him again after all these years.

"Ah, but that's all Alex wit for sure." He held me away from him, all smiles. "That was a terrible joke."

"I know, but it's all I had at the moment." I sighed. "It's great to see you Sulley."

"And it's great to finally see you too. It's been too long. Not that I haven't enjoyed the phone calls every now and then," he said as he tossed my suitcase in the back seat, "but it's great to finally have you back. Now, let's get you home."

I climbed into the passenger seat and marveled at the wood-grained dashboard and internal navigation system. I suddenly missed my car, a modest Accord, which was not as high tech as Sulley's new ride. It had been easier to fly than to drive from Chicago, but not having the means for which to escape at any given moment made me feel trapped.

"This is quite the upgrade from the squad car," I said.

Sulley positioned himself behind the wheel.

"Yeah, well spend a decade and a half on the force and they give you the good car," he winked. "Radio works pretty well up here too, which is an upgrade in itself, but all that's on the thing right now are those damned reports from that shooting on Fort Bragg. Had to stop listening, get's me all fired up."

The shooting had been plastered on every television in the airport as well. Something about a soldier turning on his own, but I hadn't the heart to listen.

"Once a grunt, always a grunt huh?" I teased.

"Hooah!" Sulley smiled, putting the truck into drive and navigated us out of the airport and onto the highway.

Thankfully we spent most of the trip to Saluda in comfortable silence, neither of us feeling pressured to make small talk. Sulley was a brooder, and even though we weren't blood related, we shared that personality trait. I needed to be alone with my thoughts.

I stared out the window, mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of fall colors that shifted in shade with every leaf. I had forgotten how many trees there were. Cascading from the hills and mountaintops, they formed an intricate patchwork quilt which flanked the truck at every curve of the road.

The afternoon sun, which lay nestled in the crevice of two tall peaks, cast its golden hue upon the tips of pines. Bright reds and purples adorned the oaks in a gown of the deepest velvet. A constant breeze floated between each branch creating a delicate sway. Their dance was breathtaking.

My thoughts waltzed with them, bouncing from feelings of angst and dread to warm nostalgia. I had spent most of my life trying to forget this place: the trees, the smells, the people. Yet, seeing it all again made it feel as if I had never left . . . or rather, it had never left me.

When the curves in the road tightened and the truck leaned right and left intermittently, I knew we were close to town. Breathing in and out became my sole focus, a desperate attempt to battle the panic that threatened to rise up again from my gut. Sulley, who had been sneaking curious glances at me throughout the drive, offered a reassuring smile.

"So how are Dan and Maggie?" He asked finally breaking the silence.

I ripped my eyes away from the window to look at him.

"Aunt Maggie is loving life now that Uncle Dan is retired. They travel all over the place. I barely ever see them anymore."

The truth was, I rarely saw them at all since I left for college years ago. It was my fault for never stopping by to visit. Calling them once I got settled was a must.

"You still liking the teaching job? Still can't believe you're teaching social studies of all things. You should be teaching music, like your mom did."

"I like teaching social studies, and I've got some good kids this semester. Music was Mom's thing . . ." I lowered my head, my thoughts darkening.

"You sure you don't want to stay with me and Gram tonight? We've got plenty of room. I'm sure she'd be awful glad to see you . . . in her way," Sulley said, sensing my change in mood.

"I'm sure. The sooner I can deal with the house the better," I said shaking my head. "And I don't know if I'm ready to see Gram just yet. It's been a long day, I'd rather take the night to get settled in first."

It was hard to explain the way I was feeling when I couldn't even figure it out for myself. I was desperate to keep the past in the past, yet some things I wished could be the same. Gram was one of those things.

"I understand. Just know the offer's open," Sulley said.

"What if she doesn't know who I am?" I asked, a lump forming in my throat.

Sulley sighed and patted my hand. "This must be difficult for you, coming back here after all these years. I get it, I do. Take all the time you need. And as far as Gram goes, she has her good days and bad. Hell, on a bad day she doesn't even know who I am any more. Called me Baxter the other day."

"Who in the world is Baxter?" I asked, brightening.

Sulley raised his eyebrows. "Baxter was our family dog."

I covered my mouth in a vain attempt keep from laughing. One look at Sulley and I failed. "That's terrible!" I said.

"Yeah well, good days and bad. Never know what to expect with Huntington's disease. I'm just glad she's still with us. Could be much worse. Even if she doesn't recognize you Alex, a part of her knows. A part of her will always know."

"I know, and I've missed her so much," I said. "Promise I'll come over tomorrow."

"I'll hold you to that." Sulley grinned and I knew he would.

It wasn't that I didn't want to see the woman who had been a grandmother to me even before she was legally so. Far from it. I was afraid that seeing her as she was now, her mind warped by the disease, would scar my memory of her.

Many childhood nights were spent at Sulley's house where Gram taught me to make her famous oatmeal cookies. Those times were the fondest of my memories: tying on one of her aprons and helping to gather the ingredients. The best part was always when Gram handed me the spatula to lick clean as we waited for the cookies to bake. The whole town had savored those cookies, but only I was privy to the secret ingredient. Keeping it to ourselves had been our little pact. I thought of those days often and wondered if Gram even remembered them, if she ever thought about me.

Just miles from town, the road began to weave tighter along the narrow highway. The trees whipped past the window and in the spaces between their long trunks lay a vast expanse of nothing, the ground below unseen. Holding onto Sulley's hand I sucked in a breath, embarrassed by my fear of the height of the road, and looked at him apologetically. He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Sorry," I said, trying to keep my voice cheerful. "I guess I'm not used to these mountain roads anymore."

"There's nothing to worry about. We're almost into town and then it's pretty smooth sailing from there," he said and then a devilish grin twisted the corners of his mouth. "We could always sing the road trip song. Get your mind off the road."

"Oh wow. I remember that song as clear as day. One Hundred Bottles of Pop on the Wall. Imagine my surprise when I found out what the real lyrics to that song are," I laughed.

"Yeah well, we censored it a bit. Had to come up with something to keep you happy on the way to the beach that one time. You were driving me and your mother nuts," Sulley teased.

"I was six years old on a five hour drive. And as I remember it, we had a pretty good time," I said.

"You lost your shorts in the ocean. One big wave and your butt was hanging out for all the world to see. Hysterical." Sulley laughed.

"Whatever. You gave me your shirt to wear so it all worked out fine," I snorted.

"Your mother had to tie it around you at least 5 times and you were still drowning in it."

"And you two laughed at me the rest of the day," I said, indignant. "You're still laughing."

"Hey, better us laughing at you than being bare-assed and having strangers laughing at you all day."

"Har har." I slugged him in the shoulder and turned my attention back to the window.

Sulley's truck took to the curves of road like a bobsled on an icy track. The height made it feel as if we were hovering, weightless, over the pavement. Easing a bit with every successful turn, I noticed something large and white hovering above the road when we rounded the next curve. No, not hovering. It was resting atop a large jutting rock in the mountainside along the road. A cement statue of an angel, like one you would see in an elaborate garden, or a cemetery.

As we approached, the ivory features and imperial face came into focus. Graceful arms cradled a dove as the angel's wings rose outstretched toward the heavens. I stared at it, mesmerized. It hadn't always been there, I was sure I would have remembered it. _And just how did she get up there?_

The truck passed by and then all thoughts about the statue vaporized when the road straightened out and the small town unfolded in front of us. Saluda, North Carolina consisted of one main street adjacent to the Norfolk Southern Railway. The once colorful buildings that dotted the road were aged but charming like prized antiques and were surrounded by neighborhoods that weaved in and out of the narrow mountains around it.

Memories, long forgotten, flooded back as I shifted my gaze from building to building. The old bookstore, the general store, even the dilapidated diner was still there, untouched by the fingers of time. What had been a lifetime to me had been but a midday slumber to this quiet mountain town.

Sulley slowed the truck to a purr as we passed by the town library and its large bay windows. The town council prided itself on recruiting the talents of the locals to create displays for every season. The fall décor exhibited now consisted of an assortment of stunning colors in the form of leaves and gourds scattered about tables adorned with cornucopias, filled to the brim with Indian corn and pinecones. Framing the window were hundreds of twinkling white lights. The council had outdone themselves. I caught myself looking forward to the Christmas display, which had always been my favorite, but stopped myself short. _Take care of business and get the hell out_ , I remembered.

With a low, guttural groan from the truck, Sulley pulled up to the curb just past the library. The Saluda police station was small and plain in contrast to the landscape surrounding it. It was painted a bland eggshell white and the vinyl blinds masking the large windows only added to its nondescript aura. The station's only color came from the forest green trim. White, insipid lettering on the glass front door labeled the building as the police station. Were it not for the two blue and black squad cars parked across the street, the station might be missed altogether.

"Stay here. I've just got to run inside real quick," Sulley said and hopped out of the truck.

"You got it chief," I said.

As Sulley walked in, I rolled down the window and despite myself, stuck my head out and filled my nostrils with the invigorating autumn breeze again, letting the vague sent of pine and moist earth stir some part of me that lay sleeping, dormant somewhere deep within. When I opened my eyes I noticed a figure in the window of the station.

The man was turned from his desk where he glared at me through the glass. The intensity of his stare made me uncomfortable. I grinned and gave the man a slight nod. He immediately turned away, no smile or nod in return. _Rude_ , I thought as Sulley emerged from the station toting a slender paper sack. He handed it to me through the window.

"Almost forgot my welcome back present," he said.

I pulled the sleek bottle of expensive Merlot from the paper bag.

"You are old enough to drink that, right? Figured you may need it to help you relax tonight and all," he said positioning himself back behind the wheel and bringing the truck back to life with a roar.

"I love you, Uncle Sulley." I said with a smile.

  *

The drive to the house was a short one. The winding side road off of the main street was as unchanged as the rest of the town. A-framed houses hovered in the tree-tops exactly as I remembered them. I wondered if all the same owners still lived in them. Had anything changed for them? Had their lives remained constant and undisturbed while my own had fractured and shattered into a thousand shards of glass? Those shards now stabbed into my heart as we pulled onto my old street.

"Does Mrs. Middleton still live next door? I wonder if she would mind if I ran through her flower bed once for old time's sake," I said, finding safety behind a shield of sarcasm and humor.

"Hell, you could probably get away with it. Woman's near eighty years old. She won't be chasing you with her hose now for sure." Sulley winked at me, not buying my humor front. "It's not too late to change your mind about coming home with me you know. You don't have to stay here."

It was tempting. Now that we were here, I wanted nothing more than to run away: away from the memories in that house, away from the pain. But the sooner I dealt with business, the sooner I could escape back to the safety of denial and sublimation in Chicago.

"No, I'm okay. I want to do this. I have to," I finally answered.

After passing a row of tall hedges, the house came into view beneath the setting sun. The small, white, two-story home sat oddly cheerful atop the inclined drive. Time slowed as the truck climbed the driveway. The windshield framed my view so it seemed as though I were watching a home movie filmed a lifetime ago.

The first scene to play through my mind was of the hand-painted mailbox at the foot of the drive. I saw my mother laboring over each pink flower on its white-washed surface. She smiled down at me as I held up the tray of paints. I stared at her handiwork with admiration. The purple handprint that she let me contribute was still there, captured forever by the flag. My mother's was just beside it. I stared, unblinking, at the mailbox until it we passed by.

At the top of the drive, a glimpse of the porch brought on a new scene. I saw the two of us rocking in the porch swing on a humid summer night, watching the fireflies dance to the sway of the warm breeze humming through the trees. I could see the "For Sale" sign leaning up against the railing, covered with big red letters announcing it as "SOLD". Mom had kept it there for months, just so we could admire it.

When we came to a stop at the top of the drive, I saw that last, cold, overcast morning. The morning when I was escorted by Sulley and all of our neighbors, heads downcast, into my aunt and uncle's car. They waved to me from the porch as the car pulled away from the house that I would not see again in my childhood. The house that stood before me now, more than a decade and a half later.

"Just remember that whatever you decide to do with the house, I will support you. Now that you're twenty-five it's all yours, it's for you to decide. Take your time. The mortgage is paid up for the next few months. Just don't rush into a decision is all I ask. Now that you're back, I'd hate to lose you again," Sulley said. "Just think about it."

I blinked back to the present and looked into Sulley's beckoning face. I gave his hand a squeeze and feigned a smile.

"Thanks Uncle Sulley. I promise I'll take time to really think about it."

"Good," he smiled back, "let's get you settled in then."

I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Okay, I'm ready."

We got out of the car and Sulley retrieved my things from the back seat. I stood at the foot of the steps, staring up at them, willing myself to go on. My mother had loved this house more than anything we had ever owned. To her, it had represented our independence. It was a culmination of so many struggles she had overcome. More importantly, it was the home that she had always wanted for me. And now it was mine to decide what to do with.

I followed Sulley up the steps as he fumbled with the keys. When he swung the door open I took as much of the surroundings in as I could at once: the warm beige carpet, the mahogany railing on the stairs and the vaulted ceiling in the living room. Sulley set my stuff down at the foot of the stairs and methodically went to every window and opened the vertical blinds, allowing the waning sunlight to fill the house.

"Now, I was able to furnish most of the house with what tenants have left behind over the years. You got a bed in the master bedroom and a dresser. You've got the couch here and some end tables. Kitchen's got a table as well. I'm working on getting a T.V., though you'd need a dish to get regular channels. I've got an extra DVD player at the house you could use for movies as least," Sulley rambled, straightening the lampshades on each end table.

I heard only pieces of what he was saying. My gaze was fixed on the corner of the room where a glossy baby grand piano sat.

"Is that . . . ?" I asked pointing to it.

Sulley stopped and gave a quick glance to the corner before he came to where I was standing.

"Yeah, it is. I brought it out of storage for you. Thought you might want to play some. It's just as much yours as the rest of the house. It belongs here as much as you do." He patted my shoulder and moved past me toward the kitchen.

I stared at the glossy, wood-grained instrument a moment more. My mother's piano had been a part of her. It was like seeing her ghost. I shook the thought and followed Sulley into the kitchen where he was opening cupboards.

"I got you some basics here. Should get you through a few days or till you get to the shop. I put the wine in the fridge. You've got eggs, milk and bread in there too. Cups and plates are here in the cupboard and there's forks and things in the drawers. I brought a radio over from my place. It's nothing fancy, but it works," he shrugged.

I looked around the kitchen, remembering the quiet breakfasts and playful lessons in the art of mac and cheese making. I recalled homework sessions and late night games of Go Fish with Gary after he and Mom had gotten back from their honeymoon. The table was different, but the rest of the room remained the same; white cabinets set off the light blue walls and French toile backsplash.

"Thank you Uncle Sulley, you've done so much. I really can't thank you enough."

Sulley smiled down at me. "It was the least I could do."

"I mean, with you keeping up the house all these years. I know Mom would have appreciated it a lot."

"Yeah well, we're family. Even before your mom married my little bro. Don't you ever forget that, Kiddo."

"I won't," I grinned back.

Sulley closed the cabinets and went to the door.

"Well, I've got to get back to the station and check on some permits I've been waiting on. I can run into the diner on my way home and grab you a burger if you'd like."

I held the door for him, not wanting him to leave.

"No, I'm fine. I've got plenty to eat here if I get hungry. Don't you worry about me."

Sulley hesitated. "You sure you're going to be alright? I mean, without a T.V. or anything?"

"Oh I have better things than T.V. in mind for tonight. Big plans." I lied. "I'm going to take an extra long shower and then curl into bed with my book."

The book I had bought at the airport and hadn't even cracked the binding on yet.

"Party Animal," Sulley winked and then gave me a quick kiss on the top of my head before walking to his truck.

"You have my number if you change your mind. I mean it, call me anytime. I'll come pick you up around noon. You can come back to the station with me and let me show you off some before we go back to my place to see Gram."

"Sounds great. Seriously, don't worry about me." I waved. "Thanks again for everything."

Sulley started the truck and pulled back down the driveway.

"Family, remember?" He called out his window. "Call me if you need anything. I'll see you tomorrow."

I watched him pull onto the street and waited until I could no longer hear the roar of the massive engine before I accepted with a sudden ache in my chest that I was alone. I didn't want to go back inside. I didn't want to face the onslaught of emotion waiting for me at every glance around each room. Then I remembered the wine, let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding, and formed a more acceptable plan for the evening.

Back in the kitchen I filled my glass half way and shakily threw back the entire glass in one swallow, though I meant to take only a sip. It went down smooth.

"Eh, why bother . . ." I said, setting my glass in the sink.

Taking a swig from the bottle, I savored the cool liquid as it slid down my throat. The first waves of numbness hit while I was preparing the box of mac and cheese with a pot and spoon I found in one of the cupboards. The wine-induced fog was welcomed with open arms and I let it carry away some of the tension to ease the awkward nostalgia that I was trying to ignore. _This was a much better plan_ , I told myself, making a mental note to pick up some more wine in town tomorrow.

As I waited for the noodles to cook, I fiddled with the radio. I craved music, any kind, but all I could find within the static were news broadcasts and fuzz. Sulley had been right, nothing on the radio but stories from Fort Bragg. I hated all things violent. Hell, I hated the news. It served as nothing but a constant reminder of how broken and decayed the world around me was becoming. I knew well enough from my own experience. The last thing I wanted to do was hear about the world's downward spiral one overly embellished story at a time.

However, I did enjoy the company that the voices coming across the station presented, so I let it play while I finished making my supper and ate. More wine made it into my mouth than food, and soon the fuzzy radio words ran together in my mind.

" . . . was early in the morning Thursday, when the alleged shooter opened fire on his own regiment as they gathered for morning PT at the stadium field," the newscaster said, "killing one officer and two soldiers and wounding dozens more. Many more would have been wounded or killed were it not for the heroic efforts of one of the regiment's soldiers, whose name has yet to be released. The soldier threw himself at the shooter and pinned him to the ground with his body. Though severely wounded, he held the shooter until Special Forces arrived to disarm the suspect. Due to the seriousness of the soldier's injuries, it is doubtful that he . . ."

I switched the radio off. Even in my inebriated state, I didn't want to hear anything more about meaningless death and tragic endings. The sudden silence was oppressive. Taking another swig, I wandered into the living room and caught the last rays of sunlight fighting against the darkness that steadily consumed the room. I closed the blinds one by one, forcing the remaining light to seep through the cracks between them. My eyes landed on my mother's piano and as I stared at it numbly, reality melted away to reverie.

Time was again suspended, my home movie resumed in slow, inaudible motion in front of me. My mom sat at the piano, bathed in morning sunlight. A younger me sat beside her smiling and singing along with the tune. As I watched, I wished more than anything that I could hear the cheerful song that we both sang and laughed along to. With my eyes closed, it was almost possible to hear our voices joined as one, intertwined into the same melody. When I opened my eyes again though, we were gone.

My heart tore open and a stifled sob escaped my throat. Forcing myself behind the piano, my wavering knees rested on the bench and desperate, lost to the wine, I raised the lid and exposed the keys. I positioned my trembling fingers above the keys, though I hadn't played in years. Not since the night of the accident. The recital we were driving home from had been my last.

Picturing the sunny scene with my mother at the piano, my fingers began the familiar tune and I smiled as the notes reverberated throughout the room. I could hear the music this time. In my delirium I could again see myself beside my mother as her fingers danced over the keys with an unequalled grace. She taught me everything I knew. My mother's rich brown eyes shone with the music and her golden hair flowed with the breeze from the open window.

I wanted to tell her how much I loved her and missed her. I wanted to tell her how much I wanted to be with them, wherever she and Gary were. Why did they leave me behind? I wanted to tell her how much I wanted her back, more than anything, I just wanted her back.

Aching to hear our voices together at last, I sang the melody, needing to hear my mother's soft honeyed voice joined with mine just one more time. My heart withered into dust as I realized that my voice was the only one I could hear, my mother's lost to me forever. I opened my eyes to an empty room, to the reality of a decade and a half passed by. My fingers persisted on the keys as the last bit of restraint broke away inside me and I began to weep.

The piano keys cried a cacophony of bitter chords with my trembling collapse as I wept uncontrollably in accompaniment. All the emotions awakened in my soul by coming back to this place came screaming to the surface with violent vindication. At any moment I would be swept away by the waves of anguish that slammed into me now that the emotions had been unleashed.

Images of happy, sunlit memories tarnished under the dark memories of blood stained hair and closed caskets. The longing and hopelessness, pushed away for too long, swirled and ebbed in my head.

Then, as if calling to me from the shores of my rational mind, I heard a faint strumming, like that of a muted drum, or of feathered wings beating together in a steady rhythm. The noise was calming, and I focused on it as the storm of my released emotion raged on. Clinging desperately to the sound – it became louder, closer – I followed it through the bitter torrent as my body relaxed and the heaving in my chest slowed to shaky breaths. I could feel the strumming then, vibrating against me in a blanket of comforting warmth. My weeping stopped, and the debilitating desolation withered like smoke from an ember.

I raised my head and forced myself to open my heavy eyes, the room swaying when I tried. As the room around me focused I thought I heard a soft, soothing voice call to me.

"Alexandra."

A glimpse of something reflected in the glossy finish of the piano caught my eye. A man was standing behind me at the foot of the stairs, dressed in black, his hand outstretched toward me. His ebony hair fell slightly over piercing blue eyes that beckoned to me.

My first reaction was to scream, but I didn't. I didn't know if it was the wine or the strumming that caused me to hesitate, to stare transfixed on the reflection before me. Those eyes, that voice, were both so familiar.

I heard my name whispered again.

"Alexandra."

It was then that reality took hold of me. I gasped and whipped around to face the figure. But there was no one there. The room lay quiet and empty. I turned back to the piano, fatigue taking a swift hold of me, and saw nothing.

_I must be losing it_ , I thought. Too much wine, too many memories. I laid my head in my crossed arms atop my mother's piano and let exhaustion take me over.

"I miss you," I whispered and then let the wine carry me off to sleep.

Chapter 3

The assault of the morning's daylight on my eyes woke me up with a start and the throbbing in my temples made it hard to focus. I didn't know where I was, though the muted yellow paint and high ceiling looked familiar. The events of the previous night came rushing back to me and I sat up cautiously from under the soft flannel linens of a freshly made bed in the master bedroom. My mother's room. I was still fully dressed except for my shoes, which I noticed were laying beside the bed next to my suitcase. I couldn't remember how I had gotten there. I certainly didn't remember lugging my bag up the stairs.

Searching my bruised memory, it was clear I had consumed too much wine. My playing the piano and the bitter emptiness that had consumed me was a fuzzy memory at best. The strumming sound and the figure that I saw in the piano's reflection seemed real enough, but after that, the night was a blur. I attempted to stand only to be knocked back down by the heaving in my stomach. Staying down, I waited for it to pass and tried to put the pieces of the previous night together to where they made sense.

How had I gotten upstairs and into bed? I vaguely remembered someone helping me up the stairs, coaxing me into bed with a gentle word, but that was impossible. Unless . . . maybe Sulley came back to check on me? Could be. I decided to blame the wine for any and all mysteries from the night before. Never having been much of a drinker, I had obviously over done it. _Less next time_.

The fog of sleep started to wane as I succeeded in standing and staggered toward the bathroom, shielding my eyes from the sunlight spilling in through the open blinds. I was stunned to come face to face with my own image reflected from an old mirror which hung from the wall as it had all those years ago. I thought that the antique mirror that my mother and I found once at an antique shop in downtown Asheville was ugly at the time we discovered it, the then dull brown frame and scratched, cloudy glass had not impressed me in the least. Mom saw only its possibilities. She had always been able to see the potential in even the ugliest things. It was one of the things I admired about her most.

Sure enough though, after Mom had wiped, polished, and buffed it for about an hour, the mirror was a beautiful sight. The wear on the glass in some spots showed its age, but gave it a rustic appeal when set against the gleaming yellow brass. I was glad that the tenants throughout the years had left it hanging. I gave it one more admiring glance before heading into the bathroom.

Eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen and a hot shower later, I felt like myself again. I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy white towel while a trail of steam billowed into the room behind me. Nothing beat a steamy shower, nothing, and I was guilty of using every bit of hot water in the house on more than one occasion. I took a deep, relaxing breath and noted how cheerful the room looked now that the explosives in my head had been disarmed. Funny how things feel so much more positive in the light of day, when he darkness of night has been vanquished.

Once dressed, I stopped to peek into my old room. It was completely barren; the once plum-purple walls now painted a standard eggshell white. The only remnants of my juvenile decorating abilities were the dozen or so glow-in-the-dark stars adhered to the ceiling. I was glad that Sulley had chosen to put me up in Mom's room. It felt more familiar.

When I paused at the piano to lower the lid back over the keys, I glanced in its glossy finish as I had last night and when I saw nothing, chided myself for being such a pathetic drunk. I opened all of the blinds downstairs and let a flood of golden rays permeate the shadows. _Yes, everything felt better in the light of a new day_ I decided and continued into the kitchen.

While forcing a scrambled egg and some toast into my queasy stomach, I remembered that I had forgotten to call Aunt Maggie last night. She would begin to worry if I didn't call soon. When I excavated my phone from my less than organized purse I scowled at the lack of battery and even worse, lack of reception. No bars whatsoever. _Great_.

It was half past ten and Sulley wouldn't be here for over an hour so I decided to save him a trip and walk to the station. I could use the phone there. It looked like a nice day for a walk and it would be good to get some fresh air, to get a feel for the neighborhood, and more importantly, put some emotional distance between me and the house.

The walk to the police station wasn't a long one. The air was brisk but refreshing. I didn't have a key to the house which almost stopped me, but then I remembered how rarely the people of Saluda locked their doors and decided to risk it. I couldn't help but to stop at the mailbox on my way to the street and run my fingers over the hand-painted roses. Following the same compulsion, I placed my palm against the handprint I had left as a child. My hand now dwarfed the purple print. I felt a strange connection to my childhood self, and an intense longing to protect that child from a future she couldn't see coming. I ran my fingers over my mother's handprint and sighed.

The sound of a gunning engine brought my head up with a start just in time to see a white Chevy pickup truck speed away, screeching tires wailing into the distance. I barely had time to note the rental plate before it disappeared down the street.

"Someone must be late for work," I mumbled and continued on my way.

The vividly leaves swirled about my ankles as I walked and the air smelled of sweet cedar and chimney smoke. I occupied my mind with thoughts of the house and what I might do with it. It had been my intention to sell it to the first taker, but now I wasn't so sure. There was a stirring inside me that I couldn't settle. I longed for the cool indifference that I had felt less than twenty-four hours ago.

My mother would want me to keep the house. She would also want me to be happy. How could I be happy here without her? I knew what she would say. She would tell me to pray about it. That had been her answer to everything. Should I take up the flute or aspire to be as brilliant on the piano as she was? Pray about it. Getting picked on at school? Pray about it. Princess pajamas or butterflies? Pray about it. And we did. It always seemed to help back then.

I couldn't remember the last time I had prayed. Well, aside from the occasional, "Please God don't let me fail this exam" or "Thank you God" when the light stayed green when I was late for work. But an actual sit down, tell Him what's on your mind, conversational prayer? I hadn't prayed like that since I was a kid kneeling beside my bed at night. Truth was, after Mom and Gary died, I no longer saw the use in it.

It wasn't that I didn't believe in God, I did. I just couldn't wrap my mind around how He could let such evil things happen to good people. My mother had taken me to church every Sunday. She would make sure I said my prayers before I went to sleep each night and I couldn't count the number of times I snuck into bed with her during a storm to find her propped up reading from her Bible.

Gary had been a believer as well, and a good man. He had loved me like his own daughter the little time we had together as a family. Why then did God allow them to be murdered, butchered on the side of that road? What did Mom or Gary do to deserve that? Where was God then? How could He let their killer go free for all of these years? Why leave me alive to suffer their loss?

I never understood any of it. It's not that I didn't want to pray. Sometimes I did. I just couldn't think of anything to say to a God that I had once thought of as loving and kind, but who turned out to be cold and cruel.

By the time I made it to Main Street the wind had died down and the air had grown warmer. I looked at my watch, pleased. It had only taken about a half an hour to walk to town. Not bad. I crossed the railroad tracks towards the station and was glad to see that Sulley's truck was parked in the side lot.

The smell of stale coffee and yesterday's cigarettes assaulted me when I opened the flimsy, glass door. I had never been inside the station before, I realized. It was less impressive than I had imagined. The main room, the color of a dirty dishrag, was open and scattered with a few wooden desks, which were littered with papers and disposable coffee cups. In the corner of the room sat a small office with one lonely window.

Sulley exited the office and began to rummage through a pile of hand-written messages on a nearby desk before he caught sight of me. He smiled and gave a wave as I removed my coat and tossed it over the nearest chair.

"Well there's a sight for sore eyes," he said. "Thought I was picking you up here shortly. Have a rough night?"

"I got through it well enough thanks to your generous gift." I shrugged. "Just felt like taking a walk. Clear my head a little."

I took another glance around the room.

"Where is everyone?"

Sulley shrugged. "Eh well, there aren't many of us to begin with. Just me, my deputy, and a few officers. Oh, and Evelyn. Today should be pretty slow, so I sent everyone on home except for Will."

"It isn't just today that's slow around here," an officer said as he exited the office behind Sulley.

"Ah, speak of the devil and the devil appears," Sulley scoffed.

The officer was a handsome man, older than me but not by much, with sandy brown hair and commanding dark eyes. He gave me the once over as he approached. I countered with a smile and a nod, which he did not return. _So this is the jerk from the window yesterday_ , I thought. Apparently he was not big on returning friendly gestures.

"This is my deputy, Will Galia. Will, this is my niece of sorts, Alex Nolan," Sulley said.

"Nice to meet you." I caught myself glaring into his intimidating gaze, wondering why I felt nervous.

Will just glared back as if he were studying me, scrutinizing my every feature. He made me uncomfortable, and yet there was something very familiar in that sullen expression. And that name . . .

"Galia. That name sounds familiar," I pondered. "Wait, I think I know you. Billy Galia, right? You used to take piano lessons with my mom."

When his expression didn't change I knew that he had already made the connection. He nodded and looked away. I remembered him vividly now. Billy, now Will evidently, had been the high school bad boy when I was still in grade school. He was never pleasant to me when he came over to the house for lessons, always making fun of the pigtails I had insisted on wearing on a daily basis. I remembered retreating to my room when he was over. He didn't smile much back then either, but he had been extremely popular as the "too cool for school" types usually are.

"That's right. I was real sorry to hear about what happened to her. I hated piano lessons, but I did really like your mom. She usually made it suck less," he said.

"Thank you, I think. She was an incredible woman," I said and watched as Will walked past me to grab an empty cup from a desk.

"Would you like some coffee?" he offered.

"Sure. That would be great."

"Chief, what about you? Coffee?"

"Thanks, but I've got to return a couple of these calls so we can go grab some lunch. I'll just be a minute," Sulley replied and then vanished into his office with the stack of messages.

Being alone with Will felt awkward and I tried to figure out what about him made me so uneasy: his rugged good looks, or the intensity in his expression. I was also intrigued by him. Never having known him very well, I had always wondered what the hype surrounding him had been about. There had to be some redeeming quality about him to have been so popular back then, and for Sulley to have hired him as his deputy.

"You look exactly like what I remember of your mom, by the way," he said handing me my coffee. "Glad you got rid of those pony-tail thingies though. The loose look is much better."

"Thank you. You never were a fan of the pig tails. Always gave me hell," I said blowing the steam from my cup." Had known I would run into you I would have thrown on a couple of hair bands for old time's sake."

Will finally showed a glimpse of a smile. I wished he would keep it up, it helped to smooth his rough edges.

"Well I'm sure I would have appreciated the gesture," he said coolly.

There was an awkward silence after that as we both searched for something to say. At a loss I sipped my coffee, the hot liquid bitter and stale going down.

"So, how long are you planning to stick around town?" Will finally asked and walked to the desk by the front window.

"I'm not really sure," I sighed. "There are a few things I need to take care of. I have to decide what to do about the house, and I'd like to go visit Mom and Gary at the church. It's been too long."

"That's understandable. How are you planning on getting around? The church is too far of a walk from here."

"I thought about renting a car, but I really hadn't planned on staying long enough to need one. I'll probably ride with Sulley for the most part or I don't mind the trek."

Will sat behind his desk and put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. He squinted his bronze eyes as he stared at me, warring with some decision in his head.

"Well he'll be here at the station a lot. I swear that man never takes a break. And there's no way you're walking these highways," he sighed and scratched his head. "You know, I've got the old Mustang just sitting here. I've been driving the squad car to and from work these days. The old gal needs to be driven. What do you think? You want to borrow her? You'd be doing us both a favor."

"You still have the Mustang?" I gawked. "Wow. Now that was an amazing car. I couldn't possibly . . ."

"She's STILL an amazing car," Will said, "and she deserves to be driven more than I've been able to lately. Seriously, you'd be doing me a solid."

I contained the excitement that threatened to put a huge grin on my face. No need to play into his practiced arrogance, even if it was justified. He wasn't just the hot older guy anymore. We were both adults which evened the playing field. _Just play it cool_ , I told myself, _and consider the offer_. The Mustang was quite a beauty and also part of Will's whole bad-boy façade. It was his sidekick. Now after all these years I had the chance to drive it. Who could say no to that?

"Okay then. I guess . . . if it would help us both out." I decided.

"Then it's settled," Will said, just as Sulley emerged from the office.

"What's settled?" he asked.

I motioned to Will. "Your deputy here was kind enough to offer to let me borrow his car while I'm in town."

Will coughed and readjusted himself in his seat.

"That's right. It's just been sitting out back all day. Might as well be driven by someone. I'll dig up the keys and introduce you when you get back from lunch."

Sulley scratched his head while Will and I awaited his response.

"Actually, I think that's a great idea," he said "Keeps you from having to come to the station with me every day and waiting around."

"Well then, you see? I am good for something around here." Will winked at me and sipped his coffee.

"I wouldn't go that far," Sulley said and then turned to me. "Ready to grab some lunch? I know it's early still, but I'm starving."

"Yep," I said starting for the door. "Thanks again, Will."

"Not a problem," he said and turned back to the papers on his desk.

I pushed the door open and smashed into someone coming in. As I regained my balance I came face to face with the man from the plane. He smiled that flashy smile and I knew he recognized me too.

"Well I knew we'd bump into one another, but I didn't think it'd be literally," he said, laughing.

"Well I did say the odds were in our favor." I laughed. "Mr. Brightman, right?"

"Please, call me Rick."

Sulley opened the door wide and offered Brightman a hand.

"Good morning Mr. Brightman. I see you've met me niece."

"Your niece?" he asked taking Sulley's hand. "It is a small world then. She and I were on the same flight yesterday."

"Well that explains the acquaintance. I assume you're here to pick up your permits? I finished signing them this morning. They're just on my desk, let me get them for you. Alex, why don't you go on and get us a seat. I'll be there in 5 minutes."

"Not a problem. Can I borrow your cell phone? I have no bars and I need to call Aunt Maggie and let her know I'm in one piece."

"Sure thing," Sulley said tossing me his Motorola.

"Thanks, see you in a sec," I said. "It was nice to see you again Rick."

"Until next time." He smiled again and I went out the door.

Jogging across the street and having a seat on a bench at the small park there, I dialed the familiar Chicago number. When no one answered I figured my aunt and uncle had gone to the park. It was their new Friday ritual now that Uncle Dan was retired. I left a message letting them know that I had arrived in one piece and informed them of the bad cell phone reception. I'd call them before I left for home . . . whenever that would be.

When I hung up the phone I found that I was glad to have gotten their voicemail, which surprised me. I should be feeling homesick by now; I had anticipated as much. But I wasn't. Maybe that's because I had never come to think of Uncle Dan and Aunt Maggie's as home.

It wasn't for their lack of trying. They had raised me as their own until I was old enough to move out and even helped pay for college. Aunt Maggie was the one who had landed me the interview for my first teaching job. But their house was no more a home as my humble apartment in the city, I realized as I jogged back across the street in time to meet Sulley coming out of the station.

  *

After lunch, Sulley and I walked back to the station still laughing from our conversation.

"How was lunch?" Will asked, looking up from his desk.

"Great as always until Alex here reacquainted herself with the old soda fountain," Sulley teased.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Who doesn't like strawberry Coke?"

"Or grape Seven-up, my personal favorite." Will winked.

He was much less intimidating when he smiled, I mused. I wondered if that was the reason he did it so rarely.

"See there? A man with taste." I smiled back.

Sulley glanced at the two of us and frowned. Will cleared his throat and opened his desk drawer.

"I promised you a set of keys and an introduction," he said and started to rummage through the drawer. Perplexed, he emptied the contents onto the top of his desk, pilling up papers and notepads as he scoured.

"That's strange. I always keep them in this drawer." He opened the other drawers and looked around before shrugging. "I guess it's possible that I grabbed them and took them home on accident. I'm sorry. Rain check till tomorrow?"

"Don't even worry about it. Tomorrow's Saturday, I don't want you to come all the way to work." I waved him off.

"Oh I'll be here. So will the chief. Weekends are when all the fun happens. I'll have them tomorrow, promise."

"Well I guess that works then," I said with a shrug.

"You want me to drop you back off at the house till I'm off? Before I leave I've got to plan out how I'm going to close off this side of the street when they come to renovate the train station. Be maybe an hour or so?" Sulley asked.

He grabbed an empty cup and walked to the coffee pot. The man drank coffee all day.

"No, it's okay. I'm just going to go into the grocery, maybe grab a new book," I said and opened the door to go back out. "Be back soon."

I didn't want to tell him that I wasn't ready to go back to the house. Not yet. I needed reinforcement for the night. By the time I returned to the station Sulley was locking up the front door. He waved and nodded to the shopping bags I carried with a smile.

"I see you've had a productive time," he said.

"Yep. Got a couple bottles of wine, some chocolate, and a couple of used books – everything I need to survive," I said and we walked to the truck where I secured my new treasures in the back seat.

"Yes, you have excellent survival instincts," Sulley joked and started the truck.

Every curve of the road to Sulley's house was a key that unlocked some distant memory of the many visits with both he and Gram there. I thought of the hilarious family stories at the dinner table and the many lessons in baking and, more importantly, the eating of the every heavenly product. I could almost feel the thousands of warm hugs and cuddles that had made me feel like the most loved little girl on the planet. The excitement of was seeing Gram was overwhelming, but so was the sense of dread.

"Do you think she'll remember me?" I asked Sulley.

Gram was the only grandmother I had ever known. My mother's mom had died before I was born and I had never known my father, let alone the rest of his family. If she didn't remember me it would be like losing her all over again.

"Well, you just never know from day to day. She was doing well this morning, so maybe today will be a good day," Sulley sighed. "Just remember, if she says something that doesn't make sense, just shrug it off. There's just no telling where her mind is."

Sulley's street had always been quiet, the houses set back into the towering pines and only accessible through long, private driveways. As we turned into the last driveway on the left, I stared up at the quaint but aging log cabin home where so many of my childhood memories were created. I didn't want to be nervous, but I was. If Gram didn't remember me now in her deteriorated state, how would I end up remembering her?

"Well, here we are. Home sweet home." Sulley put the truck into park and hopped out.

I followed him to the front door where an attractive, middle-aged black woman smiled warmly at me as she greeted us.

"Oh good, you guys made it home early. Gram just finished putting dinner in the oven," she said. "Needs to cook a while yet, but she'll be happy you are here."

Sulley went straight into the living room while the woman stared and smiled at me in the entryway.

"My name is Nadine. I look after your grandmother. And you, My Dear, must be Alexandra," the woman said clasping my hand. "I have heard so much about you. You're even lovelier than I had imagined."

I shook her hand. "It's very nice to meet you."

Nadine waved off the handshake and giggling, leaned in and gave me a firm hug. She smelled of sweet lavender and vanilla, which instantly put me at ease. I found myself hugging the stranger back.

"She talks about you all the time, you know. Whatever condition she is in, I know that she has missed you very much. No matter what happens, just remember that everything is going to be alright," Nadine said and then released me and grabbed her coat from the rack. I found it hard to take my eyes off the lovely woman.

"Thank you for taking care of her," I said.

Nadine put on her coat and turned at the door.

"Now you don't ever have to thank me. It's a blessing and an honor to be the one to look after your grandmother. It was nice to finally meet you Alexandra. I am so glad that you are back," she said turning to cup my face in her hands. "You must remember to have an open mind and heart, dear. Only then will you see."

Then she patted my cheek and walked out the door.

I stared after her for a minute trying to make sense of Nadine's words when I was distracted by a soft, familiar voice that called to me from the living room.

"Well now, come on in here young lady. Supper will be ready in a little while and I haven't gotten my hugs yet."

I turned slowly, my heart racing in my chest, and followed the sound of Gram's familiar, though now aged, voice. There I found Sulley, bent down away from me as he embraced the old woman. I watched as delicate, pale arms reached around him and gave his back a pat. Then Sulley stood up and glanced over his shoulder at me.

"Looks like it's a good day," he grinned.

When he stepped aside she was real and in front of me, no longer a memory, smiling with arms outstretched. She had the same warm smile that could melt even the coldest heart or pretense. Her hair, once a steel grey, had faded into a white cloud surrounding slender shoulders. A few more wrinkles had settled into what was an otherwise timeless face.

As I walked up to embrace her, I looked deep into her eyes and was saddened. Something in them was different. Those eyes, which were once so bright and expectant, now seemed dark and tormented, as if the life reflected through them was weighed down by an unseen burden. Tears welled in my eyes as I embraced the small woman and clung to her.

"Now you give Gram a big ole hug missy. It's been far too long since you've come round here," Gram said as she patted me on my back and gave me a peck on the cheek.

I straightened and wiped the tears from my eyes before she could see them.

"How are you feeling today Mom?" Sulley asked from the corner.

"Oh now, don't you worry about me one bit, Sullivan. We have a guest. Why don't you set the table for dinner? And you, young lady, why don't you come on in here and let me get you something to drink. We can catch up on life." Gram motioned me towards the kitchen. "And Sullivan, could you turn that television off? I can't stand to hear one more thing about that shooting or that poor young man. And after all he did to save those people . . ." she said as she disappeared into the kitchen, her voice trailing off.

Sulley sighed and rolled his eyes at me before walking over to the television. I followed Gram into the kitchen giggling. Despite what I had seen in her eyes earlier, she was the same old Gram.

In the kitchen, Gram poured me a glass of her sweet tea and motioned for me to have a seat at the white-tiled kitchen table. I admired the whole scene, down to the last faded daisy on the yellow wallpaper. Gram checked on the roast in the oven and carefully chopped the vegetables for the salad. I smiled each time she stepped on the squeaky floorboard by the sink. Gram was oblivious to the squeaking and I decided that the floorboard matched Gram: old and unsteady, but still full of spunk.

We talked about everyday thinks like the turning of the leaves and the council's display in the library window. I was glad for the light conversation. It made me feel as though I had never really left, and for a moment I was that happy little girl again spending time in her happiest of places.

Dinner conversation turned to stories about Sulley and Gary and their brotherly exploits. Although Gram's stories made me miss Gary all the more, the mortified look on Sulley's face made me laugh. He turned beet red when Gram recounted a dare that he and Gary had going, on who could urinate the farthest. It was all fun and games until Sulley inadvertently watered an electrical socket and was given the jolt of his life.

"He always won. No matter what the game, he always won," Sulley snickered, "but always by default. The universe seemed to always be on his side."

Sulley's expression changed then and I knew his thoughts had shifted into darker territory, to the night when the universe was not on Gary's side. The night that had changed everything. I refused to let go of the light-hearted mood though. I wanted more than anything to cling to this fleeting moment of real family time. I rose from the table and gave Sulley an encouraging pat on the back and began to gather up plates to take to the sink.

"And what do you think you are doing young lady?" Gram asked.

"Clearing the table," I answered on my way to the sink.

Gram rose from her chair and grabbed a few plates shakily. "Nonsense, you are the guest. You have yourself a seat. I'll get these out of the way."

"I am hardly a guest. Besides, we have to get these out of the way so you can show me how to bake your famous cookies, remember?"

Sulley got up from his chair and gathered the remaining dishes and set them in the sink. Unlike Gram, he was skilled at avoiding the squeaky floorboard.

"Well that's my cue to leave you two ladies alone. I don't want to get in the way of cookie time," he said and excused himself from the kitchen.

He looked back and gave me a smile on his way out.

"Just like old times."

I smiled at him and he gave me a wink as he left Gram and I alone.

"Cookies huh? Why I could make those in my sleep," Gram said as she began to gather all the ingredients.

I paid close attention as she assembled the flour, sugar, baking powder and oatmeal into one large mixing bowl and I stirred them with a large wooden spoon. After adding the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients she dipped a spoon in the bowl and gave the dough a taste. She pondered for a moment and then sighed, looking puzzled and distraught.

"What is it Gram?" I asked.

"It's not right. It's missing something." Gram looked back at the counter full of ingredients. "But I can't seem to remember what else . . ."

I studied her face for a moment and then walked to the spice rack and pulled out the nutmeg and brought it to Gram. "Is this what's missing?"

Gram's eyes grew wide. "Why yes, that's it exactly! How could I have forgotten my secret ingredient? Thank you dear." She sprinkled some in. "The trick is to add just a pinch. Too much will overpower the cinnamon."

My heart threatened to break. I had missed so much time with Gram, and I had learned the hard way to cherish the ones you have while you still have them. How could I have stayed away so long?

When Gram pulled the cookies from the oven I waited until they had cooled just enough to pull one off the rack to taste. They were better than my memory had served. Eat bite was filled with sweet and spicy heaven laced with love. Gram oozed with delight at my obvious satisfaction as Sulley came back into the kitchen.

"Best damned smell in the world," he said and grabbed a cookie off the cooling rack.

"How about some milk?" Gram offered.

"Actually Mom, it's getting pretty late. I should really be getting our guest home so you can get some rest. I'm sure it's been a long day for you both."

I glanced at the clock above the stove. Time had flown so fast. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want this familiar feeling to end. This feeling of belonging. The thought of facing my empty house made me want to stay even more, but I knew that Gram needed her rest and I remembered the wine waiting for me in the truck. That offered some comfort anyway.

"Yeah, I should be going. I'll be back real soon," I said.

"Well you're not going anywhere without taking some of these cookies with you," Gram said, and dropped a dozen into a small paper sack and walked us to the door.

"I'll be back in a bit Mom. Call me on my cell if you need anything. Remember, the number is by the phone," Sulley said and then went ahead to start up the truck.

Gram handed me the bag of cookies and wrapped me up in a hug. She gave me her usual pat on the back and leaned in close.

"It was so nice to have you over again, Tina," She said against my ear.

I shot upright and looked into Gram's smiling face, puzzled.

"Tina?"

"Now you make sure and come back and help me bake some more cookies," she said with an oblivious smile.

I stood there stunned, unable to speak.

She let go of me and leaned in close a second time.

"He loves you, you know. That's why he had to do what he did."

I could only stare at her, dumbfounded, for a minute. I opened my mouth to correct her, to tell her that I wasn't Tina. I was Tina's daughter. But I remembered what Sulley had said and decided not to argue. I didn't want to upset Gram by telling her she was confused so instead I kissed her on the cheek and got into the truck with Sulley. Gram waved goodbye as we pulled out of the driveway. I waved back, contemplating what she had said.

"She called me by Mom's name," I said. "She thought I was Mom the whole time."

Sulley glanced and me and nodded solemnly. "Yeah. I knew she was stuck in the past when she called me Sullivan. She hasn't called me by my full name since before the accident."

"It was still a wonderful time, I just . . . I really thought she remembered me."

"I'm sure that somewhere in that marvelous mind of hers, she does. Somewhere inside there, she remembers everything," Sulley said.

"I hope so," I said still shaken.

"Did she say anything else?"

"Yeah, it was weird. She said, 'He loves you and that's why he had to do it.' What do you think that means? You think she was talking about Gary?" I asked.

Sulley brooded for a minute. "Ah, who knows. Like I said before, sometimes it just doesn't make any sense. You just have to shrug it off. Besides all of that, today was a really good day. We should just hang onto that."

I sighed. "You're right. Tonight was perfect."

"Yes it was. So good to have you back," Sulley said, smiling.

It was a six-minute drive from Sulley's house to mine if you took a small gravel road that cut through the neighborhoods and surrounding forest. Mom had never been willing to take the shortcut at night when the road was dark as pitch and the dust from the gravel dimmed the headlights making the drive slow and eerie. Sulley took the road without hesitation and switched on his fog lights, which did little to overcome the oppressive dark that surrounded us.

Soon the gravel dumped us onto a side road in my neighborhood and I was relieved to see street lights once again. When we pulled up to the house I made a mental note to keep the porch lights on before going out from now on. The house looked macabre dressed in the shadows cast from the moonlight against the trees. I climbed out of the truck and Sulley hopped out behind me.

"Don't forget your survival kit," he joked and grabbed my bags from the back seat.

"Wouldn't dare," I said taking them from him. "Also, I don't have a key to the house, not that I really need it around here, but I'd guess I'd feel better if I had one."

Sulley unraveled a key from his ring. "Don't know why I didn't think of that. Take mine. I have a spare back at the station if you ever lock yourself out. You going to be okay tonight? Don't think I have to remind you that you're welcome back at our place . . ."

I grinned and raised my bags. "I'll be fine. Got my survival kit, remember?"

I turned towards the house and then back to Sulley, remembering the night before. "You didn't happen to come back by last night did you?"

Sulley got back into his truck and turned to me with concern. "No, why did you hear something last night? Get spooked?"

"It was nothing. Must have been dreaming, that's all."

"Well I hope it was a good dream then." He laughed. "I'll pick you up around nine on my way to the station. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"You got it. See ya." I waved and went inside as the truck pulled out of the driveway with a roar.

The first thing I did was to turn on all the lights in the living room and kitchen before taking my bags to the counter. I opened one of my bottles of wine immediately and contemplated whether or not to use a glass. Deciding that the last thing I needed was a repeat of last night's overindulgence, I grabbed a glass with monitoring of proportion in mind. Moderation was key, I reminded myself even as I downed half the glass in one gulp and topped it back off.

Grabbing a cookie from the paper sack, I leaned against the counter. Today had been a great day. I closed my eyes and savored each cinnamon flavored memory. However, the sting of disappointment that Gram had thought I was my mother lingered on my mind. And what had she meant by, "that's why he had to do it?" _What had Gary done_? I wondered, but shrugged it off. Sulley was right, it could be anything.

I took another drag from my glass and topped it off once more before grabbing one of the books I probably wouldn't read and I heading upstairs. Deciding to leave the lights on, I made sure not to glance at the piano as I passed through the living room. I would be damned if my emotions were going to get the best of me tonight.

With my hands full, I was unable to switch on the light on the second floor hallway, so I took to speed walking to the master bedroom. I almost made it to the end of the hall when a loud creak followed by an even louder thud made me jump and stopped me abruptly with a squeal.

In the dark I could see that something was now blocking the doorway to the master bedroom. My heart beat faster and I hesitated and watched in silence for further movement. When there was none, I set the book on the floor and searched with my hand for the hall light at that end of the hall.

When I flipped it on I could see that the attic door overhead had opened and the pull-down ladder lay extended to the floor, blocking entrance to the bedroom. I was relieved that was all it was, but how had it opened by itself? Maybe Sulley or the last tenant hadn't shut it all the way and the movement in the house caused it to fall open? That had to be it. I took another swig of my wine and set it down on top of the book.

"What the hell," I said with a sigh and started up the ladder, the wine spurring my confidence.

When I reached the top I found the chain for the light and pulled it, illuminating the mostly empty space surrounded by fluffy pink insulation. Pulling myself into the space, I took inventory. There was a medium sized box in the corner, an old vacuum cleaner, and a few Christmas decorations scattered throughout. I made my way on my knees to the cardboard box.

When I reached it, I brushed the dust from the top and peeled away the faded brown tape. The first thing I saw was a framed picture of me posing with my mother, which I remembered used to hang in the upstairs hallway. With a gasp I and yanked it from the box, studying the picture as an archeologist would an ancient artifact.

I owned only a couple of pictures of my mom from the years right before she died. My aunt had shown me plenty from her childhood, but this photograph had captured my mother not much older than I was now. Her long hair hung about her shoulders in blonde waves and her smile revealed the future of possibilities laid out before her. I stared in amazement. I did look just like her. Even though my own hair was shorter and a deep shade of chocolate brown, our eyes matched exactly, both a light shade of maple. Same sloping nose, same full mouth.

I tore my gaze away from the photo and reached into the box again, pulling out old school work and awards, a yearbook from third grade and another from fourth, and setting them aside. I felt around the bottom of the box and found a small piece of folded white paper. As I unfolded it I recognized it as my baptism certificate. Printed on it was the church emblem, the date, and my own signature, written in purple crayon.

I flipped the certificate over. On the other side was a drawing, also done in crayon, of a man. He was dressed in black and had a head of short black hair. Bigger than any other features of his face were his striking blue eyes.

I brought my hands to my mouth with a gasp and dropping the certificate, remembered the figure in had seen in the piano. Those were the same blue eyes. I shook my head and almost laughed aloud. The wine. It messed with my head last night, and it was messing with me now.

I plucked the certificate off the floor and giving one final look, folded it and tucked in under my arm before gathering all the contents of the box and throwing them back in. Dropping the certificate on top, I pushed the box to the attic entrance and carefully carried it down, turning off the light and shutting up the attic. Setting the box next to my bed, I went back for my book and quickly downed the remaining wine. I washed my face and brushed my teeth in the bathroom, all the while thinking about those piercing blue eyes.

By the time I climbed into bed, the wine had done its job and my mind was growing increasingly drowsy. Instead of starting my book, I found myself reaching into the box for the certificate. Laying back, I unfolded it and stared into those sapphire eyes.

For a second, while my mind started to drift somewhere between wake and sleep, I thought I heard a gentle strumming. Closing my eyes, I searched the expanse beyond my eyelids for the source of the soothing rhythm until I drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 4

I laughed, full of contentment, as my mother and Gary smiled to me from the front of the car. Gary had called me the next Chopin. It was the first time he had come to watch me play and he was brimming with pride. I stopped laughing and jumped in my seat when the first explosion of lightning lit up the sky. The answering thunder growled to life and echoed off the darkened mountaintops outside the car.

"It's just a thunderstorm Alex, nothing to worry about," my mom reassured me.

As I peered timidly out the window at the oncoming storm, bolts of white light danced in the sky, then another set of lights suddenly sprung up from below. Confused, I was slow to recognize the oncoming headlights. By the time I did It was too late to scream. The vehicle slammed into us sending our car over the embankment. My body twisted with each pounding tumble and I could hear the crunching of metal and my mother's screams. But this time was different. Instead of slamming against the great oak below like I expected, I kept falling.

Free from the car, my body descended alone into darkness. The only screams I could hear now were my own, which echoed back from the black abyss surrounding me. And then I hit water.

"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit," I heard as bubbles rose to the surface.

I saw the light above me, and the tender hands of Pastor James as he dipped me into the baptismal pool. A gentle strumming caused me to turn my head in the water. He was there. He smiled to me from beyond the depths of the shallow pool, his blue eyes gleaming. I heard the music too. The sound of a thousand voices singing out in perfect harmony.

"Illumina, custody, rege et gube'rna."

And above the voices, he whispered to me.

"It's alright, I am with you Alexandra. Just open your mind and you will see."

Then those tender hands pulled me from the water.

  *

I opened my eyes with a start. Was it morning already? A glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand told me that Sulley would be there within the hour. I had overslept, yet I lingered in bed clinging to the dream. When I finally pulled back the covers, I felt the crinkle of paper under my fingertips. I picked up the certificate and jumped out of bed, looking for something to write with. Settling for an eye liner pencil, I wrote down the words from my dream before they vanished from my mind.

"Custodi, rege et gube'rna"

I scribbled them beneath the picture and then folded it up and tucked it into the pocket of my jeans after I put them on. I had to find out what those words meant today. It was probably nothing, the product of a muddled mind. All of my memories were rushing back in a hailstorm of jumbled facts and torn remnants of a child's imagination.

I finished dressing and jogged downstairs remembering that I had purposely left the lights on. Snickering at myself, I turned them all off except for the porch light which I left on in case I was not back before night fall. I had just enough time to fry an egg and down a glass of orange juice before I heard Sulley's truck towering up the driveway.

"How was your night?" Sulley asked as I climbed into the passenger seat.

"Oh, I survived," I said with a grin.

"I see that," he laughed and backed out of the driveway.

When arrived at the station, a striking middle-aged woman was chatting away on the phone behind the front desk. Her bleached-blonde hair was gathered in a tall bun atop her head, which also served as a pencil holder as there were at least three eraser ends poking out in various places. She smiled widely and jotted down a message.

The rest of the station was empty with no sign of any of the officers. I wondered why I was both relieved and disappointed that Will wasn't there. What was this strange attraction I was feeling towards him? Was it a leftover kid crush, the love of a bad-boy, or something else?

"Why you must be the lovely Alexandra I've heard so much about," the woman squealed as she hung up the phone and came traipsing around her desk.

Sulley took my coat in time for me to shake her hand. "Evelyn this is Alex. Alex, this is Evelyn, my secretary," he said.

"It's nice to meet you," I said noticing the long, hot pink nails on Evelyn's hand.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Sugar. My, you are a beauty aren't you?" Evelyn drawled in a heavy southern accent.

Again, I didn't know what to say. I never thought I was much to look at. Sure, I'd had the occasional guy interested in me back in Chicago and I'd had a few boyfriends in college, but to hear the people around here you would think I was beating the men off with a stick.

"Just like her mother," Sulley interjected. "Don't know about you two, but I could use a cup of coffee."

Sulley walked to the coffee pot and lit up with delight to see that it was already full of fresh brew.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you, Evelyn?" he teased.

"Oh Chief, always getting a girl's hopes up." She winked at me.

"Can I get coffee for either of you lovely ladies?"

"I would love some," I answered as the front door opened and Will entered looking tired.

He smirked as he hung up his coat.

"Did I hear someone say coffee and lovely ladies? I'll take both," he said.

My heart sped at the sight of him. He nodded to me as Sulley handed me a small Styrofoam cup filled with black silk and then poured another for Will.

"Hope you like it black. Don't believe in creamers or sugar around here," Sulley said and took a small sip of his.

"Leaves more room for the caffeine," Will agreed and took a long swig from his, wincing as the hot liquid hit his throat.

"Long night?" Sulley asked Will.

"Well, you know me," he said, walking to the coffee pot to top off his cup. "Spent half the night though, looking for my damned car keys."

"Still no luck, huh?" Sulley asked.

I sipped my coffee and watched Will over the rim of my cup. He walked back over to his desk looking puzzled.

"I just drove her a couple of weeks ago. I could have sworn I put the keys back in the drawer."

He opened his desk drawer all the way out and rummaged around, his hand disappearing into the back of the drawer. When it emerged, he held a small key ring. The gold mustang logo dangled from his fingers.

"Well I'll be damned, here they are. They were in the back of the drawer. Must not have pulled it out far enough." Will tossed them to me.

I almost spilled my coffee on my sweater, but I caught them before they hit me in the face.

"Thank you, if you're sure . . ."

"You're helping me out, remember? Come on over and I'll introduce you," Will said and walked to the door.

I waved to Sulley on my way out. "Guess I'll come by later?"

"Sure. Don't have too much fun with that thing now. I know you love your muscle cars." Sulley topped of his coffee. "Where you headed?"

"I'm going up to the church. Visiting Mom and Gary," I said and searched Sulley's face for whatever emotion my answer would elicit.

He nodded in approval. "I'd say that's very fitting. Take your time, I've got a lot to do around here today."

"Okay," I said grabbing my coat. "It was nice to meet you Evelyn. I'll see you both in a bit."

"Don't let that boy give you too much grief over that car now. As much as he messes with it, it's still older than dirt." Evelyn laughed.

"I'll keep that in mind." I smiled and followed after will.

The sky was a pale shade of grey and the air smelled of rain. I hoped a storm wasn't on the way. I walked around to the back of the building and found Will behind the wheel of the bright yellow 1979 Mustang Cobra. The sight of him in that car brought up feelings of excitement and danger. Though I didn't know what was exciting me more, the boy or the car.

Sulley was right, my uncle had instilled in me a great respect for muscle cars, and Will's Mustang was a beauty. But then again, Will was quite a specimen himself, oozing just enough darkness and mystery to make you want to see what was under his hood. As I reached him I cleared my throat and chided myself for acting like a swooning school girl at a boy band concert.

"Come on over so I can show you some of her quirks," Will said.

When I got to the driver's side, I casually leaned against the door and gave him my undivided attention.

"Okay, now when you start her, you've got to pump the gas twice like this . . ." Will turned the ignition and tapped the gas pedal until the reluctant engine turned over and purred to life, sending puffs of smoke from its elongated tailpipe.

"Any more than twice and . . ." he started.

" . . . you'll get too much gas in the intake manifold and flood the engine," I finished with a flourish, loving the sound of the turbo engine.

Will nodded in approval. "So you know what you're getting yourself into. That's good. I assume then that you know how to drive a stick shift?"

"That's all I've ever driven. My uncle Dan taught me an appreciation for old cars. We spent summers fixing them up. It's always been a hobby of his."

"Well, then she's in good hands. Just make sure you give her a good couple of revs once the engine turns over and you're good to go."

Will left the engine running and stepped out of the car. He motioned for me to have a seat behind the wheel. I tried to contain my excitement.

"She's got a lot of power now, and it's looking like rain. Don't let her get away from you on these mountain roads. I'd hate it if anything happened to her." He winked. "Or you."

"Trust me, I plan to take it nice and easy until I get to know the old gal. Just going up to the church and back. Thanks again for letting me drive her, this would NEVER have happened back in the day."

Will shut the door and gave the hood a pat. "Yes, that's true. I'd like to think that I've matured some since then. And like I said, she deserves to be driven. Just promise me one thing?"

"What's that?" I asked.

"Don't call her old gal again. It hurts her feelings." Will smiled.

"You got it." I laughed, shifting into reverse.

"Now get out of here already. I've got work to do," Will said and jogged back to the front of the building.

I took a second to appreciate the butter-like leather interior and custom chrome dash before adjusting the mirrors and easing off the clutch. The car grumbled as it backed out into the main road. When I put it into first and hit the throttle, I caught a glimpse of Sulley watching me through the station door. _Worry wart_. Waiting until I had cleared the building, I leaned on the gas pedal and was thrown back into the seat as the engine roared and lurched forward.

"Woohoo!" I couldn't help but yell.

I smiled at the feel of the power at my control and fought the urge to gun it again on the straight-aways, finding contentment in realizing just how awesome it was to be driving Billy Galia's "Stang".

He wasn't the jerk I had always thought he was. Well, not as much of a jerk as he wanted people to think he was at any rate. He just needed to smile more often, then maybe he wouldn't be so damned intimidating. I found it strange that I suddenly felt a strong desire to make that happen.

Downshifting, the car moaned in defiance as I made my way towards the church. The wind was picking up, shaking the brightly ripened leaves from the countless trees and sending them swirling down in a mass of fluttering color. The sky was morphing into an ominous shade of slate, my mood growing just as dark the closer I got to my destination. I hadn't been to visit the plot where my mother was buried since the day she was put to ground and I couldn't help but think of that day.

It was frigid out, the tears that poured from my eyes had stung my frostbitten cheeks. Gram held me tightly against her as they lowered my mom into her final resting place beside Gary. She whispered to me that my mother would want for me to move on and live a happy life. I hadn't been able to grasp the finality of it all. Happiness seemed like a distant memory.

It took a long time for me to stop expecting her to tuck me in at night, or pick me up from school, to accept that she was gone. Seeing her grave would be a harsh reminder of how gone she was. Still, I wanted to pay my respects and maybe even get a feel for what Mom would have me do with the house now.

I pulled into the parking lot and was relieved that there were no other cars in sight. I parked in front of the A-framed church and sat for a moment, collecting myself. The church was small compared to the chapels in Chicago, but it was large enough to fit the congregation who attended from the three closest surrounding towns. Painted a sterling grey, the church matched the intricate stonework that formed the entryway and sidewalk. The doors, a deep maroon, complimented the red and purple leaves of the large oak trees that surrounded the building.

I followed the stone walkway behind the main sanctuary. The cemetery, which stretched across an acre of flat meadow, was nestled between the rising mountain peaks behind the church. Mom and Gary were buried near the fence on the eastern side.

Approaching, I saw that my mother's grave was covered with a dozen fresh, white lilies. Someone else had visited recently. I wondered who as I moved the bundle in order to see her name on the glossy marble gravestone.

"Tina Marie Nolan. Loving mother and wife. May the angels dance to your music for all of eternity," I read out loud.

I glanced at the headstone next to hers and plucked a flower from the bouquet and laid it on the grave.

"Robert Gary Wiley. Loving son, brother and husband. May you forever find comfort in the arms of your angel."

Gram had written both epitaphs at a time when words, for me, had lost all meaning. I admired them now, and more so Gram for having come up with such beautiful words in the midst of that kind of pain and loss.

I sat between the stones and stared at them a moment. There was so much I wanted to say, but the words would not form on my lips. It was too hard to think of them lying there in the cold earth, lifeless. Even after fifteen years it felt unreal. So I chose to think of them as they had been: full of life, joy and excitement about their future together. They weren't gone, just off together forever in a place that I could not yet go. Thinking of them that way helped me find the words. I turned to Gary first.

"Hey Gare, it's me . . . Alex. I know it's been a long time." I lowered my head. "I'm sorry about that. I guess I was running away, you know? From what happened . . . from the memories. I guess I always thought that it would be better if I just forgot this place."

It sounded ridiculous once I said it out loud. I almost laughed.

"Pretty stupid, huh? The truth is, the more I tried to forget, the more lost I became. You were the only real father I ever had. How could I want to forget that?"

I stopped, realizing that I _had_ been running, trying to forget the pain, getting far enough away so that it no longer seemed real. But I was starting to realize since coming back to these mountains, to these memories, that by trying to forget, I was denying Mom and Gary who they were. I was losing the moments in life, good or bad, that made up who they had been.

The joyful times that I let slip away, the times that filled my heart with love, shone even brighter when set against the memories of sadness and loss. They were intertwined, inseparably woven into the fabric of my being. To deny those memories was to deny myself, and to deny both Mom and Gary of their beautiful existence. To forget was to kill them all over again.

I turned to my mother's grave.

"I'm so sorry Mom, for so many things. I'm sorry about what happened to you. I am sorry that I couldn't save you. I should have seen that car coming sooner. I should have warned you in time." I sighed. "I am so sorry that they never caught the bastard who did this to you. I'm so sorry that I tried to forget. But mostly, I'm sorry that I'm not with you."

My reflection in the polished marble headstone showed my tears and I wiped them from my cheeks. I closed my eyes in an attempt to hold the rest back.

"I should have died with you guys that night. I should be with you. I wish I were with you," I admitted. "Instead you left me here all alone and I don't know what to do. After all these years I still feel lost."

It was then that I heard it again, the strumming, which stood apart from the rustling of the wind through the surrounding trees. It grew louder and I opened my eyes, releasing a stream of crystalline tears that slipped down my cheeks. I looked back to my reflection, the moisture in my eyes making it hard to focus. I saw more than my own reflection staring back at me.

I blinked back the tears and wiped at my eyes in a panic. When I looked again I saw his black hair and blue eyes reflected next to me, beckoning to me from the marble. I spun around, expecting to see the man behind me. There was no one there. When I turned back to the headstone, the image was gone and my reflection was the only one visible.

Then I heard a whisper, as if someone was speaking low and hushed into my ear.

"You are not alone."

I gasped and jumped up. There was no one beside me. The strumming drifted away with the breeze. I questioned myself and looked around. _Did I just see him again_?

When I looked back toward the church I saw an elderly man at the back door. He obliviously swept the walkway and looked up when he sensed he was being watched. He stopped his chore and, setting down his broom, walked towards me.

I turned away and blotted at the moisture in my eyes with the back of my sleeve just before the man approached then looked up and tried my best to smile. The man was in his late seventies and his face held a kind smile, his eyes the wisdom of ages. The closer he got, the more I recognized that smile.

"Why Miss Nolan, is that you? I heard you were back in town."

I made one final swipe at my eyes. "Pastor James? Oh my gosh, I had no idea you were still here. How are you?"

Pastor James laughed. "Well, I suppose I should have retired ten years ago, but I just don't know what else I would do with myself. My gracious child, you've grown up into a beautiful young woman haven't you?"

I smiled and took the hand that he offered. "It feels like it's been so long, and yet nothing around here seems to have changed that much. You included."

He patted my hand with his free one. "Well, you were forced to go through a lot of changes in a short amount of time. I suspect that it's been quite strange for you to come back here after all these years, given how you left."

The more he spoke, the more I realized how desperately I needed to talk to someone about all of the things I was wrestling with: being back in Saluda, Gram, the house, the fact that I was hearing and seeing things. Pastor James had a welcoming way about him that made it easy for me to confide in him.

"It's been very strange. I've been remembering all sorts of things that I had forgotten. Things that I tried to forget."

Pastor James turned to my mother's grave, still holding my hand.

"Sometimes the Lord works in mysterious ways and we can't always understand it. We still have to look for what He has planned for us even in the most difficult circumstances. Coming back home was a good step. Give it some time."

"I guess I just can't accept that God would have planned this," I said motioning to the graves. "What good could possibly come from it?"

He patted my hand again and his eyes met mine. "It's not for you to understand, just for you to trust."

I was puzzled. "Trust what exactly?"

"That He will bring you through it, and maybe in the process, bring you closer to Him."

I sighed and let his hand go, looking again to my mother's grave.

"I can't see how that's ever going to be possible. It's been fifteen years and I still can't find my way past it."

Pastor James met my eyes again. "That is because you are still lost, child. You've let that evil man who took your parents away from you rob you of your faith as well. You've got to let it go, the anger. You've got to open your mind again, so that you can see."

I stared at him in amazement. "That is the third time I've heard that said to me in one way or another since I've been back."

Pastor James chuckled. "Well it seems someone is trying to tell you something."

"But what does it mean, to open your mind to see?"

"It means that sometimes you have to look past yourself, look past what is right in front of you, in order to see the bigger picture. All you see right now is finality in your parent's death, but nothing is final if you believe. Open your mind to the impossible, and you just might see Him . . . that He's been with you this whole time." He pointed to the heavens. "All things are possible in Him."

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the certificate and unfolded it, handing Pastor James the drawing and he studied it with curiosity.

"Does this mean anything to you; this man I drew after my baptism? I found it in a box full of old things. I can barely remember drawing it."

He smiled at it as his mind conjured the memory. "Why I remember when you drew this picture. You were all lit up from inside after your baptism. You went on and on about the angel you saw in the water. You were only under for a second, but you came out of that pool with the biggest smile on your face. You drew this picture to show your mother what he looked like. Such a creative mind . . ."

I pointed to the words I had scribbled that morning. "And what about this? Does this mean anything?"

"Illumina, custody, rege et gube'rna," he read aloud. "Well it's Latin for sure. Let me see . . . to light and guard, to rule and guide. Why it's an old, Catholic prayer, a part of the Guardian Angel prayer, I believe."

"The Guardian Angel prayer?"

"Yes, I remember it well now. I took a few classes on Catholicism in seminary. The prayers were my favorite, this one especially. Let me see if I can remember the whole thing . . ."

He thought for a minute before going on. "Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God's love commits me here. Ever this day be at my side, to light and guard . . ."

"To rule and guide," I finished.

"Amen."

My heart began to race. "Would you think I was crazy if I told you I've been seeing this man? The same man I saw as a kid? Well, not really _seeing_ him, but more like glimpses of him? The strangest part is, I feel like I know him. Like he's . . ."

"Watching over you?"

"Yes. It's like that exactly," I cried. "Am I going crazy?"

"Well, there are many, especially in the Catholic church, who believe that we are each appointed a guardian angel upon baptism. I wouldn't say you are crazy, child. I would say you've been blessed with a gift. You should embrace it."

"A gift?" I asked, my hands trembling.

"The gift of sight." He smiled.

I shook my head. "That's not possible."

In the distance a car honked its horn twice and Pastor James waved to where it parked in the lot.

"Open your mind," he whispered. "With Him, anything is possible."

I looked up at him dazed. He gave an apologetic smile.

"Now I'm afraid I have to be getting along. That would be my grandson to take me to lunch. Feel free to stay as long as you like, though it looks like a storm's brewing. It was such a blessing to see you again Miss Nolan. Please don't be a stranger."

I smiled at him despite the turmoil churning inside of my mind.

"I won't. It was great to see you again. Thank you so much for talking with me. It meant more than I can say."

"Well now, that's what I'm here for." He bowed and turned and walked back across the churchyard.

Turning, I stared blankly into my mother's headstone, searching for . . . what? Had there really been a man there? Maybe I was cracking under the pressure of being back home. His face had been so clear in my dream, in the water. Maybe it wasn't just a dream. Maybe it was a memory. But could it really be possible?

"To light and guard, rule and guide," I repeated.

But what of my other dreams; the reoccurring ones about the night Mom and Gary were killed? Had he been there the night of the accident too? It was coming back to me: I _had_ seen him, beside me in the dark. I heard him. He told me to sink into the seat that I was trapped under, rather than try to get out. Doing that had saved my life. He had saved my life.

_Impossible_ , I thought.

It was nothing more than a self defense mechanism, a hallucination brought on by the traumatic event. That had to be it. The problem with that theory though, was that I was starting to remember that he had been with me long before that night.

Chapter 5

I climbed into the Mustang and brought it growling to life as the first drops of rain began to fall. If I hurried, I could make it home before the storm got too bad. Thankfully, the majority of the road would be down hill. I didn't want to chance punching the engine on the slick road until I was more comfortable with the car. I eased back onto the road and started the descent into town.

I made it about halfway back when the skies opened up and dumped rain in blinding sheets, which bounced off the road and hood of the car. Backing off the gas pedal entirely, I let the Mustang coast, keeping my foot ready on the brake as I wiped at the fogging windshield, only to realize that the fog forming outside was just as thick. It became impossible to see the curves in the road.

Deciding it would be best to just pull off to the side of the road until the storm passed, I looked for a place to stop. It wasn't worth making a wrong move and either slamming into the mountainside on one side of the road or worse, driving off the steep embankment on the other side. Both thoughts made my stomach clench and my palms sweat.

I hit the brake and heard a pop and a hiss. Nothing happened. The pedal slammed all the way to the floor with no resistance. I stomped the pedal again and again, but the brakes were useless. Horror rose up into my throat as I downshifted, earning an angry snarl from the engine. It did little to slow the car.

I searched the console for the emergency brake and couldn't find the lever. _Footbrake_! I pushed it down with all the strength in my left leg. The car slid across the wet pavement, the rear end fishtailing back and forth. The road was slick with the heavy rain and the car was gaining in speed with the steep incline despite my efforts. I used both feet to push down on the footbrake, but it was a futile attempt against the forward momentum of the car.

Leaning as far forward as I could in order to see the curves in the road, I knew that I was going to crash or go over the side if I didn't do something fast. Helpless, I did the only thing I could think to do. For the first time in years, I prayed.

"Okay, God. Where is your guardian angel now? I need your help," I pleaded. "I know what I said before . . . but I don't want to die, not today, not like this. Please help me, I need you."

I wiped the windshield again in a futile attempt to better my vision. The yellow lines of the road were disappearing beneath the rain and fog and I could no longer see where the road was going. I cried out, a mix of unbridled panic and unleashed rage.

"Where are you? Did you ruin my life just to kill me off like this? Where are you now?"

The trunks of trees charged towards the windshield. Jerking the wheel to the right, I screamed as the tires squealed and clawed and the edge of the tight curve. I fought to see some clue as to which way the road would curve next.

That is when I saw it.

A white blur suspended in the air in the distance. As the car soared forward, white, outstretched wings became visible.

"The statue!" I cried out.

It stood out against the rain and fog like a beacon ushering me to safety. I knew then what I had to do. Now that I had a clue as to where I was in relation to the road, I had to crash the car on purpose. That was my only chance. If I didn't stop the car right now, it would gain speed in the downhill turns coming into town and I would run off the road. This was my only chance.

I steered the car towards the statue, remembering that it was resting on a jutting rock that protruded above the road. If I could aim the car to the right of the statue I could scrape against the side of the mountain to slow the car to a stop. If my aim was off though, I could hit the mountain head on. I wasn't sure I could survive a head-on collision at this speed, but I had no time to think about it. I focused on the statue, on the majestic face, and prayed as the car careened towards it.

"God, if you are really there, please get me through this."

When I saw mountain side fill the windshield, I turned the wheel and braced myself as the car jolted against the swiping impact. The wheel fought back but I held it as still as I could as metal scraped against rock. The friction forced the car to the left. I had to keep it steady or else I would be bounced right over the edge on the other side.

Bracing my left foot against the driver side door, I pulled the wheel to the right, the leather burning welts into my hands. The passenger side windows shattered and I ducked as shards of glass and sparks flew into the cabin. Hooking my arm through the steering wheel, I held it steady and mashed the emergency brake with my foot.

At last the car came to a crunching stop with one final jolting crash which smashed the windshield and threw my head into the steering wheel. For a second, the world around me spun out of control and then faded. The last thing I heard was a gentle strumming beside me before everything went black.

  *

When I came to, the world was a blur. I felt a sharp pain in my temple where my head rested against the steering wheel. The rain had stopped and dust swirled in a thick, black cloud around me. I dared to move my head to the right. That side of the car was smashed inward like a stomped soda can, curving the interior into a gruesome frown. Shattered glass and dust covered the once supple leather seats. But I was alive.

I raised my head off the steering wheel and assessed the large lump forming above my eye with shaking fingers. A gust of wind sent the dust around me spinning and my eyes locked with the white eyes of the angel statue. It looked down on me from where it landed, face down, on the hood of the car.

"Okay." I breathed out the words. "I believe."

Sirens wailed in the distance and grew louder as they approached. I stumbled out of the car and took in the damage with shock just as Sulley's truck charged down the highway towards me, sirens flashing. He barely waited for the truck to come to a stop before he jumped out and ran to me. He paused and gawked at the wreckage and then rushed to me and gave me a once over. He gripped my shoulders, shock evident on his face.

"You should be dead! What happened?" he asked exasperated.

"I'm fine, I think. The brakes . . . they went out. I couldn't see the road . . . then I saw the statue. I knew I had to crash it. I'm so sorry . . . I had to crash it, it wouldn't stop," I rambled as another car, sirens blasting, pulled up and then another.

Sulley pulled me into his arms and held me against him.

"Ssshhh. It's alright kiddo. I'm just glad you're okay. When I got the call, I thought . . ." he shuddered. "Are you hurt? Is anything broken?"

I stepped back and checked myself over. Aside from a few scratches and a massive headache, I seemed to be unscathed.

"No, I'm fine. I hit my head, but . . ."

"What the HELL happened?" a shrill voice interrupted.

I knew it was Will before I turned around. He was staring, mouth agape, at his wrecked car. His fingers trembled at his temples. He walked around the car in disbelief before he strode back to me and gave me a once over before surrendering to furry.

"What the hell did you do? She's totaled! You could have killed yourself!" he screamed at me.

I took a step back from him. "The brakes went out. I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't see and I was losing control . . . I'm sorry . . . I–"

"You're sorry? Sorry doesn't fix this! What were you thinking?"

Will closed the gap between us, but Sulley stepped in and forced him back.

"I'd say she was thinking about saving herself since your precious car almost got her killed!" Sulley's shouted and then took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "Now walk away deputy and make sure someone's coming out to get this heap off the road."

Will stared straight into my eyes and let out a frustrated growl. Then he threw his hands up and walked back to his squad car. Sulley tuned back to me and swept the hair from my forehead in order to get a better look at the blackening mass forming there.

"Okay, now I want to get you home and get some ice on that lump," he said walking her towards his truck.

I looked up at him, tears forming in my eyes.

"He's right to be mad. He loved that car . . . but there was nothing else I could do," I said.

"Yeah well, he shouldn't have loaned it to you in the first place. I don't know what he hoped to gain . . ." Sulley got into the truck next to me and pulled back on the road, slowing down to talk to the tow truck as it pulled up.

"Hey Hank. Just tow her on down to the shop. Looks like she's totaled. Do me a favor though, get a good look at those brakes, will you? Seems they went out while she was driving. Give me a call directly on my cell once you do."

"Will do. Glad you're all right, Ma'am." Hank nodded to me and I thanked him before we drove off toward the house.

After being fussed over all afternoon, I was finally able to pull up a seat at my kitchen table and relax. I hadn't gotten even a second to think about the events of the day, and what it all meant: my baptism, my "gift", the statue. Sulley had insisted that the town physician come out to take a look at what was now a purple knot above my right eye. Sulley threatened me with a trip to the Hendersonville ER if I argued.

Dr. Andrews concluded that I had a mild concussion and gave me a bottle of Percocet to ease the throbbing in my head. For that I was grateful, though the first pill made me sleepy. I fought the urge to crawl into bed and sleep for the next few days. There was too much to think about.

I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, but Sulley doted after me like a concerned parent. He tried to insist that I come home with him, but I refused to be a burden to him or to Gram. He had enough to worry about there. He settled for making me dinner. The canned chicken soup was bubbling away next to the skillet filled with melting cheese sandwiches. Sulley had not inherited his mother's cooking ability, I mused, but it would do. With all of the excitement, I had skipped lunch and was starving despite the drum solo being performed beside my temple.

"You sure as hell gave me a scare today, you know," Sulley said and flipped the sandwiches on a plate and brought them to the table.

I sipped my water. "I know. Gave myself one too."

"Smart what you did though," Sulley chuckled. "I still can't believe you rammed Will's Mustang into the side of the mountain."

I gawked at him. "Oh, are we laughing about it already? He was seriously pissed!

"I'm just amazed at your survival instinct is all. Not sure most people would have thought to do that." Sulley dished up the soup and came to the table. "And don't you worry about Will. He is just as much to blame, if not more so, for that car getting smashed up. He should have kept up with those brakes."

I sipped my soup, considering. "Yeah, but he was being nice by letting me drive it in the first place, even if it did turn out to be a death trap."

"Yeah well, I'm not sure he did it all out of the kindness of his heart to begin with."

I set my spoon down. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm just saying . . . I've noticed the way you two look at one another. I'm not so sure he wasn't just trying to win some favor with you."

"Are you suggesting that I am interested in Will? That's ridiculous." I scoffed embarrassed that my intrigue with Will had been that transparent.

"It IS ridiculous," Sulley agreed. "He is much older and let's just say he's not much of the dating type."

I thought about that for a minute and wondered why I was feeling defensive. "Intrigued with" and "interested in dating" were two different things, first of all. And second, I didn't give a flying flip how old Will was, he wasn't THAT much older than me.

"What do you mean, he's not the dating type? Not that I would want to."

Sulley set down his sandwich and glared at me. When I didn't back down, he continued.

"Look, I love the guy like a brother, and you know that's hard for me to say. But the man's got a past. I don't want you to get mixed up with him is all."

I didn't know what bothered me more: that Sulley thought I wanted to date Will, or that he thought he had the right to forbid it. I cleared my throat and glared at him.

"I think you are forgetting that I am a grown woman and if I wanted to date him I would. But I have no interest in dating him, or anyone else for that matter, until I figure out what it is that I want to begin with. So this is really a moot point."

"Well okay then." Sulley chuckled and bit into his sandwich.

After finishing dinner in comfortable silence, Sulley wiped at his chin with his napkin and sat back in his chair.

"So, have you thought any about what you are going to do? With this place, I mean?"

I tossed the last crust of sandwich onto my plate and sighed.

"I have, a little. To tell you the truth, when I first got here all I wanted to do was find a buyer and then get back on a plane to Chicago."

So much seemed to have happened since I first arrived, even though very little time had actually passed. I stared out the kitchen window at the sun dipping below the tree line.

"But now, I don't know any more. I'm sort of finding myself again . . . if that makes sense."

Sulley nodded. "It does, and it's a good thing. Your mother would be happy that you're at least giving the place a chance."

"Yeah, and I took the week off from classes, but I could always find a long-term substitute if I needed to. II I think I might need to take some more time to really think about it, to figure out what's best," I said with a sigh.

Sulley chuckled as he shook his head.

"I still can't believe you're teaching social studies. You know, the elementary school is always looking for a good music teacher."

I waved him off and cleared the dishes. My head began throbbing again with the movement.

"No, that was Mom's thing. Before a couple of nights ago, I hadn't even played in years."

Sulley stood, a smile spreading across his face.

"So you played the piano? I knew you would if I brought it down here." He turned me to face him. "Play something for me?"

"No. No, I can't," I said shrugging away from him. I immediately regretted saying anything.

Sulley took the dishes from me and set them in the sink, then took me by the hand.

"Pretty please," he said leading me into the living room and motioning me to sit at the piano. He sat on the couch anticipating. "Please, just a little something. I know it will be wonderful."

Sighing, I lifted the lid covering the keys and stared blankly at them. I imagined my mother's fingers dancing over the keys once again while I sat and watched in awe. I would never be able to play like her. Was it doing a disservice to her memory to even try? Unsure, I placed my fingers on the keys and met Sulley's expectant eyes. _For Sulley_ , I decided.

I imagined my mother sitting at the piano and held the memory as I played the first movement of Moonlight Sonata. I fell into the music, my hands taken over by the echoes of a past performance. My first recital which had earned me a standing ovation, and on the way home, admiring smiles from the front seat of the car. A tear slipped onto my cheek as my thoughts wandered from memories of twisted metal to lily covered graves under a darkening sky. I saw heavy rain and fog, and the white outstretched wings floating above the road on a cloud of mist. I saw the stone grey eyes of a statue staring into my soul.

Above the music, a different beat sounded in my ear. Gentle at first. I couldn't identify it right away, only feel the gentle rocking of it as my fingers relaxed on the keys. Then I recognized the strumming. The realization threw off my rhythm and broke my focus.

I opened my eyes and there he was. Reflected in the piano once again, was the figure of the man I had seen before. He stood behind me, glaring at me with those blue eyes. In the piano, I watched him turn and walk to the staircase. He motioned for me to follow.

I gasped and jumped back from the piano, ending the piece on a harsh note. I looked to Sulley who was gaping at me admiringly. He stood, eyes wide.

"Why'd you stop? That was beautiful . . ."

I glanced nervously behind me and saw no one.

"I just . . . my head hurts," I said turning back to Sulley. "I think I should go lie down now."

"Please, just a little more," Sulley pleaded.

"I really can't . . ."

"Just one more minute? You play just like her . . ." Sulley insisted, coming toward me.

I shot up from the piano, suddenly furious. A storm of emotions raged and pounded in my head and I spoke before I could hold it back, not knowing what I was saying until I had said it.

"I told you I can't! I'm not my mother. I'm not her. She was murdered a long time ago and now we BOTH have to move on. You can't bring her back through me, Uncle Sulley. Now please, just stop!"

Sulley recoiled as if I had punched him in the gut. He lowered his head wounded.

"You're right," he said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you. You've had a really long day and I'm just making it worse."

"Please, I just want to be alone," I whispered, not looking him in the eyes, afraid to see the hurt of my words in them.

"Yeah, sure Kiddo. You need to get some rest. I'm sorry." He nodded and turned for the door as I stood frozen in place, unable to react.

"I'll be by around eleven tomorrow," he continued in a soft voice. "I thought you'd like to come to church with me and Gram. Maybe come by the house for lunch after?"

I nodded to him, still overcome by emotion and afraid to speak again. Sulley opened the door and turned back to me. This time I looked him in the eyes.

"I know you're not your mother. I know that. You just . . . you remind me so much of her. Having you back is like getting a little piece of her back," he said smiling. "I miss them too, and I know they've been gone a long time. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of them and wish that things could have been different. It's a hard thing to get over Kiddo, but you being here is a major step . . . for both of us. Get some rest Kiddo," he said and then shut the door behind him.

I stood there for a second not knowing what I felt more: pain, longing, or raw guilt. I sank to the floor where I stood and sobbed, unable to do anything else. I knew that Sulley missed Mom as much as I did. They had been best friends for years. And Gary. Gary had been his baby brother. But I just couldn't play another note. It was too painful. Sitting at that piano connected me to a happier time, a time when life made sense and I wasn't afraid that I would fall into pieces at any moment. A time that was gone forever.

I let my head fall into my hands and continued to weep, the bitterness of loss bubbling up from neglected places within me. Then I heard it again. The gentle strumming which seemed to retrieve me from the darkest of places. I lifted my head to listen. The strumming was coming from upstairs.

I stood and wiped my face, and with head pounding, walked up the stairs and down the hall. My limbs were trembling with anticipation, but this time I was not afraid. I was ready to face whatever I'd find waiting for me. I reached the end of the hall and went into the master bedroom where I heard the strumming. I flipped on the light, but there was nothing there. Not a thing was out of place.

I stood still and listened. It was coming from the bathroom. As I approached though, the strumming turned to a steady dripping. I flipped on the light and saw that the shower faucet was dripping in a steady thud against the ceramic bathtub. With a sigh I turned the knob to quiet the leak, my heart rate returning to normal. Then on second thought, I turned the shower to hot and let the bathroom fill with steam. A hot shower was exactly what I needed.

Closing the door, I spotted the Percocet bottle on the counter where I had left it earlier and decided that it was indeed time for another. I washed it down with a cup of water and then undressed and soaked in the hot spray until my muscles eased and my senses dulled. My head stopped throbbing and the tension from the day ran with the soapy water down the drain.

When I pulled back the curtain, the bathroom was filled with steam and I inhaled it in long, deep drags. I dried off and pulled on my bathrobe and running a brush through my hair, opened the bathroom door. The steam rolled out behind me in wispy clouds that filled the bedroom with a misty haze. I glanced at the clock and noted it was late enough in the evening to justify climbing into bed. Then something reflected in the antique mirror caught my eye. I dropped the brush to the floor.

Through the haze that had formed in a moist sheet upon the mirror, I saw the man standing beside me. Though his sudden appearance startled me, this time I stared unafraid. Glancing behind me at the room, I saw that there was no one there and this time was not surprised.

I turned back to the mirror and saw through his blurred reflection that he ran a hand across my forehead. I heard the strumming and closed my eyes. Warmth, ever so slight, embraced the wound on my head. I opened my eyes and his reflection was still there, beseeching me with those ocean blues.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

"Who do you think I am?" he answered in a deep, melodious voice as smooth as glass.

I groped for an answer. No matter how I worded it, it still felt unreal.

"An angel."

The man in the mirror nodded and grinned at me as if amused by my hesitation at the word.

"I am a Guardian, yes. But you already knew that, didn't you? Deep down you've always known."

I searched my memories. That voice, it was so familiar. I heard it whisper to me through the fleeting memories of my childhood and I knew that he was right.

"Why can I only see you like this? In reflections?" I asked motioning to the mirror.

"That is the only place your mind will allow me to exist to you," he said.

"I . . . don't understand," I groped.

"You won't let yourself believe that I am real, that I can exist in your world. So, I exist here," he motioned to the mirror around him, "in a reflection of your reality. The same, but separate."

I sat on the bed beside where the man stood according to the mirror's reflection. I looked across from me, stared at the spot where he should be, but I could not make his image appear.

"I want to see you," I whispered.

"And you will, when you are ready. Right now you are half convinced that your concussion, mixed with that pain pill, is causing you to see things that aren't there." He sighed. "But part of you believes, and that is why you can hear me, see me in reflections. You limit yourself."

He was right, I knew it. My rational side was telling me that this was not possible and it was searching for a reasonable explanation. But I wanted it to be true. I wanted more than anything to lose myself in the fanciful side of me that had been lost for so long. So I started with questions.

"So, are you from . . . heaven then?"

"Not exactly," he answered. "I exist in a place between here and there."

"What, like purgatory?"

He laughed, a melodious sound, warm and vibrant.

"Not so drastic, no, but similar. I exist in the spiritual realm, while you exist here in the physical. I am there every bit as much as I am here with you right now."

"So you're in two places at once? I don't understand . . . that doesn't make any sense. None of this makes any sense," I reeled.

In the mirror, I watched him set his hand over mine. I could again feel the tingling warmth where he touched me, slight and gentle.

"That's the biggest problem with humanity," he said. "You think that seeing is believing."

"So you're saying that believing is seeing then? Isn't that a bit cliché?" I asked a little more sarcastically than I had intended.

"It's much more than that, more than just believing. It's accepting."

I shrugged at him through the mirror, not understanding. He smiled patiently at me.

"You only think a thing is real if you can comprehend it," he continued, "if you can make sense of it or understand how it works. You have to know how it's possible before you will believe that it is. Humanity misses out on so much beauty because it refuse to accept that things exist beyond the realm of reason or understanding. When in fact, that is what makes some things so glorious – not understanding how they can possibly exist, but just relishing in the fact that they do."

"Like you?" I asked.

"Or you."

For a long moment we just stared at one another through the mirror, like those taking in the changed features of a long-lost loved one. I followed him with my eyes, afraid to take them off of him for fear that he would be gone.

"You need your rest. I need to let you sleep. I know you have a lot of questions, but there's time. We can talk more tomorrow."

I didn't want him to go. I didn't want this moment to end. What if it wasn't real? Would I see him again? What if it WAS just the concussion or the pain medication making the impossible a reality?

"You'll be back tomorrow?"

He smiled. "I never really leave you, Alexandra. I am always with you."

I thought about that for a moment. My cheeks flushed when I looked to the bathroom, just now clearing of steam.

"Always?" I shrieked.

The man laughed and shook his head. "When you need me, that is."

I relaxed a bit. It was so much to take in, and he was right. I had so many more questions.

"What if I need you now? There's so much I don't understand . . ."

"I was sent here to look after you, Alexandra, and right now you need sleep. The answers will come. Give yourself time," he said and through the mirror I could see him motion for me to get into the bed.

I hesitated, still trying to make sense of it all. _He was sent here? By who, God? Could that be right?_ I had so many questions. But he was right. I wished he wasn't, but I was beginning to feel like I could fall over where I stood. The excitement of the day and the pain medication in my system was hitting me with full force. I couldn't fight it any more.

Still, I didn't want to let go of this present reality. I was afraid that if I slept, the man would be gone and the calm that his presence gave me would vanish with him. Somehow, now that I had spoken with him and seen him more clearly, the familiar feeling of comfort and love that he emitted made me feel more like myself than I had felt in fifteen years.

"Please Alexandra, you need sleep. You're going to need a clear mind," he pleaded.

I went to the bed and climbed inside as quickly as my heavy body would let me and then looked back to the mirror. I was relieved to see him smiling at me in the reflection.

"It was you the other night. You helped me into bed after the wine . . . at the piano."

"Yes."

I laid my head on the pillow. "And it was you that night . . . the night of the accident, in the car. You told me to sink further into my seat."

"Yes," he said, and a sadness washed over his features, and then lowering his head, his image began to fade.

I stared into the mirror, hoping he would return, but my eyes were weighted down by impending sleep. I closed them, focusing on the swaying rhythm of the strumming that seemed to vibrate against me.

"I know you're still here. I can hear you," I whispered.

Teetering on the brink of consciousness, I heard only the strumming reply.

"Did He send you? God?"

"Yes," came a soft whisper.

"What if you don't come back tomorrow? What if I don't believe that any of this actually happened in the morning?" I couldn't give in to the sleep that was overtaking me until I was sure.

"You will. You have to."

Yes, I had to. He had to come back to me.

"I . . . don't even know your name," I mumbled, losing myself in the soothing darkness.

I heard his voice whisper to me from the edges of deep sleep.

"Donovan."

Then the strumming faded away and all consciousness with it.

Chapter 6

Waking with a start, I shot up in bed. I immediately looked into the mirror and saw only my own reflection staring back at me. With a sigh and a freshly brewing headache, I laid back down. What happened last night? A dream? It couldn't have been real. And yet talking with him . . . with Donovan, felt more real and natural than anything else in my life.

Aside from the throbbing, which now made its way to my temples, I felt more rested than I had in months, maybe even years. A knocking jarred me from this realization. It was coming from the front door. I glanced at the clock. Only 9'o'clock. Who could be here at this hour on a Sunday?

Getting up from the bed, I glanced in the mirror before going to the window. I wanted to see Donovan, needed to see him, to convince myself that last night had been. My reflection alone stared back at me. _Damn_.

I looked out the window to the driveway below. There was a squad car parked in front of the house. I thought that perhaps Sulley had sent a car to pick me up. The idea filled me with sudden regret at how I had treated him the night before. He must have been upset with me to have sent someone rather than pick me up himself. I lifted the window and stuck my head out.

"I'll be right there!" I yelled and winced at the vibration the action sent through my aching skull.

I grabbed some clean clothes from my bag and rushed into the bathroom and paused when I saw the Percocet bottle on the counter. I stared at the bottle and contemplated taking one, but then pitched them into the waste basket beside the sink and shut the door.

Dressed in a floral skirt and a comfy blue sweater, I hurried down the steps to answer the door. Will nodded at me from the front stoop. My shoulders tensed with sudden anxiety. I was in no shape for another verbal assault and with the new day I felt quite resentful of the one he had given me last night. I still felt horrible about crashing the Mustang, but I could have died and all he had cared about was the car.

"What are you doing here?"

Will shifted from one foot to the other, his deputy hat held nervously in front of him.

"I . . . came to apologize," he scowled, "for my behavior yesterday."

I was speechless. An apology was the last thing I expected to hear from him.

"Sulley put you up to this, didn't he? Well, you were pissed for a good reason, so consider yourself off the hook," I said and then started to shut the door.

Will caught the door and pushed it back open and stepped closer.

"No. I wanted to come. Can I come in?"

I hesitated. The thought of being alone in the house with him, especially after the way he had screamed at me yesterday, made me uncomfortable. But I decided it was only fair to hear him out. I stepped aside and let him in. Will hung his hat on the coat rack and followed me into the kitchen. He looked into the living room and paused mid-stride.

"Is that . . . her piano?"

"Yes it is," I said and continued into the kitchen.

Will stared another moment and came in after me.

"I was just about to make some coffee," I said going to the pot. "Would you like some?"

"That would be great," he answered having a seat at the table and unzipping his jacket. "Thank you."

I filled the pot with water and measured out the grounds. I could feel Will burning a hole into my back. I flipped the on switch and spun around.

"So why don't you tell me why you are really here. You've been awfully quiet, no snide remarks today?"

Will looked at his shoes. "I told you, I want to apologize. It's not the easiest thing in the world for me."

I had a seat across from him at the table and folded my arms.

"Well let me help you," I offered and looked him in the eye. "Alex, I am sorry for my jerkishness yesterday when I yelled at you about crashing my broken heap into the side of a mountain. EVEN though," I continued, cutting him off when he tried to protest, "you HAD to crash it in order to save your own life from my death trap of a car with crappy brakes."

Will stared at me blankly. "Are you done?"

"I think so, yes."

"First of all, _jerkishness_ is not even a word. And she was not a heap or a death trap . . . which is another thing I wanted to talk to you about."

I glared at him in response, undaunted. He sighed and continued.

"And I AM sorry, more than you know. I shouldn't have reacted like that. I guess I just . . . freaked out."

I sighed and sat back in my chair. "Well, that car did mean a lot to you, so I get it. I'm really sorry Will. I should never have borrowed it . . ."

"No," Will interrupted. "It's not about the damned car. I mean, yeah, I loved that car, but it's just a car. I was freaked out because I almost got you killed. I couldn't live with that," he said and then whispered under his breath. "Not again."

"What are you talking about?"

"Look," he said leaning towards me, his intense eyes locking with mine, "I know the brakes were fine on that car. They were solid. I replaced all the brakes a couple of years ago when I rebuilt the engine. There's no reason they should've gone out like that."

I stood up and let his words sink in as I got two coffee cups down from the cupboard.

"Well maybe I hit something without knowing," I said filling the cups with the fresh brew. " Or maybe the rain . . ."

"Not likely."

I sat a mug in front of him and sat back down, cradling mine in my hands.

"Maybe you put them on wrong to begin with."

Will sneered. "No way. It was years ago. They would have gone out way before yesterday. And I know what I'm doing when it comes to that car."

"Clearly," I smirked.

Will sighed and continued to shake his head.

"So what are you suggesting then?" I asked.

"I don't know. I called the mechanic this morning but he doesn't appear to be open on Sundays. I'll try back tomorrow, see what he has to say." He took a sip of his coffee. "Wow, that's a lot better than Evelyn's Black Death."

"Thanks, I think," I said taking my first sip and savoring the feel of the hot liquid on my scratchy throat. "Maybe it will help this headache."

"Yeah, you don't look so good. That's a pretty nasty lump on you head."

"Always were the flatterer, weren't you?"

"I just mean that you got pretty banged up. I am sorry," Will said, and cupped his hand over mine on the table.

"Yeah, well . . . it could have been a lot worse."

Will leaned in close, making my heart beat faster. I thought I smelled a hint of whisky on his breath.

"I mean it Alex. I am really sorry about yesterday. About everything."

I wondered if we were still talking about the car accident, but my thoughts were lost in the intensity of his deep, chocolate brown eyes. I saw pain and heartbreak in their depths and felt a compulsion to wipe it all away somehow. The thought startled me. I cleared my throat and I mentally slapped myself, forcing my eyes away. The intensity of his stare was too much.

"Well, it's just too bad I wasn't here to borrow your car when I was in high school. Wrecking the infamous Billy Galia Stang would have made me the most popular gal in school," I smiled and watched his eyes soften as he laughed.

"And that, Miss Thing, is EXACTLY why I would never have lent it to you. I can't even imagine how bad of a driver you must have been back then."

I gawked, exasperated. "I happen to be a very good driver."

Will laughed and motioned to the lump on my head. "Clearly."

He met my eyes again and this time we both burst into laughter. _We're laughing about it now, that's good_ , I thought. I was afraid that he would be mad at me for all of eternity. The look of rage and disgust he had given me at the accident scene had convinced me of it. Will was a totally different person when he laughed though. His smile softened his rugged exterior and made him look almost child-like.

We were still laughing when Sulley walked into the kitchen. I jumped and both Will and I stopped laughing. Sulley held up an apologetic hand.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I knocked on the door, but I guess you didn't hear me."

Will stood and put his coffee cup in the sink. I watched Sulley, trying to gauge his emotions. He looked more curious than anything, which I guessed was a good thing. He wasn't upset with me about last night, though I was sure to get another snide remark about Will.

"Not a problem Chief. I was just heading to the station. Came by to apologize for my 'jerkishness' yesterday," Will said and shot me a wink. "Thanks for the coffee."

Will grabbed his coat and went out the door.

"Jerkishness isn't even a word," Sulley hollered to him and then turned to me, questions in his eyes.

"You look as surprised as I was when I opened the door this morning." I stood and retrieved another mug from the cabinet. I motioned for Sulley to have a seat while I poured him a cup of coffee.

"Well that was awfully nice of him."

"Yeah, well he's not the only one who needs to apologize for their behavior yesterday. I'm sorry I snapped at you. It was uncalled for. I love you, you know that . . ."

Sulley took a sip of his coffee and nodded. "Don't you worry about it Kiddo. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard. I was being insensitive."

I watched him shake the image of last night from his mind like an unwanted drawing from an Etch-A-Sketch and smile.

"That bump on your head has you all mushy this morning," he said, snickering. " Or is it the visit from the deputy that has you all warm and fuzzy?"

I rolled my eyes at him. There it was. I stood to put my cup in the sink.

"Seriously? The man came over to apologize, not to wine and dine me. I thought it was a nice gesture."

"Mmmhmm," Sulley murmured.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Sulley threw up his hands and shrugged. "Hey, I'm not saying a word. You're a grown woman. Said so yourself. Moot point, remember?"

"That's right. Thank you." I smiled, satisfied with that answer. "You finish your coffee, I'm going to grab my purse."

I jogged up the steps as quickly as I could with the fading headache. The coffee seemed to be helping, thank God. I longed for another pain pill that would kill it entirely, but I was determined to keep a clear head. I needed last night to be real more than anything. I needed him . . . Donovan, to be real. Last night had been the first night I hadn't felt utterly alone. I had succumbed to the feeling that I would always be alone. Donovan reminded me of how wrong I had been.

When I got to my room, I looked straight to the mirror. Nothing. I stood in front of it and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath and remembered what he had said. I needed to believe. I focused on accepting the fact that I had a . . . _Damn_! I opened my eyes and stared at myself. Guardian Angel. Just thinking the words was too unreal. It felt insane.

"Let's go Kiddo. We've got to meet Gram at church. Evelyn took her to breakfast this morning. They'll be at the church any minute." Sulley called from downstairs.

I gave one final glance into the mirror. Frustrated with myself, I grabbed my purse and left.

  *

The road to the church felt different than it had just the day before. It was bright and clear without a cloud in the sky and the sun was dazzling, casting down rays of light on the winding road through the gaps between the trees. When we passed the spot where I wrecked the Mustang, I gawked at the skid marks, burned yellow and black, across the face of the mountain. Glass and bits of metal still lay scattered along the shoulder.

"What happened to the statue? They're not going to put it back up on the ledge?" I asked.

"No, thank goodness," Sulley said. "I guess they hauled it off with the car. Good riddance. That thing was creepy as hell. Never did find out what nut job got it up there to begin with."

"That _thing_ saved my life yesterday."

Sulley smiled. "Well then, I guess it served its purpose."

I looked out the window and contemplated. Purpose. I was sure that whoever put the statue on that ledge had done it with a different purpose in mind. Still, without it, I would have died. Of that I was certain. If only I could be certain of what else had happened yesterday. The conversation with Donovan seemed as real as the crash, so why couldn't I accept him as truth?

I tried to remember the details of our conversation. He had been with me since my baptism, since I was a child. I remembered knowing that he was with me. I could even conjure up scattered images and conversations. But why couldn't I remember him over the last decade or more? Why was it so hard to believe as whole-heartedly as I had when I was a kid?

It was like trying to remember how it felt to earnestly believe in Santa Clause or the tooth fairy. I had been so sure that all of those things existed. As a child, it's easier to accept the impossible as reality. Only Donovan was different, because I knew that faith in God determined whether or not he was possible, that he was real – which made him all the harder to accept. To accept him as reality was to accept that there was indeed a loving God in the heavens, and not only that, but a God who cared enough about me to send one of his angels to protect me. That was the hard part to accept, especially when the last decade and a half seemed to prove the exact opposite.

_Great train of thought to have at church_ , I thought as we pulled up the driveway. It was bustling with people, some of which I recognized. Sulley parked the truck and we walked the stone walkway to Gram and Nadine, who were seated on one of the marble benches beside the main entrance. Gram chatted away with Evelyn who stood beside her decked out in a leopard print jacket and scarlet heels. They smiled and waved to us as we approached.

"Gram," I said and stooped to embrace the small woman.

She wrapped her feeble arms around me and patted my back. "It's so nice to see you again Tina. You look lovely, Dear."

I stood and looked to Nadine and Evelyn and whispered, "She still thinks I'm Mom."

"But she's feeling quite well today," Evelyn smiled.

"I'm sorry Kiddo," Sulley mouthed and gently brushed the hair from my forehead.

Gram noticed the now purple knot on my head.

"My goodness Child, what have you done to yourself?" She said studying the lump.

"Oh just a little accident Gram, nothing to worry about," I assured.

"Why don't we get a seat before it fills up," Sulley suggested motioning us inside.

Gram and Evelyn followed Sulley inside and Nadine turned to me with a grin and grabbed my hand.

"It's so good to see you again Alexandra."

"You too Nadine," I said. "How is Gram doing?"

She gave my hand a pat as we followed Gram inside.

"Well, she's been in and out for a couple of days now. Seems she's more gone than with us nowadays." She glanced at Sulley and sighed. "It's to be expected."

I looked around at the inside of the church and smiled as I admired the arched ceiling and oval windows. The pews, the walls, and the altar were all crafted out of the same golden oak. Everything was as I remembered, down to the simple silver chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling. The church was small, but spectacular and filled with glowing warmth.

I sat between Gram and Nadine and mentally prepared myself to take on the role of my mother for the day. Sulley had said it was best to go with it, so I would. But I longed for the old Gram, the one I could talk to about anything. I needed her right now. Glancing over, the small, frail woman looked expectantly around at the people as they filed into their seats. She looked like the old Gram, only weakened, as if her essence were being drained from her a little with each passing day. She looked lost, trapped inside herself.

"Oh look, there's little Ricky. My, he looks all grown up," Gram suddenly declared.

I followed her gaze and saw Rick Brightman coming down the aisle of the church looking for a seat. I turned to Gram.

"You mean Rick, the contractor? You know him Gram?"

"Of course I do, and so do you silly. The poor dear." She sighed. "Shame what happened to that family. Just a shame."

Sulley bent forward from where he sat on the other side of Gram. He looked as confused as I was.

"I think you're confusing him with someone else Mom," he said. "Mr. Brightman is from out of town."

Gram shook her head and scowled. "I most certainly am not. That is Ricky Brightman. Don't you remember Dear?" She turned to me. "You bought the house from his poor mother."

I looked to Sulley for help, clueless. I didn't know anything about who Mom had bought the house from. Sulley had been there to help with the purchase. He stared at Gram for a minute searching his memory.

"You mean Mallory Blackwell's son? Wrong last name Mom, though I do think his name was Ricky."

Gram shook her head, frustrated. "Ricky was from her first marriage, remember? HIS name is Brightman. I never forget a name or a face," she chuckled.

Sulley and I exchanged knowing glances. He thought for a minute and then nodded.

"You know what? You're right Mom. I don't know why I didn't put that together before." He scratched his head. "It's strange that he wouldn't have said anything. I wonder why."

I watched Rick find a seat across the aisle. As I recalled our conversation on the plane, I wondered the same thing.

"I bet he just didn't want to bring up those bad memories. It looks to have aged him quite a bit. He was just a teenager to too long ago," Gram said and the organ began to play the first hymn.

I stood when the congregation stood and sang when they sang, but I was just going through the motions. My mind kept wandering back to Rick. What had happened to his family? Had Mom really bought the house from his mother? Why in the world would he not mention any of this during our conversation? He had made it seem as though he were just a visitor passing through.

During the sermon my mind shifted to thoughts of the previous night. To Donovan. Why couldn't I see him this morning? He said he would be here . . . didn't he? I still had so many questions. What if I had imagined him?

I must have been staring in a daze, lost in my thoughts for a while. I was brought back by a waving hand from across the pews. Rick smiled to me from the other side of the church and laughed silently when I finally blinked and responded with a nod. I directed my attention back to the front where Pastor James was passionately delivering his message.

"Sometimes God pushes us to the very edge of our faith, to the end of our limits before he offers His deliverance," he was saying. "He wants more than anything for you to reach for Him in times of need."

_What did it mean to be pushed to the edge of your faith?_ I thought. Did allowing my parents to be killed by a madman right in front of me qualify as pushing me to my limits? If that was the case, I wanted nothing to do with it. My mother had been a woman of tremendous faith. Where was her deliverance?

I felt anger welling up to the surface and I shifted in my seat in a vain attempt to quell the urge to leave. I conjured Donovan's image in my mind. It was all I could think to do. "You must believe," he had said.

"If we cry out to God he will hear our prayers, for we are never truly alone. He never leaves our side no matter what circumstances you face. And sometimes, He answers our prayers in ways we may never have imagined," Pastor James continued from the pulpit, and when I looked up, it seemed as if he were looking directly at me.

I suddenly felt very uncomfortable. I grabbed a Bible from the pew in front of me and opened it to a random page and pretended to read it. My mind was whirling, thoughts swishing back and forth like delicates in the rinse cycle. I was agitated by Pastor James' words about faith and the things that Donovan had said to me last night. _"You must believe."_

Nadine smiled and leaned over to me. "Excellent sermon, isn't it?"

"Ah, yes. He is a great pastor," I said trying to be polite.

Nadine looked down at the Bible opened haphazardly on my lap. She gave her finger a lick, then gave the pages a quick flip.

"I think that passage is more what you are looking for, " she whispered and then turned her attention back to the sermon.

I looked down at my lap and saw that she had flipped the Bible to Psalms 91. Curious, I started to read. My heart quickened when I got to lines 11 and 12.

" _For He will command his angels concerning you; to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone."_

I snapped my head up and looked at Nadine. A slow smile spread across her lips and she nodded, still looking forward.

"Yep, that's my favorite part too."

"But . . . how . . .?" I began to ask but was interrupted by Pastor James calling the congregation to rise and sing the last hymn.

I stood and reluctantly sang the familiar hymn with the rest of the congregation, all the while sneaking looks at Nadine who sang loud and proud beside me. When the hymn was over, the congregation was dismissed and began to file out of the pews with waves of greeting and handshakes. I followed Evelyn, Sulley and Gram out the front doors where Gram stopped to chat with a neighbor. Nadine went with her and I tore my gaze away from her to look around for Rick. I was hoping to have a word with him before he left, but I couldn't find him in the crowd assembled in front of the church.

I scanned the parking lot and spotted him climbing inside of a small, white pick-up truck. I had seen that truck before. It was the same one that flew past me on the street when I went for my walk to the station. I was sure of it. But if it had been him, why not stop and say hi?

Before I could think about it for too long, Sulley called me over to where he was talking to a group of smiling faces. I recognized some, but none by name. He introduced me and we exchanged the usual pleasantries and when the conversation turned to my mother, I was again reminded of just how much I looked like her. The mention of her name made me ache to go visit her grave once again. When the opportunity presented itself, I excused myself and made for the back of the church.

When Sulley turned back to the group, I knew I had only a few minutes. I had barely reached the grounds of the cemetery when I heard Nadine call my name. I turned to see her arm in arm with Gram, walking up to meet me.

"I think it would be a great idea if you took Gram for a walk out there with you," Nadine suggested with an encouraging smile.

I shook my head and glared knowingly at Nadine. Gram couldn't see Mom and Gary's graves. Not while she still thought I _was_ Mom.

"I don't know if a walk is such a good idea."

Gram brightened at the suggestion.

"Oh a walk would be wonderful, Dear. The grounds are so lovely this time of year. You're not spooked by a little ole' cemetery are you now?" She grabbed my arm and started walking.

I looked back to Nadine in a panic. "No, I'm just worried that you might see . . . something, eh ... upsetting."

Nadine waved me on encouragingly and took a seat on the cement bench beside the stone entryway. I trusted her, she was with Gram every day. She wouldn't let something bad happen to her, would she?

I was growing more and more nervous as we entered the cemetery. How could I walk Gram to Mom's grave? And then to see Gary, her dead son's resting place. Wouldn't it be cruel to let her see his grave when she was currently stuck in a past where he still lived? Gram was commenting on the fall colors and the well kempt lawn while I groped for the answer.

" _What do I do? What do I do?"_ I cried out in my mind as we got closer and closer to the plots.

The answer came in a deep, melodious voice, came from just beside me.

"Go," it said.

I stifled a gasp and looked wide-eyed around me. Donovan! But there was no sign of him, only the scrutinizing eyes of Gram who eyed me suspiciously.

"What is it girl? The spooks getting ya?" She chuckled and patted my arm for comfort. "There's nothing to be afraid of Tina, it's just a resting place for those we've lost. Nothing to fear here."

I took a deep breath and feigned a smile. She hadn't heard his voice. Of course she hadn't.

"You're right. I guess I get a little jumpy," I said.

Donovan was here with me. That thought gave me comfort and the courage to do what he said I should do. Looking back to see Sulley still engaged in conversation, his back to me, I steered Gram towards Mom and Gary's plots.

"There is something I would like to show you Gram," I said guiding her to the far corner of the grounds, by the eastern fence.

We stopped in front of the white lilies still scattered atop Mom's grave. I motioned to it, my hand shaking.

"I know this is going to be hard for you to understand, but my name is not Tina. Tina was my mother . . . and you helped me bury her here." I said as tenderly as I could.

I watched Gram, my breath caught in my throat, and waited for her reaction.

"But that can't be . . . you just bought the house. And Sullivan . . ."

Gram paused and stared into space as if she were watching images play through her mind. I could tell that she was trying to make sense of them and I waited, breathless, to see what I had done. With a sudden gasp she looked to the grave and then back up to me. A single tear ran down her cheek.

"Alexandra?" she whispered.

My breath rushed out in a sob and my eyes welled with tears as Gram looked at me for the first time with admiring recognition. I nodded yes as she cupped my cheek in her hand and took in every inch of my face.

"I've missed you so much Gram," I cried, unable to hold back the tears.

"Oh my baby. Alexandra, Honey!" Gram gasped with joy and grabbed me up into her arms and cradled me there as I sobbed against her shoulder.

"I love you so much baby girl. I am so sorry. I don't know what's happened to my mind," she said. "I . . . I just get so confused . . ."

"I know Gram, it's not your fault," I sniffed.

Gram held me out at arm's length in order to get a good look at me.

"Gram has missed you something awful! Good God in heaven, you're all grown up now, and so beautiful. You look just like . . ." Gram trailed off and then stiffened.

I looked into Gram's face, which was frozen in contemplation. I watched as her blank stare turned to a mask of fear and panic. She grabbed me by the shoulders and looked me square in the eyes.

"Listen to me now Alexandra," she whispered urgently. "You can't trust him. It's all a lie! He wants you to trust him. He was there that night, all those years ago. You have to leave this place and never look back."

I twisted in Gram's tight grip, her fingers dug into my arms.

"What are you talking about Gram? Who was here?" My palms began to sweat as her words registered. "Do you know who killed Mom and Gary?"

Gram dropped her grip. The intensity of her face twisted into an expression of confusion and panic. She looked around her as if she were unsure of where she was.

"Gary? Something's happened to Gary?" She cried and moved around me. "What are you talking about Tina?"

I caught the sob that rose up into my throat and forced it back down. She was gone. Lost again to an ocean of misplaced memories. I wiped at the tears which stained my eyes and cheeks and reached for Gram in order to lead her out of the cemetery. But it was too late. Gram had already seen Gary's headstone.

"My boy? What happened to my boy?" she screamed collapsing to the ground.

I bent down to her, trying to calm her, but I didn't know what to say. I tried to coax her into leaving with me, but she sat staring at the gravestone in a state of shock and grief.

"What happened to my boy?" she shouted over and over.

I looked helplessly towards the church and was relieved to see Sulley running towards us, Nadine close on his heels. When Sulley reached us, he stooped down to his mother and held her by the shoulders, whispering into her ear. Gram reluctantly stood and put her arms around him and allowed him to lead her away.

"Oh Sullivan, what happened? Why?"

"Sssshhhh, it's okay Mom. It's okay," he whispered.

When they passed me he turned to look at me as Nadine reached me and put her arm around my shoulders.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he hissed.

"She . . . she remembered me. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry . . ." I said and burst into fresh tears against Nadine's arms as he led Gram away.

Chapter 7

"I just don't know what you were thinking." Sulley shook his head and paced the kitchen floor. "I told you it was best to just go with it, just let her think what she wants."

I sat at Sulley's kitchen table, head hung, counting the number of times Sulley stepped on the squeaky floorboard. I felt awful, despicable even. Upsetting Gram was the last thing I had ever wanted to do. But I was also glad that it had happened. Did that make me a horrible person? I wasn't sure. I had gotten my Gram back, if even for only a moment. For those few minutes, when I looked into that smile of recognition, the world felt right again. She told me that she loved me. I wouldn't take that back for all the world.

"She wanted to go. She was fine. Uncle Sulley, she recognized me. She was fine," I protested, knowing it was no use, but trying anyway.

"What did she say? Before she got upset?"

"She called me by my name -MY name. She told me that she loved me. Then she got all upset and started making no sense. That's when she saw Gary's grave."

Nadine entered with a sigh.

"She is resting now," she said and sat at the table across from me. "She should be just fine when she wakes up. No need to beat yourself up about it."

"I still can't believe this happened. I stopped to talk to someone for one second. . ." Sulley continued.

"Now don't you let him make you feel worse than you already do," Nadine said and patted my hand where it rested on the table. "It was my idea that Gram go with you in the first place. The blame is on me."

"You don't have to . . ." I started to say.

"Have to what?" Sulley asked sharply, shutting me up.

"No child, you listen here." Nadine said. "I thought it would do you and Gram a lot of good going out there, and I think it did."

"I think going out there did some good too," I agreed and I held my chin high when Sulley gaped at me in shock.

"How can you say that? You saw how upset it made her!"

I sighed, not wanting to argue. I understood exactly why Sulley was so upset. I got it, I did. He was responsible for her, and he knew his days as caretaker of Gram were numbered. She was getting worse every day. How could he possibly understand how much that moment had meant to me while he had been losing her bit-by-bit in front of his very eyes for years?

"I saw how happy she was right before that," Nadine said and looked into my eyes. "You can't know true happiness if you have never experienced despair, and as I am always with that woman, I can tell you that she has been through her share of despair and grief. I know it seems cruel to say, but Gram lost her son a long time ago. She has already felt that pain before and somewhere in that beautiful mind she remembers that sorrow. What she NEEDED, was the joy of seeing her beautiful grandchild. And somewhere, she remembers that too."

Tears welled up in my eyes as she spoke. I hoped to God she was right. I mouthed a thank you and she smiled.

"And even if it was only for a moment, that one moment of pure joy broke through years of sadness and loss. She carries that bit of joy with her now. So yes, I think it did you both a world of good."

I looked over at Sulley who was examining his boot, frustration still evident on his face.

"Look Uncle Sulley, I know she got really upset, and for that I am so very sorry. But she remembered me. Somewhere in her mind she knows that I'm here for her. That can't be a bad thing, right?"

Sulley leaned against the counter, defeated, and rubbed his eyes with a sigh. Nadine squeezed my hand and when I looked at her, she held my gaze.

"Now you listen to me Miss Alexandra. You take to heart every single thing your Gram said to you. Don't you feel bad for a minute, you hear?"

I nodded, knowing that I would never forget my moment with Gram. I would cherish all of it, even the ominous warning she had given me before she was lost again to the past. _"Don't trust him,"_ she had said, _"he was there that night."_ But who was she talking about? Was she just ranting off some memory from her past? I wanted to ask Sulley about it, but I didn't dare worry him anymore. I tucked the questions away when Sulley sighed.

"Look Kiddo, I really don't want to argue with you. What's done is done. We'll just have to see how she is when she wakes up in the morning."

Before he could say any more, his cell rang and he retrieved it from his pocket. Scowling at the number, he put the phone to his ear.

"Chief," he answered. "Mmhmm. You've got to be kidding me. Again? Okay, I'll hurry on up there now. Okay . . . meet you there in 15."

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

Sulley went to the door and grabbed his coat.

"Oh, just Old Man Pinket shooting his shotgun at the Henley's hounds again. I swear that old man is going to accidently kill someone trying to protect those damned chickens of his," he said and then tuned to me.

"You want me to drop you off really quick? May not be a good idea for you to be here in case Gram wakes up. You know, until we know where she's at."

"No, I agree," I said grabbing my coat, "but I think I want to walk. You need to hurry and I could use the fresh air. To clear my head."

Sulley looked concerned as he contemplated.

"It's not that far," I reassured him.

"You sure you're feeling up to it?" he asked, motioning to the lump on my head.

I waved him off. "I'm sure. I'm fine, you go."

"Okay, well I'll be out for a while. Usually takes us a good hour to get that shotgun out of Mr. Pinket's hands and even longer to calm the neighbors. If I don't see you, I'll swing by in the morning."

"Sounds great. Uncle Sulley?" I called to him as he left the house. He poked his head back in.

"I'm sorry about Gram," I said.

Sulley smiled at me. "I know Kiddo, me too. Everything is going to work out."

I watched Sulley's truck pull out of the driveway and went back inside to grab my purse. Nadine was waiting at the door.

"Thank you, for everything," I said. "I really hope she's going to be okay."

"Don't you worry about Gram now; that's my job. You've got enough to worry about."

Before I left I paused at the door and turned again to face Nadine. I had to ask.

"In church today . . . when you pointed out that psalm. How did you know?" I asked.

Nadine patted my cheek and grinned at me, the wisdom of the universe in her eyes.

"Sometimes you just know," she said softly and motioned me out the door.

With a nod I turned to go. It was hard to leave Gram, but Sulley was right. It wouldn't be good for Gram to see me right away. Better to let her mind settle into wherever it was comfortable. That's what my sensible, sensitive side was saying. Selfishly, I wanted to make her remember me again. I wanted so much to be able to talk with her about the past and the things she had said. What was she so afraid of? I wanted to talk to her about the future and everything that was happening now. I wanted to talk with her about Donovan. She would understand it. She may even be able to help me understand it.

Donovan. My one good reason to want to go home. I longed to see him again, even if for just a moment, reflected in the antique mirror on the wall. I knew he was with me, I heard him so clearly in the cemetery. "Go," he had said, and Gram had come back to me, even if for just a short while. I owed that moment to Donovan.

As I made my way home, I wished that I could make my mind accept his presence. Why was it so hard to allow myself to just believe? I remembered the psalm that Nadine had shown me. _"For He will command His angels concerning you; to guard you in all your ways."_ I had read it over and over. It was right there in black and white, and yet still so unbelievable.

As I turned down the gravel road the sun lay hidden behind the grey clouds that rolled in, making it even darker than usual. Adding to the eerie effect was the fact that the road was narrow and surrounded by dense wood on either side, and it was unnervingly quiet. I considered jogging the road to get to the end all the faster, but I didn't want to risk the headache it was sure to cause. Deciding to walk it as quickly as I could, I chastised myself for how ridiculous I must look.

Lost in my thoughts, I was making fairy good time when I rounded the last curve. Soon I would be comfortably in my own neighborhood. As I maneuvered around some low-hanging foliage I saw a vehicle parked in the middle of the road ahead of me, brake lights glowing. I got closer, the small white truck and the rental plates giving me pause. Rick's truck. Waving my hands, I started towards it in the hopes that he would see me and I could finally get a word with him.

As I got closer though, the engine revved, the tires spun in the gravel, and the truck took off, sending up dust and debris to hover above the road in a gray cloud.

"Rick, wait! Rick!" I yelled after him, but the truck sped off noisily down the last quarter mile of dirt road and then disappeared in the distance.

I stood staring, wondering if he had not heard me. _Maybe it wasn't Rick_ , I considered. Maybe I had stumbled upon a couple of teenagers in their favorite make-out spot or sneaking a smoke. Neither of those probabilities sat well with me though. I recognized those plates. It was beyond strange that Rick would speed off like that.

When I reached the end of the dirt road I took a deep breath, relieved. I scanned my street, but there was no trace of the white truck. Shrugging it off, I climbed my driveway and fetched the key from my purse and let myself in. I dropped my stuff in the entryway and went straight into the kitchen for something to eat. Grabbing a can of raviolis, I heated them up in a saucepan then went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine.

"I bit couldn't hurt," I sighed and poured myself a generous glass.

After dumping the dishes in the sink for later, I swigged the remainder of my wine. It was starting to numb the dull ache in my temples that formed during my walk home. I looked out the window above the sink and watched the sky grow steadily darker. Another storm was rolling in.

_Man, I sure picked a great time to come back_ , I thought. I wished I would have considered storm season when deciding to make the trip. But I knew it wouldn't have mattered at the time. My decision to get on the plane had been a hasty one at best. I had willed myself to make the trip before I lost the nerve to.

I went upstairs, this time turning off the downstairs lights. When I got to my room I held my breath and looked straight to the mirror, expectant. But Donovan was not there. With a heavy sigh, I collapsed on my bed, my head in my hands.

"I don't know how to see you. I don't know how to stop the doubts. I want more than anything to be able to hear your voice and thank you for today," I whispered.

I looked up again, hoping that Donovan would appear in the reflection, but only my own disappointed face stared back at me. I cursed my weak faith and grabbed up my pajamas and went into the bathroom for another soothing shower. When I emerged dressed for bed and followed by a new cloud of steam, I again checked the mirror. When the steam started to form a fog, I squinted and searched the hazy glass for his dark figure. I stepped closer to the mirror and tripped over the box from the attic, spilling its contents all over the floor.

"Son of a . . ." I squealed, landing on the bed and rubbing my shin before bending down to gather up my mess. Something caught my eye. I plucked the yellowing envelope from where it sat wedged between the pages of my baby book. It had my name on it. For a minute I sat motionless and stared at my mother's handwriting.

When I finally opened it, I found a hand-written letter. I hesitated, feeling the tears draw into my eyes before I even began to read. I blinked them back and steadied myself and then read.

My Dearest Alexandra,

Your due date was today. I guess you're just too comfortable where you are to come out into the world just yet. I can't wait to see you, my sweet one, and hold you in my arms. There are so many things I want for you. I was hoping to bring you into a loving, complete family, but it seems the Lord had other plans for us and I will trust Him.

I am very sorry about your father. I don't think I'll ever understand why he left in order to someday explain it to you. I guess it's just one of those things you have to trust will work out for the best. As soon as we can, I promise, my angel, we are going to find a place to call our own; a safe place where we can start over and where we will be surrounded by wonderful people. You deserve that.

I want so much for you, baby girl. I want you to be happy and to grow up to be a woman of tremendous faith. That is my biggest prayer; for you to always see the good in things and to have faith in yourself and in God no matter what. Just remember, as I am remembering right now, that you don't always have to understand the twists and turns in life, you just have to have faith that the journey will make you into who you were destined to become. You are meant for amazing things, I can feel it. I pray that the Lord always protect you and guide your steps in all that you do.

I love you so, so much my precious baby girl. I cannot wait to be able to tell you to your little face. This world will be so much more beautiful with you in it.

Love always,

Mom

Tears dropped onto the paper as I held it shakily in front of me, staring at the words but not seeing them anymore. Mom wrote this letter just before I was born. She was in so much emotional pain when she wrote it, yet she was able to look past all of it. She wanted to find a place where we could be happy, a place where we could start over, a place to call our own. Saluda had been that place. The house, I thought with a heavy heart, had been the culmination of that dream.

I thought about Gram and Sulley and Gary and all the loving people of this small town and realized that Mom had found all of the things she was looking for, for me. Everything my mother had prayed about had come true, except for one thing. I wasn't the great woman of faith that my mother had hoped I would be. It was her greatest wish and I had let her down.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted me to be," I sobbed and hugged the letter to my chest.

"Oh, but you are," I heard his velvet voice say against my ear.

My head snapped up and I blinked the tears from my eyes. Donovan's image was reflected in the mirror. He smiled at me encouragingly. I instinctively looked from the mirror to my side where he should be standing, but saw nothing there.

"No, I'm not," I said looking back into the mirror at Donovan. "I've been trying all day to have enough faith, to believe enough to be able to see you, but I couldn't."

I watched through the mirror as Donovan sat on the bed beside me. He placed his hand over where mine rested on the letter.

"Then why am I here now? You heard me today in the cemetery. Why do you think that is?"

I could feel warmth, like I had never felt before, tingle the skin on my hand. The gentle strumming vibrated against me, soothing me.

"I don't know," I whispered.

"It's because in that moment, just like now, you weren't _trying_ to see. Faith isn't something you try for. It comes when you let go, when you stop trying to understand. You have great faith Alexandra, when you stop telling yourself that you don't."

I shrugged, not entirely certain that what he said was true, but wanting it to be true more than anything.

"You cried out in faith in the cemetery that an answer would come and it did. You are speaking with me now because your mother's letter shattered the doubts in your mind that I could exist. You are doing this Alexandra, not me. You are exactly the woman your mother hoped you would be," Donovan continued.

A faint sob escaped my throat at his words and I fought to keep the tears away.

"Then why can't I see you here beside me? Why can't I open my mind enough to see?" I asked.

"That will come with time. Right now you just need to remember that I am here with you, even when you can't see me," Donovan answered gently.

"Where do you go? When you're not with me? You can't be with me ALL the time . . ."

Donovan smiled. "I exist separately from you as I've said. I am from the spiritual realm, where you are in the physical. Where I am, time does not exist. For you, things are linear, life progresses on a forward line. It's not like that or me at all. For me, everything is a series of moments . . . thoughts, feelings, all separate from time. I am always with you in that way, and in that way . . . I always have been."

"Why me?" I asked.

"Why not you Alexandra? He sends us to protect all of His children, just like you read in that psalm today. But you are special. You've been given a unique gift, the gift of sight. You can see me, feel me, speak to me as you are right now. That is rare. It could be because of your mother's prayers that you were given this gift."

I contemplated what he said. I sure as hell didn't feel like anything special. My mother had been. So why then was I here while she was gone?

"Where was my mother's Guardian then? Or Gary's? Where were they that night? Why wasn't anyone protecting them? What about my childhood prayers for them?" I asked, trying to keep the anger that rose up from my gut from spilling over.

Donovan bowed his head and sighed, pain showing on his face.

"All I can offer you is assurance that it was their time to leave this world, and it was not yours. Your purpose is not finished."

"My purpose? So what was my mother's purpose then? To die young? To be violently murdered?" I spat, my words sounding too harsh even for me.

"No, Alexandra. You can't judge a life by how it ended. Just know that her beautiful existence had a purpose. We all have one Alexandra, even me," Donovan soothed.

"And what is yours exactly?" I sighed, the fight going out of me.

"To protect you," he said looking into my eyes.

His words and the force of his stare made my heart skip in my chest.

"Protect me from what?"

"From an evil that would keep you from fulfilling your own purpose."

" I . . . I don't understand." I stood and paced the floor in front of the mirror. "What evil are you talking about?"

Donovan watched me pace and held my eyes in his. He spoke slowly.

"From the same evil that took your parents away from you fifteen years ago."

I froze mid step. "The murderer . . . you know who he is!"

Donovan shook his head in the mirror. "No, I don't know anything that you don't. I just . . . sense things," he tried to explain.

"But you were there that night! I remember. You had to have seen him!"

He raised a hand to rest it on my shoulder.

"I saw only you – that is all I was meant to see. This is your journey. I am not meant to interfere, only to ensure that you are able to see it through."

I sat back on the bed, throwing my hands up in frustration.

"What does that even mean?"

Donovan motioned to the letter in my hand. "It's like what your mother wrote in that letter: ' _You don't always have to understand the twists and turns in life_ , _you just have to have faith that the journey will make you into who you were destined to become._ ' Your mother understood that after your father left. She accepted that his leaving was making her into who she was meant to be. Just like her death and what you must go through now will make you into who you are meant to become."

Sighing, I laid back on the bed. I didn't know what to think. So much was going through my head. I had never thought about my mother's death that way. The anger and dejection had become comfortable to me. Donovan was forcing me to reevaluate the last decade and a half of my life.

"What if I don't want to become what . . . HE wants me to be?" I asked. "What if all I ever wanted was to be happy with my family? Why was that plan not good enough?"

Donovan sat beside me on the bed. I expected to feel the movement as his weight sank into the mattress, but I didn't.

"Sometimes it's not about what we want. It's about having faith that His plans for us are better than our own, even if we don't understand them, or in your case, even if they seem cruel. There's a bigger picture to everything. You don't have to see it to believe in it."

My anger was beginning to deflate, the weight of so many years easing with every word from him. Even if I didn't understand everything he was saying, I could feel that he understood me. After being alone for so long, that was enough.

"So, it all comes down to faith again, huh?"

Donovan smiled. "Everything does."

"So, what exactly it the plan then? If there IS a murderer coming back here . . ."

Donovan's smile vanished. "He's already here."

"What?" I asked, startled. "What do we do?"

"I keep you safe," he said placing his hand over mine once more.

Again I felt the slightest tingling heat. I looked down to where his hand should be and saw nothing. _Would I ever get used to this_?

A rumble from outside made me jump. The storm was here.

"How can you be sure he's here, that he's after me? You don't know who it is. It's been fifteen years, what could he possibly want from me now? Hasn't he done enough?"

"It's like I said before, I can sense it. I felt it as soon and you arrived in Saluda. It's been growing stronger each day." The concern on his face made his words all the more frightening.

"I can't leave now though. I just got Gram back, and Sulley," I said. "And this is where I feel closest to her . . . this is where she wanted us to be."

"I wasn't suggesting that you leave. In fact, I think you are meant to stay. You have to see this thing through, even if I don't like it."

"Then what are you suggesting?"

"That no matter what happens, you have faith. Have faith that you can overcome this evil, have faith that there is a greater plan at work, and have faith in me. I won't let anything happen to you," he said holding my gaze and I knew, looking into his earnest face, that he would do anything to protect me. That he always had.

A crack of thunder erupted and seconds later a flash of light illuminated the darkened sky. I jumped and shut my eyes tight.

"Can you make this storm go away? I hate storms."

"Sadly no," he answered with a laugh. "But I can promise that it will not hurt you."

"Well what kind of guardian angel are you?" I teased, trying to mask my fear with humor. "I mean, you don't even have any wings."

Donovan laughed again. I thought I could listen to that warm laugh forever, it was the sound of happiness. "Well I have you to thank for that I suppose."

"Me?"

"I don't think your mind could handle them. I guess for you, the wings were too much," he said.

"Wait," I struggled to understand as rain began to pelt against the window. "You're saying that you don't have wings because I don't want you to?"

"I am saying that your mind accepts me better without. I cannot see your soul, but it doesn't mean it's not there."

"You are great at giving confusing answers. Seriously, it's a talent. You should give up this whole Guardian thing and go into politics."

"And you are great at over-thinking questions and deflecting serious situations with humor. Perhaps you could be my campaign analyst?"

I chuckled and rubbed my temples where a steady ache was beginning to form. I knew that soon it would be a painful throbbing, but I didn't care.

"Great, I got the angel with a sense of humor."

Donovan got up from the bed. "You, me . . . we are all created alike. I laugh, I cry . . . I love."

Our eyes met again through the glass reflection. I watched the emotion welling up inside him though he fought to keep it from his face. How I wished I knew what he was hiding behind those kind but penetrating features. He walked to the head of the bed and motioned for me to follow.

"And I can also tell when you've had enough for one day. You need to get some rest. I've kept you up too long. Please, come lie down."

"I'm not tired," I lied.

I didn't want the conversation to end, there were so many questions still unanswered. I doubted sleep would be possible with the storm raging outside like some kind of ominous warning of things to come.

"You can't lie to me Alexandra. Now please, I asked you to trust me. You're going to need your rest," he pleaded.

I was reluctant, but not wanting to let Donovan down, I climbed into bed and laid my head on the pillow. Immediately the pain in my temples lessened and I realized I was much more tired than I had thought. Still, I couldn't let him out of my sight. I didn't trust myself enough to be able to see him in the morning.

When I looked back into the mirror Donovan was sitting at the foot of my bed. He smiled at me, but I thought I saw concern in the depth of his eyes.

"You'll need to turn off the light if you expect to sleep," he said.

"But if I turn off the light I won't be able to see you anymore."

"Doesn't mean I'm not here."

With a sigh I reached up and switched off the light. I focused on the strumming sound that I knew was him. It filled the space between the growling thunder and kept me from panicking despite the storm and Donovan's warnings. My mother's murderer was close, and that thought made me tremble in the darkness. A loud clap of thunder like the cracking of a whip sent my pulse racing. I clutched at the corners of my pillow.

"Donovan?" I called out into the dark.

"Yes?"

"Do you ever get scared?"

"Yes," he answered. "Sometimes."

For some reason it made me feel better to know that he too had fears.

"Of what?"

For a long breadth he didn't answer.

When the answer came, it was a whisper.

"That I will fail."

I sighed and closed my eyes again. The answer should have scared me and made me doubt, but it didn't. I felt better knowing that I would not be the only one forced to face their fears. Somehow, not being alone in that too steadied me.

Not being alone was everything. Donovan understood me and my fears, and in that moment as the sky exploded and growled, nothing else mattered. Soon my breathing fell into a steady rhythm with the gentle strumming beside me and my mind drifted closer to sleep.

"Donovan," I whispered.

"Yes?"

"Stay with me. Please . . . all night."

I felt his touch, like warm static, on my hand and my fingers eased around my pillow. The warmth stayed there as I followed the strumming into the peace of deep sleep. But before I was lost, I heard him whisper.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Chapter 8

"Alexandra, wake up!"

I heard him call to me in the distance of the dreamless expanse where my mind drifted.

"Alexandra, I need you to get up now!" His voice called to me again, the urgency jarring me back to consciousness.

I opened my eyes to a dark, quiet room. The storm had passed. Donovan was still there.

"Alexandra, you need to get up. There is someone in the house," he pleaded.

My mind whirled and I noticed his warmth on my face as I considered his words. I shot up in the bed, my pulse quickening, when the weight of them finally registered.

"What?" I gasped.

"Ssshhh," he whispered, "be very quiet and listen carefully to what I say. You are the only one who can hear me. I'll guide you through this. You stay quiet and follow my voice. We need to get you out of the house. Can you do that for me?"

I nodded my head and stood as quietly as I could trying to control my breathing. _Is this really happening?_

"Good, now you need to open the door as silently as possible. Stay as close to my voice as you can." His tone was calm, steady.

I crept to the door. The only light for which to navigate came from the moonlight that seeped in between the slats of the closed blinds. I turned the knob as slowly as I could with shaking hands and opened the door. I prayed that it would not squeak. When it didn't, I mouthed a silent "thank you" and waited for Donovan's instructions.

"Good, now wait right there until I tell you to come out into the hallway," his voice sounded from the hall in front of me.

I stood frozen in the doorway. The darkness beyond was thick and oppressive. My hearing became heightened by the lack of sight and I searched the darkened house for sounds of movement. That's when I heard it. A slight shuffling came from down the hall. I couldn't tell where exactly it was coming from. I stifled a scream and willed my heart to stop pounding, the sound of its rapid thumping was sure to give me away.

Slow, heavy footsteps came into the hallway from one of the rooms and just as quickly disappeared into another. The intruder was either in the hallway bathroom or in my old room. I couldn't tell which. Were they looking for me? The thought made my legs tremble. I couldn't breathe.

"Now!" Donovan called from just outside the room. "Get down the hallway as fast as you can without making a sound. Stay to the right and don't stop. Follow my voice."

I hesitated, unable to make my legs move forward.

"Now Alexandra. You have to trust me. Go now!"

I bolted noiselessly into the hallway, arms outstretched, and found the far wall. Making my way shakily towards the stairs, I kept my footsteps careful but fast and following Donovan's voice.

"That's good. Just keep moving. Quickly. You're almost there," he called from just ahead of me.

As I passed in front of the two rooms I heard a shuffling from within one of them. I stopped, fear nailing me to the floor where I stood. I tried to adjust my vision. A dark figure moved in the bathroom and I fixed my eyes on it and held my breath. I knew I had to keep moving, but I couldn't find the courage to do anything but stand there, rendered immobile by panic.

"Keep moving Alexandra. No, don't stop," Donovan cried out.

His words jarred me to attention and I broke out into a silent run towards the stairs. But it was too late. The figure turned in the doorway and lunged after me. I screamed and dodged the hands that clutched at me.

"Run Alexandra, this way!" Donovan yelled and led me to the staircase.

At the bottom of the stairs the intruder dove at me, grasping my ankle and flinging me face- down to the floor. The pain was acute and I screamed and kicked against the hand that squeezed my ankle like a vice, but I had no impact. My attacker began to drag me back up the stairs towards him. I clawed at the carpet, frantically trying to get away.

"Donovan!" I cried out and tried desperately to grab onto something, anything.

"Kick him, Alexandra!" he yelled to me and I kicked my right leg as hard as I could.

The figure reeled back and I yanked my ankle free. The figure lunged at me again and this time grabbed onto my calf. He tried again to drag me back up towards him, but as he reached forward for my thigh he was yanked backward with violent force.

When he reached again he caught me by the same ankle. I cried out in pain and flipped onto my back and kicked as hard as I could with my free leg. In the darkness I saw a head, cloaked in black, writhing as he tried to lunge for me but was held back. He reached for me with his free hand over and over, gaining a little space with each angered thrust forward. I sat up and pried at the fingers that gripped me. The hand was covered with a leather glove.

A new terror consumed me as I remembered the gloved hands that had reached for me from the front seat of our mangled car all those years ago. _The same evil_ . . .

"Use your nails!" Donovan's labored voice yelled from above me on the stairs.

I clawed at the arm above the gloved hand, which held steadfast like a bear trap on my leg and dug into flesh until I felt moisture beneath my fingernails. With a squeal the hand released its grip enough for me to kick free.

"Run Alexandra! Find help. I can't hold him much longer!"

Stumbling to my feet, I raced to the front door. The breath was knocked from my lungs when I slammed into something solid and I swung my arms out, ready to defend myself. My hands gripped the piano and with relief I struggled to straighten up and get a breath. The reflection cast into its surface by a single ray of moonlight from the window made me pause. Donovan was at the top of the stairs. He was bent over, gripping the intruder's leg with both hands, holding him back with all his might, the veins in his muscular arms popping. The black figure struggled and writhed beneath him.

"Go! I can't hold him," Donovan screamed to me and I turned and ran for the front door.

When I tried the knob it turned but the door did not budge. I struggled to release the deadbolt, the panic making my movements clumsy. Finally throwing the door open, I ran as fast as my legs would allow down the driveway and into the street. I looked both ways, searching for someone, anyone who could call the police. It was late enough that not one porch light remained lit and there were no signs of life anywhere.

Running down the street in the direction of town, I spotted a squad car parked under a street light. My bare feet scraped against the cold pavement as I ran towards it, not daring to look back. _Please let someone be in the car_ , I prayed. As I got closer to the cruiser I heard footsteps running behind me. They were running towards me. Crying out on terror, I sped up, frantic to get to the cruiser. When I reached it there was no one inside.

"No!" I screamed, running around to the back of the car, hoping against hope that one of the doors would be unlocked. None of them were.

The footsteps grew louder as they got closer. Frantic, I looked back up the street and saw a porch light come on a few houses back up the way I had come. Knowing I would never make it to the station, I took off from the car towards the lighted porch.

I only made it a few steps when I ran head-on into someone. I screamed again, arms flailing, and tried to get around them even as they grabbed at my arms. They were too strong, I knew I could not get free.

"Alex, it's me! It's okay!" Will said, attempting to calm me. "It's okay. I've got you."

I took in the crisp Saluda Police uniform, then looked into Will's concerned face and stopped struggling. Peering around him, I watched the street but didn't see anyone coming after me. I looked back up at Will and finally collapsed, a sobbing mess, into is arms.

"He's in the house . . . he attacked me."

"Ssshhh, it's okay now. Who was in the house? Who attacked you?"

"I . . . I don't know. He had on a mask."

Will held me out at arms length and looked me over. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so."

"Good," he said looking me in the eyes. "Is he still in the house?"

"I don't know. It was so dark. He was . . . stuck when I got away. By the stairs . . . he could still be in there."

I finally caught my breath, but couldn't keep my eyes off of the house. Where was Donovan? Was my attacker still being held off by him? Will unlocked the patrol car and reached in for the radio.

"Galia to station," he said holding down the button.

"Go ahead," a male voice answered back from the console.

"I'm going to need some backup at 127 Baker Street for a B&E and assault. Ring the Chief, he's going to want to come right away. Over." Will dropped the radio and turned back to me.

"Okay, get in the car. I'm going to go have a look. You'll be safe in here. I'll leave the keys, if you see anyone come out of the house other than me, lean on the horn. Understand?" he said and took his gun from its holster on his belt.

"What?" I shrieked. "You can't go in there by yourself! Just wait for Uncle Sulley . . . or one of the others."

Will gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and then motioned me into the car.

"If I wait, we may never know who it was. If they haven't already bolted out the back, I may be able to detain him," he explained. "Do not move from this car."

"Will . . ." I tried to argue, but he shut the door and motioned for me to lock the doors and then he jogged towards the house shouting to the concerned neighbor to go back inside.

I watched as he disappeared around the bushes in front of the driveway.

"Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay," I whispered, eyes glued to the house.

"He'll be fine Alexandra," Donovan panted from the back seat.

I jumped and whirled around but saw no one, though I could hear the slow strumming and knew that Donovan was there. Breathing in the relief, I looked into the rear view mirror. He smiled weakly.

"Are you sure he'll be okay?"

"Whoever it was," he breathed, "ran out the back door as soon as you got out. I couldn't hold him any longer. I sensed you were out of danger as soon as he ran."

"Thank you," I said, relieved. "Thank you for getting me out of there before . . ."

"You don't have to thank me. This is why I am here," he said looking me in the eyes so I could see he was serious. He took a shallow, labored breath. "But Alexandra, you have to trust me. You hesitated, and that's why he saw you. I can only interfere so much. You have to listen to me, and trust what I say if I am to protect you."

I nodded, frustrated with myself. "I know, I panicked. I froze. Wait . . . are you okay?"

In the mirror I could see Donovan struggle to sit up. Sweat beaded at his brow.

"When I interact with the physical realm, it takes more strength. It drains my energy quickly. I'm not meant to be a part of your world, only to guide you through it. Next time you have to do exactly as I say," he warned.

"Next time?" I croaked, my heart back in my throat. "There's going to be a next time?"

"I'm afraid this was only the beginning," he whispered.

Donovan laid his hand on my shoulder and I felt the warmth of his touch – not like the familiar touch of another person, flesh on flesh, which is felt on the surface. When he touched me I felt the warmth permeate my skin, my muscles. His warmth I felt from the inside.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"I trust you."

"I told you, I'm not going to let anything happen to you Alexandra."

I looked deep into his eyes and could see emotion flowing in them on an ocean of topaz. I could see his concern, his care for me, and I knew that he spoke the truth. He would protect me at all costs.

"I believe you."

  *

Up the road, the glare of headlights flashed as they turned into my driveway. The rumble of a large engine let me know that Sulley had arrived. I looked into the mirror at Donovan.

"Go, the danger has passed. But listen for me, I'll be right there with you," he said.

I got out of the car and for the first time noticed the stinging cold of the night air on my bare arms.

"Next time I'm attacked by a maniac, I'll have to remember to grab my robe," I whispered into the night and I ran for the house.

My ankle was sore and stiff, but the pain wasn't enough of a concern to stop me. When I made it up the driveway I saw Sulley, fully dressed in jeans and a heavy flannel, on the porch questioning Will. He looked tired.

"She safe. She's in my squad car up the street. I told her to honk if she saw anyone at all. The house is clear, but Chief, you have to come see this," Will was saying.

"See what?" I asked running up the porch steps.

Sulley searched me with his eyes, surveying me from head to toe. Then he hugged me to him tightly. I met Will's scowling eyes.

"I told you to stay in the car."

"It's okay," Sulley said and then let me go. "Are you hurt?"

"My ankle is a little sore from where he grabbed me, but other than that I think I'm good thanks to . . ." I stopped myself short. There was no way I could tell them about Donovan. They would think I was crazy for sure. Hell, a part of me might still agree with them.

" . . . one hell of a survival instinct." Sulley finished for me. He looked impressed, but then turned serious as he looked me in the eyes. "Do you have any idea who it was?"

"I wish I did," I sighed.

"Uhm Chief, I really think you should come upstairs and look at this. Might give you some idea of who we are dealing with here," Will said motioning him inside.

Sulley turned and followed Will into the house and I followed after them. All of the lights were on, making the events of the last hour seem like nothing more than a bad dream. When we reached the foot of the stairs I stared at the spot where my attacker had gotten hold of me and shuddered.

"I don't think she should see this," Will said turning to Sulley.

"No, I want to see," I protested and continued up the stairs. I met Will's concerned glare. "It's my house, I have the right to know what he did to it."

"Suit yourself," he said and led us through the upstairs hall.

The lights were on upstairs and I could see nothing out of place. Will passed the first bedroom and motioned us toward the bathroom beyond. Sulley went inside and I hung back in order to gauge his reaction.

"What in the hell?" he said.

My curiosity got the better of me and I stepped into the room with them. At first I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. The towels hadn't been touched and the shower curtain was drawn back, exposing nothing strange in the shower. I looked at both Sulley and Will confused and then followed their gazes to the bathroom mirror. There, written in black marker was a message:

You are just like her, Whore. Leave or you will die just like her!

I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands, trying to force the bile rising in my throat back.

"Why would someone write something like this? Much less break in here to do it?" Sulley asked.

I could only stare at the mirror in horror. Through it, I saw Donovan step into the room. He held my eyes with his.

"I was just wondering the same thing." Will shook his head.

There was a commotion on the stairs as two officers emerged and joined us in the small room.

"Jones, I'll need you to get a picture of this for a handwriting analysis, and check for prints. Conley, check all the doors and windows for signs of forced entry," Sulley ordered.

"Yes Chief," they nodded and got to work.

"You won't find any prints," I said still in shock. "He was wearing gloves, leather, just like that night . . ."

Sulley looked at Will. "I'm getting her out of here. Come on outside." He motioned us out of the room.

I broke my gaze from the mirror and ran into my room to grab my robe before following Sulley and Will to the outside porch. I sat on the swing while Sulley questioned me. Will leaned on the banister to the side, deep in contemplation.

"Were both doors locked?" Sulley asked.

I sighed. "I don't know for sure. When I ran out of the house I had to undo the deadbolt on the front door, so I know that one was locked. But I don't know for sure about the back door. I've never even checked it. It could have been unlocked this whole time."

"Did you see anyone else as you were running from the house?"

"No, there was no one around at all. Then I saw Will's squad car and I ran for that, then I bumped into Will."

Sulley turned to Will.

"What exactly were you doing out here at this hour anyway?" Sulley asked, suspicion thick in his tone.

Will repositioned himself against the banister. "I was just running a patrol of the area. Then I heard screaming coming from the house so I went to check it out. The front door was locked so I was making my way around back when I heard another scream and saw her taking off towards the street. I ran after her to see what the hell was going on."

"You were patrolling at one am?"

Will stood tall and looked Sulley in the eye. "Hell, you know I don't sleep. I was just making the rounds."

"The rounds?" Sulley scoffed.

"I was taking a drive, clearing my head. It's not like there are a ton of neighborhoods to choose from, Chief," Will retaliated.

"Well, I for one am glad you were here when you were," I offered.

Sulley sighed and rubbed his temple before turning his attention back to me.

"Is there anything else you can remember about this perp? Height? Weight? Hair color?"

I shook my head. "I told you, it was dark and he had on a mask." I wrapped the robe more tightly around myself then looked into Sulley's worried face. "It's the same man isn't it? The one who killed Mom and Gary. He's back isn't he? Only this time he wants to finish the job."

Sulley sat next to me on the swing and put his arm around me and hugged me to him. Will watched intently from where he leaned.

"Let's not jump to conclusions just yet. We don't know who did this. It could be anyone," Sulley said.

"But that message . . . Whoever wrote that on the mirror had it out for Mom. I don't get it. Why would anyone want to hurt her? It doesn't make any sense."

Will sighed and shook his head and looked off into the distance.

"If this is the same person, that would mean that their murder was not just some robbery attempt or random act of violence," he said. "It would mean it was planned, premeditated."

"It would also mean that they've been here this whole time, all these years," I whispered.

"Or that they've come back," Will agreed.

"But why? Who would have been angry at Mom? She never did anything to hurt anyone. And why would they call her . . . a whore? That doesn't make any sense. None of this makes any sense."

I searched my memory, but I couldn't remember there ever being a time when my mother had done anything but make people smile.

"We can't be certain that this is the same person. It could just be someone trying to scare you away," Sulley said.

"Away from what?" Will asked.

"Could it have something to do with what Gram said about Rick?" I said recalling her strange reaction earlier.

"Rick Brightman?" Sulley asked confused.

I stood and faced them both. "The first day I was here a white truck sped past the driveway while I was walking to the station. It was the same truck that I saw Rick drive away in after church. It's the same truck that took off down the dirt road when I came up on it walking home from your house yesterday. I thought it was strange that he would be parked up that street, but he had a clear view of the house from there. Could he have been watching me?"

"Why didn't you say anything about this before?" Sulley asked, astonished at my revelation.

"I only just thought of it," I confessed. "And Gram said something today about Mom having bought the house from his mother? Could that have something to do with it?"

Sulley was lost for a moment in thought. He paced the porch a ways before finally stopping in front of me again.

"I suppose it could actually. Your mother was only able to afford this house because they were forced to foreclose on it. The bank auctioned it off. She was the only buyer. I co-signed on the loan."

"Maybe they didn't want to sell the house and Mom was in their way. Maybe he wants it back? Could he be scaring me into selling it?" I asked.

Sulley nodded. _We might be getting somewhere_ , I thought.

"Rick's working up at the elementary school; I just signed on all the permits. I'm going to ride up there tomorrow and have a chat with him."

"I'm going with you," I said.

"The hell you are," Sulley argued. "I'm not so sure you shouldn't get on the next plane out of here at this point. This makes two incidents now that have been too close for comfort."

I took a deep breath, surprised by the rage that welled up from my gut. A sudden urgency replaced all fear. Taking a step towards Sulley, I squared my shoulders.

"I ran from this bastard fifteen years ago when he took my parents from me. I won't run this time," I breathed.

Sulley sighed and looked down at his feet. "You didn't run; you were ten years old. I knew it was best that you leave here, so that you could move on with your life. I was protecting you then, just like I am now."

I stood firm. "I'm not leaving. Mom wanted this to be my home, and I am not leaving it. Not this time. Take me with you to see Brightman. Either I go with you or I'll find some other way up there myself."

"Alexandra no . . ." I heard Donovan whisper against my ear. I took a step back.

"I'll take her." Will spoke up from where he leaned against the railing.

Sulley spun on him. "You stay out of this."

"She's our only witness to any of this. I think she should go."

Sulley shook his head and let out a loud breath, contemplating. The two officers from inside stepped onto the porch. Sulley looked up, obviously thankful for the distraction.

"No signs of forced entry Chief, and no prints. All the windows are locked up, but the back door was ajar. Probably how the perp left it when he ran. Either that door was unlocked when he came in, or he had a key," Conley reported.

Sulley looked at me. "I can't remember if it was locked up before you got here. Haven't had a need to lock anything around here before. This could all be my fault."

"No," I argued. "I never checked it, it's my fault. Although . . . would Rick still have a key? I mean, have the locks been changed since he and his family lived here?"

"No, they've never been changed. Like I said, never had a reason to worry about that kind of thing before."

"Well you have a reason now," Will sighed.

"Either way, you're coming home with me tonight until I can get these locks changed in the morning. It's not safe for you here," Sulley said.

I shook my head. "No, I want to stay. I'll lock up tight, I promise. There are only a few hours till morning anyway. You have Gram to think about. You said it yourself; it's best if I wasn't there, remember?"

"This is more important than that just now. We're just going to have to take our chances that she'll be fine."

"No, Uncle Sulley. I'll be fine. I can't upset Gram again," I protested. Sulley stepped toward me to insist, but Will stepped up between us.

"I'll stay," he said.

"I don't think so," Sulley growled. "And just why in the hell are you so eager to help all of the sudden?"

"Because you are being too protective to use your head!" Will shouted. "If the perp comes back, I can be here to intercept. We'll catch the guy!"

I stepped between them, arms raised. "Fighting isn't going to solve anything right now. I am staying here, in my house, and that is final. I won't upset Gram again."

Will sighed and took a step back. "Look, she's right. There's only a few hours till daylight and I doubt the guy will try anything again tonight. And if he does, I'll be right here waiting for him."

Sulley looked at me and I shrugged. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of being assigned a babysitter, but if it meant I could stay home then so be it. He let out a deep breath and stared me in the eyes as he considered, the frustration evident on his face. He finally dropped his shoulders in defeat and turned to Will.

"Okay, Mr. Helpful, you stay," he said and then turned to the other officers. "You two. Jones, you keep watch from your cruiser. I want you patrolling the street. Call me if you see anyone, and I mean ANYONE suspicious. Conley, you get back to the station and log those pictures. I want to run that hand writing analysis in the morning."

"Yes Chief," they both answered and got into their vehicles.

"Will doesn't have to stay. I don't need a babysitter," I said, knowing my argument was futile but still wanting to try.

"He stays, and that's final," Sulley said and patted me on the shoulder.

"And if I don't want him to?"

"Now THAT would be a moot point," he winked and then walked down the porch stairs.

I rolled my eyes and huffed as Sulley opened the door of his truck and then turned to Will and I.

"I'll be back in the morning to pick you up, Kiddo. You and I will go see Brightman together," he said, earning a smile from me. Then he pointed to Will. "You hear anything unusual, you call it in."

"Got it," Will answered and waved as Sulley pulled out of the driveway.

Will turned to me with a wink. "Looks like we get to have a sleepover. Let's make popcorn and then we can take turns painting one another's toenails."

Rolling my eyes, I went into the house and let the screen door slam in his face as he turned to follow me.

"What? I'm lightening the mood," he said and followed me inside and locking both the knob and the deadbolt behind him. He walked to the back door and did the same.

I went into the kitchen and got down a glass. I poured myself a small amount of wine and slung it back just as Will walked in.

"Do you want a glass?" I offered.

Will stared at the bottle in my hand for a second and then swallowing hard, shrugged his shoulders. "I'm on duty remember?"

"Right." I said pouring more into my glass.

"Go easy on that," he said. "I'm going to need you to stay coherent."

I took another sip. "I'm calming my nerves. Plus, I have one hell of a headache. I'm just going to finish this glass, that's it."

He seemed satisfied with my answer and rubbed his hands together.

"Right, so first thing's first. Do you have any nail polish remover?"

I raised an eyebrow over my glass. "I'm not painting your toenails."

"Ha, very funny," he scoffed. "I was going to get that marker off the mirror upstairs. You shouldn't have to look at that."

"Isn't it evidence?" I asked.

"We have pictures of it and no prints were found. Unless you like it there . . . I mean, it's not to my taste, but it does rather match the black hardware in there. Up to you."

"All joking aside, just why ARE you being so helpful?" I asked. "No offense or anything, but you've always sort of struck me as kind of a jerk. Or at least that's how you seem to want to come off. Why the Mr. Nice Guy act?"

Will shrugged and looked away. I knew I had struck a nerve.

"Because you never asked for any of this. You've already been through enough for one lifetime. And believe it or not, I can have a heart." He clenched his fists. "And because your mom was always patient and nice to me, even when I gave her hell. I owe her one."

His eyes were a dark well of emotion and I believed he was sincere. There was a lot more to Will Galia than I had ever thought and I caught myself wondering just how deep the well went.

"Okay then," I said breaking away from his glare. "I have some polish remover in my bag upstairs."

I kept my eyes averted when we passed the upstairs bathroom never wanting to see those horrific words again. Will turned to go in and I continued into my room. My feelings bounced between fear and dread to overwhelming anger and rage. The wine was beginning to help calm me, but my head was spinning in a thousand directions. Had my mother's murderer been here in Saluda all along? Had I seen him? Passed him on the street? Spoken with him?

I reached into my bag and when I emerged with the polish remover I caught Donovan's image in the mirror. He looked down on me, a worried expression on his salient face.

"Be careful," he warned.

I glanced behind me to make sure I was alone. "Why, do you sense something? Is the man who broke in coming back?"

"What did you say?" Will called from the bathroom.

"Nothing!" I shouted toward the hallway and then looked back to Donovan questioningly.

"No. I don't think you are in any immediate danger. But I do sense . . . something, about him." Donovan nodded toward the hall. "You shouldn't get too close. Something is off."

"What . . . Will?" I began to ask but then stopped short when Will's image appeared in the mirror as he came to stand in the bedroom doorway. I looked from Donovan's image to Will's, waiting for a reaction from Will, my words caught in my throat.

"Did you find any?" Will asked, oblivious.

I took a breath, relieved. Of course Will couldn't see Donovan, I should have known.

"Here," I said and tossed him the polish remover.

"Can I use one of the towels in there?"

"Sure, whatever you need. I don't use that bathroom. Just get it off however you can."

Will turned and went back down the hall. I looked back to the mirror at Donovan who stood with his arms crossed against the wall by the doorway next to me. Shrugging at him, I grabbed a pillow and blanket from the bed, then reached for one of my books and went into the hall. I paused by the bathroom, but didn't look in.

"Is it working?"

"Yeah. It's definitely permanent marker, but I think because it's not that old, it's coming right off with a little elbow grease."

"That's good," I said relieved. "I've got a pillow and blanket for you. I'm going to put them on the couch."

Downstairs, I set the pillow on one side of the couch and the blanket on the other and tossed the book in the center. Then going back into the kitchen, I finished off the glass of wine. I was exhausted, mentally and physically. Too much had happened in too little time and my brain was struggling to keep up. Will came back into the kitchen as I was resting my aching body against the counter, waiting for the wine to numb away what it could.

"You don't look so good," he said and leaned on the counter beside me.

"Again with the flattery." I smiled.

"No, I mean it. How are you holding up?"

"I'm just tired," I sighed. "I think I'm going to try and get some sleep. I don't know how possible that's going to be though."

"Yeah, you should get some rest," he said. "Don't worry about anything. I'm right by the doors. I'll hear if anyone tries to come back in. Jones is right out there on the road too. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Thank you," I said. I wanted to correct him, to tell him that I had everything to worry about. My mother's murderer was out there somewhere, nearby, and that thought alone threatened my very sanity.

"Help yourself to anything in here if you're hungry," I said. "Sorry I don't have a T.V. or anything to help you pass the time. I put one of my books on the couch for you. Best I could do, sorry. I hadn't really planned on staying here very long."

"Thanks. Those look like Gram's cookies over there. You may be missing a few in the morning," he smirked. "And don't worry about me. I can occupy myself."

"See you in a few then," I said and started out of the kitchen.

"So how about now?" Will asked before I made it out of the room. I turned and met his waiting gaze.

"What do you mean?"

"How long do you plan on staying now?" He asked.

"Now . . . I can't imagine leaving," I said and walked out of the kitchen. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Will smile.

Upstairs, I went to my room and shutting the door, looked into the mirror. There was no sign of Donovan, which was fine. It gave me some time alone to think. I sat on the bed and let the events of the night hit me.

Sulley thought that the attacker from tonight might be a different person from that night fifteen years ago, but I knew better. Even if Donovan hadn't warned me of this "same evil", I would have known. Those gloved hands that had come after me were the same; the furious determination to hurt me was the same.

I rolled up my pajama leg and exposed my tender ankle. The fingerprints, red and swollen were throbbing from where the intruder had gripped me. The skin there was turning a sickly shade of yellow and purple. Reaching up, I touched my forehead, about two inches from the hair line, and rubbed the now small scar that still resided there. This was twice now that I had escaped his grasp.

A tear fell from my eye and I wiped at it with the back of my hand. I didn't know if I was more afraid or enraged. I thought about what Donovan had said earlier that night, that I had to see this thing through, and wondered what he meant by it. My thoughts were broken when I felt his warmth on my ankle. The pain soothed and relaxed. I closed my eyes and heard the gentle strumming and let the ache melt away.

"You knew something was going to happen, didn't you?" I asked into the empty room "I saw it on your face tonight."

"I sensed it. I couldn't know for sure," Donovan answered next to my ear.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, then opened my eyes and looked into the mirror. He was sitting on the bed beside me, his hand on my ankle.

"Because like I said, I am not meant to interfere, only to guide."

"And protect right?"

"That's right. And sometimes that means NOT telling you something."

"You want me to trust you. How can I do that if you aren't telling me everything?" I asked confused.

"Because you have to. You have to trust that if I'm not telling you something, it's for a reason." he sighed and lifted his eyes to mine in the mirror.

I looked away. "Am I going to find out who killed my parents?"

"I hope so."

"Do you think it's Brightman?"

"It's a possibility. That's why I'm not fond of you going out there to speak with him tomorrow."

I looked back into the mirror at his concerned expression.

"I have to go. If it's him, maybe I'll know. Maybe this whole nightmare could finally be over. Uncle Sulley will be with me, and you. I'm not afraid."

Donovan shook his head. "That's what worries me the most."

There was nothing to say. I knew that I should be afraid, and a part of me was. Someone out there wanted to hurt me or worse, the same person who brutally murdered my parents. But there was a new fear growing inside me that overshadowed all of that. I was terrified that he would go free, that he would never pay for what he had done. That I would never know who he was.

For the past fifteen years I had lived with the belief that this man would never be found and the pain of that knowledge was almost as bad as the pain of losing everything. Now he had resurfaced, and my desperate need for justice now outweighed all other fears of this monster.

"You need to get some rest," Donovan said.

"That's what you said this evening and I was attacked a few hours later."

Donovan nodded his head, sorrow showing in his demeanor. I immediately regretted the remark. He had saved my life again tonight and for that I was grateful to him. The words to express how glad I was that he was here evaded me. I hoped he knew, even though the anger boiling inside me kept me from being able to say them.

"And for that I am truly sorry Alexandra," he whispered. "But I can promise that no harm will come to you again tonight. You should sleep."

Sighing, I switched off the light and laid my head down on the pillow and wrapped my robe more tightly around my body, not relaxed enough to get into the covers. There was no denying how exhausted I was. If I could only quiet my mind enough to sleep.

"Donovan?" I whispered.

"Yes."

"Tell me about where you . . . live. Where you are when you're not with me here."

"You want me to describe where I was sent from. Where I exist in the spiritual realm as well as here with you?"

"Yes."

"It's hard to explain to someone who has never seen." He sighed.

"Try, please."

Donovan took a deep breath as he searched for the words. "It is filled with light, a brightness unlike anything in this world."

"Are there more there? Like you?"

"There is no one else with me here, though I can feel the presence of many. I can feel Him."

"So you're all alone up there?"

"Not exactly. It's so hard to explain," he struggled to continue. "For me, every moment is with you: seeing you, being here with you, it's all that matters. Not what's come before, not what will come after. It's as if I've only ever been with you."

I felt my blood warm with his words, my mind wandered through my life's memories. I could remember feeling him with me. Since the baptism, he had been a part of my life. Until the day my mother had died.

"Why did you leave me when she died?" I asked, tears forming anew in my weary eyes.

The strumming grew louder against my ear. I felt his warmth on my arm.

"I never left," he whispered. "I've been with you this whole time, always. You just needed to come back here, to your home . . . to remember me, to remember who you are, to see that the accident doesn't have to define you and your reality. I've always been with you."

My eyes filled with fresh tears and I wiped them with the corner of my pillow as I thought back. All this time I had believed that I was alone, that I was wandering through this life on my own. How wrong I had been. If only I had seen it earlier, maybe I would have had the courage to come back home sooner.

All the years I had missed with Gram came to mind. I should have been here to help take care of her. How many more moments could I have had where she recognized me? And Donovan. Now that I had found him again, I couldn't imagine how I could have ever forgotten him, especially when he had never forgotten me.

My mind swam in the space between memories, fading more with each one. In each memory I visited I heard the soft, gently strumming, playing like the score in the background of my life.

"Sleep now Alexandra," Donovan whispered against my ear.

Chapter 9

I could hear the screams and the crunching of metal as the car came to a smashing halt against the great oak. The panic that rose in my throat as Gary's was sliced open, raced through my veins and threatened to consume me. And then the serpentine knife came for me.

Donovan was there. He was with me, telling me to sink into my seat. But this time I didn't listen. I wanted to see. I needed to know who the man with the knife was.

I struggled against my confines and strained to get an arm free. I inched forward, staring through the dark into the front seat. When the lightning flashed I could see that the man was wearing a mask. I reached out. I could almost grab it.

" _Who are you?" I screamed as the blade with the snake handle came at me over and over again._

I didn't feel pain, only noticed the flesh wounds sliced into my arms. I didn't care. I continued to reach forward, using all my strength to force myself free from my seat even as the gloved hands grabbed at me and hurled the knife into me over and over.

With the next lightening flash I saw my bloodied arm reaching for him. I forced out one last bone-chilling scream and lurched forward and clawed at his face. As the blade came down on my throat, I ripped off the mask.

I shot up in the bed, my face soaked in sweat, gasping for air.

"It's okay Alexandra. It was just a dream. Sshhh, it's okay. You're okay," Donovan whispered.

I felt his warmth on my face and I took a deep breath and looked around. It was still dark. I glanced at the clock; only just past 4 am. Less than two hours since I laid my head down.

"The dream," I panted. "I could almost see who he was."

"It was just a dream."

"I know, it was just . . ." I stopped short and listened. "What is that?"

I heard something coming from downstairs. It was music. Piano music.

"Your friend seems to have taken to the keys. He's been playing for a while," Donovan said.

"Will? I forgot he was even here," I said rubbing my eyes.

I got up from the bed and straightened my robe, then turned on the light and ran a hand through my hair before going to the door.

"What are you doing?" Donovan asked.

"I'm going to see what he's up to," I answered and opened the door.

The music became more distinct as it traveled up the stairs, though he played lightly on the keys. I recognized Fur Elise.

"Please. You need to keep your distance from him," Donovan pleaded.

I looked back in the mirror, into Donovan's worried eyes. I knew that there was something he wasn't telling me.

"What is it that you sense about him exactly?"

He shook his head, frustration evident on his face.

"I can't . . . explain it to you," he said. "But you don't really know him. You shouldn't trust him, Alexandra. Right now, you shouldn't trust anyone."

"I'll keep my distance," I said and left the room, not looking back into the mirror. I heard Donovan's sigh of disapproval behind me.

Downstairs, a single lamp on the piano shone like a spotlight on Will who was focused on his hands at the keys. I stopped at the bottom of the steps and watched as he slid his fingers over them with tremendous focus, missing the occasional note as he played.

I watched the intensity on his face; his mind was somewhere else entirely. His eyes carried so much pain and anguish that it made me want to reach out to him. I was eager to know more about him. Donovan was right, I didn't know him at all. I waited until he finished the song before I spoke up.

"I didn't realize you still played," I said.

Will whirled around, his sullen expression turned to a grin.

"Your mother was a great teacher. I bet you play beautifully," he said.

"I'm okay I guess."

"I hope I didn't wake you."

"Not at all." I shrugged. "Bad dream. Happens sometimes."

Will sighed. "I know the feeling."

He straightened and scooted to one side of the bench.

"I know what will cheer you up. There's only one other song that I remember how to play."

He started playing the melody to Chopsticks and patted the empty side of the bench with his free hand.

I shook my head. "No, I can't."

"Oh come on," he said. "It would cheer ME up."

I thought a moment and decided it was the least I could do. I mean, I did wreck his car and now he was forced to babysit me all night. It was a wonder he was nice to me at all. I took in a deep breath and sat next to him on the bench, placing my fingers on the keys. I waited for an entrance. When an opening came, I played the rhythm and Will smiled, bobbing his head up and down to the music.

"See? We're pretty good," he said and then hit a wrong note.

I laughed and Will concentrated, getting himself back on track. Mischievously, I sped up the rhythm, forcing him to go faster. Will's fingers raced to keep up. I sped up again and tried not to lose focus when Will's tongue poked out of his mouth as he bore down on the keys in utter determination.

"I got this!" he said, his fingers flying across the keys.

He was hitting more and more wrong notes and when I sped up again he lost his fingering and finally threw his hands up in surrender.

"Okay, you got me. I give. You are the Chopsticks master," he said laughing.

I stopped playing, the laughter coming uncontrollably. It felt good to laugh.

"My mom and I used to play that song all the time. Now SHE was the Chopsticks master."

Will nodded in agreement. "She was amazing on the piano, that's for sure. I think you may have inherited her musical genius."

"Yeah well," I said bowing my head, "I haven't really played much. Not at all actually, before I came back here."

"Well then, I thank you for the privilege of that butt whooping you just gave me. I feel better now."

I laughed in spite of myself. "You are very welcome. I figured I owed you for crashing your car into the side of a mountain and all. Think we're even now?"

Will's smile vanished and his features turned from laughter to concern in a half second. I immediately regretted the joke. Maybe he was finally getting upset about the loss of his prized car. I felt terrible all over again.

"Will, I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . ."

Will shook his head. "No, it's alright. But there's something I have to tell you."

I stared at him confused until he shifted in his seat and continued.

"That's why I really came over here tonight. I wasn't just taking a drive. I was keeping an eye on things, on you."

I didn't understand. "What do you mean you were keeping an eye on things? How could you have known–"

"Because I think someone wanted you to crash my car," he interrupted and looked me in the eyes, taking me off guard.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I went to the shop today to see what the hold-up was on the brake report and it turns out that Hank, the mechanic, had a family emergency and left in a hurry for Charlotte. So I decided to take a look at the brakes myself," he explained.

I stared at him, waiting for him to go on. The urgency in his voice made my heart start to race.

"Alex, it looks like someone cut the brake lines, but not all the way. It was a clean cut most of the way through. The rest must have snapped after you hit the brakes a few of times. Whoever did it wanted the car to be driven a little while before the brakes went out."

I shook my head in disbelief. It took me a minute to process what he just said. None of it made any sense.

"But no one knew I was going to borrow your car."

"Did you see anyone at the cemetery that afternoon?"

"No, no one was there except for Pastor James. But I was in the cemetery for a while. You can't see the parking lot from there. Someone could have gotten to the car then, I guess."

Will shook his head. "I don't think so though."

"Why not?"

"Because I know my keys were in that drawer. They are always in the front of the drawer. When I went to hand them to you they were gone. I think someone took them from my drawer and then put them back later. They wanted the car to stay in the lot so they could cut the lines and be sure that you'd be the one driving it when they snapped."

"But why? Who?" I asked, trying to remain calm.

Will shrugged. "It could have been anyone. All they would have had to do that day was wait until I was in the back office to snatch them. Even if they didn't know where they were, I mean, they weren't exactly hidden."

"But like I said, no one knew about me borrowing your car."

"I thought about that too. We were talking right beside the door, and those doors are like a hundred years old. You can hear right through them if you wanted to. Anyone could have heard us from out there.

"But I didn't see anyone out there."

"Doesn't mean they weren't there," Will said.

I glared at him. That's exactly what Donovan would have said, and they were both right. I thought back to a couple of days ago, and then it came to me. I covered my mouth with my hands, my eyes widening.

"What is it?"

"Rick! Rick was there." I remembered. "I bumped into him when I left the station. Right after I talked to you, I opened the door and he was right there. I almost knocked him over."

"That makes sense," Will agreed. "But why would he want you dead? Or your parents? Over a house?"

"I don't know," I growled, "but I am sure as hell going to find out."

Will furrowed his brow. "Maybe you should let me go up there tomorrow with Sulley. If it is him, he'll be extremely dangerous."

"Oh don't you start now," I snapped at him. "I am going with him. I'm the only one who's seen this bastard."

Will raised his hands and chuckled. "Okay, okay. At ease soldier. He wouldn't dare try anything with the chief there, I'm sure."

I took a deep breath. Anger broke away to fear as I thought about this new information. If all of it were true, I was in more danger than I thought. Donovan was right.

"So you really think someone cut the brake lines?" I asked again, hoping he would show some sign of doubt. I wanted him to be wrong.

"I know so," he answered.

"I almost died. I could have gone off the mountain. The same way . . ." I collected myself. "Just like the message said, on the mirror."

Will bowed his head. "I know."

"Does Sulley know about this? Did you tell him?"

"No. I want to wait for the actual report from Hank. Sulley likes to have hard proof. AND because he would freak out. You'd be quarantined at the station or his place or sent back to Chicago on the next flight."

"Yes," I sighed, "he would freak out. Thanks for that. So what, you just decided to keep an eye on me yourself?"

That thought was more unnerving than comforting.

"Something like that," Will said looking away.

"But why? Why do you even care?"

"It's my job to care, and like I said. I owe it to your mom."

I studied him closely. The muscles in his sharp jaw were clenched. There was something more he was hiding.

"There's more to it though, isn't there? Not about me at all, but about you," I pried.

Will took a minute and then looked back at me. His eyes, brimming with red, were haunted.

"I couldn't let it happen again," he whispered.

I moved my hand to cover his on the bench, but my fingers bumped into something hard that clanged to the floor with a metallic thud. Will rushed to pick it up, but I reached the object first. I held the cool metal flask in my hand and stared in shock into Will's horrified face.

"What is this?" I asked and then sniffed the lid. "Whiskey? What happened to being on duty?"

"You're not the only one who likes to calm their nerves," he spat and grabbed the flask.

I got up from the bench disgusted. "Some protector you are. What were you going to do if the guy came back to attack me again? Breathe on him?"

Will grabbed my arm and forced me to face him. I tried to yank my arm free, but his grip was too strong.

"I only had a few sips. Sometimes, my head gets away with me," he pleaded, the desperation on his face made me stop struggling. "Can you understand that? Can you understand having thoughts . . . memories that constantly haunt you? That threaten to drive you crazy? Sometimes I don't know who I am anymore . . ."

The pain in his eyes tore at my heart, and although their intensity made me uneasy, I felt compelled to listen. I did know what it felt like. I knew exactly what it felt like to lose yourself in the pain of the past. I lowered myself back onto the bench, keeping my eyes glued to his. He removed his grip on my arm as I sat.

"You said you couldn't let it happen again. Let what happen? What happened to you Will?"

Will looked away. He seemed to contemplate telling me. He took a deep breath to collect himself and turned back to me.

"It was an accident, about five years ago. My wife and I were living up in New York. We had a nice little place right outside the city. Our son, Tristan, was only four years old. We had just thrown him his first real birthday party. We got him his first big-boy bed, one of those car beds. My wife made him this cute little football cake. He loved watching football with his old man." Will smiled joylessly.

"It was my fault," he continued, his face glazing over into a mask of sorrow. "I had gotten home late that night. My partner and I spent all night staking out a suspected drug shipment. I wasn't thinking. I just put my holster on the kitchen table and grabbed something to eat."

I closed my eyes, afraid of where the story was heading; not wanting to hear more, but listening anyway.

"I didn't even remember I had left it there until we heard the shot go off in the morning," Will's voice broke.

I looked into his face as tears streamed down my own. Will just stared into the room with a blank expression, lost in that moment five years ago.

"I killed my baby boy. It was my fault," he said between clenched teeth.

He looked into my eyes, searching for some kind of empathy in them. I knew his pain; the guilt, the loss, the anger. How much more must he feel though, to have lost a child through his own mistake? I felt terrible; I didn't even known he'd been married. I wanted to tell him that he shouldn't blame himself, that accidents happen, but I knew all too well how little comfort those words would be.

I thought about all of the things that Donovan had said to me about purpose and plans, but for the life of me I could not see the purpose in the loss of a child. I prayed silently for the right words. What I heard in return was a gentle strumming.

I looked into the glossy finish of the piano and saw Donovan. He was sitting on the base of the stairs, facing away from us, his hands folded across his knees.

"Right now, he just needs you to listen," he said to me.

I reached for Will's hand. Will looked down at our joined hands and then up into my face.

"Melissa left me shortly after. I couldn't blame her. Every time she looked at me, she saw the one responsible for our son's death. So I came back here to Saluda, the only other place I'd ever called home."

Will sat up, trying to shake the demons from his head.

"Sulley was looking for someone with some experience and was kind enough to give me a chance." He laughed suddenly. "I don't even know why I am telling you all of this."

I wiped a tear from my cheek and squeezed his hand.

"Because I'm listening. And because you know that I have lived in that same dark place, the place where you question why you weren't the one who had died instead."

Will's face brightened with recognition. "That's it exactly. There are so many evil people in this world who deserve to have their life taken from them, me included. But he died because I was careless. An innocent child. I can't wrap my mind around it. I'm the one who deserved to die. I've done so many horrible things in my lifetime. He was the one thing I did right. He made me feel like I could start over, as a father. I can't tell you how many times I've wished I would have been killed in that stakeout. If I had never come home, Tristan would still be alive."

"I get that, I do. I often wish that I would have died in the crash with Mom and Gary, or that I could have died instead of them. I saw the car coming, the one that ran us off the road. I could have warned them sooner. If I hadn't been so afraid, I might have saved their lives."

I realized in that moment that I had never admitted that to anyone. It was a release in a way, having the words free from my mind's prison.

"But what I've come to realize since coming back here," I continued, "is that there's a bigger picture than what I can see. I'm still here for a reason, and so are you. You're not an evil person Will."

Will's head dropped. "I am so sorry Alex."

"I know," was all I could think to say.

I was at a loss, wanting so badly to say something that would give him hope, the way Donovan had done for me.

"Tell him that his son forgives him, and that he needs to forgive himself," Donovan said from where he still sat on the stairs, head downcast.

I cleared my throat and shook my head, looking at him through the piano. I couldn't say that to Will. Who was I to tell him that his dead son forgave him? Why would he even believe me?

"You need to tell him Alexandra, because it's the truth and he needs to hear it. You know it because I know it. This is your gift. If he cannot forgive himself, he will always be lost."

I looked back at Will and took a deep breath.

"I know that it's not my place to say, but you need to know that your son forgives you," I said. "He would want you to forgive yourself."

Will looked at me and stared blankly into my eyes, tears coming to his. He grinned and blinked them away, then cleared his throat.

"I don't think I can. That's why I came over here tonight. I almost did it again. I let you borrow that damned car, and it almost got you killed."

"There was no way you could have known a crazed lunatic was trying to kill . . ." I stopped short, unable to say the words.

They didn't seem real. I felt like I was quoting lines from a cheesy horror movie. Will gently took hold of my chin and forced my eyes back up to his.

"Still, it was my car, and nothing like that is going to happen on my watch. Never again, I promise you that."

I felt my face flush, the intensity of his eyes burned into mine.

"You don't have to take responsibility for me; this has nothing to do with you, Will."

Will kept a firm hold on my chin and drew my face close to his. My heart sputtered and raced inside my chest at the proximity. I breathed in his sent; mixed with the pungent tinge of whiskey was a hint of leather and fresh rain.

"I'm making you my responsibility," he said softly.

"Why?" I whispered, lost in the darkness of his eyes.

He gently swept the hair from my cheek with his free hand.

"Because you make me feel something that I haven't felt in a long, long time," he whispered and then closed the space between us.

I closed my eyes as he brushed his lips against mine. My breath caught in my chest and I parted my lips, aching for more of him. He found my lips again and let his hand fall from my chin as he took my mouth with his. I felt the heat between us boil in my blood, threatening to carry me away, if only for a little while. Away from the fear and pain, away from the loss and darkness. I wanted to lose myself in him completely, but I could hear the strumming behind me, and a solemn, pleading voice.

"Alexandra, please. You can't," Donovan whispered, his voice full of angst and desperation.

I jolted back from Will, taking a breath to clear my head.

"We can't do this."

"You're right, I'm sorry . . . that's not why I'm here." Will looked at me, worried. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have . . ."

"WE shouldn't have," I corrected. "It's not that I don't want . . . I guess I just need this whole thing to be over."

"No, I totally get it. I completely agree. I have a feeling it will all be over soon," he said giving me a reassuring smile.

I smiled back, wanting to believe that he was right, that this whole nightmare would end soon. Then I remembered what Donovan had said. Tonight was only the beginning.

"I hope you're right, but I'm not so sure," I said.

"Trust me." He stretched his long arms. "But in the meantime, I feel like crap all over again. Your fault, by the way. So, I demand a rematch."

Will poised his fingers above the piano keys and smirked at me with a twisted grin.

"Oh no, you couldn't possibly be suggesting that you can keep up with me," I laughed, grateful for this change of mood.

Will started to play the Chopsticks melody again, concentrating on his fingers against the keys. "I've seriously got this now."

"So you think." I smiled and began the rhythm, matching his tempo. "But you know? You really should feel like crap."

I sped up the rhythm and Will's tongue poked back out of his mouth as he focused.

"Why is that?"

I sped up the rhythm even more. "Because you are a terrible kisser."

Will lost his focus, hitting a throng of wrong keys and the music fell apart. He turned to me horrified, mouth agape.

"I am not, you cheater, and you know it!" He placed his fingers back on the keys and smiled. "Rematch! And no distracting me with your obvious and outrageous lies."

I laughed and started the rhythm again. We played again and again and let the piano distract us from the rest of the world while the sun began to peek above the horizon. As the dim light seeped into the room, I looked into the piano and saw that Donovan never budged from where he sat at the base of the stairs, facing away from us, his gaze lost in thought. Waiting.

Chapter 10

When I emerged from the shower I felt refreshed despite the lack of sleep. I was eager to see what the day would bring. I hoped it would bring Brightman to justice. I reminded myself for the umpteenth time not to jump to conclusions just yet, but I couldn't help it. It all added up.

I wiped the fog from the bathroom mirror and studied the lump on my forehead. It was healing at least; the shades of black and blue were fading into a greenish yellow. Noticing the dark circles under my eyes, I dabbed on some concealer then put on a pair of jeans, a tank top and my favorite red sweater.

I made a point to not look into the bedroom mirror as I laced up my sneakers. I knew Donovan was there, I could hear him, but I wasn't sure I was ready to talk about the last few hours. Not before I could figure them out for myself.

"You have feelings for him," he said softly.

I continued to tie my laces. "I don't know what I feel, if you want to know the truth."

"You probably feel less alone," he said and I finally looked into the mirror and met his eyes.

"I already felt less alone, as soon as I found you again," I whispered.

Donovan sat at the edge of the bed. He was leaning over, his forearms resting on his thighs, fingers laced. He looked worried.

"Well, you probably feel more understood, because you see the same pain and emptiness in him that you've lived with for so long."

I couldn't deny any of what he was saying. I didn't have the words to even try.

"Bonding over tragedy is natural. The closeness you feel for him is normal." Donovan sighed and looked away from me. "But Alexandra, you mustn't get that close to him. You have to trust me with this. Keep your distance."

"But why?" I asked.

Donovan shook his head. I thought he wanted to tell me something, but couldn't. Or wouldn't.

"Aside from what I am sensing about him, you shouldn't trust him. He's hiding something from you."

"Like what?"

"I'm not sure," was all Donovan said before the sound of a heavy motor could be heard pulling up the driveway.

"Chief is here!" Will yelled from downstairs.

"It's go time," I whispered, suddenly feeling anxious.

"I'll be with you the whole time. Listen for me." In the mirror I watched as Donovan took hold of my hand reassuringly.

I focused on his warmth and took a deep breath. I was about to come face to face with my mother's murderer. As much as that thought nauseated me, I willed myself to stand up and walk to the door. I turned to look once more at Donovan and saw him standing beside me and reassured, I left the room.

When I walked into the kitchen Sulley was leaning back on the counter with a cup of coffee in hand. He offered me a full cup and I took it gratefully. Will was at the stove scrambling eggs. He nodded at me and went back to stirring.

"Long night?" Sulley asked, one eyebrow raised.

"We got by," I said and took my first scalding sip.

Sulley inspected my face, obviously trying to decipher what he had missed last night.

"Right. Well I've got a locksmith coming by to change all the locks. Should be here any minute. We'll head on out to the school and have a word with your friend Rick once they're done."

I flinched. "Ugh, don't call him that. Makes me sick to my stomach."

"Now I told you, we can't go jumping to conclusions about the man," Sulley said. "We're going to need some hard evidence that links him to last night's break-in. Or to your mother's accident. We can't work on only assumptions here."

I stole a glance at Will who gave me a told-you-so shrug. Sulley wanted hard evidence. I wasn't sure how possible it was going to be, but I was determined to find some. If Brightman was the killer, he was not going to go free like he had the last fifteen years.

I was suddenly very anxious to get to the school. I needed to see Brightman. I needed to gauge his reaction to some questions. I needed to know.

"Can't we go now? The locksmith could take a while and I don't think I can sit here that long," I pleaded.

"Why don't you have something to eat? I mean, I know I'm not the greatest cook, but you should eat something," Will suggested.

"He's right. Maybe by the time you're done, the guy will be here," Sulley said.

I shook my head. "No, I can't. My stomach's a mess. I just want to get up there. I have to know."

Will sighed and started dishing eggs onto a plate.

"More for me I guess. You guys go on. I'll stay here and wait for the locksmith."

"Really?" I asked. "You wouldn't mind?"

Sulley held up a hand. "I don't know that I like this idea. I wanted to see to it personally that Alex and I were the only ones who touched those keys, no offense."

Will took a sip from his coffee cup and met my pleading eyes.

"Look," he said, "as SOON as the guy is gone I will lock up and take the keys straight to the station and lock them both in the safe. You'll probably be back by the time I get there anyway, in which case I'll hand them right to you."

"That's a great plan, since we're just going up there to ask him some questions, right? We won't be gone long."

I understood Sulley's concern, but I was too desperate for closure to let it stop me.

"I don't like it Alexandra." Donovan's voice whispered in my ear.

"Please, we'll be right back. Will can give the keys right to you," I pleaded to Sulley, but was really answering Donovan.

I needed to get out to the school, to get answers. Nothing else mattered to me in that moment.

Sulley tugged from his coffee cup and looked from me to Will.

"Fine. But only because I have somewhere to be later." He jabbed a finger at Will. "I want those keys in that safe or in my hand. No one else so much as looks at them."

Will nodded and shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"You got it. Mind if I grab a shower before the guy gets here?"

"Yeah, sure," I nodded and gulped down the rest of my coffee. I gestured for Sulley to do the same.

Sulley took another long drag and then grabbed a fork from the counter and scooped some eggs from Will's plate into his mouth as Will gawked at him.

"You're right. You're not the greatest cook," Sulley said and then taking one last sip of coffee turned to me. "Okay Kiddo, let's go."

Will took another bite of his eggs and shrugged as Sulley walked out of the kitchen.

"Thank you," I said to Will.

Will nodded. "Just don't let me regret it. Be careful. Feel the guy out, but don't push him. Let Sulley handle it. If he's the one, we'll find a way to prove it."

"Got it," I said. "I'll see you later then."

I turned and jogged out the door and hopped into Sulley's truck as he started the massive engine.

"Alright, now we are just going to ask Brightman some very basic questions about the house and what he may know about the break-in last night. Let me do all the talking."

I nodded and turned my attention to the window while Sulley navigated us to the road that would lead us to the school. The morning was overcast with a light, chilling breeze. The darkened sky muted the fall colors and added a grayish tinge to the atmosphere.

I stared, mesmerized, out the window. I hadn't been on this road since that night, coming back from my recital. How fitting it was, I thought, that we were driving up to confront the man who murdered my parents off this very road. Why? That would be my first question to him. Why?

The truck hugged the curves of the road and I held my breath and looked at the steep drop on the left side. We were getting closer to the accident site. I turned to Sulley who was concentrating on the road. He turned to me and smiled, oblivious. I had almost forgotten; Sulley was still in Iraq when the accident happened. He didn't know the exact spot. But when we turned the next curve, I remembered vividly.

Turning back to my window, I saw the small side street coming up on my side of the road; the side street the killer had sprung up from before hitting our car. The street was hard to make out because it jutted up from below the tree line and was covered in overhanging brush. I stared at the spot as we passed and tried to remember that split second before our car was struck. I remembered the headlights speeding up from the side street.

Closing my eyes, I focused and brought the image from the past into my current reality. When I did, I recalled that the headlights were high up, above my eye level, not like the headlights of a sedan or smaller car. No, it had been taller, wider than a car. I concentrated, pulling the image closer in my mind. Red. There had been a glint of red from between the headlights. I gasped and opened my eyes. Sulley looked at me, concerned.

"What is it?"

"That was the road . . . the one the vehicle that hit us came from."

Sulley's eyes widened and he nodded with sudden understanding. He grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze.

"God, I'm so sorry. I don't know why I didn't think of it. I'm sorry. This was the road . . ." he sighed. "I shouldn't have let you come up here. I wasn't thinking."

"No," I interrupted, "it's fine. I needed to come."

I squeezed his hand back and smiled. I didn't want to tell him what I had remembered just yet. I didn't want anything to distract from the task at hand. Talking to Rick was all that mattered at the moment.

"Well, we're almost there," Sulley said letting my hand go.

I looked to the window, at the incline in the road. The school was at the top. My heart began to race with fear and anticipation. How long had I dreamt of this moment? How often had I prayed for a chance to see justice served? I closed my eyes and focused on the strumming that came from the back seat.

When the truck reached the top of the incline I stared at the red brick building trimmed in navy blue which sat among the tall oaks and pines. The school was smaller than I remembered, but had the same quaint charm. I scanned the parking lot for the white pickup truck and spotted it by the main office where it was parked next to a work van and larger pickups filled with lumber and metal extension ladders.

"There's the truck," I said pointing it out to Sulley. "That's the one I kept seeing."

Sulley parked beside it and turned off the growling engine then turned to face me.

"Now remember, we don't know anything for sure yet. We can't just go accusing people of murder or break-ins on a hunch. I'll do the talking, you just hang back and see if you can pick up on anything, okay?"

I nodded, telling myself he was right. "Got it."

We got out of the truck and walked to the main entrance. I wrung my hands as Sulley tried the door. It was locked. He shrugged and then we heard the humming of a saw coming from the side of the building.

"This way," Sulley said and motioned me to follow.

We turned the corner and found Rick with a half dozen other men in the courtyard between the main office building and the rest of the school. They had set up shop in the center with heavy equipment and lumber. A tent of plastic film covered the opened wall of the auditorium. Rick was bent over a long folding table in the center of the courtyard looking over plans while other men sawed and carried plywood and insulation from the side door. I stopped short when he spotted us and flashed us his signature smile.

"Chief, Miss Nolan, to what do I owe this pleasure? I hope nothing is wrong with the permits."

Sulley shook his head and took the hand that Rick offered him. I stayed back, suddenly without words.

"No sir, nothing like that. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind taking the time to answer just a few questions. Do you have a minute?" Sulley asked.

Ricked look from Sulley to me, the smile disintegrating from his face.

"Certainly. I hope everything is alright. Shall we?" Rick gestured to the parking lot and walked passed me.

I could only stare, taking in his heavy work boots and long sleeved flannel shirt. He looked different out of his usual business attire, but that smile was just as off-putting in jeans and a baseball cap. I could imagine his hands, covered with leather gloves.

We walked back to the parking lot where the sounds of hammering and sawing were muffled and we could better hear one another. Rick stopped in front of his truck and turned to Sulley.

"So what can I do for you Chief? The look on your face tells me this has nothing to do with our job here," Rick questioned.

Sulley sighed and rubbed his chin before starting.

"There was a break in at the house last night. Someone attacked Alex."

Rick's eyes widened with shock and he looked at me.

"My God, are you all right?" He asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

I took a step back, not liking his eyes on me. I didn't dare speak for fear of saying something Sulley would regret later. Glaring back at him instead, I gauged his response. Sulley stepped between us.

"Well here's the thing, Mr. Brightman," Sulley began, casually, focused. "Alex seems to remember seeing your truck on two separate occasions up near the house prior to the incident last night. I know your family owned the home before Tina . . . before Alex's mother purchased it from the bank. I was wondering if you might have an idea as to who might want to scare Alex out of the house. Did you see anything unusual?"

Rick looked to Sulley and then back at me considering what had been said. He nodded and turned to look Sulley directly in the eyes.

"Oh I get it. You think I had something to do with it," he said. "What? Because I drove by the place a couple of times?"

"Now, no one's accusing you of anything," Sulley said, clearing his throat. "Do you mind telling me though, just why you were driving past the house? Were you on your way somewhere?"

Rick took a labored breath, obviously upset by the direction of the questioning. He stared at me, his grey eyes pierced into me, and seemed to pin me to the pavement where I stood.

"I haven't been in Saluda for years. I wanted to see the old house. I have a lot of memories tied to that place, some good, some bad. I was just trying to get a feel for the old neighborhood, you know?" he said staring down Sulley. "Last I checked Chief, that wasn't a crime. I'm sorry if you thought I had anything to do with that break-in. I hope you find your man, I really do."

Rick started to walk off back towards the school. I looked desperately at Sulley to see if he was going to stop him. Sulley only shook his head at me and sighed.

That couldn't be it. No, this wasn't over yet.

"Why didn't you mention that you were from Saluda on the plane?" I called after Rick who stopped and turned to me.

"Alex no . . ." Sulley said, but I waved him off.

"What do you mean?" Rick asked.

I took a step towards him. "On the plane, when you asked me about my roots in Saluda, why didn't you mention that you were from here? You made it seem like you had only ever been here on business."

Rick contemplated and then, growing impatient, walked up to me.

"Careful Alexandra," Donovan whispered from beside me. I stood firm knowing that he was with me.

"What do you think I should have said?" He chided. "'Hi, my name is Rick and your mother took away the one thing that mattered most to my dying mom.' Would that have been better for you?"

Sulley scoffed and motioned for me to get into the truck.

"Let's go. This is doing no good Kiddo."

Rick snickered and took another step towards me.

"Oh he never told you? Why does that not surprise me?"

"What is he talking about?" I turned to Sulley.

"Get in the truck," he answered.

I turned back to Rick, rage mingled with fear in my throat.

"My mother bought the house at auction. Your family had already lost it."

A vile sneer twisted on Rick's lips.

"You're right, we did lose it to the bank. When Mom came down with cancer she couldn't work anymore. My dad had to take on two jobs just to keep food on the table and the power on. When the medical bills got out of hand they put a lien on the house," he said stepping even closer. "We had to sell everything we owned, called every family member we had. We could have bought the house back."

"There was no way you were going to get the house back. It belonged to the bank straight out," Sulley argued coming to us.

Rick kept his eyes on me, unblinking.

"We could have bought the house back at auction if there hadn't been any other bids on the table. Your mom bought the house right out from under us," he said, his voice rising. "That house was everything to my mom. Her heart and soul went into that house. Her children were all born under that roof. She loved that house more than anything. She was devastated when we lost it. She died less than a month later."

Looking into Rick's eyes I could see unadulterated pain and raging hatred staring at me in cold slate. I leaned into his face, my own anguish and anger screaming in protest within my soul.

"Alexandra, please . . ." Donovan pleaded, but I was too far gone.

"My mother loved that house more than anything too. She just wanted a place to raise me, a house where we could grow together as a family. She also loved her life. We were just starting over. I lost everything when she died. She was MY life and she didn't deserve to die."

Rick took one final step towards me, his face contorting into a humorless, grotesque smile. I could feel his hot breath on my cheek as he bent down close. Sweat beaded my brow, but I set my chin and met his glare. He chuckled and squinted his eyes.

"Well then," he growled, "I'd say we're even."

"Alexandra, back up now!" Donovan screamed and I stepped back just as Sulley lunged for Rick.

"You son of a . . ." Sulley screamed and swung at Rick, connecting with his jaw.

The two men grappled on the ground exchanging blows until workers from the site came running towards the commotion from around the corner. They dragged the two apart as I watched in frozen astonishment. When they were on their feet Sulley shook himself free from the men that held him at distance from Rick. Rick struggled against the two men that restrained him, his chin bloodied and his flannel shirt ripped at the sleeve.

"I'll have you for assault Chief!" Rick screamed as the men started to drag him away.

Sulley wiped at his scraped lip and walked to the driver side door of the truck motioning for me to get in.

"Come by the station, I'll have my secretary draw up the papers for you!" he yelled back and then turned to me. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"Wait," I shouted, spotting something on Rick's exposed arm.

The men stopped dragging him and Rick wrenched free of them and glared at me.

"What is that? On your arm?" I asked pointing.

Rick rubbed the large bandage covering the lower part of his forearm.

"Not that it's any of your damned business, I got snagged by a 2x4 unloading the truck."

I stepped towards him, adrenaline propelling me forward.

"Let me see it!"

"Alex, get in the truck," Sulley instructed, but I kept my eyes on Rick.

"I don't have a damned thing to prove to you or your boyfriend there. I can see he is just as caught up in you as he was in your mom. Well, you win again Chief. You've got the house and another Ms. Nolan. You win. I don't have to prove a damned thing to either of you." Rick snarled back and turned and huffed away towards the site followed by the workers.

I stared after him, the pit of my stomach clenching. Looking at him made me want to vomit.

"Alexandra, it's time to go. It's alright. There's nothing more you can do. Let's go," Donovan said. I felt his touch on my shoulder.

I took a shaky breath and willed myself to back away. I climbed into the truck but kept my eyes on Rick until he disappeared around the corner of the building. Sulley started the engine and hurled the truck back onto the road before looking at me.

"You're trembling," he said and patted my knee.

"It's him. You heard that. It has to be him. Did you hear what he said to me?"

"Oh I heard it, the bastard. He's got one hell of a nerve . . ."

"He had a bandage in his forearm."

"Yeah? So what? The guy's in construction, I'm sure it happens all the time," Sulley said, watching the road as he maneuvered the truck onto the descent back.

"Last night, when the intruder grabbed me, I scratched him. It must have been pretty bad too, because I heard him scream and he let go of me. It would have been in the same place on his arm."

Sulley looked at me considering, then turned his attention back to the road.

"I don't know, Kiddo. As much as I dislike the guy, there's still no proof that it was him last night OR fifteen years ago. He would have been just a kid, barely out of high school at the time."

I thought about that for a minute. "Mom bought the house when I was seven, and Rick said his mom died shortly after that. He had a few years to brood it over. If he really blamed Mom for taking the house . . ."

"Even so, we don't have anything else but a hunch and some harsh words to go on," Sulley said sighing.

"Aaaahh!" I yelled and brought my fists down on my lap. "If I could only remember something that would help. Wait . . ."

"What is it?" Sulley looked alarmed.

"On the way up, when we passed that side road, I think I remembered something. I'm not sure if it will help."

"What exactly did you remember?" Sulley asked looking back to the road as he took a tight turn and I had to brace myself against my arm rest.

"I only remember the headlights really. When I looked down that road, I remembered that they were up higher than where I sat in our car. It couldn't have been as small of a car. More like an SUV or a Truck."

"Were they as high as in this truck?"

"No," I contemplated. "Not as high, but higher than a car. Maybe a smaller SUV or a Jeep even. Something like that. I also remember seeing red between the lights. I think the vehicle was red. Does any of this help at all?" I asked, looking Sulley in the face.

He thought about the new information nodding as chewed on it.

"It might. I mean, it's something," he said. "I can cross reference some things when I get back to the station and see what turns up."

I sighed and sat back in my seat. It was a start. I thought about the encounter with Rick and all of the things he had said.

"Was what Rick said true? Did Mom buy the house out from under them? Did she know?"

For a minute there was silence. I glanced at Sulley who looked to be deep in thought and waited.

"Your mother knew that they had lost the house and that it had gone to auction. That was all she needed to know," he finally answered.

"So you knew? You knew they were trying to get the house back?"

Sulley looked at me. "I knew they were trying. The bank didn't think they had much of a chance. Your mother deserved that house every bit as much as they did. I wanted her to be happy, and she was. You both were." Sulley looked back to the road. "Sometimes one person's loss is another person's gain. That's just life Kiddo."

"What about the other thing he said?"

"What other thing?"

"What he said about you and Mom. He thought you two were involved. He called you my boyfriend," I said.

Sulley huffed. "He doesn't know anything about anything. He was a kid. He was just trying to get a rise out of us. I want you to stay far away from him. Even if he's not our man, I don't want you near him. Okay?"

Conceding to nothing, I turned to the window and noticed where we were. We turned the next corner and the crash site came into view. In all my life I knew I would never forget the way the tops of those trees looked, just peeking over the slope on that side. As we got closer I noticed something white laying on the side of the road at the spot where our car had gone over.

"Stop! Stop right here," I shouted and Sulley hit the brakes.

"What's the matter?" he asked pulling over to the side of the road and I jumped out.

"Maybe I can remember something else. This is where it happened," I yelled back and Sulley got out of the car to stand with me.

I walked to the spot where I remembered our car had left the road. Lying on the ground was a bouquet of a dozen fresh white lilies. I bent down and picked them up, inspecting them for a card. They were the same kind of flowers that were left on my mother's grave.

"I wonder who left these here," I said as Sulley came up beside me. I looked at him while he gazed into the deep expanse over the side.

"This is where the car went off," I explained while he stared blankly ahead. "The vehicle came up from the other side of the road and smacked right into us straight-on. We flew right over the side."

I walked to the edge of the embankment and braced myself before looking over the edge. The brush was overgrown, but I could make out the base of the huge pine tree that had broken our fall. It was so far down. Much farther than in my dreams. I blinked back the tears that threatened to escape my eyes.

"Do you remember anything about that night? Anything else at all?" Sulley asked.

I took in a shaky breath. "Besides the gloves, brown leather . . . and the knife? I still remember the snake handle, how it coiled around his hand. I will never forget that," I shuddered. "But that's all I remember."

"I think about that night all the time," Sulley said, still looking out into the expanse. "I wonder what I was doing. What was I thinking at that moment? If I had not have left for Iraq, things would have been so different. I could have stopped it."

"No Uncle Sulley, you can't think like that," I said. "You were protecting our country. You were already our hero. There's nothing you could have done. It was their time. I'm starting to accept that, I think."

"If only I had stayed. How different things might have been," he whispered.

"Everything happens for a purpose. I think it's our purpose now to bring whoever did this to justice. They can't get away with it, they just can't," I said and Sulley lowered his head.

"I know," I said as an idea hit me. "I've got to get down there. See if I can remember something else. Maybe if I get to the actual spot where it happened, I could remember something else about him. It's not that bad of a climb down. . ."

"No. That's not a good idea," Sulley interrupted. "We're not prepared for that sort of climb."

"Oh come on. It will only take thirty or so minutes. I think I can remember . . ." I gauged the first step down, contemplating how I could maneuver the steep decline when I heard the strumming right beside me.

"You have to leave now, Alexandra. We can't stay here any longer. You're in danger here. We have to leave. Right now," Donovan ordered into my ear.

"I told you, it isn't a good idea. Get back from there, get in the truck," Sulley insisted and I could see the urgency in his eyes.

My heart quickened in my chest. I looked around at the dense woods that surrounded us and the fall below. I could feel it. The air had grown thick, and tension seemed to seep up from the drop below and hovered around us like a fog.

"Go. We have to go now." Donovan said again and I could hear the desperation in his voice despite his trying to retain a calm tone.

I set the flowers back down on the side of the road and took one final glance over the edge before jogging back to the truck and jumping in. Sulley's face was hard to read, a mixture of sorrow and fear. He pulled the truck back onto the road and made a swift three-point turn to get us going back towards town. I scanned the wilderness outside my window for any signs of danger. No one was out there; no other cars were on the road. Perhaps Rick had followed us . . .

"It's okay now. I don't feel it anymore. You're safe," Donovan whispered from behind me.

I tried to steady my shaking hands. I had to know what was going on.

"So what was that all about?" I asked out loud, but directed my question towards the back seat.

"It just wasn't a good idea. I'm not too fond of heights either, getting worse with age." Sulley shrugged. "Plus, if anything happened, no one would even know we were down there."

I looked behind me to where I knew Donovan sat, pleading for him to answer. I wished more than anything that I could see him.

"I'm not sure, it came out of nowhere. A strong sense that you were in direct danger, but from what or whom, I don't know. It was everywhere all at once and then just as quickly vanished into nothing. I'm sorry. You're safe now, but I'm not sure what that was," Donovan said.

Turning and reclining in my seat I looked back to Sulley.

"If I'm going to remember anything, I have to get down there."

"I just don't think it's a good idea. It's too dangerous down there. We'll find another way to tie Brightman to the scene. We have an idea of the size and color of the vehicle that hit you. That could give us a lead."

"You think you can place him in the vehicle that night?" I asked, hopeful.

"It's a long shot, but maybe. I'll run some searches when I get back to the station this afternoon."

"So where is it you're in such a hurry to get off to anyway?" I asked, trying to change the topic.

I was going to make my way to the crash site with or without Sulley's help. That much I was certain of. I needed to know how much time I had in which to do it without his knowledge.

"Well, Kiddo," he sighed. "I'm taking Gram to a home in Hendersonville today. It's time. I just can't give her the care she needs anymore. She needs to be in a constant care facility."

It was as if he had slapped me in the face. I wasn't expecting the blow.

"What? But I thought she was okay at home with . . ." I stopped short. "Is it because of what happened yesterday? This is my fault, isn't it?"

"No, no this isn't your fault. It's just time. I've avoided it for long enough," Sulley tried to comfort. "We have to think about what's best for Gram."

I blinked back my tears. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"I think it's best I take her alone. She won't react well to sad faces." He squeezed my hand. "She'll be confused enough as it is."

I feigned a smile for Sulley's benefit. I knew this was hardest on him. He had taken care of Gram ever since she had first been diagnosed with Huntington's disease. He had barely graduated from high school. He'd been with her ever since, save for the year he was deployed to Iraq when Gary came to live in the cabin in his stead. That's when Mom had met Gary, while he was taking care of Gram. I felt guilty all over again for having made Gram upset, for not being here for her for so long. Now it was too late.

"I'm so sorry, Uncle Sulley. Is there any way I can help?"

Sulley smiled at me and pulled the truck onto the main street.

"This was NOT your fault. I don't want you blaming yourself now. I've known this day was coming for a long time. It's better this way."

I looked away, not wanting him to see the fresh tears that fell onto my face. I wiped them with the back of my sleeve. Sulley was trying to make me feel better, but I still felt responsible. Would Gram have been better off if I hadn't come back? Would everyone have been better off?

"Can I go visit her soon? I won't upset her, I promise. I'll go along with whatever she says."

Sulley pulled up behind Will's squad car in front of the station and cut the engine. He turned in his seat to face me and gave my hand a final squeeze.

"She would like that a lot. As soon as she gets settled in, okay? Now you let me worry about Gram for the time being. You need to focus on you right now. We're going to get to the bottom of this," he said and then turned and hopped out of the truck.

I followed him into the station and immediately searched for Will. The station appeared empty, the only indication of Will's being there was a small stack of folders laying upside down on his desk.

"Will must be in the back. Listen," Sulley said as he poured himself a cup of thick, black coffee from the readied pot and turned to face me, "as unhappy as I know this will make you, I want you to stay here at the station till I get back. I mean it, don't go anywhere with anyone. Can you do that for me?"

I crossed my arms. "It's the middle of the day. I really don't need to be in quarantine. I'm not a kid anymore Uncle Sulley."

He took a long sip of strong brew and winced.

"I know. I know you're not a kid anymore. So do this for me as the police chief asking his witness, okay?"

I looked into his big, puppy-like eyes and nodded, not wanting to promise anything.

"Just take care of my Gram, okay? Don't even worry about me. I'll be right here when you get back."

Sulley patted my cheek and took another sip of his coffee.

"Just let me grab those keys. Make yourself at home. Evelyn's probably at an early lunch, she should be here within the hour. She'll keep you plenty of company, I'm sure."

I waited for Sulley to disappear into his office and then quickly made my way to Will's desk. If he was really interested in helping me find my mom's murderer, then the files on his desk might be about the case. Keeping half an eye on the office door, I examined the stack of small folders. Flipping them over in my hands, I read the tab on the top one. It was labeled with the date of the accident. _Jackpot_. I flipped through the contents and saw reports from various officers who described the scene from that night, taking care not to read details. Being there had been enough.

I flipped to the back of the folder which held pictures. My breath caught in my throat when I came face to face with a picture of the accident scene, captured in fading grey and white. The rest of the folders I dropped with a gasp, but my eyes remained locked on the photo.

The car lay upside down against the great pine, broken chunks of metal and debris scattered among the brush. The photo was taken after I was rescued from the car; the left rear door had been removed in the process. I brought the photograph closer, squinting, and could make out a hand dangling from the driver's seat.

I clasped my hand to my mouth and choked on the bile and sobs that rose up from my gut then looked with curious dread to the right side of the vehicle, to where my mother would be lying. The photograph was blurry there. Squinting did nothing to help bring the image into focus this time. Wiping at the moisture standing in my eyes, I looked again. That part of the picture was smudged. I ran my finger across the glossy surface of the photograph and felt where that edge of the picture had been rubbed raw, maybe with an eraser. Someone had wiped out my mother's image.

Commotion from the office sent me scrambling to put the picture back in the folder and reach down to gather the rest. I flipped them over and set them back on the desk and began to walk away when I noticed a paper I had missed lying on the floor. Snatching it up, I glanced at the fine black print. It was another statement, made by someone who had been at the accident site.

I opened the top folder in order to cram it back in when the office door opened and I heard Sulley's deep voice as he paused to finish his sentence. The name on the statement caught my eye before I closed the folder: William Galia. Will had been there.

I shut the folder and walked away from the desk just as Will followed Sulley out of the office.

"The handwriting analysis should be here by the end of the day. Jones sent in the photos of the mirror as well as a snapshot of Brightman's signature from one of the permits. It's not much, but maybe we can get a match," Will said as they walked into the room.

He nodded to me and I grinned back and had a seat at the table near the coffee pot. My head was reeling. Will had been there, at the accident scene, and had made an official statement about what he had seen. Why would he not have told me?

"Good, good. Call them back and tell them to call me directly. I don't want to miss them if I'm not back. If that analysis points to Brightman, I'm hauling him in tonight." Sulley walked to the coffee pot and refilled his cup.

"Will do," Will said and walked to his desk.

I watched from the corner of my eye as he swept the stack of folders into his top drawer, the whole time keeping an eye on Sulley's back as he did. Sulley handed me a key and I focused back on him.

"Here you go. Make sure you hang onto this at all times. Put it in your pocket and don't let anyone else touch it. I've got the only other one for emergencies, so we don't have to worry about someone letting themselves in," he said and took a swig from his cup and set it down.

I stuffed the key into the front pocket of my jeans wishing I had brought my purse with my key ring or even my jacket, which had much deeper pockets. I had been in such a rush, I had forgotten both.

"Okay, I have to get going. I should be gone for a few hours," Sulley said to me. "Just stay here, okay? If you get hungry have Evelyn call down to the diner and have them send something over. Tell them to put it on my tab."

"I said not to worry about me. Just take care of Gram, please."

"That's the plan," he said with a sigh and then turned to Will. "Remember, pull up anything you can on Brightman. We'll go over what we've got when I get back."

"I'm on it. Don't worry about a thing," Will assured.

Sulley gave one final glance from me to Will before he turned and left the station.

Will came around and had a seat on top of his desk and folded his hands.

"How are you holding up? The chief told me what happened with Brightman. What are you thinking?"

"It's him. It has to be," I said looking Will in the eyes. "You should have seen his face when he talked about my mom. Nothing but sheer hatred."

"Sounds like he has a real thing about the house. I guess it would make sense that he would want to try and scare you out of it."

I rubbed my face and leaned back in my chair.

"I don't know. Just seems so . . . so crazy. To kill someone over a house. It just doesn't make sense to me. How could someone DO that?"

Will nodded in agreement and came to the coffee pot and grabbed a clean cup.

"Yeah, well it sounds like his beef had more to do with the loss of his mother, not so much the house," he said and poured himself a cup of coffee and then sniffed it and winced. "Do you think he still wants the house back?"

I took the pot from him and sniffed its contents. Disgusted, I put the pot back and watched in shock as Will took a sip and winked at me.

"Well," I continued, shaking my head, "it makes sense with what was written in the mirror I guess. Maybe he found out I was coming to take possession of the house. I just wish I could remember something else."

"Something else?" Will asked, taking another sip of coffee.

"Didn't Sulley tell you? I remembered a little about the vehicle that hit us that night. I remembered that it was taller than a car, like a jeep or small SUV. And I remembered that it was red."

"No, he didn't say anything."

"Yeah well, that's probably because it does no good whatsoever," I pouted.

"I don't know; it could be useful. Would be pretty easy to see what kind of car was under Brightman's name at the time. Cross reference vehicle description with accident reports or mechanic shop submissions on or around that day. I mean, to hit you guys with that kind of force must have done some pretty significant damage to the perp's car as well, right?"

I found new hope in his words. "You think it's possible to track down the vehicle then? Is there anything helpful in those files you have?"

Will looked up, mid sip, from his cup.

"What files?"

I pointed to his desk and raised an eyebrow at him. "The ones you hid in the top drawer of your desk as soon as Sulley had his back turned. What are you doing with those anyway? And when were you going to tell me that you were there that night? That you gave a statement?"

Will let out a long breath and set his cup on the table.

"I've been looking over the files from the accident, trying to find something that could tie Brightman to the scene. I haven't found anything."

He walked to his desk and retrieved the files from the drawer.

"I was there that night, yes." He confirmed. "I was walking home from a friend's house and saw the car over the side of the road just as the paramedics and police were pulling up. They took me in for questioning, but I didn't see anything. There was nothing to tell. See for yourself."

He tossed me the statements folder and I caught it and pulled his statement from the pile. I read it over as he watched.

"Why didn't you tell me? It says here you helped get me out of the car. I don't remember any of that."

"Yeah, well you wouldn't. You were pretty banged up and unconscious at the time."

"Answer my question, Will," I demanded.

"I didn't say anything because I can hardly remember a thing myself. I was walking home from my friend's house because I was wasted. He took my keys so I got pissed and started walking, okay? Not one of my prouder moments."

"Did you see an SUV? A red one? Did you see anything?"

Will sighed and shook his head. "By the time I got close enough to realize what was going on the paramedics and police were already swarming the place. The guy was long gone by then. It's all a blur anyhow."

"Did you see her?" I whispered.

Will shuffled his feet and shook his head.

"No," he said softly. "She was covered with a sheet when I got down there. All I saw was . . ."

"Was what?"

Will walked closer, bent down to look me in the eye.

"I saw you. I saw what that monster did to you. And for the first time, I stopped thinking about only myself. I wanted to help you, but there was nothing else I could do besides get you out of that car. It's why I decided to be a cop, Alex. I wanted to keep things like that night from happening to anyone else."

"Why were you hiding them from Sulley? Does he know you were there?"

"I don't think he knows. I doubt he ever cared to read the accounts of that night. It's a tough read; I don't blame him. I was hiding them from him because I know he wouldn't like me meddling. He doesn't want to admit that the person who broke into your house the other night could be the same person who murdered your mom and his brother. But sometimes a fresh pair of eyes can catch things that may have been overlooked. I actually found your account really interesting." Will turned and had a seat behind his desk and grabbed another folder. "I didn't realize you had gotten a good look at the murder weapon."

I closed my eyes and shuddered. "The snake handle . . . sort of hard to forget. I just wish I could remember more. If I could just get down there, to the place where it all happened, maybe I could remember something else."

Will held up his hands. "That's a great idea. Why don't we?"

"I wanted to earlier with Sulley, but he didn't like the idea. Said it was too dangerous. He's probably right, it's pretty steep and a lot further down than I remembered," I said and then considered my next words before I spoke them. "And something felt . . . off about the place."

Will stood again, "That's understandable. It can't be easy to go back there. I think you should though, get down to the crash site. It's the only way you are going to remember anything that could help us find the bastard, especially if you remembered something already today."

I became aware of the strumming that surrounded me, a warmth on my shoulder.

"I don't like it, Alexandra. It's too dangerous. There has to be another way, and I don't trust him. I knew he was hiding something," Donovan said against my ear.

"I know a guy in my neighborhood," Will continued. "He's leant me some repelling equipment in the past. I can go get it, and then we can get down there and see."

I shook my head. "Sulley will blow a gasket if I do. He doesn't want me to leave here at all. He's got enough to deal with today without me worrying him more."

Will glanced at the clock. "He said he was going into Hendersonville. That's a good twenty or thirty minutes away. It will take me about that long to grab the gear and get back here. We could be there and back before he even leaves Hendersonville."

"I don't know . . ." I said.

I wanted to go, but Donovan's concern, his warmth on my shoulder, made me doubt. I wanted desperately to get back to the site and see if I could remember anything else, but I was afraid that the danger Donovan felt, that I felt, would still be out there. Whatever it had been.

"What about Evelyn? She'll tell him we left."

Will chuckled and taking the files with him, grabbed his coat from the rack at the front door. He turned back to me with a smile.

"Let me take care of Evelyn. You just be ready as soon as I get back."

"I don't know about this," I said.

Will looked me right in the eye and winked.

"Trust me," he said and went out the door.

Chapter 11

Five minutes after Will left, Evelyn breezed into the station in a whirl of neon pink and heavy perfume. She smiled when she spotted me attempting to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

"Well hey there Darling, I wasn't expecting to see your beautiful face this afternoon," she said and then hung her lime green coat on a hook.

She was wearing a hot pink sweater dress with four-inch matching heels. I wondered how she could possibly be comfortable wearing shoes like that all day. I had never attempted to wear shoes of that height, but I was certain that if I ever tried I would last about a minute before I took a nosedive into the pavement.

"Yeah, I've been quarantined here until Uncle Sulley gets back. We had a pretty rough night."

"Quarantined, my goodness. Is everything alright?" she asked, positioning herself behind her desk.

"Well, someone broke into the house last night," I said. "We're trying to figure out who it was."

Evelyn gasped and put a manicured hand to her chest.

"My word! Are you alright, Hun? That is just awful. Now who would do such a thing?"

I shrugged. "Wish I knew."

"Well your uncle will get to the bottom of it. If anyone can figure it out, it's Sullivan. Once that man has it in his mind to do something, he'll see it through. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

I remembered the way Sulley had laid out Rick an hour earlier.

"He's on it alright," I said and then poured out a cup of coffee. "Would you care for a cup?"

"Oh no, thank you. I don't trust a thing that comes out of that pot." She giggled.

I sniffed my cup. It smelled more like coffee and less like burnt rubber this time so I decided to chance it and I took a tentative sip. The hot liquid scorched my tongue and the bitterness made me gag, so I set the cup down.

"That's probably very wise," I coughed and Evelyn laughed.

"I've worked here for eight years. I've learned to have my coffee at home." She winked and turned in her chair when the phone on her desk rang.

"Saluda police department," she answered in a cheerful voice. "Oh hey Gertie! How are you this afternoon, Sugar?"

I smiled at the perfect Hollywood southern bell that was Evelyn. I wondered if I would have picked up that overly-charming accent if I had gotten a chance to grow up here. Would I have picked up a liking for sweater dresses and big hair too?

"You're kidding. Really? But my birthday isn't until next week. And they didn't say who it was from? Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit. Isn't that the sweetest thing," Evelyn said and then covered the receiver with her hand in order to whisper to me.

"Someone bought me a hair appointment for my birthday next week. Don't even know who did it. Wanted to remain anonymous. Isn't that just darling?"

I nodded in simulated enthusiasm and then remembered what Will had said. _Let_ _me take care of Evelyn_. I chuckled to myself. Brilliant.

"You should totally go now. I'm stuck here anyways. I can answer the phones. Plus, Will should be back any minute. Uncle Sulley will be out for hours yet, you've got time. Go enjoy yourself, you deserve it." I smiled innocently.

"Well aren't you the sweetest," she said and then took her hand away from the receiver. "Well Getrie, I haven't had my roots touched up in a coon's age, do you have time to fix me up? You do?"

Evelyn covered the receiver again. "Are you sure you don't mind? I really shouldn't . . ."

I stood up and waved her off. "Of course not. Get on out of here and enjoy yourself."

Evelyn stood and bounced happily in her heels.

"Why this is so unexpected. Okay Gertie, I'll be right over," she said and hung up the phone and grabbed her jacket. "You know, I bet that Jack Lovell up at the tavern is responsible for this."

She giggled as I helped her into her jacket. I held back my laughter.

"He's had his eye on me ever since the divorce, bless his heart," she continued.

"I'd say he is probably in good company."

"Oh thank you Hun, but I'm nothing to shake a stick at. If it weren't for miracle workers like Gertie, I'd scare dogs off a meant wagon," she said and grabbed her purse from her desk.

I held the door for her as she rushed out of the station balancing on her pink stilts.

"I'll only be a couple of hours. If anyone calls with an emergency, just forward the number on to the chief," she said with a wave.

"Will do," I called after her and went back inside.

Relieved at the ease at which Evelyn was disposed of, I wandered back over to the coffee pot and picked up my cup. I was desperate for the caffeine, I just wasn't sure I was THAT desperate. I regretted skipping breakfast too; my stomach was starting to growl. I took another sip and grimaced. The brew tasted very little like coffee and more what I thought an old gym sock might taste like.

I grabbed three dusty sugar packets from a little basket on the table and dumped them in. I stirred the white crystals around with a tiny straw I also found in the basket. Holding my nose, I sipped again. The sweetness overpowered the dank bitterness and made it a little easier to tolerate.

The phone on Evelyn's desk rang and made me jump, spilling a small amount of coffee on the floor. I stared at the spill, half expecting it to dissolve the tile in a wisp of chemical smoke. When the phone rang again I went to the desk and considered a moment before picking it up. What if it was Sulley?

"Saluda Police Department," I answered in my best southern drawl, trying to mimic Evelyn as best I could.

The voice on the line laughed. "You've been watching too much Andy Griffith."

I recognized Will's voice and sighed with relief.

"Well it was my first attempt at southern charm, give me a break."

"Well I take it by your performance that Evelyn fell for it?" he asked.

"Faster than a hot knife through butter," I tried again.

"That was better. I'll be there in five minutes. Be ready to jump in the car, Aunt Bee."

"Got it," I said and hung up the phone.

I retrieved my coffee and returned to Evelyn's desk when I heard the strumming, gentle, behind me.

"This isn't a game Alexandra," Donovan said.

I spotted movement from the top of the desk and noticed a small vanity mirror sitting to the side of a stack of papers and some old family photos. Through it I could see Donovan leaning against the door, his face stern.

"Do you really think you have to tell me that this isn't a game? I know it's not a game. In fact, I am scared out of my mind to go back there, but I have to do this."

Donovan sighed. "I don't like it."

"What happened back there exactly? What did you sense? What was it . . . was it him?" I asked. "My mother's murderer?"

"Yes, I believe so. Only it was different. I couldn't tell where he was coming from. The danger was everywhere all at once as if it came out of nowhere. And there was something else. A . . . sadness I haven't felt before."

"Sadness? I don't understand," I said looking in his eyes through the mirror.

"As much hatred and anger that was closing in, I felt an overwhelming anguish and desperation. I don't like the idea of you going back there. It isn't safe, Alexandra."

I thought for a moment, terrified by the description of what was possibly waiting for me at the bottom of that ledge. Nothing however could squelch the desperation and need that swelled up from my own soul. I had to have answers, the need for them consumed me. The cost of finding them didn't matter anymore.

"I'm going down there. It's the only way I'll be able to remember more about that night. Maybe I'll remember something that can put this monster away for good. I have to try," I said unwavering.

In the reflection I could see Donovan shake his head. His jaw twitched as he glared at me with those sapphire eyes.

"I don't want you to go. You know I can only do so much to protect you. I'm here to keep you away from danger, not to march you right into the face of it."

"Is this about me going down to the site, or the fact that I'm going down there with Will?"

I studied his reaction in the tiny mirror. He looked away for a minute, his eyes fierce. When he looked back at me I thought I saw a moment of sorrow just below their surface.

"You can't trust him, Alexandra. He's already kept things from you. I fear that you're not safe around him. You need to keep your distance. Please, Alexandra."

"What do you know that you're not telling me? Just tell me that," I demanded.

When Donovan looked away, I knew I was right. There was something about Will he wasn't telling me. But why?

"I can't say," he answered. "There is no way to know anything for sure. Please, can you just trust me on this?"

"What about me? Can't you trust me? What is it you think you know? Is it so important that you'd stop me from trying to remember more? We could end this today! Fifteen years of my life I've lost, and it could all end right now. Can't you see how important that is to me? I can do this." I wiped a tear from my eye before it could escape, but I knew he saw.

Donovan's voice lowered and he looked back up to me, compassion replacing his stern tone.

"Alexandra . . . he's dangerous."

From the window I saw the squad car pull up in front of the building and heard a single honk. I turned from the mirror to where I knew Donovan stood. I focused on the spot where he should be and willed my mind to conjure up his image, but it was no use. I saw nothing but the peeling green paint of the doorframe. I angled my chin to where I guessed his face would be.

"Look, I know you have a . . . a job to do. And I know that I am making your job more difficult here, but I have to do this because I have a job to do too. I have to stop this bastard. I have to do it for them, and I have to do it for me. And if you won't help me, I understand. But I'll go with someone who will." I was surprised with how shaky my voice sounded.

I stifled a sob and locked the door from the inside before going out. I almost turned back when I heard Donovan's hushed voice behind me.

"You've never been just a job," he whispered, but I was too upset to let the words phase me.

I tried to look normal as I hopped into the squad car beside Will. Giving him my best smile, I fought to not let my nerves show.

"Are you ready for some repelling?" Will grinned next to me.

I rolled my eyes at him. "You are enjoying this entirely too much."

"Beats sitting at the office all day," he teased and handed me a white paper bag and motioned to a large coffee cup in the cup holder. "I grabbed you a muffin and a coffee. It's not as good as the amazing breakfast you passed on this morning, but I figured you could use it."

I took the bag gratefully and pulled out the huge blueberry muffin and took an excited bite.

"Thank you, I was dying," I admitted and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "And sorry for bailing on breakfast, but I had to get out there and see that bastard face to face."

Will nodded and pulled the cruiser onto the road.

"And how do you feel about him now that you've had a chance to think? Since you've seen his face, gauged him a bit? Still feel like he's the one?"

I swallowed a sip of coffee. "It has to be him. He's the only one with any kind of reason for wanting to hurt us. . . for wanting me out of the house."

Will gripped the steering wheel tighter. "But you're not entirely convinced are you?"

I sighed and shook my head. He was right, there was something off about it all.

"It's like I said before, why would anyone kill people over a house? I know it meant a lot to his Mom, and he blames the loss of the house for losing his mom all the sooner, but it's still just a damned house. But then again, looking into his eyes when he talked about my mom, seeing the disgust and hatred there . . . it scared me."

"I don't know," Will said taking the curves in the road faster than Sulley had, forcing me to grip the side of my seat to remain steady, "some people are just messed up in the head and there isn't a rhyme or reason for it. It doesn't have to make sense to you, just to them. People who do this kind of thing aren't rational. Remember that."

I contemplated that thought, turning to my window. A grey pall still hung over the trees and the threat of rain darkened the skies. The sound of Will's cell phone turned me back to him. He fetched it from his pocket.

"Galia," he answered. "Mmhmm, yes that is very interesting. That could be our vehicle. Stay with it and call me if you get anything. Thanks man, I owe you one."

I stared at will as he hung up the phone and put it back into his pocket with his free hand.

"Was that about the information I gave you earlier? About the red SUV?" I asked excited.

"Yes it was."

I set down the muffin and glared at him. Waiting for him to go on.

"I called an old friend who's still on the force up in New York. He has a talent for tracking down information. He says a red Bronco was surrendered to a scrap yard in Waynesville the morning after the accident. The shop records indicate there was major damage to the front driver's side of the car and the side door . . . the exact kind of damage that, based on what you've said, the vehicle from that night would have sustained. It's a long shot, but it could be something," Will explained, keeping his eyes on the road.

"How can we know if it's the same vehicle that hit us?"

Will braked as they came up to the last curve before the crash site.

"There's not much to go on. No record of who surrendered the vehicle. My buddy is doing some digging on the Bronco's VIN number. If we're lucky, it will tie to Brightman."

"Pray we luck out then," I said and turned again to the window just as we passed by the small side street and came up on the crash site.

Will slowed the cruiser and taking a look in his mirrors, made a three point turn in the middle of the road and parked as far over as he could beside the lilies which still adorned the embankment. He got out and I followed as he and went to the trunk where he grabbed a long rope, a harness and some metal carabineers. Then he grabbed the gun holster from deep inside the trunk and flung it over his shoulders.

"Why are you wearing that?" I asked, startled by the sight of the gun perched in its holster and hanging by Will's side. Were we going into battle?

Will gathered up the rope and harness into a small pile and motioned for me to grab the rest.

"Well, I figure it can't hurt," he said and then took in my worried face. "Look, someone is after you. I hate this thing more than anyone. You know that. But I would rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it."

I considered the possibilities and shuddered. I remembered the danger that had been so thick in the air just over an hour ago. As much as I hated the thought of Will having to use his gun, I hated the thought of being caught helpless without it even more.

"I guess you're right. Just . . . be careful with that thing," I said and grabbed the rest of the gear and shut the trunk.

I followed Will to the base of a large tree where he handed me the end of the rope.

"Here, hang onto this," he said and then took the rest of the rope and carefully wrapped it around the tree trunk, slipping here and there on the moist leaves and pine needles that blanketed the forest ground. When he came back with the other end of the rope, the knees of his uniform were speckled with damp soil and moss.

Will devised a complex knot so quickly that I couldn't keep up with each end of the rope entwined throughout his fingers. He pulled the now free end tightly and the slack tightened around the base of the tree. Will picked up the harness and motioned for me to put it on.

"Ladies first," he grinned.

"Oh no!" I protested. "You're going down there first. I'll follow."

Will sighed and wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

"I would rather be the one to go first, believe me, but I'm afraid it's not an option unless you have an idea of how to put this harness on and attach it to the main line."

I thought for a moment, fighting to find a way around the fact that I had never rappelled before and therefore had no clue how to strap that dog leash looking thing onto my rear end. Grunting, I surrendered with a shrug. Will smirked and began to strap the harness around my right thigh.

"I'll be right behind you, okay?" he reassured.

I contained the urge to argue and raised my arms so he could adjust the straps at my waist. Once he had me strapped into the harness he led me to the edge steadying me with his hand, and strapped me to the rope using some more fancy knots and carabineers. I chanced a look behind me at the drop and suppressed the urge to vomit.

"I suddenly remembered that I have a pretty bad fear of heights. Of this height in particular," I panted.

Will finished strapping me in and placing both hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eyes.

"That's completely understandable, considering . . ." He glanced over the edge and then back at me. "You are going to do fine. You can go as fast or slow as you want."

He handed me the line and showed me how to hold it and let out slack.

"Just keep two hands on the top and squeeze. I'll be right here."

Suppressing the growing panic, I nodded. "Okay."

Will helped me over the edge and I told myself not to look down, but just as quickly as I thought it I forgot it and peeked behind me. My heart jumped into my throat at the sight of the expanse below and the base of the great pine that had stopped our fall fifteen years ago. It looked to be a miles down from this angle.

"Good, now just ease up on the rope and start walking down with your legs," Will instructed.

I took two steps and eased my grip on the rope. When the line jolted me backwards, I squeezed as hard as I could and hugged the line to me. Gasping, I shut my eyes and waited for the world to stop spinning. The panic consumed me.

"Alex, you've got to get a better grip on the line. Ease off slowly and then walk it down. I know you're scared, but we don't have a lot of time," Will yelled.

Panic filled my ears with the sound of my own heart and I lost Will's words in the thundering against my chest. I willed myself to move – I just had to get to the bottom. Then the strumming surrounded me starting at my left shoulder. He was here. Tears of relief came to my eyes with his presence.

"You were right. I shouldn't have come. This was stupid. I can't do this," I whispered.

"Yes you can. We'll do it together," Donovan said against my ear. "I won't let you fall."

I felt his warmth on my hands, which were clenching the rope as tightly as they could, the grooves burning into my flesh.

"It's okay, I've got you," Donovan whispered and I eased my fingers slightly and let the rope side through my palm ever so gently.

We lowered slowly but smoothly into the brush. I used my legs to maneuver around shrubbery and bushes and concentrated on the warmth on my hands, imagining Donovan in control of the rope. I knew he wouldn't let me fall.

A few feet further and I could see the brush thinning and the base of the great pine tree just below. I was almost there. I took slow, steady steps towards the tree, getting snagged here and there on a prickly branch or protruding twig, but continuing on. I couldn't help but to notice the strange quiet that pervaded the woods around us. It was as if even the birds and crickets preferred to not visit this particular spot. It sent a cold shiver down my back.

"Do you feel that?" I asked Donovan, wondering if he was picking up on the same foreboding energy.

"I do, and I don't like it."

"I should have never come. You were right, I'm sorry."

"No, you were right about coming down here. What you were wrong about is thinking that I would not be with you," he said.

"I know. It's your job to protect me. I'm sorry I make it so hard," I said with sudden regret.

I took one final glance behind me and let the relief ease away some of the tension in my shoulders. The ground flattened out and I was able to stand, once again, on level ground.

"I could leave if I wanted to," Donovan said. "We have all been given free will to choose. You have never been a job, Alexandra. I stay because I chose to. Your safety is my first priority; you need to make it yours as well."

I felt his warmth leave my hands as I straightened.

"Now, let's do what we came here to do. I'm right here with you," he assured.

I was overwhelmed with gratitude that Donovan was with me and I used his strength to continue my mission. Wiping my face with my sweater sleeve, I wiggled out of the harness. Once free, I yelled up to Will who pulled the harness back in.

I walked over to the base of the pine for a moment, remembering. Everything else around me vanished except for the tree and the strumming keeping watch over me. I put my palm against the bark and closed my eyes, trying to make sense of the storm of emotions welling within me at the sight of it.

This tree had saved my life, but in the same instant had claimed my mother's. I opened my eyes and looked out over the sloped landscape noting that if the tree had not stopped our fall that night, the car would have rolled and fallen hundreds of feet further.

"This tree stopped our fall," I began, my voice coming out as a hoarse whisper.

"Yes," Donovan said.

"It also killed my mom. When we crashed, it killed her." I forced out the words through clenched teeth.

I felt Donovan's hand on my shoulder and I closed my eyes again, seeing the memories of twisted metal and bloodied hair.

"No Alexandra," he said. "The evil inside of a man killed your mother. It's that evil that I have to keep you from."

Just then we heard a crashing in the bushes ahead and Will emerged from the brush. He unclipped himself from the main line.

"That wasn't as steep as I thought it would be. We could have gone it on foot after all, I think. It gets steeper further down though," he said and then took in my solemn expression. "Did you remember something already?"

"No," I said. "Not yet."

Will studied me a second more and then took a look around.

"Be careful, there's a good drop on the left," he warned, gesturing behind me. "Looks pretty flat along this ridge though."

I stepped away from the tree to where I guessed the car had come to a rest all those years ago. Will followed me with his eyes.

"What is it?"

"I remember the footsteps," I said focusing.

"Footsteps?"

"When he finally gave up, when the police were coming, he ran that way." I pointed back the way we had come down, but did not look, keeping the image in my head. "I could hear him running away."

"That makes sense," Will agreed. "He would have left his vehicle up the road where it's not as steep, where he could hide it among the tees. Do you remember anything else?"

I could feel Will's eyes burning into me, but I was too lost in my memories to look at him. I concentrated instead on every image and every sound that I could conjure from that night. I closed my eyes but all I could see were flashes of light and a gloved hand wielding a serpentine knife.

"No," I said and opened my eyes. I met Will's intense stare. "Nothing."

"Are you sure? Try as hard as you can. I have to know . . . we have to know," Will persisted coming closer. "Maybe if you put yourself in the exact same spot . . ."

Taking a step back, I focused on the tree. I strained to remember, through the flashes of light and memory, where I had been pinned in relation to the tree. I took another step back, my eyes transfixed to the tree before me, but seeing into the past.

In my mind, the brisk fall air and autumn colors melted into a torrent of rain and smoke and darkness. I looked out through the shattered glass between bursts of light and plunging shadow. When the angle was right, I sat down and closed my eyes, immersing myself entirely in that moment fifteen years ago. I narrated for Will.

"The windows were smashed on this side," I said gesturing, but not looking. "There was a lot of smoke and the rain, it made it hard to see. The car was upside down, but I was pinned underneath the back seat. I could see." I took a shallow breath. "Gary hanging from the front seat. And Mom . . ."

My voice broke.

"You don't have to do this Alexandra," Donovan whispered beside me, his voice filled with concern.

"Go on Alex, what else do you see?" Will urged.

"There was blood where her seat used to be. Blood everywhere . . . and her hair . . . her hand . . . she had been thrown from the car," I continued, tears falling unnoticed down my cheeks. "I tried to yell for Gary. Then footsteps."

"What did you see Alex?" Will's voice was tense.

"All I could see was a shadow. A tall figure . . . heavy steps. He crossed to Mom's side of the car first and just stood there . . . looking. I called to him, but he didn't respond. He just stood there! I screamed for him to help her. The gloved hand . . . it stroked her hair."

I heard Will sigh and let out a troubled breath. It was drowned out by the thunder in my reverie.

"He walked away to the other side of the car. Gary started to wake up. I screamed for him to wake up!" I cried out, lost in the memory.

"Alexandra, you have to stop," I heard Donovan call to me from some distant shore of my mind.

"He killed him! I heard him scream! And then it was quiet. All I could hear was the rain. I didn't understand what was happening. And then I saw him . . ."

"What did you see? Did you see his face?" Will was shouting, the urgency in his voice permeating the darkness.

"A knife!" I squealed. "He had a knife. He tried to get to me . . . again and again. I couldn't move, all I could do was scream. He wouldn't stop . . . he wouldn't stop!"

"His face! Concentrate on his face! Who was it Alex? Who was it? Concentrate!" Will yelled.

"No Alexandra," Donovan called.

"Did you see who it was? Did you see? Focus!" Will yelled again.

"Damn it, why are you pushing her so hard!" Donovan screamed at Will, but it fell on deaf ears.

"Alexandra, you need to get up now. We have to go!" I heard Donovan pleading to me in the distance.

But in my mind I could see him in the back seat with me, instructing me, helping me survive. "I am with you." I heard him say, the strumming soothing me. I looked into his face. For the first time I noticed the tears that glistened on his cheeks.

"You're in danger, we have to go now!"

His velvet voice, thick with apprehension, shouted the warning. The urgency of it jarred me from my memories and I opened my eyes to see Will standing over me, his face tense and reddened.

"You saw something didn't you? What did you remember?" he demanded.

"I couldn't see his face. I was bleeding . . . and the rain," I managed.

"You saw him, didn't you?" he yelled.

"No, damn it . . . his face, it was covered . . ."

"Alexandra!" Donovan yelled.

"Ssshhh!" Will shot up abruptly and held a hand up to motion me to be silent.

I stood and wiped my eyes. I followed Will's gaze behind me, but saw nothing.

"What is . . .?"

"He's here," Donovan said from behind me. "It's time to go now! This way Alexandra!"

"Someone's coming," Will whispered, not taking his eyes off of the direction we had come. "On my say, run that way along the ridge as fast as you can. I'll hold him off."

Will drew his gun from its holster.

"What? No . . ."

"Alexandra!" Donovan pleaded.

"Go now!" Will yelled and I hesitated for a second before turning to run as fast as I could along the ridge.

"This way!" Donovan yelled in front of me and I followed his voice into the woods.

I risked a look behind me and saw Will raise his gun. I turned as a shot ripped through the unnatural silence around us and echoed like the hideous crack of a death drum. I screamed and fell over my feet, landing noisily onto the damp, leaf covered earth. Donovan's voice was immediately in my ear.

"Get up Alexandra, you have to run. Get up!"

I stumbled to my feet, finally getting my trembling limbs beneath me. I looked back at Will, but saw no one.

"Run!" Donovan yelled again and I took off in the direction of his voice.

"What about Will?" I screamed.

"You can't worry about him right now, just stay with me. You have to keep running!"

Before I could protest, another shot erupted from behind me and splinters from a nearby tree stung into my flesh as the bark exploded from the impact of the bullet. Screaming, I covered my head with my arms but kept running.

"This way! Get lower to the ground," Donovan yelled just in front of me.

I could feel the warmth of his hand on my wrist, leading me through the trees and brush. Crouching down, I kept my head as low as possible. The footsteps were heavy in the distance behind me, running towards us. I wanted to turn, just for a second, to see who was after me, the need to know outweighing my concern for my life.

"Alexandra, keep running! Stay with me!" Donovan shouted, anticipating my hesitation.

I forced myself to not look back, to keep moving forward. Another shot erupted and hit a tree just in front of me, sending more shards of tree bark into my face and arms. Ducking instinctively, I lost my footing and Donovan's grasp on my wrist. With a scream I slipped over the edge of the ridge.

I slid down the steep embankment, smashing into bushes and shrubs which snagged my legs and back. Desperately, I tried to grab hold of something, a branch or a root, but I couldn't. I was moving too fast and with too much momentum. When I came to the bottom of the embankment, my body rolled uncontrollably until I finally came to a rest beneath a damp thicket of dead brush and fallen limbs.

For several seconds I was afraid to move, or even to breathe. With my eyes closed, I searched the silence surrounding me for the strumming. I heard it, felt Donovan's warm touch on my forehead, but it was different somehow. The strumming came slower, and seemed fainter than before.

"Alexandra, are you alright? Open your eyes for me," Donovan whispered into my ear.

I wanted to get lost in his velvety voice and could almost feel him as he knelt beside me in the muck: solid and strong and in the flesh. When I opened my eyes, I saw him kneeling there, looking down on me. In that instant, I could see every feature of his magnificent face, his raven black hair and those magnificent eyes. I could see into their haunting blue depths as they looked over me with warmth and worry.

Startled at the revelation, I shot up and winced at a new, sharp pain in my right thigh. I looked down and saw a red gash through a fresh tear in my jeans. Straightening out my leg, I moved it around. Once I determined that it was not broken I tuned back to Donovan, but his figure was gone. All that remained of his presence was the strumming, slow and faded. I choked back a sob and started to get to my feet.

"No, wait!" Donovan warned.

I froze and listened. I could hear a shuffling of feet traversing the embankment above us. My heart dropped and I looked frantically around, desperate for an escape route. I knew I wouldn't be very quick on my feet if I tried to run and the ground was littered with fallen debris, dead leaves, and shrubbery. Any kind of movement would be easy to hear and to track. As the shuffling grew louder my chance to escape diminished. Out of options, I decided to make a run for it and began to rise.

"No Alexandra! Lay back down. You need to sink into these dead branches and leaves! Hide yourself in them," Donovan instructed, his voice confident and firm.

Without hesitation I laid back down and scooted into the pile of fallen brush as far as I could where it was damp and muddy. I frantically covered myself with branches and debris, digging into the moist earth with my legs and arms.

"That's it, good. Cover your face. Hurry!"

I pushed a branch in front of my face. It was covered in dead, soggy leaves and smelled of mold and wet earth. The world around me grew dark as I covered my head as best I could. Bitter panic rose in my throat as I remembered the last time I had wedged myself out of reach in the damp darkness.

I clung to the strumming in my mind, but didn't dare let my sight wander from the fissures of daylight seeping in through the cracks between the branches and leaves.

"Good, now stay very still. I need you to remain absolutely silent. Do not move!" Donovan whispered urgently beside me.

He was with me inside this murky, dank sarcophagus. I could feel the warmth of his arms around me, steadying me as the shuffling turned to heavy footsteps that jogged the remainder of the embankment and then began to stalk towards us.

I didn't dare move, didn't dare blink. I could only lie there motionless, listening to the heavy footfalls as they approached and grew louder with every crunch of dead foliage. I strained my eyes to see something, anything through the minuscule cracks around my face.

The footsteps came to a rest a foot from my head and I thought for a moment that I might throw up, the fear manifesting as a whirlwind churning inside of my abdomen. I tried to focus on the strumming, on the gentle "ssshhh" against my ear and the feel of Donovan's warm arms around me, but I was distracted by a flickering of light that danced in the shadows of my organic tomb.

Following the flicker with my eyes to a crack just above my face, a twinkling caught my eye. I stared at the play of light until my eyes focused. When they did, my heart stopped and my body stiffened uncontrollably. There shimmering in the daylight, inches from my face, was a knife – its serpentine handle twisted around a gloved hand.

Chapter 12

"Ssshhh, it's okay Alexandra. You've got to stay completely still. It's almost over. I've got you."

I focused on Donovan's voice and realized with shock that I wasn't breathing. Worse still, I was shaking. In my panicked state I didn't dare take a breath for fear that the use of even that much muscle would make the shaking worse. _Maybe it would be better if I just passed out,_ I thought as the light from the cracks ebbed and rippled in my vision. _Yes, just slip into a deep sleep and escape the terror around me. Escape it all . . . perhaps for good._

"Stay with me Alexandra, stay with me!" Donovan's words came out rushed and tortured.

Just then, all of the light from the crevices vanished as my pursuer took a step forward and blocked what little daylight shone on us through the blanket of trees above. I forced my eyes upward, intent on seeing, on knowing who was out there before I lost consciousness. All I saw was blackness. I closed my eyes and let it consume me. I longed to slip into it, to rest at last. The end.

"He's leaving. You did it Alexandra. Hang in there just a few seconds longer." Donovan's voice pulled me back.

I forced my eyes open and when I saw that daylight again permeated the darkness around me, I fought to keep them open. Donovan's smooth voice spoke calming words to me as I thought about that night, all those years ago, when his voice had been the only light in an impossible darkness. It had sustained me then, and it sustained me now.

A great heaving sigh of frustration erupt from the stillness around us, and then heavy steps jogged off through the brush, crunching and snapping violently. I took a deep, ragged breath but remained still, all my senses alert and vibrating. The footsteps disappeared into the distance and I waited, rigid, until several minutes had passed and I heard nothing. Only then did I allow my muscles to ease as I panted for breath until it seemed my lungs would explode from the amount of air I sucked in.

"He's gone, you did it. We should move, try to get to safer ground," Donovan said and the warmth around my arms lightened and faded.

I was too afraid to uncover myself, my body remaining one with the muck and moist earth. My mind refused to process relief.

"It's okay, he's gone. Trust me Alexandra," Donovan whispered.

Donovan's voice pulled me from my shocked state. I brushed the branches and mangled leaves from my face and limbs. My muscles ached and I noticed for the first time that I was cold. My jeans, now wet and clinging to my skin, held the frigid dampness against me, chilling me with each new gust of autumn wind. I stood on shaky legs and took stock of my injuries. Aside from the gash on my thigh, I was relieved that I had suffered only a few scratches and scrapes during my fall.

"You're hurt."

The worry in Donovan's voice made me take a closer look at the gash in my leg. It was deep, but had stopped bleeding.

"It's just a scrape, I'll be fine," I answered, my voice quivering.

"We have to keep moving, he might decide to double back. Can you walk?"

"Yes, let's get out of here," I nodded and followed Donovan's voice which came from the opposite direction from where my attacker had disappeared.

I took wide steps, which stung, in order to avoid the cluttering of downed branches and thorny bushes.

"Wait," Donovan said and I halted mid-step.

"What is it? Is he coming back?"

"No. Take off your sweater," He urged.

"What? Why?" I was confused, it was freezing.

"It's bright red. You're easy to spot you out here like that. You have to get rid of it. Bury it under some of this debris."

I hesitated for a minute but pulled the muddied sweater over my head. The cool air nipped at my bare arms, but I was grateful that the tank top I wore beneath it was dry. I jammed the sweater beneath a pile of dead branches and covered it with leaves until the red was no longer distinguishable from the shades of brown covering it.

"Good, now let's go," Donovan urged and we plunged ahead.

We traveled for a while wordlessly, me tripping over shrubbery and branches, but eager to get somewhere where I could rest. The forest went on forever in a million different directions, and the sunlight was dipping further and further beneath the tree line. I was exhausted and worried about Will.

"Shouldn't we go back up towards the road?" I paused to catch my breath.

"No, he would have thought of that. That's the first place he'll look," Donovan answered a few feet ahead of me.

"But it's also the first place anyone will look, right? The police . . . Will?" I urged.

"We don't know that anyone beside this man is out looking for you yet."

"But Will's car is up there. Will could be up there waiting for me to come back. He could be hurt," I pleaded to the trees before me, wishing I could see Donovan's face. "What about Will?"

"We can't worry about him right now, Alexandra. He doesn't matter right now."

I recoiled, his words stung as if he had stabbed me with them.

"How can you say that? Is this because you don't like him?"

Donovan sighed and his voice got closer. He spoke from right beside me now, his tone urgent and all business.

"I never said I didn't like him. What I said was that I don't trust him and I don't. Neither should you. Did you hear how hard he was pushing you back there?" Donovan paused and took a loud breath before going on. "It doesn't matter if I like him or not. None of that matters right now, do you understand? All that matters right now is you, YOUR safety. Nothing else matters."

I could imagine him there, looking into my eyes, making sure I understood what he said next. I glared ahead in defiance shaking my head. Donovan sighed again and his voice softened.

"Look, we have think strategically about this, okay?" He said. "Whoever is after you will be expecting you to go back up to the road, back to the car. He will be expecting you to go back and look for Will or flag down some help. HE will be waiting, and it's not worth the risk of going up there in the hopes that he is not the only one."

Huffing, I lowered my eyes. He was right, but damn it, I didn't want him to be. I wanted more than anything to go back and find Will and make our way back to the station. But he was right. Whoever was out there would be waiting for me there.

I threw my hands up in frustration, but knew I had only myself to be angry with. It had been my idea to come out here. I hadn't listened to Donovan or to Sulley and now my life was on the line and Will could be out there injured or worse. It was all my fault.

"Damn it. So what do we do? Where are we going? It's going to be dark soon."

Donovan's voice came as calm as a whisper. "We keep moving, until we find a safer place to wait."

"Wait for what?" I shrugged, defeated and exhausted.

"For the Calvary," Donovan said.

My shoulders dropped. The thought of being stuck in these woods in the dark with a madman after me made my stomach twist around itself.

"Come on, let's keep moving." Donovan said, his voice moving in front of me.

I sighed and hurled myself forward. Every step made my legs ache and tremble and my arm muscles seized with the dropping temperature.

"You're doing great. Just keep moving forward," Donovan encouraged and I brooded.

"Easy for you to say," I grumbled but continued on. "You're celestial."

  *

The journey through the thick, damp brush seemed interminable and my arms and fingers had gone numb long ago. The sun dipped below the tree line turning the evening sky an iridescent swirl of coral and blush. The shadows of the forest crept up from the ground, their black fingers extinguishing the remaining sunlight seeping in through the leaves. Soon the sun would vanish entirely and the forest around us would be lost to the oppressive dark.

I continued to follow Donovan's voice as he encouraged me to keep walking, pausing only for a minute when my legs started to throb, and then feeling his warmth on my hand, forced myself forward. I tried not to think of Will or how panicked Sulley must be by now. The guilt was almost unbearable. How could I be so stupid, to get us all into this mess? Why didn't I just listen? I prayed that Will would be found, and soon.

When it seemed my legs could move no further and exhaustion began to overpower me, a bed of moist leaves and soft earth sounded inviting. I considered dropping where I stood and closing my eyes until the sun came up, but I heard Donovan call out suddenly.

"There!"

I looked ahead through squinted eyelids in order to see in the waning daylight. There was a clearing ahead. The trees thinned and the foliage dispersed to either side of browning meadow. Weaving through the middle was a thin trial leading off into more densely wooded terrain.

"A trail?" I asked, knowing I didn't have the strength left to hike even a marked path.

"It's a game trail. That means . . ." Donovan's voice trailed off ahead.

"That means what?" I asked following behind, not understanding the excitement in his voice.

The black of night was closing in. There was no chance of me following the small trail into another stretch of wooded hell.

"There! Up there. Come on!" Donovan called ahead.

I looked up into the trees and at first saw nothing, but as I followed Donovan's excited calls, a structure took form among the shadows. Hobbling closer, I froze when I came to the clearing and looked up at the hunting platform. It poked out from among the branches of a large pine tree just off the game trail. From the platform, one would have a clear vantage point of the trail and the woods surrounding it. Donovan's excitement made sense, but I felt apprehensive.

"We're going to spend the night way up there, aren't we?" I shuddered.

Donovan was beside me again. "Only as long as we have to. Come on, it's almost dark."

When we arrived at the base of the pine I saw that there were planks nailed along the side of the tree for use as a make-shift ladder up to the platform. From this perspective, even in the dark, the platform seemed a mile high.

"Must I keep reminding people that I have an issue with heights?" I pouted.

"I know you do, but this height may just save your life. Take it one wrung at a time."

I looked once more at the height and then to the surrounding forest, now almost completely immersed in black, and began to climb. My legs wobbled and the gash in my thigh stung each time I lifted my leg to the next wrung. I had to rely on my arm strength to pull myself up to each one. This time I didn't look down as I ascended bit by bit from the shadows below into the last shards of evening light.

Near the top my knee buckled from under me and my feet slipped free of the wrung below, forcing me to cling to the top wrung with all the strength left in my arms. My wet feet flailed as they kicked and searched for their foothold. Panic took hold of me as my arms began to lose strength and I started to slip. I reached for Donovan and started to scream his name, but before I could I felt his grip on my arms.

"I've got you. I told you I wasn't going to let you fall," he grunted and I felt him pull.

I glanced up to him and in the feeble, dying twilight I could see Donovan's muscled silhouette stooped down to help me. Gasping, I realized I could feel his grip on me, warm and solid. At last my foot found it's foothold on the wrung and I strained to keep my eyes on him as I pushed myself to the top of the platform. His muscular arms pulled me as I flung my legs safely over.

I struggled to sit up, desperate to hold the image of him in my eyes. He sat beside me on the platform, his form no more distinguishable than a shadow and fading with the sky's light. I reached out my hand to touch him.

"You can see me," he whispered.

"Yes," I answered and my eyes welled with tears.

Through moist eyelids I watched as Donovan reached for me and the last of the sun's light faded into black. I blinked back the tears and let them roll onto my cheeks. When I opened my eyes his silhouette was gone, lost to the darkness that consumed the forest around us.

Heartbroken, I cried out and bowed my head. I let disappointment and exhaustion seize me and I wept.

"I can't . . ."

"Sshh, it's alright. I told you before, when your heart is ready, you will see me."

I lifted my head and looked at the spot where I knew he looked back at me.

"Right now, my heart has never wanted anything more in my whole life," I whispered.

I felt Donovan's hand on my cheek. I closed my eyes and imagined him there in front of me.

"I thought I could do this," I whispered. "I thought I could bring my mom's murderer to justice, but I'm tired Donovan. I'm tired of running from shadows. I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of being afraid."

I heard Donovan's sympathetic sigh in the darkness.

"I wish that I could tell you that it will all be over soon, but that's something I just don't know," he said, and I could feel the strumming, slow and gentle against me. "But I do know that you will make it through this, that you are strong enough. You are going to persevere."

I let out a ragged breath. "How do you know that?"

His hand brushed the side of my face again.

"Because you have to. And because I am here to eliminate any other option."

"You said before that you don't have to be here, that you want to be," I said wiping my eyes on my shoulder. "Why?"

I heard him take a deep breath. I felt him pull away.

"Because you are why I exist . . . why I even want to. You are everything to me."

I could hear the anguish in his voice, but I didn't know what to say. I wanted to tell him that I felt the same way. How could I even begin to explain to him what he meant to me? He had saved my life more than once, twice, a dozen times. But more importantly I knew that wherever Donovan was, I would consider that my home. He reminded me that I was never alone and I never wanted to be without him. But before I could form the words I heard him clear his throat.

"You need some rest. You'll be safe up here tonight. You should really try and get some sleep," he said.

When I wiped my face with my hands I was startled by how cold they were. In fact, now that I had stopped moving the chill was becoming overwhelming. I longed for my jacket or even the muddied sweater that I had left behind.

Shivering and exhausted, I laid down as close to the base of the tree as I could in order to escape the razor-like night wind. Curling myself into a ball, I tucked my bare arms into my legs to harvest as much body heat as I could from my core. While the dense plywood beneath me was hard and unforgiving, I was thankful that my body could rest at last. I searched the dark for the sound of Donovan and heard the strumming beside me. The fact that the strumming was becoming more faint and slow was worrisome, but my mind was too weary to question it. I was satisfied that he was there.

A hefty breeze stung my cheeks and arms and chilled my legs through my damp jeans. I waited for it to pass and then curled in tighter and braced myself for the next cruel gust. What came instead was soothing warmth. It wrapped around my chilled arms and held onto me, shielding me from the wind. The warmth covered the back of my damp, weary legs, and pressed against my head. My body eased and the shivering stopped. I knew that Donovan was lying beside me, holding me close to him.

"You'll make yourself weak, touching me like this. Your energy, what if you need it?"

"Right now you need it more."

I closed my eyes and let his warmth surround me and the strumming calm me. I knew it would drain him, interacting with me this physically, but I was too thankful, too wrapped up in the safety of him to care. I rested against the strength of his arms and let the black, dreary night melt away.

"Talk to me," I whispered.

"What do you want me to talk about?"

"Anything. I just want to hear your voice," I answered. "Talk about those years in Chicago . . . those years I can't remember you. After the accident."

The night was silent for a moment, and then Donovan's voice, like smooth satin, filled my ears.

"Do you remember that night you snuck out of your Aunt and Uncle's house? You were barely fifteen and you took their car out for a joy ride. You drove around town for an hour and then just parked on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Do you remember that?"

I snickered. "You saw that?"

"You got out and climbed onto the roof and lay there for hours staring up at the sky until the sun started to rise."

"I remember. That was so long ago," I said, my mind growing heavy with sleep.

"For me it was as close as yesterday. Your whole life, to me, has been a handful of days and at the same time forever," he whispered. "You talked while you lay there. It was as if you were talking right to me. Do you remember?"

"What was I talking about?"

I let Donovan's familiar voice ease me into forgetting where we were and what we were hiding from. I journeyed with him into the past and closer to welcomed slumber.

"You talked about your parents, about missing this place," Donovan said. "You talked about school, about how different you felt from everyone else. You were angry."

"Teenage ranting," I shrugged. "Sorry you had to hear it."

"I'm not," he assured me. "I think you knew I was listening. I think you needed me to listen. Just like I needed you to tell me what you were feeling. Your never spoke about what was going on inside until that night atop the car. Somewhere inside you, you knew I was there."

I could barely hear him speaking, my mind teetered on the brink of consciousness. The warmth of his body surrounding me filled me from the inside out. I tried to stay with him, tried to focus.

"I think I've always known . . ." I answered more asleep than awake.

For a minute not a sound but the gentle strumming filled the space around us and I drifted further away into the welcomed numbness of sleep, taking Donovan's gentle voice with me.

"You asked me a question that night, I'm not even sure you knew what you were asking," he continued, a whisper against my ear. "You said that if God never gave anyone more than they could handle, why did he have to make you so strong to begin with? 'Why me?' you asked. What made you so special?"

I sighed, barely aware that I was still speaking. "You . . . never answered me . . ."

I felt Donovan's warmth on my check and my breathing slowed and my mind was carried away with the sound of the muted, tender strumming. I heard his voice as it flowed with me, but the words lost their meaning as I was finally lost to blissful sleep.

"I did answer you," he had whispered. "I said . . . everything."

Chapter 13

I struggled and shoved against the seat that pinned me, but it would not budge. The footsteps approached, crunching and snapping the dead leaves with merciless persistence. I tried to scream, but the weight on my chest crushed my lungs. I squeezed my eyes shut and fought against the pain. I attempted to sink into my seat in order to hide, but I couldn't move. Then I heard a voice smooth and deep, and a gentle strumming beside me.

"Alexandra, come with me."

I opened my eyes and saw the dark figure beside me reach for me through the open door. The seat that had pinned me was gone and my lungs gasped, unobstructed, the wet night air. I leapt up and grasped his hand, which he held out to me and he helped me to my feet. We ran though the darkened woods, my legs snagging on the dead branches and prickly shrubs. I could barely see, but followed his dark frame as we delved deeper and deeper into the darkness.

Tripping on a fallen tree branch, I screamed out and lost my grip on his hand. When I looked up I could not distinguish his figure from the surrounding shadows. The strumming was too faint. I couldn't tell which direction it was coming from. I searched the woods frantically with my eyes, my ears heard the strumming slow and fade into nothingness. Before I could cry out to him, I caught a glimpse of his figure standing in a clearing before me.

Relieved, I ran to him, arms outstretched. But when I reached him, his image evaporated and my arms embraced nothing but rain and smoke. When the haze dissipated I stared in horror at the huge white fangs in front of me that glistened in the dim moonlight. The massive red eyes of the great beast glowed and burned into my flesh as it snarled and barked at me sending shrieking echoes throughout the sinister night. The last thing I saw before it charged was the glint from the amulet which adorned its neck; a twisting metallic serpent, dripping with blood.

  *

I stifled a cry when I woke up to total darkness. My breathing came in shallow pants as I struggled to remember where I was.

"It's okay," Donovan whispered from beside me.

I could still feel his warmth around me and I remembered with trepidation that we were still in the hunting platform fifty feet in the air. The night was still ruling the sky and I scolded myself for waking before the relief of dawn. But then I heard what had woken me.

Barking. In the distance, interrupting the constant sway of the breeze through the trees came the low, guttural wails of several large dogs. I shot up, feeling the assault of the frigid night air on my bare skin and reeling against the dizziness that followed.

"Dogs," I whispered. "Is it a search party?"

"I think . . . it may be," Donovan answered weakly.

I got to my feet, clinging to the base of the tree for support.

"Why didn't you wake me up? We have to call to them!"

When he didn't answer I searched the platform for his figure. Still unable to see him, I listened for the strumming. It was still there, faint and slow.

" . . . was waiting for them . . . to get closer," he half whispered, half groaned.

"You made yourself weak keeping me warm. You used too much energy," I gasped.

I hesitated, concerned, and then strained to see out into the wilderness. The barking dogs were getting closer; I could hear the leaves crunching beneath their prancing paws. I cupped my hands around my mouth to call out.

"Wait!" Donovan strained to yell.

I dropped my hands.

"Let's just wait . . . see who it is. To be sure."

Heeding Donovan's caution, I crouched down and waited, all my senses searching the night for sounds of movement. The dogs barked excitedly as they charged forward with precision upon the debris covered earth. I heard footsteps stomping and plodding behind them, hurrying to keep up. My heart rose into my throat and my eyes fixed in the direction of the barking. When they got closer still, I could see a single stream of light darting and bobbing as it approached.

"Alex!" I heard the familiar voice call into the dark.

"It's Sulley," I sighed with relief and started for the edge of the platform.

Before I reached the edge to climb down I felt Donovan's hand on my shoulder.

"Let's see . . . if anyone is with him," he panted, "before we give away your position."

Before I could argue I saw a second beam of light trailing behind Sulley. It moved slower, the lighter footsteps straining to keep up.

"Maybe that's Will," I said, excitement and relief urging me forward. I began to climb down on shaky limbs using all my strength to steady myself.

"Alexandra, please . . . be careful. I haven't got all my strength. If he's still out there . . ." Donovan cautioned from the platform.

I was too relieved to heed his warning, too exhausted to consider any possibility but a return to safety. I was almost down from the tree but I paused to look up to where I heard his voice.

"Thank you Donovan . . . for my life," I said and then climbed the rest of the way down.

"Don't thank me yet," I heard him breathe before I ran in the direction of the flashlights in the near distance.

"Alex!" Sulley shouted into the woods again and again, desperation thick in his voice.

"Uncle Sulley!! Over here!" I cried back, my throat hoarse.

Sulley's voice was excited and frantic and yelled over the barking dogs.

"Over here! I found her! Get on the radio now!"

I fought past the downed limbs and brush, my legs sore and unsteady, and rounded a final tree towards the lights. I came to a sudden stop at the sight of three frenzied hounds, which snarled and lunged at me, their teeth glistening in the moonlight.

"Down now! Down!" Sulley yelled and the dogs halted obediently and sat where they were, tails wagging.

I squinted as the beam of Sulley's flashlight washed over my face.

"Alex!" he shouted in relief and with a few tremendous crunching steps, I was in his arms. He hugged me tightly to him and petted my head.

"Oh thank God. I've been looking for you all night. I found your sweater and thought . . ." he said. "My God, you're freezing."

Sulley removed his jacket and draped it around my shoulders. I sunk into its warmth, its enormity engulfing me like a blanket. My mind fractured, broke into a million shards each rambling thought trying to escape at once.

"I'm so sorry," I said. "It's all my fault . . . I'm so sorry . . ."

"Sshh." Sulley kept an arm around me as we turned back towards the other flashlight.

I was lit with hope when the footsteps approached. Officer Jones caught up with us. He panted, trying to catch his breath and tucked his radio back into his belt.

"The others are headed back to the road to flag down the ambulance to have it ready," he said.

My heart sank and I turned, panicked, to Sulley.

"Wait . . . ambulance? Where is Will? Is he hurt?"

Sulley hugged me close. "The ambulance is for you, so we can get you checked out. Will's car is back up on the road, but we haven't located him yet. When was the last time you saw him?"

My legs suddenly lost all their strength and I found myself leaning into Sulley for support.

"Hours ago. We were just going to take a look around the site . . . see if I could remember anything. Then he said that someone was coming. He told me to run. There were gunshots. He was there Uncle Sulley! It was the same man, the man with the knife. What if he hurt Will? What if Will's out there somewhere . . . what if he's dead?" I cried and my legs finally buckled from under me and I sank to the ground.

Sulley bent down and lifted me into his arms and handed the dog leashes to Jones who took them and lead Sulley back up the road.

"Don't you worry about any of that right now. We found you, we'll find him too. Let's just get you checked out, get something in your stomach."

"The dogs," I breathed, my head fuzzy as my body bobbed with every heavy step that Sulley took, "can use them to find Will."

"We must have swept a five mile radius between me and Mr. Henley who has the rest of the dogs. I was just about to call it in for the night when I found you. It's black as pitch out here. He couldn't have gone far. We'll find him."

"It's Brightman . . . has to be."

"If it is, it's the last mistake he's ever going to make," Sulley said behind gritted teeth.

I closed my eyes, the swaying movement of Sulley's arms as he carried me proved too much for my weary head. I searched with my ears for the strumming and found it faint and slow among the panting of the dogs and the loud footfalls over a multitude of branches and dead leaves.

  *

When I opened my eyes again I was in the back of the ambulance on the side of the mountain road. A cluster of lights and movements surrounded me and it took me a minute to process all of them. A paramedic was hovering over me, dabbing my thigh with a wet cotton ball, which stung but I was too disoriented to complain. Beyond the opening of the ambulance I could see Sulley talking to Jones and another man, who I guessed was Mr. Henley because he was leaning up against a pickup full of wriggling Bloodhounds.

Sulley nodded in agreement with whatever was being said. I sat up and we locked eyes before the paramedic bade me to lay back down. I refused and was about to stand up when Sulley appeared at the ambulance doorway.

"Please tell him that I am fine. I can walk, I don't need to be laying in the back of an ambulance when Will is still out there!"

Sulley gave the paramedic a dismissive nod and the paramedic threw his hands up in defeat before walking away to give us a minute.

"You've been through a lot tonight, you need to do what the paramedics say."

"I'm just a little woozie," I argued. "Some water and I'll be fine."

Sulley shook his head. "You need to go on to the hospital and let them check you out."

I got up defiantly, wrapping Sulley's jacket around me and stood firm even though a strong gust of wind threatened to knock me off balance. We were parked further up the road from the crash site. I saw from the headlights of the nearest squad car that the drop to the ridge was only a slight slope here. It would be an easy hike from this spot.

"There's no way in hell that's happening. There's nothing wrong with me other than a few cuts and scrapes." The paramedic handed me a bottle of water and I thanked him and then turned my attention back to Sulley. "We have to go back out there and look for Will."

"You'll be safer at the hospital for the rest of the night. Whoever is after you could still be out there too." He looked into my eyes. "Did you see anything Alex? Can you give me a description? Anything at all?"

I took a swig from the bottle and then bowed my head. "I ran before I saw anything. Will screamed for me to run. I looked back, but I didn't see anything. There were gunshots and then I fell down the embankment and hid under some brush. I couldn't see his face, just the knife."

"Knife?"

I looked him dead in the face. "It was the same knife Uncle Sulley. It was the same man, I know it."

"But did you see him at all? Anything that could help us identify him? Any scars, distinguishing marks? What was he wearing?"

"No. All I saw were his hands because I was covered in all the debris. He had on gloves," I grimaced, furious with myself. "He was right there . . . and I couldn't see him without giving myself away. He was right there!"

Sulley put his arm around me and hugged me to him.

"I'm glad you did what you had to do in order to stay safe. You need to let us take care of this guy. This is why I told you not to come out here. Damn it Alex, why didn't you just listen to me? I'm trying to protect you."

I hung my head. "I just wanted to remember something . . . anything that could pin the accident to Brightman. Will was trying to help me remember, and now he's missing. Have you tracked down Brightman? Has anyone questioned him?"

Sulley sighed and let me go.

"I sent Conely to track down Brightman. He'll call me if he finds anything. We'll find Will. In the meantime, you need to let these paramedics take you to get checked out."

"I told you I'm not going," I hissed.

Sulley glared at me. When I didn't back down he sighed and shook his head.

"Fine, no hospital," he agreed. "But you are coming home with me right now so I can keep an eye on you myself."

"No," I cried. "We have to get back out there and find Will. He could be out there hurt. We can't give up yet."

"I told you, we made a wide sweep of the area. There's not much else we can do until morning, it's too dark. We'll send the dogs back out at first light if he haven't heard from him, when we have a better visual. There's no way you are going back out there Alex. You look like you could fall right over. When was the last time you ate anything?"

I thought for a minute. The last thing I had eaten had been the part of the muffin Will had given me that morning. I had to admit, I was famished and unsteady, but none of that mattered as much as finding Will safe and alive. It was my fault that he was even out there.

"I can't leave him out here Uncle Sulley." My voice was a plea and I looked into Sulley's eyes urging him to understand.

Sulley sighed. He looked from me to the pickup full of eager, whining hounds. He patted me on the shoulder and nodded.

"Okay Kiddo," he said. "Henley and I will take another pass across the ridge with the dogs. Jones!" he yelled and the officer jogged up to us, his breath trailing in white wisps behind him.

"I want you to take Alex home to get her stuff and then take her straight to my place. I want you by her side every minute, do you understand? Do not leave her until I get there."

Jones nodded but I started to protest. Sulley cut me off.

"You're not doing Will or myself any good by being out here. If you want me to find him then I need you safely out of the way. Henley!" he called behind us.

"Yessir?" Henley yelled back from his pickup.

"Your dogs fit for another pass?"

I watched Mr. Henley remove his cap and wipe his forehead with the back of his hand.

"I'd give 'em another hour before I need to get 'em inside and fed. There's a storm coming too. Best get moving," he said and began to gather the leashes.

Sulley turned to me and placed both hands on my shoulders.

"One hour. That's all you get. If we haven't found him by then, we'll have to call it until morning. I'll meet you at my place exactly an hour from now. Jones doesn't leave your side."

I thought about arguing, but I knew there was nothing else I could do. Sulley was being gracious by giving me this much.

"Okay," I said and with one final pat, Sulley walked to the pickup.

I followed Jones to his squad car and climbed in the passenger side as the first smattering of rain began to fall.

"Wait," I called as we rolled up to Sulley and Mr. Henley before they started down to the ridge.

Sulley turned and I shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it to him through my window. Sulley grabbed it and flung it over his shoulder.

"You need this more than I do," I said. "Find him Uncle Sulley."

"One hour." He hollered back before he disappeared down the slope and Jones pulled the cruiser onto the road towards town.

  *

When we pulled up to the house I hopped out of the cruiser and ran through the stinging drizzle to the door. Lightning was flashing in the distance and the wind was picking up. I patted my pockets and was relieved that the new key was still inside. Shivering, I turned the knob.

"Stop," Jones called from behind me. "Let me go in first!"

I sighed and stepped aside so that the officer could get by. I followed him into the house and waited just inside the door as he flipped on the lights and meticulously checked every room and window. When he cleared the kitchen I made a dash for the bag of Gram's cookies and devoured three in the time it took Jones to come back into the kitchen.

"Bottom floor is clear. I'm going to check upstairs. You stay right here."

"No worries. I lack the willpower or desire to move from this spot and these cookies at the moment," I mumbled, my mouth full of oatmeal goodness.

By the time Jones came back into the kitchen I had downed almost the entire bag. I felt better with a full stomach, but I was still shivering in my damp clothes. My body ached all over. I tossed Jones the rest of the bag and headed out of the kitchen.

"I'm going to take a shower and grab my things. Please yell if Sulley radios in about Will."

"I'm not supposed to let you out of my sight, remember?" Jones set the cookie bag on the table, all business. _Was this guy serious_?

I sighed. "I just spent twelve hours buried in grimy underbrush or trudging through knee-high wilderness. I'm wet, muddy, scratched all to hell and freezing. I am taking a hot shower and I don't care if that means you are standing right there to hand me the soap."

When Jones didn't waver I added, "Look, you already checked upstairs. No one's getting past you down here. I think you can relax a bit."

Jones sighed and backed down. "I'll give you twenty minutes. If you're not down here by then, I'm coming up . . . and it won't be to hand you the soap."

"Fair enough," I agreed and made my way painfully up the stairs, gripping the railing for support.

When I reached my room I shut the door behind me and looked into the mirror. My own reflection startled me. I was more of a mess than I thought. The once white tank top and blue jeans were now a sick shade of brown. I had small cuts and scrapes up and down my arms. My hair was littered with small bits of leaves and mud.

"Do you feel as bad as you look?"

I looked to the right of my own reflection and saw Donovan bracing himself against the door. My heart warmed at the sight of him.

"I'll feel a lot better after a shower."

"Hurry Alexandra, I don't like you being here. It's too obvious. We should leave as soon as possible."

I nodded and started to gather clothes from my bag. "Do you think he'll come here?"

Donovan hesitated. "I don't know. Something . . ."

I stood and caught the confused look on his face as he concentrated on something I could not see.

"Something what?"

"Something is off . . . I can't pinpoint what it is, but I don't like it. Hurry."

I knew that he wasn't telling me something, but I also knew that there was no point in trying to get it out of him. I trusted him with my life.

Rushing into the bathroom, I started the shower. Within seconds the room was filled with steam. When I emerged ten minutes later, I was warm, clean and dressed in my most comfortable sweat pants and a long-sleeved shirt. I had a fresh bandage on my thigh and my muscles felt much less tense.

A glance at myself in the mirror assured me that I was looking much better as well. Then I caught Donovan's reflection. He was leaning against the wall, ear to the door, the palm of his hand pressed against its surface. I knew by the way that he leaned that he was still weak. His eyes were closed and he was concentrating, a startled look in his face.

"What is it?" I asked, holding my breath.

"It's Will . . ."

I gasped, my pulse quickening. "They found him?"

I ran to the door and threw it open.

"Alexandra no . . . wait!" Donovan yelled and I felt his grip on my shoulder but I shrugged it off.

"I've got to go. They might need my help. What if Will saw him? He might be able to identify Brightman!" I cried and ran for the stairs, eager to reach Jones and force him to take me to Will.

"Alexandra stop! You have to listen to me! Something is wrong . . ." I heard Donovan shout, but I was already down the stairs.

I paused and searched the room for Jones but didn't see him. When I heard movement in the kitchen I hurried over.

"Did they find . . ." I began to ask and then stopped abruptly in the kitchen doorway.

Will leaned against the counter, the wine bottle tipped to his lips as he guzzled its contents. His uniform was muddied and torn and his face and hair were caked with a thin layer of dirt and sweat. He set the bottle aside when he saw me, his face frantic.

"Will!" I cried with relief and ran to him.

He embraced me and held me tightly against him. I closed my eyes and let the relief wash over me. Will was trembling. He let out a jagged breath.

"I was so scared. I thought you were hurt somewhere or dying." I breathed against his shoulder.

Will rubbed my cheek with his thumb and held me tighter.

"I'm okay. Everything is okay now."

"Alexandra no! Get away from him!" Donovan yelled behind me.

The panic in his voice startled me and I opened my eyes. Over Will's shoulder I caught a glimpse of something black in the corner of the room. I blinked back the tears of relief that had formed in my eyes and looked again. It was a boot. Pulling away from Will confused, I peered around him while he stood stock still.

There, lying on the floor propped up against the wall was Jones. He was unconscious, his legs sprawled out before him. I gasped and jumped back from Will. He put his hands up to quiet me before I could speak.

"I had to get to you . . . he was trying to stop me."

"What did you do to him?" I asked backing away.

"I just knocked him out, he'll be fine. He doesn't understand . . ."

"Wait a minute," my heart sank into my stomach as I had a revelation. "If he didn't let you in then how . . .?"

"Alexandra, come this way . . . slowly, towards me," Donovan called.

I backed up to the cabinets and took a few small steps closer to Donovan and the front door. I kept my eyes on Will.

"When the locksmith came this morning, I . . . I had him make an extra key."

"But why? Why would you do that?" I stammered, edging closer to Donovan, my mind screaming.

Will reached out to me, pleading.

"I had a feeling I would need it, and I was right. Alex, just listen to me for a minute. I have to tell you the truth, you don't understand . . ."

I looked down at the hand Will extended toward me and noticed for the first time that they were streaked with glossy red. I felt wetness on my cheek where he had touched me and I reached up to feel it. When I pulled my hand away, my trembling fingers were tinted with moist crimson. I gawked at Will and took another step back, panic thundering into my chest. The wild look in Will's eyes sent my mind racing in a thousand different directions. _What was going on_?

"What did you do? What did you DO?"

I jumped when the crackle of a radio erupted from Jones' belt in the corner. Conley's voice, muffled, filled the channel. Will flinched and glanced behind him and then focused his intense stare back on me. His eyes were locked on mine.

"Chief this is Conley, over. Come in Chief."

"Go ahead," Sulley's voice answered.

"I have a ten-twenty on Birghtman. He's dead sir. A witness saw someone in uniform matching Galia's description leaving his hotel room about forty-five minutes ago. Said he took off on foot through the woods."

I gasped and looked at Will in horror. He shook his head and held my eyes. He killed him. He killed Brightman; he may have killed Jones. I had trusted a killer. Everything was starting to make sense.

"Ten-four Conley. I'm on my way to the homestead now. Put out an APB on the deputy and then go check to see if he's at the station or his house. Radio me when you have a twenty," Sulley ordered.

"Ten-four Chief."

I backed up further, but Will closed the gap with one hefty step. The intensity in his eyes made the hair on my neck stand on end. The wildness there made him a stranger.

"You killed him," I whispered and stepped back again.

"Alex, listen to me . . ." he stepped closer.

"Keep coming this way Alexandra. Slowly. That's right, you're almost there," Donovan said.

Will took another step towards me.

"I . . . I couldn't find you in the woods. So I found the road and hiked it to Brightman's hotel. I thought he had you. But when I got inside his room, he was already dead Alex. I checked for a pulse, but he had been dead for a while. His throat had been slit."

Despite his words, the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to come together.

"Oh my God. You . . . you were the one with the gun this morning. You told me to run. I never saw anyone else, only you. You were the only one there. It was you who shot at me! You wanted me to run, so you could shoot me in the back."

My breath left me in a rush as if I had been hit from behind as another realization dawned on me.

"Gram! Gram warned me that the killer wanted me to trust him. You wanted me to trust you. You were there that night, just like she said!"

I turned to run, but Will caught my wrist and spun me around.

"No. You have to listen to me!" he yelled.

"Alexandra run!" Donovan screamed as he made the knife set on the counter fly into Will's arm forcing him to , making hi drop his grip on me.

Darting for the front door, I heard Will charge, close on my heels. I flung the door open in his face and he slammed into it and stammered backwards. I ran out of the house and down the porch as fast as I could. A shriek was ripped from my chest when a crash of thunder crackled above and shook the earth beneath me.

"Alex stop! Damn it, no! Get back here!" Will screamed from the porch and took off at a sprint after me.

I darted down the driveway barefoot, the pavement ice cold and rough under my feet. The rain poured heavily making it hard to see past the nearest streetlight. At the end of the driveway I hesitated a second. There was no way I could make it to the station I realized with dread and then ran in the direction of the narrow dirt road that would take me to Sulley's.

It took only seconds to get to the end of my street. I was fuelled by terror and sheer adrenaline. I chanced a look back. Through the sheets of rain that fell like glass shards, I could see Will gaining on me.

"Alex no! Damn it!"

I took shallow breaths and ran as fast as I could onto the dirt road. The road was murky and drenched in shadows. My breath hovered like white ghosts around my face as I ran. It was hard to see the turns in the road until a flash of lightning illuminated the sky enough for me to see where I was going.

The gravel cut into my bare feet with every panicked step, but I forced myself forward. I could hear Will behind me, his grinding steps closing the gap between us. I tried to move faster, but my chest burned when I sucked in the bitter air. My mind raced with my feet, trying to make sense of this horrid reality. I thought of Gram and what she had said in the cemetery, and the pieces fit. _He was there that night . . ._

Finally, I rounded the last turn in the road and considered running into the dark recesses of the woods and cloaking myself in its blackness, but I was too afraid. I couldn't be alone in the woods with this man. Not again.

I listened for the strumming, I longed to know that Donovan was with me, but I heard nothing but the panting of my own breath and the rolling thunder above. What if Donovan used the rest of his energy trying to keep Will from coming after me? What if he was still weak and couldn't help me? I had to get to Sulley.

I kept running. I was sure that my feet were grinding into nubs and that I would throw up or pass out at any minute, but the sound of Will's frantic steps behind me forced me to keep moving. Finally, the lights from Sulley's street glowed ahead and I found new strength to pick up my pace. With a wail, I charged into the paved street and turned for Sulley's house.

"NO!" Will screamed, a feral roar, behind me.

"Please let Sulley be home, please let Sulley be home," I gasped as my legs wobbled and threatened to give out from under me again.

Tears streamed down my face and blended with the raindrops that assaulted my cheeks as I ran down the road. When I got closer to the house I saw Sulley's truck in the driveway. _Thank God!_ I choked back a sob and pushed faster, my heart threatening to shatter under the pressure. I could no longer hear Will's footsteps behind me, but I knew he was still there. Maybe I had pulled ahead.

"Uncle Sulley!" I forced out a scream as I raced up the driveway and up the steps to the house.

I struggled with the front door and thought with sinking dread that it might be locked because my wet hands could not turn the knob. Wiping them on my pants, I fumbled with the knob again. When it finally turned, I bolted into the house and stopped in the living room when I saw that the lights were on. Sulley was nowhere in sight.

"Uncle Sulley!" I screamed again and he appeared, startled, in the kitchen doorway. He was wiping his hands on a kitchen towel and froze when he saw me.

"It's Will, Uncle Sulley . . . he's right behind me! He killed Mom," I sobbed. "It was him, he's the one!"

Sulley shook his head in bewilderment as he processed the information that in my frenzy, I was trying to relay to him. Then he dropped the towel suddenly and removed his gun from its holster. He aimed it past me toward the door.

My breath caught in my throat and I slowly turned to see Will in the entryway, gun raised and pointed at Sulley. A crash of thunder fractured the sudden silence.

"Stop right there Deputy," Sulley warned and then he looked at me. "Get behind me, Alex.

I started to move toward Sulley, trembling, praying that he could finally put an end to this.

"No!" Will yelled and I stopped mid-step. "Alex, you have to listen to me. It was Sulley the whole time. That's what I was trying to tell you!"

"What the hell are you talking about? Alex, come to me slowly. It's okay. I'm not going to let him hurt you anymore," Sulley encouraged. "I should have known . . . I'm so sorry kiddo."

I took a few more steps forward, keeping my back to Will and locking eyes with Sulley who stretched out his hand to me.

"Alex, it's true. I got the phone call after I left Brightman's apartment. My buddy from the NYPD called me back . . . the one I told you about," Will said staring me in the eyes. "He got a hit on that VIN number from that vehicle that fit the description of what you saw. Turns out the red Bronco was registered to a Mr. Sullivan Wiley. He bought it in Hendersonville two days before the accident."

I watched as Sulley's eyes narrowed in anger. Mine grew wider, the shock of Will's words sinking in. My breath caught in my throat and I turned.

"What?" I croaked, unable to find my voice. I looked back at Sulley who was glaring at Will, unblinking. "What is he talking about, Uncle Sulley?"

"Lies. He's trying to get you to trust him. None of it is true."

"It's over, Sulley. Tell her the truth. Tell her why you did it . . . she deserves that much, don't you think?" Will sneered.

"Don't listen to him Alex. He's trying to confuse you. Come here Kiddo," Sulley whispered still reaching for me.

I stared in terror from one to the other.

"It couldn't have been you," I said to Sulley. "You were in Iraq . . ."

"See, I checked on that too," Will yelled when I took another step towards Sulley. "And according to Camp Bucca records, SSgt Wiley was released from military service for behavioral concerns less than a week before. He was discharged, Alex. They sent him home."

"That's a lie!" Sulley barked and I froze in place. "Everything he is saying is a lie! Did he tell you about his son? I mean, the truth? Or did he give you his version of it like he gives everyone else?"

"You son of a bitch!" Will hissed and stepped closer, gun aimed at Sulley's head.

Sulley stared directly at me. "I bet he told you that his son accidentally shot himself, didn't he?"

"Enough!" Will screamed.

"He didn't want you to know the truth," Sulley continued, "that he got drunk and shot his own son!"

I whirled around to Will. I could see in his eyes that it was true. Will's face was a twisted portrait of pain and hatred. Lightning illuminated the doorway behind him throwing his eerie, deformed shadow onto the floor and then just as quickly it was sucked out into the dark night. The power flickered and threatened to go out.

"It was dark in the house. I'd been on a stakeout all night. There was dinking after, yes. I thought someone had followed me home. He was supposed to be in bed! It was an accident!" Will seethed between clenched teeth.

"He's been lying to you this whole time Alex, and he's lying now! He's the master at getting people to trust him. He's had me fooled for years. I should have known. He got fired from the NYPD because he's a good for nothing drunk! No one else would hire him, so he came back home. I took pity on the bastard. I had no idea, Alex . . ." Sulley wailed.

I glared at Will. I finally had my chance to ask the question that burned into my soul like an incurable fever.

"Why Will? Why my family? Were we just an accident too? Were you drunk when you hit us? Did you have to kill them to cover your tracks?" I asked, looking Will dead in the eyes.

Will's face sank. He shook his head.

"No Alex, think about it," he said. "Sulley's the one who cut the brake cables in my car. He knew you'd be driving it. He grabbed the keys when my back was turned. He was the one in your house . . . he had a damned key to it! He was in the woods tonight . . . he was wearing a mask when he attacked me. We were struggling for the gun when he shot at you!"

"You knew I'd be driving too! It was your car, your suggestion! You had a key to my house too!"

My mind reeled as I considered all the possibilities. I felt dizzy, like the room, as well as my life, was spinning out of control.

"I didn't get the key until today, I told you that!" Will yelled at me, the frustration on his face was very convincing.

"His arm, Alex!" he continued. "Tell him to show you his arm! The man who attacked me last night had a bandage on his left forearm, just above the wrist. I saw it when we were struggling over the gun, before I escaped into the woods. Tell him to show you his arm!"

I turned to Sulley, eyes wide, and waited. My heart beat in sync with the pounding of the rain on the old cabin roof. His face was unreadable.

"I never told Will about the scratch." I swallowed. "Show me your arm."

Sulley laughed, a loud booming cackle.

"He would know if he were the one you scratched! Tell him to show you HIS arm."

I tuned back to Will. He looked me in the eyes, their intensity saying a thousand words all at once. He kept one hand on the gun, aimed at Sulley, and with his free hand he hiked the up the sleeve of his uniform. There was no bandage there. He switched gun hands and hiked up the sleeve on the other arm. There was nothing; no bandage, not a scratch.

I turned to Sulley and stepped away from him, my eyes glued to his face, gauging his reaction.

He shrugged. "That doesn't mean anything. He could have been working with Brightman. Think about it. They were working together. Why else would he kill him?"

"Show her your arm, Sulley," Will demanded.

"Just show me your arm. If that's true, then you can just show me," I said waiting, my life hanging on his next move.

Sulley hesitated, staring from me to Will.

"I'll show you Alex, but I don't dare take my sights off of him. He'll attack the first chance he gets. Come on over here and pull up my sleeves. Go ahead, I have nothing to hide."

I glared at him, considering.

"Don't do it! Run Alex....run for the back door while I have you covered. You don't have to believe either of us right now. Just run," Will begged.

"So you can shoot her in the back like you tried to do last night? Enough of this!" Sulley roared just as a deafening crack of thunder erupted from the street and then with a flash the house was plunged into total darkness.

"Alexandra, get down now!" Donovan screamed above the crack of thunder.

"Donovan!"

Without hesitation, I hit the floor as a second explosion echoed in my ears and ripped a blood curdling cream from my throat. A gunshot. And then all was silent except for the pounding of the relentless rain.

For a wild moment I lay there frozen on the floor trying to contain my breath so I could hear any movement around me. I waited for my eyes to adjust, but they found no trace of light to adjust to. I was utterly blind in the overwhelming dark. I strained to hear the strumming, but the wind and rain masked the diminished rhythm.

"This way Alexandra!" Donovan's strained voice came from my left.

I turned my body in that direction and began to crawl on my stomach towards his voice. It was too quiet. Something was very wrong. I realized with paralyzing horror that I was trapped in the house with the person who had killed my parents. One of the men I loved had been shot and was most likely dead. The other wanted me just as dead.

I scurried soundlessly across the floor towards where I had heard Donovan's voice. I used my fingers to dig into the plush carpet and pulled myself forward inch by inch.

"Sshh sshh, stop. Don't move," Donovan whispered from beside me.

I stopped and listened as the sound of footsteps, slow and heavy, moved across the carpeted floor beside me. The footsteps paused. I didn't dare breathe. I didn't know where in the room I was. The darkness that engulfed me was both my saving grace and my condemner. My only hope was that the murderer was as blinded as I was. The footsteps continued across the room in deliberate, slow steps away from me.

"Okay Alexandra," Donovan panted. "You have to come this way. Come towards me . . . that's it. Keep moving."

I continued to claw my way soundlessly forward. There was movement behind me, the sound of fabric being dragged across the carpet; a faint moan. I looked in the direction of the sound as a flash of lightning illuminated the scene before me for a few fleeting seconds.

I was near the kitchen now. A tall figure at the other end of the room, their features drenched in shadow, dragged a body towards the door. The figure turned toward me as the room was again plunged into darkness.

I turned and got up on all fours. With the next roll of thunder I crawled into the kitchen, then froze in place when the thunder faded into the distance and listened. Footsteps, slow and deliberate were moving toward me.

"That's it. Keep coming this way. Slowly!" Donovan's voice was strained and desperate, but he remained calm and I clung to his voice.

I crawled towards him, careful not to make a sound against the less forgiving hardwood kitchen floor. When I heard the footsteps pause, I froze. He was listening for me. When he continued his approach, I moved forward again.

Another flash of lightning revealed that I was deep into the kitchen and a wave of relief washed over me as I realized that Donovan was leading me to the back door. I waited for the accompanying roll of thunder before I again scurried across the floor, this time aiming for the back door. Feeling along the cabinets, I kept the image of the kitchen where I had spent so many childhood nights at the forefront of my mind and tried to remember the feeling of safety that had always surrounded me here.

Thunder growled in the distance so I crawled along faster. After a few steps my hands stumbled across the loose floorboard and it pinched my palm as it squeaked. I froze again, my hand still on the board as the thunder came to a stop. I had forgotten about the loose floorboard. _Damn!_

I didn't dare move my hand for fear that the board would squeak again. I didn't know what to do. I listened for the footsteps, they were getting closer.

"Alexandra . . . keep moving, you're almost there," Donovan beckoned.

My mind screamed that I couldn't move and I prayed that Donovan would somehow hear. The footsteps continued closer. In a panic, I grabbed at the floorboard with my free hand, trying to force it still so I could remove the other. To my shock, the board lifted into my hand and my other hand fell into the recess in the floor.

For a second I didn't move and I listened to see if I had been heard. The footsteps paused for a minute and I remained still until they continued on their path toward me, but they were no faster. Maybe they hadn't heard me.

I was about to pull my hand out of the floor when I felt something soft beneath my fingertips. I grabbed the fabric and pulled it from below the floor. The buttery cloth was slick between my fingers as I pulled at it. I flattened it out on the floor and ran my fingers along its edge. One fat bulk of fabric surrounded by five narrower ones. A leather glove, I realized with cold dread. And it was slick with moisture.

Shaking, I dared to dip my hand in the hole in the floor again even as the footsteps came steadily nearer. In a craze I felt around until my fingers came into contact with cool metal. I grabbed the object and pulled it from the hole with frenzied curiosity. I had to know what it was, if it was what I was afraid it was.

It too was moist and I clutched at the metal object with one hand and felt along its edges with the fingertips of my other hand. The sharp, pointy edge on one end and the rough, curved coil on the other sent me into an elevated plane of panic and shock. Lightning flashed in succession into the room making me feel as though I were caught in some old horror-movie projection.

My worst fears were confirmed when I looked down at the sinister knife in my hands, covered in drying blood, its snake-shaped handle twisting in my grip. I dropped it with a clang to the floor and covered my mouth in my hands. I looked up in time to see Sulley's face glaring at me from the kitchen doorway and then the room was tossed into darkness once again.

"Sulley . . . NO," I choked out the words.

"My God," Donovan gasped with horror beside me. "I've led you right to him!"

I couldn't breathe. This couldn't be real. It was another nightmare. I had to wake up. The footsteps charged at me from the doorway.

"Run Alexandra!" Donovan screamed.

I got to my feet and bolted for the back door. An explosion erupted in white heat behind me and I ducked as the cabinet beside me burst into splinters of oak finish. With a scream I reached the back door as a flash of lightning illuminated the kitchen. I struggled with the knob as behind me drawer after kitchen drawer burst open, their contents hurling themselves into Sulley's face as he struggled to get to me, gun raised. When he took aim, Donovan screamed and a cabinet door flung open and knocked the gun from Sulley's hand.

I twisted the knob and tugged hysterically, but the door would not open. I realized with helpless dismay that the deadbolt was locked. Plunged into darkness again, I felt frantically around the knob and prayed that the key would be in the lock.

"No!" I screamed when my fingers found the empty keyhole.

"Duck!" Donovan screamed and I hit the floor just in time to dodge Sulley's grasping hands.

His fingers clutched for me in the darkness and tugged my hair. I yanked free and scurried across the floor to the other corner. Sulley growled in frustration, the now familiar sound making the hairs on my neck stand on edge.

I backed myself as far into the corner as I could. I could hear panting from next to me and I knew that Donovan was near, but in weakened condition.

"You can't hide forever, Kiddo." Sulley's voice was that of a stranger. "You know, it's a shame that it had to end this way. It was nice having you back. Just like old times."

I held my breath in the corner, keeping my eyes focused on Sulley's voice in front of me. The thunder rolled off into the distance as the storm began to pass. What light broke through the windows was only enough to cause a faint flicker before it vanished and the house was black once again.

"But just like old times you ran off with another man. After everything I did for you. Like mother like daughter," he dolled. "You both made me do it . . . made me kill my own brothers. First Gary, and now Will. I told you he was no good for you, but that didn't matter to you, did it?"

Sulley's footsteps sounded on the kitchen floor beside me, kicking strewn utensils aside as he paced.

"I thought you'd be different, but I could tell right away you were just like her. Do you know the things I did for her?" Sulley ranted.

None of it made sense. My mind whirled, trying to discern his words and the sheer hatred in his tone. What was he talking about?

"I took care of her after she had you. I made her part of my family. I helped her buy that damned house. That was supposed to be OUR home!" Sulley shouted and I bit down on my tongue to suppress a scream

"I only enlisted in the Army in order to better provide for her . . . for the three of us. But that wasn't good enough for her, was it?"

I remained still, listening, trying to figure out what to do. Someone would have heard the gunshots . . . the police were coming, I told myself. Sulley's footsteps came to a halt. I heard a series of strange clicks and then a slow, steady hiss.

"She couldn't wait for me to finish one damned tour!" Sulley continued, the rage building in his voice as he began to pace once again.

". . . and Gary. He was only supposed to stay with Gram while I was away. I should have known that he would take everything from me that I cared about, that I had worked for. He always had to have everything, while I had NOTHING!"

Sulley paced away from me and I sucked in a ragged breath. I couldn't stop my body from shaking. _It was Sulley_ , I told myself over and over in my mind. _Sulley killed my mother. Sulley, the man I had loved like a father._

"Sshhh, it's . . . okay Alexandra. We'll find . . . another way out of this. Have to get you . . . to the front door . . ." Donovan strained beside me. I felt his warmth on my hand but it quickly vanished.

"When you came back I was almost glad that I couldn't get to you that night," Sulley chuckled. "I actually thought we could start over, that we could have a second chance. You look so much like her. I thought maybe . . ."

"This way!" Donovan called out to me and I crawled cautiously towards his voice.

I tried to drown out Sulley's voice, to not hear his crazed words, but a part of me was eager to know the truth. I wanted to understand, to know why.

"Good, keep coming," Donovan whispered and I crept closer.

"But you had eyes for Will from the get go. A whore just like your mother," Sulley hissed.

I stammered as if he had punched me in the gut and almost lost my balance.

"Don't listen to him, Alexandra. Just . . . listen . . . to my voice. You have to keep moving."

I forced my body forward though I trembled, paralyzed with shock and fear and growing rage. As I felt along the wall, my fingers found the doorway into the living room, but something caught my attention before I could make it to the safety of the carpet. I smelled something; a foul, pungent odor filled the room and burned my eyes. Suddenly the hissing made sense. Sulley had turned on the gas burners on the stove. The room was filling with the flammable vapor.

I contemplated making a run for the door, but was unsure if I could make it without stumbling in the dark. As I readied myself to make the charge, the electricity flickered, filling the house with sputtering light and then came back on. Turning slowly, I s tared in horror at Sulley's twisted face just feet away. A sinister smile curled his lips and for a few tormenting moments our eyes remained locked on one another.

"Chief. Chief, this is Conley. Come in chief," Conley's voice erupted from Sulley's belt.

Sulley's eyes remained locked on mine as he reached for his radio.

"Go ahead," he answered.

"We got a call that there were gunshots heard coming from your house. Is everything alright sir? Over."

Sulley smirked and cleared his throat. "No! It's Galia! He attacked us. I tried to stop him, but I was too late. He killed Alex. Oh God . . . hurry! I smell gas!"

My heart sank in my chest and my stomach heaved. He was going to kill me. I would be dead and no one would ever know it was him, that he had killed my mother, Gary, Brightman, Will . . . and me. I glanced behind me to the front door and saw Will, lying in a pool of blood in the entryway. I wanted to run to him, but I knew I wouldn't make it. I turned back to Sulley and met the hatred in his cold stare. He would catch me no matter where I tried to run, there was nothing I could do.

"Hang in there Chief, we're on the way," Conley assured and Sulley dropped the radio to the floor.

"Looks like your luck has finally run out," Sulley hissed.

"Alexandra, the knife . . . do you see it?" Donovan whispered from beside me.

I looked to the floor. There, beside where the radio came to a clanking rest was the snake-handled knife. I gave a faint nod and shot a look back up to Sulley. He took a step towards me and I took an unsteady step back.

"The lights . . . I have to take them out. When I say so, grab the knife. Do not hesitate . . . use it!" Donovan instructed.

"What?" I called out just as Sulley charged at me.

The sound of a thousand shards of shattering glass form every light bulb in the living room erupted in succession and caused Sulley to hesitate as the house was again plunged into darkness.

"Now Alexandra!" Donovan screamed and I dove in the direction of the knife, my hands flailing.

I heard Sulley stumble behind me with an enraged howl and then heard him charge at me again. My frantic fingers connected to the radio. I knew the knife was to the left of it. My fingers gripped desperately as a hand clamped down on my sore ankle and dug into my skin. I screamed and kicked as hard as I could with my other leg. I connected with bone and flesh, but Sulley's grip only tightened. He started to drag me towards him.

"I don't know how you keep doing it, but you're not going to get away from me this time," he growled. "I tried to warn you, to get you to leave. I even tried to make Will look guilty, to get you to see that I was the one who could protect you. I killed Brightman for you! But it wasn't enough, was it? I showed you mercy and you still ran off with him. No more . . . it's over."

I continued to kick as hard as I could, digging my fingers into the wood of the floor. Overpowering hands gripped my shoulders and flung me onto my back. I pushed and struggled, beating against the iron hands that pinned me and wrapped around my throat.

"Donovan . . .gh . . ." I gargled as Sulley's hands crushed my larynx.

I couldn't breathe, every ounce of air was being wrung from my lungs. I felt my body go numb. Though my heart raced in my ears I suddenly felt very tired, like I could slip away and bring this nightmare to a close. Sulley had won and I was dead. A part of me longed for it, welcomed it even.

In an instant Sulley's body was flung back and the crushing grip on my throat slipped away as his fingers groped for me. I flipped back over and gasped for air and choked on the little I was able to suck in. I heard the muffled gasps from above me as my body began to tingle and come back to life.

"The knife!" Donovan strained.

Shaking the fog from my head and still coughing, I gripped along the floor but my fingers were numb. I moved my hands back and forth until I finally connected with the cold metal handle. With a heaving breath I wrapped my fingers around the knife. I could still hear the struggling from above me and could feel Sulley's menacing fingers groping for me, reaching again for my throat.

"I . . . can't hold him. Now Alexandra!" Donovan shrieked and his grip on Sulley was lost.

Sulley lunged at me again and with a wild cry I thrust the knife forward and felt it tear into flesh and come to rest against solid bone before I let my hands drop to the floor. I heard Sulley's anguished howl and it reminded me of the night of the accident, and of Gary's final dying shriek. Sulley stumbled backwards and I shot to my feet.

Lights flashed through the windows in the distance and I heard the wailing of sirens coming toward the house. I looked up and saw Sulley, hunched over, the knife embedded in his gut. He looked down in shock, and then wrapping his hands around the wound, he spun around and staggered out of the kitchen. I watched, my body trembling, as he stumbled into the living room.

The sirens got closer and the house flickered red and blue. I followed behind Sulley, not daring to take my eyes off of him until I saw with a start that Will was looking at me from where he lay on the floor, struggling to move. I took the opportunity to go to him, to help him, but stopped cold. Sulley began to laugh; a deep, menacing laugh that turned my blood to ice in my veins.

When he reached the entryway he turned and smiled, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He held up a chrome lighter and slowly flipped the cap back with his thumb.

"Oh God no," I whispered and remembered the gas that was filling the house.

Sulley flicked the ignition and smiled as the flame grew in his hand. I watched as he tossed the lighter towards me and turned to run. The world became slow and fuzzy all around me as I watched the flame dance and flicker in the air as it came towards me.

I bolted for the front door, but it was as if my legs were sinking into deeper sand with every step. As I neared the front of the living room I saw Sulley reach the front door only to be pulled back by groping hands. Will clutched onto his calf from where he lay bloodied on the floor, pulling Sulley back and keeping him from escaping.

"Looks like we both have an appointment in HELL!" Will gurgled and Sulley shrieked above the sirens that roared down the street.

Behind me I could hear the clank of the lighter as it hit the kitchen floor. I stopped running. I knew I wouldn't make it. I felt a calm wash over me as I accepted my fate. I turned to face the erupting flames.

There, in the flesh before me, was Donovan – as clear to me than any tangible thing I had ever laid eyes on. His blue eyes burned into mine and his face was a mask of pure love and serenity. He held out his arms to me as the house trembled and filled with a gruesome orange light. Tears fell from my eyes as I ran to him. He caught me in his arms and wrapped them around me, and his warm body pressed up against mine, solid flesh on flesh. I looked into his face at last as he wiped my tears and drew me closer.

An explosive wave of heat and destruction erupted around us and we fell to the floor. I felt nothing but the warmth of his skin against mine. Amid the roar of detonation and the wail of sirens around us, I could hear only the strumming against me, slow and steady. I could feel only Donovan's body engulfing me while the world around us blew apart.

As I began to lose consciousness, I blinked and looked up again. My gaze locked with Donovan's and he looked down on me with concern and unwavering concentration. The house around us fractured and was consumed by bright hot flame and roaring destruction, but I couldn't see it. The last things I saw before I closed my eyes for a final time were Donovan's strong arms embracing me and the two great, luminously feathered wings that shielded me from harm.

Chapter 14

When I opened my eyes, I had to blink several times. I squinted against the radiant light that surrounded me. It enveloped me like a soft, downy blanket. There was no sky, no earth, only this warm brightness. No worry, fear, or sadness existed in my mind. For the first time since my family's accident, I felt completely at peace.

Time was suspended, or it simply failed to exist at all. The horror of the past hour melted away. Nothing else mattered except for this place, this contentment. I wanted to lose myself in this state of tranquility, to sink back into it and let it engulf me, embrace me, forever.

"Alexandra," a voice called to me. There was no mistaking the rich velvet of it.

I looked up to the hand that offered itself to me and I reached for it. When our hands met, flesh against flesh, I felt a jolt of warmth rush through me. He lifted me to my feet from where I lay cradled by the serene, radiant glow. I stared into his blue eyes and lifted a hand to touch his face. When I did, he cradled my palm there.

"Is this real?" I whispered to him, amazed at the smoothness of my own voice.

Donovan smiled. "It's more real than anything you've ever known."

I took in the atmosphere surrounding us. Luminous white light danced from all around. There was neither a beginning nor an end to it. We were alone yet I knew that we were surrounded by the energy of endless, bounding love.

The presence I felt with us was overwhelming. It felt something like a rite of passage, where hundreds of friends and family waited to congratulate me on the other side of forever. I couldn't see them, but I could sense them in the distance amidst the constant light.

"Am I dead?" I asked.

Donovan smiled and kissed my palm. "No, you're not dead."

"Then where are we? Is this where you come from? It's beautiful . . . beyond words."

"It has never been as been as beautiful as it is right now," he said holding my eyes with his.

I was confused. This had to be heaven. I had to be dead. I was at total peace with that if it meant I could stay here with Donovan forever.

"If I'm not dead, then why am I here?"

Donovan shook his head. "You're not dead, Alexandra. You still have so much life to live. You've not yet fulfilled your life's purpose."

"Did you save me?"

I remembered the explosion, though it felt so very long ago. I remembered the fire that engulfed the small cabin. I remembered seeing Donovan, as clearly as I saw the orange flames and splintered ashes.

"You saved yourself. You believed, wholeheartedly in your purpose, in me . . . in Him." Donovan motioned to the space surrounding us. "You believed, as the world was crumbling around you, that He was with you . . . and that I was with you. And more than ever, I was."

I tried to remember the terrifying details of those moments before, but it was hard to conjure the horrific images in this place which emanated only tranquility. My heart sank when I remembered the grotesque way in which Sulley's face had contorted with hatred as he attacked me. I remembered how it felt to pierce through his flesh with his own knife. And I remembered being frozen with fear and dread as the lighter flew into the air, dooming us all.

More so, I remembered the calm that washed over me in the split seconds before the house exploded into flames. I remembered thinking that no matter what happened I was overwhelmingly thankful. I had been more blessed in life than most people. I was able to see and feel tangible evidence of the most incredible love of all. I was able to see, hear and feel my guardian angel, who had been sent to protect me and the life that God had created for me.

In those last violent moments I had looked at death unafraid, because if it was time, if I had served my purpose, then I could accept it because I knew the kind of love that awaited me on the other side. I had been lucky enough to experience it in my mortal life on earth. When I turned to see Donovan waiting for me, arms open, I let go of everything else: all the doubt and fear that had plagued my life. I just believed.

"I saw you, like I can see you now," I smiled.

"I told you that you would when you were ready."

My smile faded. "It was Sulley . . . the whole time. I don't understand why."

"Some things you will never understand." Donovan squeezed my hand. "Sulley was sick. He was torn between the truth and his love for you, and the jealousy and hate that skewed his perception. I should have seen it. I am so sorry. I failed you. I let your love for him blind me.

"You've never failed me," I whispered. "I just can't believe that he killed them."

The tranquility in my heart began to fade.

"My mom . . . she always said that she loved him as a brother. And Gary. How could he murder his own flesh and blood?"

"Some people are blinded to the good, the beauty of the world. They overlook the gifts that are meant for them because they become consumed with want of another's. That's what happened to Sulley, and with so many others who cause such death and destruction. They let evil consume them because that is all they choose to see in the world."

Donovan sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "Sometimes it's easier to see the darkness around you than it is to look up to the light."

I nodded, trying to understand. "And some people try to hide from the darkness. They run from it . . ."

Donovan nodded knowingly. "You're talking about Will."

"Is he dead?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"Yes, Alexandra," he said and wiped the tear the fell into my cheek. "He's dead. I'm so sorry."

"You knew he was going to die, didn't you? That's why you didn't want me to get too close . . ."

"I sensed it, that his time was coming. I didn't know how or why, but I knew. That's why I wanted you far away from him," Donovan sighed. "But he gave his life to protect you, and for that I will be eternally grateful."

"Is he . . . here? Is he okay?" I could not hold back the sobs.

Donovan held me close. "He is here. I can feel his presence just beyond us. You can feel it too Alexandra, if you search with your heart and not with your eyes."

I closed my eyes releasing a row of crystalline tears. I ignored the grief that I felt and reached out with all of my heart to the space beyond us. I was immediately consumed with feelings of overwhelming love and joy.

"He sends his love to you," Donovan whispered into my ear.

In my mind, in my heart, I could see Will. He stood off in the illuminated distance and turned to me and smiled. I had never seen such happiness in his eyes. They were alive with elation as if lit from within.

"I see him!" I gasped, my sobs turning into those of joy.

As I watched, Will bent down and grabbed hold of a small child who walked beside him through the warm light. He lifted him high and then hugged the boy to him. The boy laughed and smiled and hugged his father around the neck. Will tuned to me once more and winked, and then with one last reassuring nod, he disappeared into the expanse of incandescent ivory.

"He's not the only one who wants you to know that they're okay," Donovan whispered again in my ear.

My heart stopped as another figure came into view. She walked towards me smiling, her golden hair shimmered in the dancing light.

"Mom?" I cried out.

My mother waved to me from where she stood in the distance. Her warm smile filled my heart and she held a hand to hers.

"Mom! I love you so much . . ." I cried out and laughed with unrestrained joy and tears.

While I watched with my mind, my mother waved to me again and then grasped the hand of a second figure who joined her. Gary tuned to me and smiled and offered me a grateful bow. Together he and my mom walked off into the warmth.

"Mom! Don't go! I miss you so much!" I cried.

I felt Donovan's arms tighten around me.

"She will be right here waiting for you. It will be as if you were never apart. She'll be waiting for you Alexandra, we all will be." His voice broke with those last words and I opened my eyes and stared into his face. Something was wrong.

"What do you mean, 'we'?"

When Donovan did not answer right away I took a step away from him, letting his arms fall. The sorrow on his face deepened and he had to collect himself before answering.

"My purpose has been fulfilled, Alexandra. I . . ."

"No!" I was suddenly furious, the brightness around me dimmed as if reflecting my sudden despair.

"You can't leave me. You said you weren't going anywhere. I need you!"

Donovan lowered his head. "It's time for me to go Alexandra. It's time for me to join the others. You don't need me anymore. If I stay, I'll only distract you from living a normal, happy life. Everything you need is with you in your heart. Your mother, Gary, Will . . . me. You're going to live a long and wonderful life. I've served my purpose."

I shook my head, trying to understand. "Is this because you couldn't sense Sulley? That was my fault, you said!"

"No Alexandra . . ."

"Is it because you interfered to save me? Take it back! Damn it, take it back. I want to stay here with you. It's okay if you didn't save me. My purpose is to be here with you, and with Mom and Gary. Damn it, you can't leave me." I was hysterical, my voice raising to a fevered pitch. "You have been with me my whole life. My purpose is to be with you!"

Donovan grabbed me and pulled me close to him. I beat my hands against his chest and cried. He held me there firmly and I heard a sob escape his throat though he tried to stifle it. He held me close until the fight went out of me and I gave in to despair, sinking into his arms.

For the first time the strumming did not soothe me. It filled my ears with a faint, almost inaudible rhythm, which had slowed to almost nothing. I feared that this would be the last time I would hear it. He had been there my whole life, but a lifetime had not been enough, I realized as my heart broke and the tears ran out.

"I'm not strong enough to be without you," I whimpered.

"You have never been as strong as you are now. You came to Him broken, in pieces. You trusted Him, and he has made you whole again. It's time for you to step out and claim your life back. There is so much joy and happiness left for you to discover. Depend on Him and miracles can happen."

I wiped my eyes and looked into his face. I committed every solid detail of it to my memory.

"I have no one left."

"There is nothing that is lost, that cannot be restored," Donovan smiled weakly.

In the far distance I heard a voice. At first the voice was too faint to make out. I turned to look into the expanse of light all around me. The voice got clearer as it called my name, beckoning to me. It was a familiar voice, full of love. I turned back to Donovan.

"Go Alexandra . . ." he whispered and took a step back.

I was torn between my desire to run towards the familiar voice and pleading for Donovan to stay for as long as possible, there with me. The voice grew louder and I turned towards it again. When I looked back, Donovan was walking into the luminous depth behind me. He turned to me and smiled, the tears in his eyes tearing at me.

"Alex . . . Alex, wake up." the voice called to me and I hesitated, my eyes locked on Donovan.

"I have always loved you, Donovan," I was finally able to say and I wished that I had said it sooner.

"For me, my time with you has been no longer than a few precious days, but I will love you for eternity, Alexandra," Donovan whispered.

"Thank you again, for my life."

"No," he said gently, "thank you."

And with those final words he walked on and let the vast brightness engulf him. I stood there, unmoving, willing my heart to beat on.

"Alex!" the voice pleaded. "Come back to me!"

I turned to the familiar voice, and taking a deep breath, walked away from the brightness towards it.

  *

"Alex, wake up, dear. You have to wake up."

When I opened my eyes I found myself once again blinking against the brightness of my surroundings. This time however, my eyes were being assaulted by the unnatural glare of fluorescent lighting. As my eyes adjusted I took in the marbled ceiling tiles and whitewashed walls and knew that I was in a hospital room.

"Alex honey!"

I turned toward the familiar voice, grimacing at the pain that pounded in my temple. The pain was forgotten the instant I came face to face with a smiling Gram who sat in a chair beside my bed. My eyes widened and I sat up, painfully, my eyes locked on Gram's face.

"Gram," I whispered, my throat raw.

The elderly woman giggled with relief and patted my hand.

"Oh praise God, you are alright. I was so worried . . . you're so banged up."

I looked down at myself, to the numerous bandages and bruises and to the I.V. struck in my arm. I felt like hell, but as I moved my arms and legs I noted that nothing seemed broken. I turned my attention back to Gram.

"You called me Alex. You recognize me?"

"Yes dear, everything is so much clearer to me now."

I grabbed the small woman up into my arms and Gram squeezed me and clung to me. We both wept as we embraced one another.

"Gram, I'm so sorry about Sulley. I . . ." I tried to explain as I pulled away from Gram. How could I explain to her what had happened?

"Ssshhh, hush now. None of this was your fault, do you understand me?" Gram insisted, wiping her tears with a tissue that she held clutch in her hand. "If my mind would have been worth anything at all, I could have stopped him. This is my fault Alex."

I wiped my own tears with the back of my hand. "What are you talking about Gram? You said something like this before, in the cemetery. You tried to warn me. Do you remember?"

"I don't know what happened. So much of these last years have been so fuzzy," Gram whispered.

"Sullivan wasn't giving Gram her medication. He didn't want her to remember what she saw that night. He knew that if he kept her mind confused, then even if she did say anything, no one would have given her a second thought."

I looked up to see Nadine standing in the open doorway, a bouquet of white lilies in her hands. She came into the room and set the flowers on the table just inside the door and had a seat on a chair in the corner of the room.

"She's as good as gold now though," Nadine laughed. "Bugged the mess out of the nurses at the home until they finally agreed to let her come visit. You'd think she was never lost. It's just a miracle."

I looked from Nadine back to Gram. The spark was back in Gram's eyes and she was now exactly how I remembered her growing up. I hugged her tightly and held her out at arm's length.

"What did you see that night Gram, the night of the accident? Do you remember?"

Gram focused and looked off into the distance, seeing something I could not as she recalled that night.

"It was just before I got the call that there'd been an accident. I wasn't expecting Gary to be home until quite late. He liked to stay with you and your mom for as long as possible, you know. I hated that he had to come stay with me even after the wedding, but he insisted. Well, I was in bed reading when I heard movement downstairs. I thought Gary had come home early and I wanted to ask him how your recital went. He was so excited for you when he left."

I smiled and patted her hand as she went on.

"When I walked into the kitchen . . . Sullivan was standing by the back door. I was in shock. It took me a minute to realize it was him. He had been in Iraq for almost a year, but suddenly there he was, standing in the kitchen. He had the strangest look on his face when he saw me, like the look he gave me when he was younger and got caught with a hand in the cookie jar." Gram turned to me and her voice lowered. "Then I noticed that his shirt was covered in blood. I . . . I asked him if he had been hurt. I was about to ask him what he was doing there, but he ran out the back door before I could. That's when I got the phone call."

Gram looked away. "Everything happened so quickly after that. I began to think that I hadn't really seen him at all. And then when he showed up a couple of days later, he acted like he hadn't seen me in a year, like he had just left Iraq. I was so confused. Alex dear, I'm sorry. I . . .I should have said something."

"No Gram, none of this was your fault. He deceived us all. I am just so grateful that you are okay. I should have come home years ago. I should have helped care for you."

Gram and I embraced again and cried together, over Sulley, over our lost years together, over it all. I finally had my Gram back, after all of these years, she was back. After a long moment Gram took hold of my shoulders and looked me in the face.

"Well we have one another now. I cannot believe just how beautiful and strong a woman you've turned out to be. I've missed you so much, my darling girl.

I smiled at her. "I can't believe I have you back."

Sadness washed over me when I remembered the other whom I'd lost. As happy as I was to have Gram back, how could I go on without Donovan? Was he really gone?

"Well hey, you're awake," a male voice called from the doorway.

I turned to see a tall, middle-aged doctor smiling at me.

"I must say, young lady, you have us all pretty stumped," he said coming into the room and checking my pupils with his ophthalmoscope. "You are very lucky to be alive. You survived a major explosion with just some moderate bruising and a few scratches."

"It's just too bad I'm the only one," I whispered.

The doctor nodded sympathetically. "Yes, I am very sorry for your loss. Some officers from the Hendersonville police stopped by to ask you some questions. I asked them to come back in the morning. I figured you would like some time. I would like to hold you overnight for observations, but I suspect that you'll check out just fine and be able to go home in the morning."

"That's great Doctor," Gram said.

I didn't know if it was good news or not. Donovan was my home. What would it be like to go back to the house without him, or Sulley, or Will? I wondered if I should go back to Chicago. There was too much to consider, so much I didn't want to think about. I longed more than anything to just close my eyes and be back in that glorious light with Donovan where things made sense and I was at peace.

"Well I'm afraid visiting hours are over for tonight. We need to let this young lady get some rest," the doctor mandated and Gram looked at me, worried.

"It's okay Gram. I'll be okay. I'm just tired and sore is all."

"Okay," Gram said and stood. "I'll make sure someone gets me here as soon as possible tomorrow. I'll annoy the mess out of them again if I have to."

I held onto Gram's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"I love you so much Gram Gram."

Gram smiled down at me and sighed happily.

"I love you too, precious girl. Now, get some rest," she said and then she leaned down and kissed my forehead and left the room.

"Well your vitals are looking good. How does the rest of you feel?" The doctor looked down on me with practiced concern.

"I've got a headache," I said.

The doctor collected his clipboard and patted my foot on his way out.

"I'll send the nurse in to give you something for the pain. I'll have her give you something to help you sleep too."

"But I've been asleep for like eighteen hours already. Is that really necessary?" I argued.

The doctor paused at the door and turned to look at me.

"You've been through a lot. Your body and mind need to rest," he said giving me another reassuring smile and left the room.

I sat there a moment, not sure which emotion was going to take hold of me first: sorrow, bitterness, despair. _Gratitude. That's what I should be feeling_ , I thought. I was alive against all odds, Gram was alive and back from the recesses of her mind. I was thankful for all of that. I wished it was enough for me, but it wasn't.

"It's okay to be upset," a quiet voice spoke from the corner of the room. "It's okay to be angry."

I jumped, startled, and turned in the direction of the voice.

"Nadine," I breathed and relaxed. "I forgot you were here."

"I'm sorry, Honey," she said as she stood and walked to me. "I didn't mean to startle you."

I collected myself and tried to look happy.

"It's okay. I'm sorry. Guess I'm still a little in shock."

"I know, Child," she said and took hold of my hand. "And it's okay to be upset. You've lost a lot in a matter of a few hours. Or, at least you think you have."

"What do you mean?"

Nadine sat on the edge of my bed.

"Well, Sullivan was not the uncle that you thought he was. He was a sick, sick man. And the truth is you can't really lose something that you never really had. So the loss you feel for him is really a mourning for an idea of who you thought he was."

I shook my head and tried to make sense of her words.

"I guess so, but . . ."

"But the loss of your uncle isn't the loss you feel the greatest, is it?" Nadine interrupted.

I looked up into her sympathetic face.

"No, it's not."

Nadine smiled and squeezed my hand.

"The greatest gifts we get in life are also the hardest to let go of," she said. "Though we ought to be thankful that we ever had them, we mourn them so completely that sometimes we consume ourselves with what we have lost and overlook what we are given in their place."

Another tear fell onto my cheek before I could reach up to stop it.

"How do you know so much?"

"It's important to remember that what was given to you as a gift from Him," Nadine smiled and pointed to the heavens, "can never truly be lost."

I stared at Nadine, at her warm smile and bright eyes.

"How . . .?"

"Okay, so how are we doing in here?" A stoutly nurse interrupted me as she walked in with a tray holding a pitcher of water and a cup. She set the tray down beside the white lilies on the table and turned to me.

"Oh, well . . ." I stammered, "my head is aching a little, but other than that I'm okay."

"Yep, the doctor said you were having some pain," the nurse said cheerily and retrieved a syringe from her scrubs pocket. "I'm just giving you a pain killer and a moderate dose of relaxant. It should knock you right out. The doctor wants you to get lots of rest."

The nurse inserted the syringe into the IV and smiled casually at me. I looked at Nadine and then back to the nurse.

"I'm sorry, I know visiting hours are over. My friend was just about to leave," I said motioning to Nadine.

The nurse looked confused. She lowered her eyes at me and then turned and looked behind her, searching the room for someone, but seeing no one. She looked back to me concerned.

"Oh, okay Hun," she said and checked my pupils with a small light. "You just make sure to rest that head. I'll be back to check on you shortly."

I watched as the nurse walked to the door and then turned to scrutinize me once more before leaving the room. In shock, I turned to Nadine. She smiled knowingly back.

"She couldn't see you!"

Nadine shook her head. "No Child, only you have the gift."

I sat up straighter. "You're a . . . a."

"Guardian? Of course I am," she giggled. "Why, I've been looking after your sweet Gram since she was barely older than you are now."

I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think.

"Boy did she give me a run for my money too," Nadine continued, "living with a murderer for the last decade and a half."

My mind raced. I thought of every time I had been with Nadine. I thought about when we had first met at Sulley's house. Sulley had never introduced us, had never directly spoken to Nadine. At church, Nadine had sat next to me, she had never spoken with anyone else, just me. I realized with astonishment that no one had ever addressed Nadine except for me.

"Does Gram know?" I stammered.

Nadine smiled and patted my hand again. "Oh I suspect she knows on some level. That woman has strong faith, always has."

"But . . . why can I see you with no problem?"

"Well that's because it's easier for you to believe that I'd be looking after your Gram. Your mind accepts it easily . . . even if you didn't recognize me for what I am."

"How many more like you are out there?" I asked, still stunned.

"He has His angels everywhere, Child, looking over mankind. Some are sent straight from the heavens themselves, while others are everyday people just like you or any random man on the street. We can all be called upon to be His angels at any time – to protect His people at any given moment. He can use anyone, and any circumstance."

"And then when they aren't needed anymore, He tears them away," I whispered, regretting the anger in my voice.

Nadine shook her head. "You are letting yourself be blinded by your loss. You're going to miss the blessing He has in store for you."

"I know, I have Gram back, and she's well and in good health. I should be more grateful." I lowered my head.

"And your Gram has her granddaughter back as well as her mind, which is why she is no longer in need of me," Nadine sighed.

"So you're just going to leave her? Just like that?" I cried.

"No Child," Nadine answered, looking deep into my eyes, "I'm going home to prepare for when she gets there."

My breath caught in my throat, but Nadine smiled at me.

"Now, don't you go fretting just yet. She's got quite a few more years to spend with you first. That, my child, is her blessing. I pray you don't miss yours."

I shook my head in frustration, the medication quickly fogging my mind.

"I don't know what that is," I sighed, defeated and weary.

Nadine gave my hand one last pat. "You will. When you decide to open your mind, to look past your loss, you will see. Don't let yourself be blinded by what all you have lost that you don't see what you have to gain. You have to remember that all things are possible. Now, lay yourself down and get some rest, things will be clearer in the morning."

I slipped down into the covers, the muscle relaxant making my limbs foreign to my body. I felt heavy, like I could sink into the mattress and through to the floor. The ache in my head eased and it became harder to hold my eyes open. I wanted to ask more questions, I didn't understand, but my mind was spinning, unable to focus on any one thought. I knew it was useless.

"Thank you Nadine," I said, knowing my time with her was coming to an end. "Thank you for looking over Gram."

"There's no need to thank me, Child. We'll meet again Alexandra."

Nadine tucked the covers up over me and then walked to straighten the flowers on the table.

"It was you. You were the one who left the flowers at the accident site . . . on their graves."

Nadine turned to me and grinned.

"I wanted to make sure you remembered the wonderful life you had with your parents. You must always remember to see the beauty among the devastation."

Nadine switched off the light and walked to the door. She turned to me once more.

"You've been given such a gift Alexandra, don't miss out on the miracles right in front of you. Take care of our Gram."

I could barely keep my eyes open. I wanted to plead with Nadine to stay. I wanted to understand.

"I'll see you," was all I could muster before Nadine giggled once more and closed the door.

  *

I woke the next morning when someone flung the curtains of my room open and the sunlight shone into my face. It took me a minute to remember where I was, but the as the stark white walls took focus I realized that I had been knocked out, a dreamless sleep, in my hospital room.

"Time to get up. I'm going to need to check your vitals before they come in to question you."

I sat up, noting that my head felt much better, as did my body.

"Question me?"

The nurse walked over to me and wrapped a cuff around my arm.

"There are a couple of officers here waiting to take your statement. You're free to get dressed if you'd like. Your grandmother was here bright and early and left some of your clothes for you." She motioned to the chair in the corner and my bag of clothes from the house.

"I think she went to get you some breakfast. I don't think she approved of our selection." The nurse grinned and removed my I.V. "I'll give you a few minutes and then I'll send the officers in. I'm sure you want to get that over with as soon as possible, bless your heart."

"Yes, thank you," I said and the nurse left the room.

I rubbed my arm where the needle had been and slowly stepped out of the bed. My legs were stiff and it took me a minute to be able to put all of my weight on them. I stared at the lilies on the table and recalled my conversation with Nadine. In the light of day I was still stunned at the revelation that Nadine had been Gram's guardian. If I could see her, how many more could I see? How many have I seen walking among us? I wished I hadn't fallen asleep, that the drugs hadn't been so quick to work. There was so much more I wanted to understand.

I hobbled to the chair and picked out a comfortable outfit and went into the small bathroom. I instinctively looked into the mirror above the sink and waited. I half-expected to see Donovan's smiling face looking back at me. When I accepted that my own bruised face was the only I would see, I continued to get dressed.

I told the officers everything that happened the night Sulley and Will were killed. I told them about my parent's accident and they confirmed that the car Sulley turned into the salvage yard was in fact the same car that had run us off the road that fateful night. I was not surprised that Will had been right, I just wished that I had believed him when he told me.

As the officers finished taking my statement, Gram walked in with another familiar face. Evelyn smiled sympathetically from behind a layer of hot pink lipstick.

"Oh Honey, I am so sorry. I just had no idea. I feel so responsible. I just can't believe it." Evelyn scurried over to me in her six-inch heels and hugged me.

"It's okay, no one had any idea," I said.

"I called Evelyn as soon as I got up this morning because I knew that she'd help me convince those goons back at the retirement home to let me escape for the day. You should have seen their tongues wagging in their faces," Gram laughed.

"It was no problem. You can imagine my surprise to hear her speaking to me like nothing ever happened to her after all these years." Evelyn poked a thumb at Gram.

"So how are you, Dear? You look much better. I think that rest did you a lot of good. I brought you some breakfast." Gram set the brown paper bag and a cup of coffee down on the bedside table.

I had a seat on the bed and opened up the bag, happy to see the bagel sandwich inside. By the time I finished my breakfast and was savoring the last bit of hot coffee on my raw throat, the nurse came back in with a wheel chair.

"Okay, you are all set. Your release papers are at the front desk along with a prescription for a mild pain reliever. Remember, no sports or any other activity where you could bang that head for a few weeks."

"I don't know how I'm going to break the news to the roller derby team," I mumbled, earning a cross look from the nurse.

"Well her sense of humor is back. That's a good sign." Gram chuckled. "Evelyn and I are going to get the car and pull it around. We'll see you out front in a minute."

"Okay, see you in a minute." I said and grabbed my bag.

The nurse motioned me to the wheel chair and I rolled my eyes.

"Is that really necessary? I'm walking just fine right now." I sighed.

"It's hospital policy. If want to leave, you sit," she answered with a grin.

I grudgingly had a seat in the wheelchair and let the nurse wheel me to the receptionist's desk. The lobby was busier than I expected for so early in the morning. The nurse wheeled me into a line at the desk. I adjusted in the seat and looked around the waiting room.

Some people were sitting back with a magazines and cups of coffee. Children busied themselves in the corner where several toys and children's books were strategically placed. Many people were fixated on the small flat-screen TV, which hung on the wall next to me. I could see that they were enthralled with the latest reports of the shooting at Fort Bragg.

I looked away, not having the heart to hear of any more pain and destruction, but something caught my eye. Below the television sat a decorative table, meant for hiding the wires of the TV. On top of the table, almost out of place, sat an enormous vase filled with dozens of white lilies. I stared at them and remembered what Nadine had said to me the night before. _"Remember to see the beauty among the devastation,"_ she had said.

Leaving my bag in the wheelchair, I walked slowly to the TV holding up my hand when the nurse started to protest. I beckoned her to hold my place in line and turned back to the TV. On the screen was a shot of the outside of a hospital and the white words beneath it read: _Womack Army Medical Center_. I got closer so I could hear what the reporter was saying.

". . . sad day for soldiers at Fort Bragg and for the many thankful families who owe the life of their loved ones to this man. Today, at oh-twelve-hundred, SFC Donovan Pritchard will be taken off of life support, as hundreds gather to Womack Army Medical center to pay their last respects to the fallen hero."

I gasped when I heard the name of the wounded soldier and stumbled faster to the television, not caring that I was blocking others in the waiting room from being able to see. Stopping just inches from the screen, I watched, eyes wide, as the reporter continued.

"SFC Pritchard was mortally wounded Thursday when a fellow Fort Bragg soldier opened fire on his regimen as they gathered for morning drills. Pritchard contained the gunman even as he was shot numerous times in the torso and legs. His selfless act saved countless lives and he has been awarded the Soldier's Medal for his heroic act."

My surroundings froze and disintegrated around me as a picture of SFC Pritchard flashed onto the screen. Though he wore a dessert-camo uniform and a dusty helmet, I immediately recognized the intensely blue eyes that peered out from below the rim. I was staring into the face of my Donovan . . . a hero . . . a man.

"SFC Pritchard leaves behind no family, but will be forever remembered and honored among soldiers and family here at Fort Bragg and from a nation who will be forever grateful." The reporter finished and continued to the next story.

I remained in a state of shock, my mind reeling. Could it really be him? It couldn't be. My Donovan had been with me my whole life, and the shooting had only happened a few days ago. How was that possible? I couldn't make sense of it, couldn't conceive of the possibility that Donovan was alive, at least for now only hours away. It just couldn't be.

Then all of the conversations of the past days flooded back into my memory. I remembered the things that Donovan had said to me:

" _Time for you is linear, it doesn't exist that way for me . . ." he had said. "For me it is as close as yesterday. Your whole life, to me has been a handful of days"_

And what had he said in our last moments together?

" _My time with you has been no longer than a few precious days, but I will love you for eternity,"_ he had said.

I shook my head, it seemed too impossible. But the meaning of Nadine's words from the night before started to make sense to me:

" _We can all be called upon to be his angels at any time, to protect his people at any given moment. He can use anyone, and any circumstance . . . don't miss out on the miracle right in front of you."_

I let out a rush of breath and searched the walls frantically for a clock. I found one above the receptionist's desk. It was already almost eight a.m. I had no time for doubt. I ran to the front door, the stiffness in my legs forgotten.

"Excuse me miss, you have to sign these papers!" The receptionist yelled and I raced back to the counter.

"I have to wheel you out too," the nurse reminded me.

I grabbed the clipboard and scribbled my name and then hopped back into the wheelchair.

"Please, I have to go now!" I urged.

The receptionist glared at me as she looked over the paperwork.

"Where are you in such a rush to?

"To find my blessing," I cried as the nurse wheeled me out the door.

Gram and Evelyn were waiting out front in Evelyn's car. I got up from the chair and threw myself into the back seat. They turned from the front seat startled.

"What in the world is going on, Dear?" Gram asked.

"Change of plans. I know this is going to sound crazy, but Evelyn, I need you to take me to Fort Bragg right now."

"Fort Bragg? That's all the way in Fayetteville; that's almost four hours away. What on earth do you want to go down there for?" Evelyn's voice raised in pitch.

Gram turned in her seat and held out a hand to me.

"What is this about Alex? You can tell me."

I stared deep into Gram's eyes and prayed that she would understand.

"Gram, are you feeling okay? Is this too much for you?"

"Gracious dear, I haven't felt this great in over a decade. What's troubling you?"

Tears welled up in my eyes, I didn't know if I could explain.

"I need to go to Womack Hospital. He's about to be taken off of life support. I have to get there before he . . ." The tears flowed down my cheeks and Gram squeezed my hand. I tried to continue. "Gram, I can't explain it . . . but I know him."

Evelyn gasped. "You mean that poor dear that stopped that gunman? You know him?"

I stared into Gram's eyes, "I think I'm meant to go there, right now . . . before it's too late."

Gram stared back at me and just nodded. She didn't ask any questions, she just gave my hand a squeeze and turned back to Evelyn.

"Evelyn Dear, we're going to Fort Bragg. Let's make it in a jiffy too."

Evelyn looked at Gram in shock and then registered her serious tone. She nodded obediently and put the car into drive.

"I always did like the sight of a men in uniform," she retorted and pulled the car onto the main road towards the highway.

  *

I remained silent the entire way down, staring out the window, lost in thought. I could hear Evelyn and Gram discussing the events of the last years, but I could think only of Donovan. I wrestled with the craziness of what I was doing. It was insane. Could the man lying in that hospital bed really be the same spirit who protected me from harm my whole life? I knew it was, there was no mistaking those eyes and that kind smile. I didn't know how it was possible, but Donovan would say that didn't mean it wasn't.

I had to get to him before it was too late. _But how was I going to get to him? How was I going to get through to see him? What if I didn't make it?_

I glanced at the clock on the dash as we pulled into the checkpoint at Fort Bragg. I let them photocopy my driver's license and after a thorough search of Evelyn's car, we were allowed on base. I was sure that Evelyn's flirting had much to do with our success.

"He said the hospital is all the way down the road on the left," Evelyn informed us when she climbed back behind the wheel.

As we approached the hospital, rows of cars were parked along the curb and crowds walked, candles in hand, down the sidewalks towards the hospital. Evelyn pulled into the ER driveway, but came to a complete stop when faced with the bumper-to-bumper traffic there. I looked up to the hospital entrance, to where hundreds of people gathered in the parking lot, some with posters, all with tears in their eyes.

"What do you want me to do now? I can try to go back to the road and park?" Evelyn asked.

I looked at the clock on the dash and then to Gram who turned to me. It was five minutes to noon. My eyes asked the question and Gram understood.

"Go Alex, don't worry about us. We'll be waiting for you. If this is what you are meant to do, then don't let anything stop you. Go," Gram urged.

I got out of the car and ran as fast as my bruised legs would carry me. I pushed my way past the crowd but stopped short when I reached the security guard at the front door.

He looked down on me with reprimand in his eyes.

"If you're not having an emergency, the hospital is closed to civilians," he spat.

I hesitated, frantically plotting my next move as he stepped toward me. But before he could force me to turn back, a friendly face stepped beside him from the crowd. Smiling down on me, the man placed his hand on the security guard's shoulder. The guard's fierce look melted and he grinned at me and nodded for me to pass.

"Just this once," the guard said cheerfully.

I stared into the friendly face of the man beside the guard and he nodded to me. I smiled and ran through the front doors of the hospital.

When I reached the front desk, I had to take a second to catch my breath.

"Where can I direct you?" The unemotional secretary didn't even look at me.

"Donovan Pritchard's room please," I pleaded.

The secretary turned her attention from the screen in front of her and glared at me, her face a mask on impatience.

"Are you family?"

"Not exactly," I said, desperation in my voice. "But I've known him all my life, please. I came as soon as I could."

"No visitors allowed," she mumbled, annoyed.

"You don't understand . . ." I begged.

"I'm sorry miss, but no vis–" the woman began again, but before she could finish, another kind face stepped up behind the secretary. I watched as the woman laid a hand on the secretary's shoulder. The secretary turned back to me, an expression of peace on her face.

"You know, just this once should be fine I suppose. Donovan Pritchard is in room 206. Second floor, right at the end of the hall." She smiled.

"Thank you!" I exclaimed, my eyes fixed on the kind eyes of the stranger who grinned and nodded from beside the secretary.

I ran forward and took the stairs by two, gritting my teeth against the pain in my ankle, and the bruises on my body. But it didn't matter, none of that mattered.

When I reached the top, I forced myself down the long hallway and came to an abrupt stop when I found room 206. I watched as a handful of doctors and men in uniform left the room and looked at me, their faces solemn, before they walked off.

My heart threatened to break in my chest as I reached for the door and looked in.

"They just took out all of the tubes. It won't be long now," a voice from the corner of the room said to me.

For a few seconds I just stood there, listening to the steady beeping of the heart rate monitor. When I mustered the courage to walk into the room, I looked down on the man who lay in the bed before me and a sob exploded uncontrollably from my throat.

It was him. Donovan lay on the bed looking even more bruised and battered that I did.

"Do you know him?" the voice asked me.

I tore my eyes away from Donovan and faced the man who stood a few feet from the bed. He was dressed in full military dress uniform; his sleeve insignia indicated that he was an officer.

"He's been there for me all my life," I whispered and tuned back to Donovan.

"He saved my life and the life of my men. It's a damned shame. He deserves to live a long and happy life," the officer said and moved toward the door. "He doesn't have any other family that's still living, so I've been here praying for his recovery every day. I prayed for him to have a second chance at life, to find his happiness. It's a damned shame."

"What are his injuries? Is there no chance for him to recover?" I asked breathlessly.

"He was shot in the chest numerous times, and took one to the leg. They got all the bullets out, were able to rebuild the lung, but he never started breathing again on his own. I guess the fight just wasn't in him. His soul had somewhere else it wanted to be. He'll be at peace soon," the officer explained and then sighed and shook his head.

"You know," he continued, "he never let go of the shooter, even when he lay there, gasping for breath, he refused to let go. He saved a lot of lives, you should be very proud. I'll leave you alone."

I barely heard the officer leave as I approached Donovan on the bed. All I could hear above the soft, steady beeping of the heart monitor was my own shaky breath. He looked so helpless and weak. I wasn't used to seeing him so . . . human.

I stared down at him a minute and then reached out with a trembling hand and grasped his. Gasping, I bowed my head, letting the tears flow. For the first time, his hand was ice cold. I looked up and wiped the tears from my cheeks. His perfect face was littered with small cuts and a large bruise had formed above his right eye. Bending over, I kissed the bruise there and took a deep breath.

"I don't believe you are here," I sobbed and squeezed his hand to me. "I don't understand how any of this is possible, but you taught me something, you know. You taught me to see the beauty in the impossible . . . and right now, I see that you are the most beautiful thing my eyes have ever seen."

I took a deep breath, collected myself.

"Maybe that's why I'm here. Maybe God wanted me to have this chance to see you, like this. To know that you were real." I cried silently and stared into the face that had seen me through my worst nightmares.

The heart rate monitor's rhythm slowed and I gasped, looking up and seeing on the monitor that Donovan's heartbeat was slowing. There was something familiar about the steady, rhythmic sound and I put my hand to my mouth as I realized why.

Leaning over, I gently placed my head on Donovan's chest. There, beating against my ear was the slow and steady strumming that was distinctly Donovan. The strumming slowed and began to fade as I listened and I sobbed uncontrollably against his chest.

"Please no," I whispered. "Please don't take him. Please don't. Not him too. Please God . . . let him live. You sent him to save me, to help me find myself again, and you. Now I'm begging you God, bring him back to me. I know it can happen. I believe it will happen because YOU are the beauty among the devastation and you make beauty out of loss. You led me here for a reason. Bring him back to me . . . please, bring him back."

When I was cried out, I lay there, barely breathing as I listened to the strumming of Donovan's heartbeat against my ear. As I memorized every tone and fluctuation, it faded slowly and then stopped. I lay there unmoving, unable to cry or react, entombed in disbelief. A string of nurses and uniforms entered the room quietly. They stared at me a moment.

"He's gone," one of them whispered to me.

"No!" I screamed. "He's not gone. Give him a minute."

"Miss, I'm sorry. He's gone."

"No!" I cried again. "He's not gone, he's not . . . just wait . . ."

The uniformed officer entered the room and looked down on me from where I lay, head resting on Donovan's chest.

He sighed. "It's obvious that you loved him very much, he was a great man . . . but it's his time. You have to let him go."

I looked up at the officer wearily, fresh tears welling into my eyes.

"He's not gone . . . it's not his time yet. Donovan said to me once that there is nothing that is lost that cannot be restored. All things are possible. This is my miracle, I know it. My mind is open and I can see now. He's not gone," I whispered.

While I talked to the officer, another soldier grasped me around the waist and lifted me away from Donovan. I kicked and fought to get free of him as I cried out.

"He's not gone! Just wait! Just wait . . ."

The soldier shushed me sympathetically and carried me away and I went limp in his arms. Before he could get me out of the door, a beeping sounded in the room. Everyone breathe in the room held as we listened.

Another beep, followed by another. The soldier lowered me to the ground and stared in amazement at the heart rate monitor as it began to beep in a steady, constant rhythm. I ran to Donovan and laid my head in his chest. Beneath my ear, the strong and steady strumming soothed me once again and I sobbed tears of joy onto his chest.

When a warm hand reached for mine, my head shot up and I stared down into the intensity of Donovan's cool, blue eyes. He glared at me in disbelief, his breaths labored but strong.

"Alexandra? Is that really you? How did you . . ." His velvet voice was a hoarse whisper. "Am I still dreaming?"

I kissed his warm hand.

"Someone told me where to find you," I said with a weary smile. "It's not a dream, it's impossible. I don't know how . . . how we could spend a lifetime together while you lay suspended between life and death for only a few days. How? I can't believe it."

Donovan nodded knowingly at me and smiled.

"I can," he whispered. "A lifetime wasn't enough. Maybe our purpose is to spend another lifetime together."

Donovan sat up slowly, wincing as he did and looked into my eyes as the people around us looked on in disbelief, not knowing how to react. He wiped the tears from my cheeks and ran a finger over the features of my face, as if checking to make sure I was real.

"I thought you were a dying man's dream . . . your whole life, our life together. You saved me, Alexandra."

I smiled, the joy in my heart overwhelming me and reminding me of that peaceful, incandescent place.

"I guess that makes us even," I whispered and Donovan collected me carefully into his arms.

I closed my eyes as he drew me close and kissed me, and the entire world melted away into a warm, luminous glow.

Epilogue

"Come on Mommy, the paint is going to dry."

I laughed as my daughter and I raced down the driveway, purple hands waving in the spring breeze. I delighted in following her golden tresses down the gravel drive. When we reached the mailbox we paused and stared at it for a minute, scrutinizing.

"I think they should go here," I suggested and the tiny five ear old nodded in approval, her bright blue eyes focused on the exact spot.

"Okay," I laughed, "On the count of three. One . . . two . . . three!"

My daughter's small hand left a tiny, purple print right next to the small, faded print that I had left more than twenty years ago. I chose to place my purple-covered hand right atop of the larger fading print, and I held it there for a few seconds. When I removed it I marveled at the fact the handprints were the exact same size.

"I think it looks perfect," my daughter giggled.

"You know what Willow? I think you are absolutely right."

The little girl smiled and grabbed my purple hand with hers. I laughed and we walked back up the driveway, purple hands joined.

"Mommy, tell me the story about the angels again."

"Again? You always want to hear that story," I chuckled as the house came into view.

I looked up at Donovan who sat watching us from the porch swing. He smiled lovingly at his two girls and laughed.

"It is an incredible story, isn't it? I tell you what, since you did such a great job of helping me decorate the mailbox, I'll tell you the story at bedtime. Right now we have a code purple to take care of," I said and then swung my baby girl by our joined purple hands.

"Hurry up now you two! I need some help with these cookies!" Gram yelled from the front door.

We looked at each other excitedly before my daughter, with a joyous laugh, took off running. I stopped a moment and looked at my family gathered on the front porch. Then with a laugh of utter happiness and contentment, I ran home.

