

# Revenge, Inc.

## A Novel by

## J. D. German

### Book #3 in the Jack and Lynn Preston Series

### Copyright 2016 by J. D. German

SmashWords Edition

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Identification of Major Characters

**Lynn Preston** – Wife of ex-federal agent Jack Preston, who was murdered at the end of the previous book ion the series, The Forseti Solution. To deal with Jack's death she takes up hacking into personal, bank, and government computer systems to get revenge for victims of abuse or fraud.

**Jack Preston** – Jack may be dead but his ghostly spirit is not. He visits Lynn to protect her and help her begin a new life.

**Harriet and Rick Goodman** – Friends and allies during the political battles of the first two books in the series. They live on The Farm, a gentleman's farm in Virginia where Lynn joins them to begin her new company, Revenge, Inc.

**Tom Gutierrez** – A former colleague and close friend from the first two novels in the series.

**Dave Cramer** – An old friend of Jack and Lynn who operates Cramer Security and Investigation Company. He brings Lynn in as a computer investigator and undercover agent, and send her to Hacker School for training.

**Matt Murdock** – A detective with the Philadelphia Police Department who investigates a murder attempt on Lynn. In the process they become romantically involved.

**Zarah Savvin** – Lynn's nemesis from the previous book who is seeking revenge against Lynn for killing her mentor and lover, Alexei Brusilov.

E-Books by J. D. German

Fiction

_The Hermetrius Conspiracy_ – Lynn and Jack Preston Series #1

_The Forsetti Solution_ – Lynn and Jack Preston Series #2

_Revenge, Inc._ – Lynn and Jack Preston Series #3

The Malthus Strategy

Hostile Takeover

Peacekeeper

The Priceless Linen: A Fictional History of Christ's Burial Cloth

Non-Fiction

Christian Principles – Food for Thought

Random Thoughts of an A.D.D. Mind

The above books can be downloaded free from _smashwords . com / profile / view / jdeegerman_ (no spaces). They are available in formats that can be read on a PC, tablet computers, and E-readers.
Prologue

Jack and Lynn Preston, as part of a team of crusaders, have finished their work to keep billionaire Charles Winston from taking over the White House and destroying the principles our country stands for. Winston is dead and a more moderate Marcus Tyler is president. Jack and Lynn are looking forward to relaxing and enjoying their new lives together when Jack is murdered by one of Winston's hired guns.

Lynn is devastated by her loss and goes into a deep depression, wishing she were dead so she could be with Jack once more. But someone comes to comfort her, someone who will talk with her, and hug her, and sleep with her – Jack's spirit.

Chapter 1 - Pain

Lynn was snuggled under her comforter to escape the cold mountain air in the bed that she and Jack shared whenever they were at his cabin. She could feel his arms around her as he snuggled spoon fashion against her back. She felt his lips delivering a gentle kiss to the back of her neck, and that brought a familiar warm feeling inside her. He hugged her a little tighter to see if she was awake.

"Mmmm. Who's that with his arms wrapped around me?"

She heard him answer "Just me, your loving husband. Are you asleep?"

"I was before those kisses brought up warm memories. Why don't you light a fire in the fireplace, then come back and light my fire."

"I thought you would never ask. I'll be right back – save my place."

While he was away Lynn rolled over on her back, yawned, and stretched her whole body, like cats do, anxious for Jack to come back to bed.

After several minutes he hadn't come back. She called for him. "Jack? . . . Jack?"

No answer. She slid out of bed, put her robe and slippers on, and padded into the living room. _He's not in here_. She thought. _And the fire is not lit yet._ She checked the kitchen, thinking he might be making coffee, but it was empty.

Maybe he went into the guest bedroom for a quick shower. I think I'll join him.

But he wasn't there either. _The only other place he could be is in the front entryway._ She went back through the living room and rounded the corner. She froze in her tracks . . . and then she screamed. He was on the floor, blood pouring from bullet wounds in his head and shoulder. She screamed again . . . and it woke her up.

The dream brought it all back. She responded in her usual way by tucking her body into a ball and crying. Loud, sobbing cries came out of her heart as she pulled the covers over her head and wished they would suffocate her. She couldn't bear to live without him. Even though they had only been married six months, they were soul mates – a part of each other. When that part of her was ripped away by an assassin, it left a huge hole in her. She knew he was in Heaven and she just wanted to kill herself so she could be with him.

After she had cried out all the tears she had – for now – she tried to remember what day it was . . . or what week it was. _How long has it been since . . . since he left me. Three months? – has it been that long?_ After Lynn got her revenge against Jack's killer she came up here to his West Virginia home – a five-room cabin on the shore of a small lake in the eastern Appalachians. Its appeal for her was the isolation – 30 minutes from the nearest town, if you could call it that. A general store, a gas station, four bars, and small jail for the weekend drunks. Jack built the place here because of the isolation.

He retired here from his job as an agent for the Federal Remediation Agency, FRA, two years ago after his wife died of lung cancer. They both had grown up in the southwest corner of West Virginia, deep in the coal-filled mountains, where the air was thick with coal dust from the mines and smoke from the coal-burning fire places and locomotives. It affected some worse than others. The miners died early from black lung disease. Those who didn't work in the mines lasted longer, but often died from COPD long before their time. He and his sweetheart wife escaped right after high school, but it wasn't soon enough for her.

By the time she hit 50, she had a chronic cough that wouldn't go away. It was worse in the winter, but never really went away. Even with Jack pushing her, she refused to go to the doctor. Her father had died of black lung when she was only 12, and the pain had never left her. Her mother died a year later – partly from lung disease and partly from the loss of her will to live. Helen knew what was wrong with her, and didn't want to hear it confirmed by a doctor. They could extend her life – in misery – for a couple of years maybe, but she wasn't interested. She and Jack had enjoyed their close relationship for 31 years, and she couldn't think of anything else she wanted to do before she passed on. She hurt when she thought about how it would affect Jack. He was always the independent sort who liked to believe he kept his emotions in check, but he had cried on her shoulder many times over the years.

When the COPD was pulling her quickly toward her date with God, she and Jack made the most of those last few months, but he was crying at her bedside when she died.

Jack tried to act like he could handle it – like a man – but after six months he realized his work meant nothing to him anymore. So he cashed out of his 401K and set about building the cabin. He planned it well. As a former 'secret' agent, he included security systems and an armory, where he had the latest of almost every hand weapon available. He also included a computer and communication system that could take him anywhere on the internet without leaving any trace of his presence behind. He built a secret room in the hidden basement of the cabin for his equipment and weapons storage, and equipped his Ford Sport Trac pickup with a secret compartment below the bed so he could take whatever hardware he might need anywhere in the country. Now his truck was parked out in the garage beside the cabin, gathering dust and cobwebs while Lynn was trapped in the emotional paralysis of her anguish.

Lynn brought her thoughts back to the present, and started crying again. She was so emotionally drained that she rarely ate. The emotional pain was worse than any physical pain she had ever experienced. She felt trapped at the bottom of a steep-sided bowl. Whenever she got a spark of energy and tried to climb up out of it, the pull of . . . what? . . . dragged her back to the bottom. In her clearer moments she realized she was depressed, but didn't have the energy to get help for it. During one clear moment she realized that depression feeds on itself, that it wants you to stay in its grip, but that fleeting thought led her nowhere.

One night she woke from another Jack dream with so much pain that she got her pistol from the dresser drawer ands put the barrel in her mouth. As she started to squeeze the trigger she thought _If I kill myself, will I go to Heaven to be with Jack? Is suicide an unforgivable sin?_ When she realized she didn't know the answer, she put the gun away and went back to crying.

Some indeterminate time later Lynn's sleep was interrupted by someone pounding on the front door.

"Go away. I don't want to talk to you. Leave me alone!"

"Lynn, its Harriet and Rick. Open up!"

"Who?"

"Harriet and Rick Goodman, your two best friends. Now let us in."

"No. Go back where you came from."

"You forget that I'm a trained Federal agent. I can pick this lock in 30 seconds . . . of course it might not work after that. So unless you want it destroyed, open up!"

Lynn dragged herself out of bed and opened the front door.

"My God, Lynn. What's happened to you! You look awful. Rick, avert your eyes until she gets something decent on."

When Lynn came back in her robe and slippers Harriet already had a pot of coffee on.

"We've been trying to call you for days, but we get nothing but a busy signal."

"Yeah. I guess I let the battery run down on my cell phone. No, wait. I hid it under the sofa cushion. The battery's probably dead anyway."

"Well, this morning we decided . . ."

Rick cut in with "You decided, dear."

"As I was saying, we decided to come up here from The Farm to check on you. And it looks like it's a good thing we did. Finish your coffee so I can put you in the shower – how long has it been, a week? I'll get you cleaned up, dressed, and packed. We're taking you back to our place."

"I don't want a shower, and I don't want to leave here. Just let me wallow in my misery."

"Not gonna happen, dear. We love you too much to leave you here. Now get going. You know I'm trained to get you in an arm lock and march you in there if I have to."

"Oh, Okay. I'll take a shower, but I'm not leaving here."

Harriet leaned over and whispered to Rick. "Find a suitcase and pack everything you can find. And keep your eyes open for guns. If you find any put them in the car."

As Harriet held Lynn under the shower, night clothes and all, Rick hollered "I can't find any clothes. All the drawers are empty . . . except for a Glock 15 pistol."

"Look in the laundry room. She probably hasn't washed anything in weeks."

It was a struggle, but they finally got Lynn dressed and into the back seat of their Cadillac Escalade.

Chapter 2 – The Farm

Lynn was asleep in the backseat when Rick and Harriet pulled up to the gate and entered the lock code. Rick drove up the long winding driveway and parked in the garage. "Should we wake her up?" Rick asked.

"She hasn't been sleeping much. I guess the motion of the car lulled her to sleep. It's like when our kids were little and wouldn't go to sleep, so we would put them in their car seat and drive around the neighborhood. They would be out in a few minutes."

Rick looked back at Lynn and said "She sure seems comfortable. Can we just leave her here and go inside?"

"I don't know. What if she wakes up and panics? I think I'll stay in the car with her until she wakes up."

"You want me to bring you anything? A snack, or a drink?"

"No. I'll just doze in the seat until I hear her making noises."

Rick went into the kitchen, pulled a beer out of the refrigerator, and settled into his recliner to watch a game. Twenty minutes later he heard screaming from the garage. He grabbed his pistol from the kitchen drawer and dashed out the door. Lynn was in the backseat of the SUV screaming and thrashing around. Harriet climbed back there with her and took her in her arms to calm her down.

"Shhh. It's Okay now. Harriet's here. Try to calm down."

Lynn stopped screaming and opened her eyes. "Oh . . . it was another one of my dreams. Jack was there again . . . He was trapped in a fire in my Colorado home. His clothes were on fire and I couldn't get to him. His skin turned to black ashes as I watched. It was awful."

Rick and Harriet looked at each other. It was too early to tell her how Jack died. That would come when she wasn't so fragile. She was still in some kind of mental state that blocked it all from her mind. It would take time for her to come back from there.

Harriet helped her out of the back seat and led her into the living room. It was like leading a robot by the hand. She sat down stiffly on the couch and looked around. A puzzled look crossed her face for a few seconds, then she recognized her surroundings.

"We're at the Farm, aren't we. I recognize some of the furniture. I've been here before . . . and Jack was with us. Oh, Jack! Where are you. Why did you leave me? I miss you so much. I want to be with you." With that, she laid down on the couch and started crying softly.

Harriet motioned for Rick to follow her into the kitchen. "We need to leave her alone for now. Maybe she'll go back to sleep. I'll sleep in the guest bedroom with the door open so I can hear her when she wakes up."

Harriet woke up in the morning to sounds from the kitchen. She thought _Rick must be making coffee. He's up early._ She put her robe on and went in to give him a good morning kiss, but it wasn't Rick, it was Lynn making the coffee.

"Good morning! I'm glad to see you're up and around. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, after I cried for a couple of hours. Maybe I cried some of the pain out, because I feel a lot better."

"Crying is one of the best therapies around – for women anyway. For men, not so much. It's just not manly. It shows their vulnerability."

"Jack could cry when he got too emotional. It didn't embarrass him to cry in front of me." Lynn froze in the middle of her coffee making.

Harriet mentally kicked herself for bringing up something that made her think of Jack. _I've ruined her good mood_.

After several seconds Lynn re-animated herself and went on with her task. "That brought back a good memory of Jack. I felt so close to him when he shared his emotions. I need to keep bringing up the good memories to overpower the bad ones."

"Have you thought about getting some grief counseling, Lynn? When my sister lost her husband she was really depressed. I talked her into seeing someone and after a couple of months, with the help of anti-depressants, she was functioning again."

"No! I don't want to share my hurt with anyone – especially a stranger."

"So you just want to wallow in your pain, huh."

Lynn shot Harriet an angry look and said sharply, "and I don't need your advice either."

"Someone needs to be honest with you, dear. I'm your best friend and even if you get mad at me when I try to help, it won't stop me. You have to talk about your pain, your memories, the joy you and Jack shared."

Lynn paused for a minute. "Yes, you're right. You're my BFF and if I can't share it with you it will kill me."

"Rick and I are there for you now, but think about seeing a therapist later on."

Lynn set two cups on the counter and poured their coffee, then gave Harriet a hug. They sat there quietly as they sipped and privately pondered the situation, each from their own perspective. Their thoughts were interrupted when Rick came in with a jovial "Good morning, Ladies. Up early I see."

They both returned the greeting as Lynn poured a cup for Rick. "So what's the plan, girls? Are you two going shopping today?"

Harriet answered "There is no plan, Rick. We take this one day at a time."

"You have to have a plan! Otherwise you're just drifting on the sea of . . . of life."

Lynn answered. "Drifting is all I can do right now, Rick. It took all the motivation I could pull together just to get up this morning. Depression sucks your motivation out of you. You know you need get up and do things, but just thinking about them tires you out."

"Well, I can't drift. I need to be doing something . . . moving toward a goal."

"Fine, Rick. You go after your goals like fixing the sink faucet, or cleaning out the garage. Lynn and I will drift wherever our thoughts and conversation take us. When you finish those goals, let me know and I'll get out my Honey Do List."

"I stepped right into that one, didn't I dear. You two let me know if I can help in any way. I'm going to go to my study and check out the latest financial news."

Rick turned on his state of the art, top of the line laptop – the same kind Lynn and Harriet . . . and Jack had. Less then a year ago they had come together as an informal group and named themselves the Forsetians, after the Norse god of justice. The four of them, along with Tom Gutierrez, tried to stop an unbalanced billionaire from buying the presidency of the United States. The man, Charles Winston, stopped at nothing to defeat his opponents. He started putting his hand-picked ultra-conservative people in Congress six years before the presidential election, using blackmail, lies, and even murder to get them there. In spite of the Forsetians attempts to expose Winston's crimes, he won the Republican primary and then the Presidency. If Winston hadn't been killed by a Chinese sniper, the country would be well on its way to self-destruction by now. Fortunately his successor, Marcus Tyler, has different plans for the country.

Jack Preston was the unofficial leader of the Forseti group. He first uncovered Winston's plot and, in trying to gather more information, drew in Lynn, Harriet, Rick, and Tom. Jack, with a Ph.D. in computers and electronics and several years of field work as an agent of the Federal Remediation Agency, was one of the best hackers in the world. Winston had hired a young Russian computer genius to stop Jack's hacking attacks, but in the end he was no match for Jack.

After Jack was killed and the Winston threat taken care of, the Forseti group went their separate ways. Their mission to save the country was finished. They still communicated with each other, but as friends rather that crusaders. While they were fighting the dark forces, Jack had bought them each the best laptop computers available. He installed his own encryption and firewall software so they could hack into government and corporate computer systems with no concern about a counter-attack getting through Jack's digital mirror, as he called it. When the firewall detected anything suspicious coming in, it turned into a digital mirror and reflected it back into the computer that sent it. As soon as it got there it did its nasty work on that computer.

With that protection Rick had no worries as he logged on to the internet using one of the false identities Jack created for them. He checked on the financial markets for the latest news, and then to the financial underground internet where he could find out everything that might affect the investment market before it became public. He saw no surprises there, so he moved onto the numbered offshore bank account where the Forseti funds were kept. As part of their investigation into Winston's finances, Rick had found six million dollars stashed in a numbered account that Winston used to frame his political opponents with embezzlement charges. With Jack's hacking skills they transferred the money to a new account to fund their activities against Winston.

After Winston was eliminated, the group decided to divide up the money among the five of them. Rick would act as the banker for the account, and whenever one of them needed money they would contact him. So far no one except Tom had withdrawn money. He was going through a nasty divorce with a psychotic wife who was trying to deny him visitation rights with their two girls. Lawyers were expensive and Tom's personal funds had been frozen pending the outcome of the divorce. Rick was a real estate millionaire before he joined the group, so he and Harriet didn't need their share for now. Jack had money of his own because of several inventions he had sold to the Government. Lynn had inherited that, so she could support herself for a few years.

Rick typed in the code word for the account and saw the balance sheet appear. The fund was doing well; its present value was over five and a half million. Rick had invested some of the total in several mutual funds specializing in treasury notes, government and corporate bonds, and energy futures – all rock solid triple-A rated investments.

In the living room Harriet and Lynn sat side by side on the couch with their second cup of coffee. Harriet wanted to get Lynn talking about the good times with Jack, but knew she would be walking into an emotional mine field. She started at the beginning.

"I've only heard bits and pieces of how you and Jack first met. Fill me in on the details."

Lynn sat still for a couple of minutes as Harriet waited apprehensively. Then she nodded her head and opened up. "Well, it all started with an email I sent Jack . . . no, wait a minute. Let me go back to the real beginning. Jack and I grew up in a small town in the West Virginia coal country. We had eighth grade science class together and when he came into the room I was captivated. Tall – over six feet – well built, and good looking. And as I would soon find out, smarter than anyone else I knew. He knew more about physics and chemistry than the teachers. I was still shy around boys and didn't go out with them yet, so I just admired him from a distance."

"Wait a minute! You two knew each other back in eighth grade?"

"Well, I didn't really know him yet. But I noticed him stealing glances at me in class and in the hallway. I don't remember how it came about, but he asked me to go to a movie with him. I said I would have to check with my mother first. But there we were the next Saturday sitting in the small local theater watching, of all things, _Love is a Many Splendored Thing._ I didn't realize it until a few years later, but that movie wasn't appropriate for kids our age. It was about a married newspaper correspondent having an affair with a woman doctor in China. Just before he had to leave she told him that he had knocked her up."

Harriet laughed.

"Well that's what they called it in our part of the country. Anyway, I don't think either of us paid much attention to the plot. I was sitting there wondering if he would try to hold my hand and wiping my palms on my skirt every couple of minutes so they wouldn't be sweaty just in case he did. He was probably trying to get up the courage to hold my hand and wondering what to do about his own sweaty hands."

"Where did it go from there? Were you high school sweethearts?"

"No. My sister in Florida died so I had to move down there to raise her children."

"When was the next time you saw him?"

"Forty years later. I was divorced and living in Telluride, Colorado. I spent a lot of time with my granddaughter, Selena . . ." Lynn choked back a sob at that point.

Harriet had forgotten that Selena and Jack were both killed in the same attack at Lynn's mountain home. She took the coffee cups into the kitchen and fiddled around for a few minutes until Lynn got her composure back.

"Do you want any more coffee, Lynn?"

"No, I'm wired enough as it is. It's been awhile since I could get up to make any for myself. Come on back. I can talk some more.

"Okay. If you are sure. I don't want to upset you."

"Actually, reminiscing about the old days makes me feel better. Let's see . . . where was I. Oh, Yes. Me and my granddaughter. Anyway, she liked science projects and I remembered a demonstration Jack did back in science class. I thought she would like it, so I searched for his name on the internet. The first thing that popped up were several patents by Jackson Joshua Preston. The middle name is what tipped me off.'

"I knew Jack was smart, but he actually has some patents? What for?"

"Mostly stuff for military use. I saw that the last couple of patents listed an address in the Washington D.C. area, so I went to Whitepages.com to find a phone number, but it didn't come up with a match. There was a listing for Jackson Joshua Preston, Jr. out in California though, so I called him up and explained I was an old friend of his father's and wanted to get his telephone number. He was hesitant about that, but I did manage to get an email address out of him. That's when we started exchanging emails."

"Were they romantic? Did you have an online flirtation with him?"

"No, nothing like that. He sent me instructions for the science project, and we summarized our lives for each other. After half-hearted invitations to visit if we were ever in the other's neighborhood the emails stopped. I found out later that he had more important things to do."

"So when did he first show up at your place?"

"A month or so later he calls me from Grand Junction and asks if I would like to meet him for lunch. I, of course, say 'There aren't any good restaurants in Telluride. Why don't you come to my place and I'll fix us something.' So an hour later Jack shows up at my door, we eat lunch and talk over old times for the rest of the afternoon. He says he wants to get down into town before dark to find a motel room and I say 'Stay here. I have extra bedrooms and we're both adults. So we had dinner and a few glasses of wine and went to bed."

"You slept with him the first night?"

"No, we went off to separate bedrooms and met again at breakfast."

"Wow, what a story!"

"Just wait 'til you hear the rest of it. It gets better – much better. So there we were, ham and scrambled eggs and I ask him what kind of work he did before he retired. He starts in with a line of bull about . . ."

"Hi, girls. What's for breakfast? I'm starved."

"You must be telepathic. Lynn was just talking about breakfast. Let me whip up something. How do you like your eggs, Lynn?"

As they finished the last of their breakfast Rick said "I need to talk with you two about the Forseti fund. I just checked on our account and it's doing nicely. After Winston was killed we decided to divide the $6 million five ways, with each of us getting $1.2 million – that's grown to about $1.3 million since then. Now that Jack is no longer with us, I moved his $1.3 million over into Lynn's account, leaving her with $2.6 million."

Lynn spoke up immediately. "No, that's not right. Jack's share should be equally divided among the rest of us. I don't want any special favors."

"There's no special favors involved here, Lynn. Jack worked harder than any of us to get Winston out, so he earned that money fair and square. I manage the account and I have made the decision. No argument allowed."

"He's right Lynn. I know you don't have any use for it now, but it will be there whenever you need it. Maybe you can start a new career with it."

"Not likely."

"Okay, that's settled. Go on with your story about how you and Jack got together. Rick will enjoy hearing it."

"You mean I missed some of it? You have to go back to the beginning so I can hear it all."

"Another time, Rick. Go ahead Lynn. You and Jack were at you place in Colorado and he was answering your question about what he did for a living."

"Right. He told me that after college and graduate school he spent the rest of his career working for the Government as an engineer on several different projects that took him all over the world. When I asked him what kind of projects he got evasive and changed the subject. I learned later that he was a secret agent for the FRA – sort of like the FBI but with different letters. I thought maybe he wasn't really retired because he spent a lot of time on his computer and telephone, but he wouldn't talk about it."

"I think that's when he called us, Rick. I was in the hospital recovering from an attempted murder by motor vehicle when he called and asked about some work I had done when I was with the FRA that hadn't been closed out properly. He found a total of six cases like, that and eventually discovered the agents involved in three of them had died recently under suspicious circumstances."

"Yeah, he told me about that later. He eventually opened up to me a little and told me some of what was going on. What he didn't tell me was that he was being chased by some people who were trying to kill him, but I wouldn't find that out for a few more days. It was during those days that we started to grow close to each other. But that's when the two men showed up at my door and all hell broke loose. We had to leave at night in a snowstorm over some mountain roads with them hot on our tail. After we finally got clear we met up with you two."

"When are you going to write a book about all your adventures, Lynn? It would be a bestseller for sure."

"I have already lived through it once. I don't want to relive it."

They spent the rest of the day discussing the adventures they all had after Jack and Lynn showed up at Rick and Harriet's mini mansion they called The Farmhouse. They pursued their quest to discredit Winston from there for six weeks until Winston's men ran them the four of them out. Jack took a shot in the butt during their escape, but other than that they got away clean.

After a late dinner they were all ready for bed. Harriet offered to sleep in the guest room with Lynn, but she said it wasn't necessary. However, she didn't refuse the sleeping pills Harriet offered her.

Chapter 3 – Escape Plans

She was sleeping soundly when the prison loudspeakers emitted a loud squawk, followed by the morning wake up call. She wanted another hour or two of sleep, but they wouldn't allow that. Everyone had to be up and out five minutes after the call for the morning count. Then everyone filed into the dining hall for breakfast – at least that's what they called it. You had two choices; reconstituted powdered eggs or runny grits, plus dry toast and weak coffee. No fruit, no "How would you like you eggs today, ma'am?" You could skip the five a.m. breakfast, but the next meal wouldn't be served until two p.m., and that was a long time to be hungry.

If you had money in your account you could buy snacks at the commissary, but since you were only allowed to have $25 per month added to your account by someone on the outside, it didn't go very far if you wasted it on food. Most of the inmates spent it on cigarettes and toiletries to replace the cheap stuff they gave you once a month. Anyone who used the prison soap they issued for more than a few days looked sunburned all over.

But this wouldn't last much longer. She had come up with a plan to escape. It was risky, and could get them killed, but even that would be better than 19 more years in this hole. Here, it was all about your friends – who you could surround yourself with to keep the pack of animals away. But in this case, the friends came to her for protection, and returned the favor in one way or another. "Z" – that was the name everyone knew to call her by – was highly skilled in hand-to-hand fighting. It was rumored that she knew sixteen ways to kill someone with her bare hands. She had already put three women in the hospital; they should have known better than to challenge her. The authorities didn't know who beat them up because the victims weren't about to talk. Even offers of protection or transfer away from this facility were rejected. The power of Z and her minions was widespread and could reach out to anyone who crossed them.

But Z bided her time, collecting others with just the right skills into her inner circle. These were the ones who would play a role in her escape plan. She didn't have everything in place yet, but soon . . . she would get out of here and no one would be able find her. She had to get out of here. There were people who needed payback, people who got her sent here in the first place . . . and who killed the love of her life. She owed them big time for that.

She hated it here. Why wasn't she in a soft prison, like the one Martha Stewart served time in. . . . Maybe because Martha hadn't killed four people. They all deserved it of course. They had wives and families that they betrayed with affairs – that's too nice a word for it. They were simply satisfying their lust without any thought about who they were hurting. Just like her father did. That's why Z lured them into her bed, then killed them. The police called her the Praying Mantis Killer, PMK. A female praying mantis bites the head off the male when the coupling is over.
Chapter 4 – Crazy

Lynn was sleeping fitfully, tossing and throwing the bed covers off. She was dreaming terrible things – so terrible she wouldn't remember them when she woke up. She tried to wake herself and was finally able to break free from the dream. She looked around the room, lit by faint moonlight glowing though the curtains. As she turned over her eyes flew open. There was someone in the room with her! She heard the soft sound of almost silent steps coming toward her bed. She lay still, hoping whoever it was would go away. But then someone whispered in her ear. _"Hello, Lynn. It's me Jack. You look like you're asleep, but I know you can hear me. I want to tell you something important. I will always be here near you whenever you need me. Just think of me and I'll be there. You can let go of your grief because I never really went away. I'm here, watching over you, always."_

Lynn sat up. "Jack? Jack, where are you? I can't see you. I want you back, alive. I want to grow old with you."

She heard no more whispering. He must be gone. She turned on the bedside lamp to check, but the room was empty. She switched it off and curled up in bed, hoping he would return. As she dozed off she thought she felt him snuggling up to her back again with his arms around her waist. That was always their favorite snuggling position.

When Lynn came into the kitchen Harriet already had the coffee made and was frying some hash brown potatoes. Lynn poured a cup and sat at the bar behind Harriet. "Good morning, Harriet."

"Oh, you scared me! I didn't hear you come in over the sizzling potatoes. Did you sleep good?"

"Sort of."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, I think Jack came into my room and talked to me."

"Just a second. Let me get these potatoes off the burner so I can pay full attention to you. . . . There. Now did I just hear what I thought I heard?"

Harriet freshened her coffee and sat down on the bar stool next to Lynn.

"I think Jack came and talked to me last night."

"That's what I thought I heard." Harriet didn't know how to respond _. If I go along with it, allowing her to think it might be possible, then I would be feeding her fantasies about visits from Jack. But if I tell her it's all foolishness, I might be pushing her deeper into depression. I'll take the middle ground._

"That's interesting, sweetie. What did you hear Jack say?"

"He said he would never leave me, that he would always be there for me."

"It could have been the wind. It was really whistling through the trees last night. Maybe your mind interpreted it as Jack's voice . . . telling you what you wanted to hear"

"No, it seemed more real than that."

"Were you awake?"

"Yes . . . at least I think so. I sat up and turned on the light to look for him. . . . or did I dream that? I just don't know, Harriet."

"What happened after he spoke to you?"

"As I was falling back asleep I felt him snuggle up to my back . . . the way we always slept."

Harriet didn't say anything for a few minutes. Then, "Have you thought about my suggestion to see someone – a professional counselor who would understand what you're struggling with a lot better than I can?"

"No, but after last night I guess I need to. . . . But what if the counselor makes Jack go away? I don't want to lose him."

"That's a chance you'll have to take, dear. Think of it like this. If somehow Jack's spirit is visiting you, he won't stop just because you're talking to a psychiatrist. But if he is an illusion, the sooner you can put that out of your head, the sooner you will be normal again . . . Well, you never were normal, but you know what I mean."

Lynn laughed at Harriet's humor. "I don't know any mind doctors around here. Do you Harriet? Actually I don't know any psychiatrists anywhere."

"There was one at the FRA. Whenever an agent went through a traumatic experience, like killing someone, we had to spend a few sessions with him. Let me give him a call and see of he can recommend someone here in town for you."

"Thanks Harriet. You're such a special friend. You know, I have never had a close friend before . . . except for Jack of course. I just never got close to anyone. Didn't see any need for it. But now that I have you, I can see what I've been missing. Confiding in someone I trust takes a huge emotional burden off me. End of discussion, though. I need to think about what you said."

"Okay, I'll change the subject. Have you been taking care of your financial affairs since Jack died?

"Jack hired an estate lawyer as soon as we were married to put together a will and arrange for disposition of his assets if something should happen to him. He didn't tell me, of course – he didn't want me to worry about what might happen to him or us. We all were living on the edge for a few months where any of us could have been killed. I knew what I was into so I didn't worry about myself. But it never occurred to me that Jack would be making arrangements."

"If you don't mind me asking, what were the arrangements?"

"I would rather wait until your husband joins us. I trust his judgment on these things."

Harriet shouted "Rick. Get you lazy butt out of bed and get down here!"

Three minutes later Rick joined them in his bathrobe and slippers. "What's up?"

Lynn told him what she had just told Harriet, and added that the estate lawyer had visited her at Jack's cabin three weeks after his death. "I wasn't in any mood to listen to him. I just wanted to cover my ears and say "Na na, na na, I can't hear you," but he said it would only take a few minutes.

"He told me that Jack had set up a trust fund where all his assets would automatically be transferred upon his death. There were provisions to pay off any outstanding bills and taxes, and continue to pay the bills as they came in. I was the sole trustee for the account and could transfer money in or out with a phone call. He put $100,000 in a savings account that I could access from an ATM. So far I haven't touched any of it. It cost me nothing to live in Jack's cabin, and I used my own ATM card to buy groceries and gas."

Rick made some notes. "It sounds like Jack and his lawyer knew what they were doing. How much is in the trust fund?"

"A little less than a million dollars. None of it is in investments, so there's no risk of losing it." Lynn smiled, "Unless of course the entire financial system of the United States crashes and money becomes worthless."

Rick added, "That could have happened if Charles Winston was running the country. I hate to say this about anyone, but Winston's assassination was a good thing – the best outcome we could have expected from the mess he put us in."

"So Rick, what should I do with this trust fund? Should I move the money somewhere else, or put it all into gold and silver like the ads on TV say?"

"Who is managing the fund?"

"Wells Fargo in Denver. We were living at my mountain home in Telluride when he set up the account. . . ." Lynn choked up at the thought of her home – and what happened to Jack there. The man who shot him – and Selena – did it in that house. Then he burned it down with the bodies inside. The image of their charred bodies came back to her and she burst out crying. She ran to her room and laid down on the bed, crying and wailing.

Harriet started to follow her but Rick put a hand on her shoulder. "Let her cry some more. She still has a lot of tears that need to be shed."

Lynn continued to cry for the next couple of hours. She didn't want to go back to sleep – she was afraid of what she might see or hear. So she leaned against the headboard, drew her knees up to her chest, and tried to blank out her thoughts. She wanted to turn into a vegetable – feel nothing, think nothing, do nothing – except breathe, and she wasn't sure she wanted to keep on doing that. If she had a batch of sleeping pills right then, she would swallow them all, and drift away to whatever world Jack was in. Anything to end this unbearable emotional pain. She thought of the pistol she knew Rick kept in his bedside table . . . _I could sneak into their room, get the gun, and kill myself right there. That would end the pain. . . . but it would make a mess of their bedroom. I need another plan._

If I had the gun, I could bring it in here – to the guest bathroom – lay down in the bathtub, and do it. The blood could just be washed down the drain. Out of sight – out of mind. But would Rick and Harriet be able to live in a house where I killed myself? They love this home. I don't want to ruin it for them.

What if I took the gun out to the woods. The mess wouldn't matter out there. But would anyone find me afterward? Would animals gnaw on my body? Coyotes, bobcats, or . . . eww, vultures?

She was imagining the buzzards picking apart her body when she realized where her mind had taken her. From wanting to be a vegetable to thinking about shooting herself in the woods. That's what happens when you try to drive all thoughts from your mind. It fills itself with irrational thoughts that can start to seem rational. The emotional pain is unbearable, therefore end the pain with death. How rational does that sound? Got a problem? Solve it by ending it. _There I go again. If I don't fill my mind with something useful, it will jump off the crazy cliff. What can I think about?_

How about what I'll do with my life when I get through this. I can't just lock my door and become a hermit. That will surely lead me to death. I have to be busy, working with other people around me. So what will it be? Checker in a supermarket, bank teller, nurse, even a doctor. Or maybe, social worker – I could do that well. I have an inner compulsion to help people. I wonder how much schooling I would need for that.

But what about all the computer skills I learned from Jack? . . . Here come the tears again. Push them back! Don't let them grab me again.

Where was I? Oh yes, computer skills. I don't have any formal training, but my teacher was the best there is. But who would hire her based on that?

Well, I don't have to figure it out right now. I can take my time.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on the door. It was Harriet.

"Lynn, are you awake?"

"Yes, I'm awake. And mostly sane again. Come on in."

She saw Lynn sitting on the bed, her knees pulled up to her chest.

"What have you been doing?"

"Thinking."

"About what?"

"Lots of things, both good and bad."

"So tell me about the good thoughts?"

"I was wondering what I could do with myself, something I can immerse myself in, with people all around, to keep me from thinking about the bad stuff."

"Did any ideas pop up?

Yeah. . . . I think I want to use my computer skills, especially the hacking techniques Jack taught me. But I have no credentials – degrees, experience – that will get me hired. No one knows my capabilities."

Harriet thought for a minute. "I know someone who does. David Cramer."

"Cramer. What could I do for Cramer Security and Investigations Company, CSIC? Dave was Jack's good friend since college. He would hire me out of pity and I don't want that."

"I would bet he doesn't have a hacker as good as you are, and you've proven yourself with a gun. He knows you wouldn't be afraid to use it. Besides, most of his detectives are men. He doesn't have a middle aged, knockout redhead on his staff. He could use you for undercover work because, at five-nine with green eyes and a figure to die for, you don't look like a detective."

"Let me think about it. Don't you or Rick call him about this. I'll take care of it myself."

Chapter 5 – Moving On

The next morning, after some arm twisting by his wife, Rick called David Cramer.

"Dave, this is Rick. How are you doing?"

"Busy, as usual. Our reputation keeps spreading, which brings in more clients, which requires more staff, and improves our reputation. We're caught in an endless spiral. My dreams of running a small, inconspicuous private investigator business has crashed on the rocks of success. I should just sell it and start over."

"You're not serious?"

"No, just letting off steam. What's up with you and Harriet? I miss all the action with Jack's group. Life's kind of dull now. I spend all my time managing the business and searching for new operatives, so I never get out in the field to have some fun."

"Well, I may have a suggestion to help with the staff shortage. Lynn is struggling with Jack's death. She spends a lot of time crying and imagining Jack is talking to her. She needs something to keep her busy. She wants to put the computer skills she learned from Jack to use. Could you use her in your business?"

"Hell, yes! She's as quick as they come when it comes to learning new computer skills, and she's pretty handy with a gun in case I need her in the field. I have no one who is really good at hacking. I tried to bring Jack into the business. He wasn't interested, though. I would never admit it publicly, but I depend on hacking in much of our work. Send her up here and I'll hire her on the spot."

"There's a problem with that. She made Harriet swear that she wouldn't contact you about this. Technically she kept her word, but since I'm Harriet's proxy we still have to stay in the shadows. Could you just sort of drop by? Pretend you didn't know she is here? Then you could offer her the job and keep us out of the picture."

"For Jack's wife, I would do just about anything. When do you want me there?"  
"We're only a couple of hours from Philadelphia, so why don't you come by for dinner tonight?"

"Done. I'll just happen to drop by unannounced and get invited to stay for dinner."

"Terrific, Dave. Thanks."

Harriet told Lynn she would feel much better after a shower and some makeup. Lynn reluctantly agreed. "I know I've been a slob for the past couple of days. I'll get cleaned up for dinner like a proper guest."

Lynn, Harriet, and Rick were sitting in the living room watching the evening news when they heard a car drive up. "Who could that be, Rick?"

"I don't have any idea, Harriet. We don't get many visitors out here. There's the doorbell. I'll get it."

Lynn knew there was something fishy going on, but she couldn't figure out what it was. Then she heard Rick say, "Dave! Dave Cramer. It's great to see you. What brings you out here?"

"Oh, I had some business in D.C. so I decided to take the long way back to Philly to check on you two."

Lynn could see now what was going on. She gave Harriet a dirty look and mouthed the words "You promised."

When Dave entered the room he looked surprised. "I didn't know you had company. Is that Lynn? Of course it is."

Lynn spoke up. "You three can stop the act. I know what's going on. Harriet, I'll get back at you for this another time. But it's great to see you, Dave. How are the wife and family?"

"They're doing great. Little David is really growing up fast. He'll be fighting the girls off in no time."

Harriet stood up. "I have dinner in the oven. Lynn would you set the table?"

After supper Harriet and Rick cleared the table and started on the dishes, leaving Dave and Lynn sitting across from each other.

"Since you know why I'm here, Lynn, I won't beat around the bush. I've seen your computer skills and I've seen you in action in the field. I want you to come and work for me. You would be a great addition to our staff, especially with your hacking capabilities. I have no one with your experience in that area and the techniques Jack taught you are unique. In the field you think fast and act even faster when the pressure is on. That time you dressed as a maid to get into a condo and plant some hidden cameras proved that. Even when the resident came back early and surprised you, you bluffed your way out of there with the cameras in place. You know how to handle a firearm, both a pistol and a long gun. I don't anticipate needing you in that kind of situation, but you never know what might come up. So what do you say, Lynn?"

"When can I start?"

"Give me until Monday to get an office set up for you. I'll look for you anytime Monday morning. Do you have any idea where you might want to live?"

"An apartment close to your office would be nice. So I can walk to work when the weather is nice."

"I know just the place. In fact, we keep an apartment for out-of-town clients. It's fully furnished and it's empty at the moment, so you can move in there for a week or two until you can get into an apartment of your own, maybe even in the same complex. I'll check to see if they have anything opening up soon."

"That sounds great, Dave. Thank you so much for offering me a job. I'll plan to be there Sunday and get set up in the apartment."

After Dave left, Lynn and Harriet stayed up to talk. Lynn didn't want to go back to sleep just yet. She was afraid that Jack wouldn't show up. Even if he just held her as she went to sleep, she would be happy. But if he had more to tell her, that would be even better.

"So what do you have that you can wear to work, Lynn?"

"I have nothing but jeans and sweatshirts. All my clothes were burned up in the house fire. When I drove to Jack's cabin I picked up the bare necessities. What does the well-dressed private investigator wear to work?"

"I don't have any idea, but knowing Dave it will be a very relaxed dress code. I'll call him in the morning and talk to his assistant. She can give us some good ideas."

They sat in silence for a bit. The Harriet looked up at Lynn and asked "Are you going to be okay by yourself in the apartment? I could come up and stay with you for a few days."

"I . . . I think I'll be all right. I plan to work 18 hours a day so I won't have time for self pity. But it would be nice if you could come up for a few of days. Just 'til I get my feet on the ground."

"I'll do that. And I would feel better if you started seeing a counselor. Let me call the psychologist I know at FRA and see who he knows in Philadelphia."

"I don't think I'm ready to open up to anyone just yet, Harriet. But see who you can find. Maybe I'll go for just one visit."

After Lynn and Harriet finished another bottle and a half of wine Lynn said with a slight slur to her words, "I better go to my room while I can still walk. Thanks for being there for me Harriet."

"You're welcome."

Lynn flopped onto her bed without bothering to get undressed. Her sweatshirt and jeans made perfectly good pajamas. She rolled onto her right side and curled into a spoon shape, waiting for Jack to slide in behind her and align his spoon shape with hers. She briefly wondered whether Jack's spirit wore pajamas or did he come to bed naked. She giggled at the thought. Thirty seconds later she was sound asleep, alone in the bed.
Chapter 6 – New Career

Lynn and Harriet opened the door to Cramer's guest apartment and stopped in their tracks. The place was gorgeous. Floor to ceiling windows with a view of the Delaware River and downtown Philadelphia, suede upholstery for all the furniture, a built-in fifty inch TV and another smaller one in the kitchen. The kitchen had nothing but top-of-the line appliances in stainless steel and black. Glass-front cupboards for the china and glassware.

They walked through to the bedrooms and found the same kind of luxury – an eight foot round bed, another built-in TV, a huge bathroom with a garden bathtub, plush towels hanging on their racks. When they went back to the kitchen to check out the details they found a fully stocked refrigerator and freezer, a wine cooler with several high-priced bottles in it, a walk-in pantry with stocked shelves, and a marble-topped breakfast bar.

"Wow. I could learn to live like this. Your place at The Farm is beautiful, Harriet, but this place is even more impressive. And that round bed – do you think Dave provides his clients with a warm body to sleep with?"

"It doesn't sound like something Dave would agree with. Maybe some of the clients bring their own bed warmer. Let's put our suitcases in our rooms and have a glass of wine."

When they were settled on the couch Harriet asked, "What's your plan for tomorrow, Lynn."

"I'll go into the office about nine in the morning. I'm anxious to get started on whatever Dave has for me to do. And I set up an appointment with the psychiatrist you found, Dr. Barnett Hogue, for 4 p.m. I'll stop off there on the way back from work. I should be back here around six. Maybe we can go to that Italian restaurant up the street."

"You'll probably be tired after your first day of work in quite a while, and the session with the head doctor might leave you emotionally wrung out. Let's just call the restaurant and have it delivered."

"I like the way you think. There are at least a dozen restaurants within delivery distance, so we can have something different every day. I saw a Starbuck's across the street. I wonder if they deliver?"

Lynn's first day at work wasn't as exciting as she hoped it would be. She spent much of it filling out new employee paperwork and getting orientation briefings from the department heads. She liked her office, though. It was small but no one shared it with her. The laptop computer was the same model as the one Jack bought her. They also provided a smart phone and a tablet computer that she could link to the laptop. She hoped that before the end of the day she would get her first assignment, but it didn't happen. Maybe tomorrow.

There was one disturbing moment when the head of the computer department introduced himself. He reached out his hand and said "O'Malley here. You must be Lynn." She started to cry and ran to the restroom until she could get herself under control. When she went back to apologize he said "I don't usually have that effect on people. Let's try that again. Hi, I'm O'Malley."

"It wasn't anything you said to me. It's your name. That was the name a my Irish Setter that was killed a few months ago. The name brought back memories, that's all. I don't suppose your first name is Jasper?"

"No, it's Mike. Why?"

"When I wanted my O'Malley to act like a ferocious attack dog, I would call her Jasper. She sent several salesmen running back down the driveway."

"Did you ever replace your setter?"

"No, I could no more replace her than I could my husband, Jack."

Mike didn't know what she was talking about, but with her tendency to burst out crying, he decided to leave it alone for now.

Lynn left work in time to get to her appointment with Dr. Hogue. Ten minutes after she entered his office she came storming out and headed for the apartment. Harriet could tell she was upset when she slammed the door.

"So, how was your appointment, Lynn?"

"Worthless! Absolutely worthless."

"He didn't help you at all? What did he say?"

"After I told him why I was depressed, about Jack and everything, he said 'I can't help you until you want to get over your depression. Here's a prescription for antidepressants. Call me in six months' . . . then he asked me to go out to diner – with a look that said he had something else in mind!"

"Are you serious? You need to report him to the police, or to the state medical board. He should lose his license for that."

"I thought about that, but it wouldn't do any good. Since it was just the two of us, he would deny it. Who would you believe, a respected psychiatrist or a crazy patient?"

"Well he certainly needs some kind of punishment. And you're probably not the first woman he's made a pass at. Someone needs to stop him."

As Lynn walked to work the next day she thought about how she could pay Dr. Hogue back for his unethical behavior – make him pay for asking her, a patient emotionally devastated from the loss of her husband, to go out with him. He was taking advantage of her in a vulnerable emotional state for his own pleasure. By the time she sat down at her desk, a plan had come together in her head. She checked with Dave's assistant, Donna, to see if she had any assignments from Dave yet and found he wouldn't be in until after lunch, so she scheduled a meeting with him for mid-afternoon and went back to her office.

She turned on her computer and checked into the doctors personal life. She saw where he got his degrees from, what hospitals he had worked for, and . . . yes there it was. He was married to a socialite from a Philadelphia "old money" family, descendants from the earliest settlers. Her picture was everywhere – fund raisers, volunteer work, president of the Women's Hospital Auxiliary, a high-ranking golfer at the country club, Vice President of the local chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution . . . and here was one that showed she and her husband leaving on a cruise recently. So he had a wife, and they were still together. Maybe not for long, though.

She checked to see if they had children – she didn't want to bust up a family if there were kids involved. They had two – a boy and a girl, but they were both out of college and on their own. So what was the best way to cause him some grief? . . . His emails! If he was having affairs with his patients, there has to be an email trail. Jack had introduced Lynn to the Darknet, a place where a good hacker could find out just about anything about anyone. She signed on to the Darknet using Jack's screen name and password – he was well known there for his legendary hacking skills. She hoped no one on the Darknet had heard about Jack's death. It was front page news in the Telluride Daily Planet, and earned a half-column on the fourth page of the "Around the State" section of the Denver Post. It was unlikely that any of Jack's Darknet buddies had heard of his death. As long as she could use Jack's identity she had access to everything on the net.

She pulled out the notes from her training under Jack and found the site she was looking for, the USPS – Underground Secret Postal Service. She entered the doctor's name and clicked on "FIND EMAIL ADDRESS." A few seconds later his professional email address came up – DrBHogue@Phillynet.com – and a personal account for drhog@bitstream.com. To get inside his computer she needed to get his Internet Protocol address, a unique identifier of each computer that connects to the internet. To get that she had to send him an email with an attachment that he couldn't resist opening, so her bug could invade his system and send her his IP address. Once she had that, she could enter his computer at will and control it.

Lynn thought about a title for an attachment that he couldn't resist. Something sexy might work, but so many of those web sites carried infectious computer viruses. They gave a whole new meaning to the term sexually transmitted disease. Hogue most likely knew to stay away from those.

She thought some more _. How about a headline that reads Sexual Misconduct Charges Against Mental Health Professionals On The Rise._ He'll probably open it to see if his misconduct has been discovered. Then when he double clicks on the email attachment all he will see was a blank screen, but by then it would be too late – my bug will already be invading his computer.'

Lynn opened one of the false-identity email accounts Jack had set up for her and sent the infected email to Dr. Hogue. Whenever he opened it Lynn would get a return message confirming that the bug was successfully installed.

It was over an hour before he opened his email and clicked on the attachment. Lynn was organizing her new office when she heard the incoming mail alert on her laptop. Lynn said quietly to herself, "Yes! It worked. I'm in!"

She sat down in front of her laptop and opened Dr. Hogue's password file. There were several email accounts that Hogue was using. Lynn clicked on one of the emails from LoveDoctor@Seductions.com, and found dozens of email exchanges between Dr. Hogue and a woman who called herself Britanie, with obscene descriptions of their activities together. From what Lynn read, Britanie was apparently an online call girl who had met with Hogue in a local hotel on several occasions over a six-month period. From the last couple of emails, Britanie wanted to raise her price for a visit from $1,000 to $2,000 and the Hogue wasn't buying it – literally.

The next one looked more like a patient of his. Lynn opened it and found the woman's name was Mary Goldman. There were several email exchanges between Hogue and Mary. When Lynn opened the first one she knew she had hit pay dirt:

It was nice to see you in the office today, Mary. After our 'close encounter of the sexual kind' last week, I haven't been able to get you off my mind. You have enchanted me with your beauty and lovemaking skills. Can we get together Thursday for dinner and more intimacy?

Love, Barnett

Mary had answered him in less than an hour:

When I got your email, my heart fluttered and I got a warm feeling in my stomach. I felt like a teenager again. My husband used to make me feel that way, but he ignores my advances now. He is probably having an affair. I can't wait until Thursday night. Should we meet at the usual place for dinner?

Love, Mary

We shouldn't meet at the same place every time. One of my patients might see us and get curious. How about if we meet in the parking lot of the hotel? I'll have a room so we can go straight to bed. I bought some intimate apparel for you and I can't wait to see you in it . . . and then remove it slowly from your body.

Barnett

Lynn scanned the other emails and saw Hogue slowly turn down the flame on the affair. But Mary didn't take the hint – her emails got more desperate as she saw Hogue trying to pull away. In his final message, he told her that they had to end the affair because his wife was getting suspicious. _That would serve him right if she found out_ , Lynn thought.

But then she came across another set of emails, with another woman this time. They began two weeks after he ended his affair with Mary. So much for the suspicious wife story. He was just using that as a way to get out of the relationship with Mary.

This new email partner, Delores Thomas, used very suggestive language in describing what she planned to do to him each week, and he responded in kind. That affair went on a little longer – eight weeks instead six – then he ended it with the suspicious wife story.

Lynn found a total of five women Hogue had affairs with over the past year, but there weren't any before that. 'Surely he must have been doing this for more than a year. _Where would those emails be on his computer? . . . Of course! – he deleted them, or thought he did._

Lynn went to his computer's recycle bin and found emails from women going back more than three years. She scanned some of them to be sure they were about affairs, then copied a few of the steamiest exchanges to her own computer.

The next task was to see if these women had been his patients. She thought about that a bit, then concluded she would need to hack into Hogue's business computer system and check his patient list. She was just about to start her hack when Dave's assistant called about their two o'clock meeting. Lynn was using her personal laptop for this research, so she closed the lid and looked forward to continuing with her attack on Dr. Hogue at home this evening.

Chapter 7 – Lynn Preston, Private Investigator

Dave Cramer stood and came around his desk to welcome Lynn. He reached out to shake her hand but Lynn pushed past it and gave him a long hug. Dave looked a little uncomfortable, especially with some of his staff watching through the glass wall of his office. When he pulled away she said "O.K Dave, I get the message. It's not cool to hug the boss in front of other employees. I just thought with all we've been through in the past several months, we're all – you, me, Harriet, Rick and Tom – like family."

"We are Lynn, but I have to maintain my cold-hearted boss image in front of them so they'll think I know what I'm doing. Margaret and I will have you over for dinner next week and you'll get the hugging you can stand."

Lynn stood there in awkward silence, not knowing what to say next. Dave pulled out a chair for her and sat on the front edge of his desk. "So, are you all settled into the company apartment? How do you like it?"

"It's absolutely fantastic. I have never in my life lived in a place that fancy. I'm afraid I'll get used to it and never want to go back to Jack's cabin. I hope when they have an apartment ready for me it's not so luxurious . . . or so huge."

"It won't be. We rented the biggest apartment in the building and then brought in our own decorator to make it as impressive as possible for our clients. I've asked them to furnish your place when it's ready so you won't have to go shopping for furniture and accessories. They'll work with you on that so there won't be any surprises. Margaret would like to help if that's all right with you."

"That will be great. It will give us a chance to get to know each other."

"With that settled, let's talk about your job – what I would like to start you out with. I have a good idea of your skills, both with computers and with a gun, but I'll keep you away from any cases where a gun might be necessary for now."

Dave pulled out a thick file folder and laid it in front of Lynn. "This divorce case needs a little internet detective work to find out of either party has some undeclared income or assets. Both parties have submitted financial asset declarations that the judge will use to rule on who gets what. The problem is that sometimes the husband, or the wife, has other assets they don't declare, like a secret bank account. In this case the wife hired us because she suspects the husband is hiding an investment account. She says he's been renting an expensive condo for his mistress, but their joint bank account doesn't show any suspicious charges. He's a financial manager for an investment broker company, so he wouldn't have any trouble opening his own account."

"Where should I start looking?"

"He might have opened the account with his own firm, although that would be foolish because it might be discovered. So start with a search on his name and his Social Security number and see what comes up."

"What about chasing it from the other end – where the money is going? He might have his monthly statements sent to the woman's condo. A little prying into the apartment rental company's records might show us the source of the money."

"That's a good idea, Lynn, but the wife doesn't know where the condo is located. Do the best you can and try not to do anything illegal, like hacking into financial accounts."

"You're tying my hands here, Dave. Using the hacking techniques I learned from Jack is the best option."

"Well . . . try the legal methods first before you jump into hacking. But if you do, make certain that it can't be traced back to us."

"When do you need the information?"

"The court hearing is three days away. I know that's pushing you, but we need to get it to the judge before then."

Lynn answered "Okay, I'll have it for you by tomorrow afternoon" as she rose and left.

It was 3 a.m. and Lynn was back at her apartment working on Dave's case. She really wanted to be following up on the Dr. Hogue investigation, but that would have to wait. She had spent the afternoon and evening looking for legal sources of information about the husband, Barry Claussen. She started with an online address database but found dozens of men by that name. She could check the addresses to see which ones were condos, but he was probably renting it in the woman's name. By the end of the workday she had tried all the legal approaches she could think of without any luck. She picked up some fast food for dinner and started working on hacking approaches as soon as she got back. She logged in to the Darknet and looked for anything with Barry's name tied to it. She found his email address, his bank records, and the account number of his credit cards, but those were all in his financial declaration.

After several other approaches she decided it might be hopeless – like looking for a needle in a haystack. She was about to give up for the night when she thought about taxes. If he had a secret account somewhere, his income would have to be reported to the IRS and he would have filed a tax return with them. Hacking into the IRS was very risky, but she had watched Jack do it so she knew the secret was to get in and out quickly, before their computers detected the intrusion. Lynn got up from the desk and rummaged through the boxes of her belongings until she found Jack's laptop. She turned it on and opened up his encrypted records of past work.

Lynn had a conversation with herself – she did that a lot now that she was alone. "Let's see, what was his password for this library? I knew them all, before . . . before Jack was killed, but I've been through so much since then that my memory isn't working. Maybe I'm blocking parts of my memory from before he died. Come on, Lynn, think back to when Jack made you memorize all of his passwords. . ."

She closed her eyes and tried to conjure up an image of the list, of her studying it, of Jack quizzing her about it. She saw him pointing to one line – and there it was! She broke through the mental blockage. Lynn quickly entered the password and was rewarded with the step-by-step procedure Jack used the last time he broke into the IRS records. She turned back to her computer and began the attack. Ninty seconds later she had what she was looking for and shut down the link. She pushed her chair back and did a little victory dance, singing "I hacked the IRS and they didn't even know I was there." Lynn was bubbling over with excitement. This was the most alive she had felt in a long time. She had downloaded Claussen's tax returns for the past three years.

She quickly sat back down to study it. She knew where to look. If Claussen had income from a hidden bank or investment account, he had to list the income and the source on his 1099-B. There were three different accounts listed. Lynn opened up his financial disclosure document for the divorce and saw that he had only named two accounts. The third one on his tax form wasn't mentioned. "So that's where he's hiding his financial stash – an account at Viscount Capital Management, Inc. in downtown Philadelphia. I'll try to hack into there and see how much the account is worth."

Cracking their computer was easier than the IRS hack – actually just about any hack was easier that the IRS. Five minutes later Lynn was printing out his account statement. She looked over some transactions, then went back online to do a little more research.

"It's almost four in the morning. I can get three hours of sleep and show this to Dave as soon as he gets to work. I'll take a quick shower and crawl between the sheets."

As Lynn was drifting off to sleep she flashed back to the image of Jack pointing to the password she couldn't remember. She thought _Could he have really been there in my head helping me out? No, it was just a buried memory. It wasn't you, was it Jack?_ Just before she dropped off the cliff to deep sleep she felt the now familiar form of Jack cozying up to her back. _"Yup, it was me, sweetheart. Goodnight."_

Lynn got to work early, anxious to show Dave her success. Shortly after nine Donna called to say "He can see you now, Lynn." She hurried to his office and barged in the door to see Dave and another man at his small conference table.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have barged in like that."

"No, it's all right. Alan Rexford here is Mrs. Claussen's attorney. He came by to talk about the case. Speaking of which, have you got something for us, Lynn?"

Lynn didn't know if Rexford would be okay with how she got the information so she held the papers behind her back and recited what was in them from memory. "Mr. Claussen has an account at Viscount Capital Management that has a current worth of seventy-three million dollars. He has been transferring $3,200 a month to a real estate management firm for a luxury rental at the Ritter Apartments along the river. I did a little digging there and found that the resident in Apartment 875 is a Laura Berkman. She's been there for the past 16 months."

The lawyer's eyebrows arched upwards. "$73 million? That's several time his declared assets. He's trying to shortchange his wife big time. . . . Where did you find this information? We haven't uncovered any of that."

"Well . . . I uh . . ."

Dave broke in; "Our sources and techniques are proprietary, Al. You understand."

"Oh, I didn't mean to pry, Dave. I was just amazed at what this woman came up with on such short notice. Hang onto her – she's worth her weight in gold. When can you have a report ready for me, miss."

"It's missus – Missus Jack Preston. I'll have it typed up within the hour if you want to wait."

"No, have Dave call me when it's ready and I'll send over a courier."

Lynn excused herself and went back to her office to get started on the report. True to her word, in just under an hour Lynn knocked on Dave's door.

"Enter."

"Here's the report Dave, I mean Mr. Cramer."

"Everyone calls me Dave. We're very informal around here. . . . except when it comes to hugging."

Dave paged through the report. "Well you have everything we need to nail Barry Claussen, including the mistresses name and address, which I didn't expect you to find. I suspect you did a little hacking, but I don't want to know the details – I need plausible deniability when I testify in court on this case."

"Thank you for stepping in before I told Mr. Rexford something I shouldn't have."

"Even if I thought you came by the information legally, I still would have interrupted. I like to maintain a certain mystique with our clients so they think we're wired into some master database of everything. It keeps them coming back."

Lynn turned to leave, but Dave called her back.

"Don't leave yet. Have a seat. . . . I am just as amazed as Rexford at how quickly and completely you did this, Lynn. I didn't expect you to be very productive for the first month or two. You clearly have a gift for this kind of work."

"It's Jack's gift. It just rubbed off on me when we were working together."

"Don't be modest. You have a real nose for figuring just where to look. I'll have another case for you tomorrow. Take the rest of the day off – you earned it. And by the way, can you come over for dinner with me and the family Friday night?"

Lynn paused and thought about it. Dave and Jack had been such close friends that she was afraid that he's all they would want to talk about. And she wasn't sure she could handle it yet.

"I don't want to intrude on your plans, Lynn. I mean, if you have a hot date or something . . .

Tears welled up in Lynn's eyes. She would never get over loosing Jack, never want to get close to another man.

"I'm so sorry, Lynn. That was really stupid of me to say that. Please accept my apologies."

"Apologies accepted. It's just that any mention of Jack brings back the sadness of loosing him. That's why I hesitated about accepting your offer for dinner. I was afraid his name would keep coming up."

"If we promise not to mention Jack will you come to dinner?"

"That depends. . . What are you having?" Lynn answered with a smile.

Chapter 8 – Payback

Lynn hurried home from the office so she could work out the details of her payback attack on Dr. Hogue, the philandering psychiatrist. After a quick shower she opened her laptop and retraced her invasion of Hogue's patient data. The woman from the first email exchange, Mary Goodman, was near the top of the list – she was the most recent. Lynn mumbled "If I had been more vulnerable I might have been his latest. . . . But I can't imagine myself giving in to his indecent proposal."

She checked the list of women who traded emails with him regarding sexual encounters and found every one of them on the doctor's patient list. After some thought Lynn wondered if Hogue went after a particular type of patients, maybe based on his diagnosis of their problems. She went to the patient files section of his office computer system to learn more about his victims and found the connection – they had all lost their husbands. The emotional hole left by the deaths was wide open, waiting for a man to step in and fill it. As she pulled up some other victim's files she found one for Phyllis Porter that was marked "Deceased May 12, 2011."

"I wonder if her death had anything to do with her affair with the doctor." Lynn went back and checked the dates of the emails between her and Hogue.

"The first email was dated February third and the final one from Hogue, ending the relationship, was dated May eighth – four days before her death! There has to be a connection."

Lynn went to the Philadelphia Inquirer newspaper web site next. She typed Phyllis Porter into the archives search box and a few seconds later saw the headline on her screen.

Prominent Socialite Found Dead in Her Home

Autopsy Reveals Prescription Drug Overdose as Cause of Death.

"Oh my gosh. She killed herself because Hogue dumped her. He should go to jail for that. I'll bet he even wrote the prescription for the pills that killed her."

Lynn scanned the short article and found it was an overdose of Xanax. When she went back to Hogue's file on Phyllis to check, she found that he had prescribed the Xanax. "There it is. And he prescribed it a week before she overdosed. That's terrible!"

Lynn went back to the Inquirer site to see if there were any follow up stories, but apparently there was no police investigation – at least none that made the papers. She still hadn't decided exactly how she would make the doctor pay for this, but now that she knew everything he had done she was thinking about something more serious. _Maybe I could get him arrested for something else. Plant some digital evidence of criminal activities. . . . I could hack the police department computer and put out an all-points bulletin for him as armed and dangerous. He would get released as soon as they realized there wasn't any reason to arrest him, but it would scare the crap out of him._

She thought about that for awhile and realized that she had no idea what kind of intrusion security the police computer system had. She might be able to get in, but it would take her too long to find where the APBs were entered. Jack's cardinal rule was get in, get what you need, and get out – all in less than three minutes if you can. You could stay longer if all you needed was to download some records, but if you were going to make changes in data files, their electronic bloodhounds would detect the intrusion and come sniffing up the internet back to your computer. Jack did all of his hacking under different names and IP addresses, but all that did was buy him a little more time.

"Whatever I do, his wife needs to know about these emails. I'll start with that and then maybe cancel all his credit cards." Lynn hacked back into Dr. Hogue's computer, found his wife's email address, and then went through all his emails, forwarding a handful of the clearly sexual ones to his wife. For good measure she put links to the emails on his wife's Facebook page so all her friends could read them too.

After a short break for supper, she went to the Darknet and found the account numbers of Hogue's six credit cards. She hacked into the banks one at a time and made some changes to his accounts. On two of them she added fictitious charges for huge amounts that would push the accounts way past his credit limit. On the third one she figured out how to delete all records of his last four monthly payments, so she repeated that for the last three. Finally, she left a message that would pop up on his computer screen the next time he turned it on: **PAYBACK TIME!** He wouldn't have a clue who did all the damage and posted the message. It would drive him crazy. More importantly it would take him months to straighten it all out, and his marriage may never get straightened out.

Lynn pushed herself out from her desk and saw that it was after midnight. "I have to watch these late nights. I don't want to be dragging at work tomorrow. But getting revenge on sleazy people like Hogue and Alexis gives me a real high." She thought _why don't I feel any sympathy for Hogue . . . or his wife?_

She undressed and put on one of Jack's long-sleeved shirts. It was the one he called his 'old blue shirt.' He wore it mostly around the house because it was soft and comfortable. Lynn found it in his cabin closet and brought it with her to Philly, and now she slept in it every night. The sleeves were too long and the hem came down to her knees, but it smelled like him and she loved it.

By 3 a.m. she was in the middle of another nightmare. This time it was about Selena, her granddaughter who had been killed in the attack on Jack. In the dream she and Selena were hiking in the woods near her mountain home in Telluride. Suddenly a woman dressed in black combat gear jumped onto her back from the tree above and slammed her to the ground. Lynn used a fighting move Jack taught her to break free but the woman was too quick for her. She slammed Lynn in the chest with the palm of her hand and knocked the wind out of her. As she fell backwards she could feel her heart fluttering, trying to recover a regular beat. Lynn opened her mouth to warn Selena to run but nothing came out. The woman rolled Lynn onto her stomach, put cuffs on her wrists and ankles, and sat her up against a tree, next to Selena who was also in cuffs.

Lynn's heart thumped back into rhythm and her head began to clear. _Who is this woman' She thought. She looks familiar, but I can't remember her name. Why is she doing this._

As if in answer to her thought question, the assailant pointed a gun at Selena's forehead, looked Lynn in the eye, and said "This is for what you did to him." Lynn screamed "Nooooo. Nooooo. You can't do this to me. I already lost Jack and Selena. Don't kill her again." Then the woman pulled the trigger and vanished.

Lynn's own scream woke her up. She was shaking and soaked with sweat. She looked around, trying to separate the remains of the dream images from the reality of her bedroom. In a few moments the complete memory of Jack and Selena's murder came crashing down on her. She curled up on the bed crying, big sobs that she couldn't stop, not even long enough to get a breath. She managed to shout "Jaaaack. I need you!" before the next set of sobs started. After awhile the crying retreated, but not the thoughts of Jack.

"How could you leave me? You got yourself killed, and now I've lost you. Why did you do that to me?" As she lay there the memory of Jack's spirit telling her "I will never leave you, Lynn" the other night at Harriet's came back to her. She felt an immediate calming of her emotions and a peace flowing into her. She sat up and looked around . . . and there he was, standing at the foot of the bed, that ghostly image of him. He was wearing his old blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up, just like he used to do. He had a gentle smile on his face, and his eyes were smiling too. She loved the way his eyes crinkled up when he smiled. "Oh Jack, what can I do? How do I get rid of these terrible dreams? It's like living through it all over again. I can't stand the pain."

" _Trust me, sweetheart. These dreams will fade and be replaced with dreams of the great times we had. We weren't together very long, but we had so many joyful times. Focus on those and the bad memories will lose their grip on you."_

"Come hold me until I fall asleep."

" _You_ _are_ _asleep, Lynn, or else I couldn't be here. I'll sit with you for awhile and rub your back. You always liked that."_

Lynn thought she felt the mattress sag a little when Jack sat down beside her. She lay face down and soon could feel the warmth of Jack's hands on her back.

Chapter 9 – Brick Wall

Lynn was anxious to get to work the next day to find out what the next assignment from Dave would be. She wasn't disappointed – five minutes after she walked past the receptionist she had a call from Dave asking her to come to his office. She wasted no time getting there.

"Good morning, sir. How are you today?"

Dave looked annoyed. "You don't need to be that formal with me."

"Okay Dave, what have you got for me today?"

"That's better. This new case will be a little more challenging for you." Lynn opened the folder he put in front of her.

"A major company in town has someone near the top embezzling money from them. It shows up because the books don't balance, but there's no evidence who the culprit is or how he or she is moving the money out. They want us to find out who it is. Here's a list of everyone in the company who is high enough in the company to pull this off. See what you can find out about them."

"How much are we talking about, Dave?"

"Almost half a million dollars over the past three years."

"Whoever it is, they will have a secret account somewhere to hide that much money. My first choice would be someone in accounting and finance. They would know how to doctor the books to hide it."

"That was my first thought too, but I had my top computer guy, O'Malley, explore that possibility and he came up with nothing. Whoever the embezzler is, he or she seems to be good at covering their tracks."

"How soon do you need an answer?"

"It may not be when you can find the answer, it may be if you can find the answer. O'Malley is good at cyber crime investigations, so you might find nothing but dead ends."

"Let me get back to my office and get started. I'll send you daily progress updates."

"Thanks. I would appreciate that."

Lynn sat down with the file and laid out her approach to solving the case. Her first move would be to get bank statements from all the top-level employees. If nothing showed up there, she would dig deeper into the accounting department staff.

She fired up her computer and started a search on the first name, Oleg Bohr. Bohr managed the overseas operations of the company, Great Eastern Financial Investments. His office managed over ten million in assets for several dozen major investment portfolios. Lynn knew if she chased the money leak from the portfolio investments end, she would still be at this three months from now. The key was to find the employee who had a secret bank account, or who was spending a lot more than Great Eastern was paying him.

Lynn began by hacking into Bohr's bank account, but found nothing amiss there. Next she logged onto the Darknet to look for hidden information about him. She found a couple of credit cards that weren't on his financial disclosure statement, but they held no surprises. Charges for some escort services, restaurants, and hotel accommodations – which probably meant he was cheating on his wife – but nothing that would indicate an unknown source of lots of money. Lynn drew a line through Bohr's name and moved on to the next one.

Two days later she was finished with the initial searches for everyone on the list and couldn't find anything suspicious. It was time to dig deeper into the list of the accounting people, and to do that she had to get the IP addresses of their computers. Lynn wanted to repeat the procedure she used for Dr. Hogue to find the email addresses and IP addresses. She needed to come up with an email subject that the six top-level employees in corporate accounting would open.

"Hmmm. What would that be? If I were them, what would get my attention . . . something from corporate headquarters maybe? . . . Or an email about their 401k retirement account! That will do it."

Lynn went to the web site to see who managed the employee retirement plan for Great Eastern – Golden Parachute Wealth Management. She created an email that appeared to come from GPWM.com, with an alarming subject line that read "Important Information About Your 410k Retirement Plan – Immediate Action Required." The text read "Please open the following link to approve the latest changes in your retirement account." When they opened the link, a message appeared that told them to review their 401K account immediately to check for a possible computer error. Once they did that, Lynn's bug would enter their computers and send her the IP addresses. It might take awhile before all of them checked their email, so Lynn spent some time thinking about her payback attack on Dr. Hogue and the good feeling it gave her. That brought her back in time to her first payback experience – her revenge on the man who had killed Jack and Selena and burned her Colorado mountain home to the ground with their bodies in it.

Alexei Brusilov was an agent who left Russia's secret police to start a personal protection business in the U. S. The key feature of his business was a total disregard for the law, and a team of ruthless thugs who did whatever was necessary to achieve their objectives. He was hired by the ultra conservative presidential candidate, George Winston, to help him steal the election and win the White House. Jack Preston, his wife Lynn, and his team of patriots worked to expose Winston's illegal activities and stop his plan for redefining freedom in America.

Alexei and his men tried to silence Preston and his team but, in the end, President Winston was assassinated during his inauguration parade by a Chinese Government agent. Afterward, Alexei killed Jack, Selena, and Lynn's dog – then fled to his cabin in northern Wisconsin. Lynn tracked him down and sent Alexei and his HumVee to the bottom of the lake in front of his cabin. That moment of vengeance gave Lynn a special feeling – a feeling of deep satisfaction. That's the feeling she got from her payback attack on Dr. Hogue.

"I wonder if I can find other opportunities to get my 'payback high.' Maybe I can find other women who have been taken advantage of and help them get revenge. I'll have to think about that. . . . Oops. There's my first hit on an opened email."

This one was the Chief Financial Officer, Kelly Morgan. She fell for the fake email and opened up her computer to Lynn's exploration. She started with a file directory labeled "Personal Finances" to look for evidence of a secret account somewhere. She had four investment accounts at major U. S. Banks, but the balances were well within her standard of living, so she wasn't hiding anything there. Lynn explored several other directories and found nothing incriminating.

The second next email was opened by the comptroller, George Davidson. His job was to oversee the periodic audits of Great Eastern's financial affairs. It occurred to Lynn that it was his job to uncover imbalances and missing funds, so it would be difficult for anyone to embezzle money without the comptroller knowing about it. And that makes Mr. Davidson a prime suspect for the missing cash. Lynn got access to his computer files and ran into a brick wall – a firewall unlike any she had seen before. _He must be protecting something important._

Jack had left her with several firewall-cracking programs, so she started with his most recent. It got partway through Davidson's protection when everything changed – his firewall had reconfigured itself to block her attack. She remembered Jack talking about adaptive firewalls like this, and that he had written some code that could adapt faster than the changing firewall. She checked her notes and found what she was looking for; Jack called it his Gossamer Ghost. Lynn activated it and three seconds later Davidson's computer shut down.

"This isn't good. Now he knows someone is trying to hack him and he'll hide his activities even deeper. I won't get another chance going in this way. I need to find another way to get to his records."

Lynn pondered her problem but couldn't come up with another approach. "It's getting late. I'll sleep on it and go after him again in the morning."

Sometime during the night she started dreaming about the firewall on Davidson's computer. It was a brick wall and in her dream, she kept literally banging her head against it trying to get through.

" _That's not the way, Lynn."_

She looked around and there was Jack sitting in a chair across from the couch. Her eyes teared up as she spoke to him. "Oh, Jack. You haven't come to visit for the past week and I've missed you so much. I need you to get me through these lonely nights."

" _Tonight I'm here to show you how to find Davidson's hidden account._

"It's hopeless, Jack. His computer sensed my presence and shut itself down. He will block me for good now."

" _You're right about his computer, but there's another way to find where he is hiding the money. You have to go around the brick wall, not through it. Break into Great Eastern's accounting program and find out how he's siphoning off the funds. I'll provide some computer code that will get you into the company's system and search for the leak._

"Where is the code? I've gone through all the hacking programs you left me and none of them work. And how can you write new code. You only live in my dreams."

" _I'm not just your imagination, Lynn. I have ways of doing things. The answer will be waiting for you at the office in the morning."_

Lynn was about to ask him to come and hold her when his image faded from view. But as she lay back down on the couch, she thought she felt a hand rubbing her back.
Chapter 10 – Jack?

Lynn stepped out of the shower the next morning and, after drying herself off, she turned to the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. "Oh my, is that me? I've lost so much weight I can see my hip and rib bones, and things are starting to sag. I have to start eating again." The depression had taken away her appetite and even her motivation to fix a meal. She quickly reached for her robe and headed for the kitchen and some coffee. Her hand shook as she measured out a heavy dose of coffee grounds into the filter basket, poured in the water, and waited for machine to deliver it's healing elixir. She waited several minutes before she realized she hadn't turned the switch on. The machine seemed to take forever as Lynn stood over it and waited.

As she drained the last mouthful from the cup something pushed its way into her memory. Something from last night. Was it another nightmare? . . . Yes. She was banging her head against a brick wall. Maybe that's why her head hurt so much this morning. _What else was in my dream . . . Jack! He came back. He sat in a chair and talked to me._ She couldn't remember what he said to her, but she felt an urgency to get dressed and go into work.

As Lynn walked into the lobby of CSIC the receptionist got her attention. "Lynn, you have a visitor waiting in your office." Lynn wondered about who it might be as she walked through her office door . . . and stopped dead in her tracks.

"Jack! What are you doing here! You never show up at the office."

Just then Dave's assistant stuck her head in the door and asked the visitor "Would you like some coffee, sir?"

"You . . . you're real. I thought you were . . . were . . ."

"I'm Jack's son, Jackson Junior."

Lynn slid into her chair, put her head on the desk, and started crying. Jackson shook his head slightly at Donna and she quietly backed out and closed the door. He waited patiently for Lynn to recover from the shock of seeing him. Everyone had always told him how much he looked like his dad, but Lynn had never met him.

Lynn excused herself to go freshen up and returned a few minutes later. "You look so much like Jack – a little younger, of course – but you have the same build, the same face, and the same warm blue eyes. It was such a shock to me."

"I should have phoned before I came, or at least sent an email, maybe with a photo attached."

Lynn stared at his face, feeling the painful longing for Jack return full force. She looked away and asked "What are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?"

"Dave called my employer when dad was killed, but I was out of he country and couldn't return immediately. When I completed my assignment I returned to the states and called Dave to ask about you. When he said you were working here I grabbed the first flight and got in late last night. Dave put me up in a spare bedroom and brought me in to work with him this morning."

"Your voice is familiar, where have I heard it?"

"You called me several months ago when you were looking for the email address of an old high school boyfriend – my father. Jack kept his contact information held closely because of his job with the Agency, but when you searched on his full name, Jackson Joshua Preston, you found me instead."

"That's right. You're Junior. What do they call you, Jack or Junior?"

"I go by Jackson. Back in grade school I beat up anyone who called me Junior."

Dave came through the door and said "I remember Jack telling me about that. He was angry at you for fighting, but secretly proud that you could handle yourself in a fight."

Lynn lit into him. "Why didn't you tell me he was coming, Dave. I nearly fainted when I saw him . . . I was sure it was Jack."

Dave and Jackson gave each other a quick look of concern. Dave told him last night that she was having trouble letting go of Jack, and often dreamed about him. After several seconds of silence Dave spoke up with a smile. "Take some time off, Lynn, so you two can get acquainted. I know you have been struggling with the Great Eastern investigation. You need a break."

Lynn looked at Jackson. "Why don't you come back to my place. It's just a couple of blocks away. We can pick up some pastries at the bakery and I'll make some coffee. I want to hear all about Jack in his younger years."

"That sounds good, Lynn. My stomach is still on Iraq time and I'm hungry."

Lynn gave Dave a smile on the way out and thanked him for bringing them together. He felt a sense of relief about the way she rebounded so quickly. He was worried that meeting Jackson might throw her back into depression. That could still come later, though.

Lynn unlocked the door and showed Jackson into her apartment.

"Wow, this place is beautiful. Dave must be paying you big money."

"This is the guest suite he uses to keep his clients happy. He's letting me use it until my own apartment on the floor below is available. Even so, I think he's paying me more than I'm worth to him."

"I doubt that. Dad and I didn't talk often, but when we did, he bragged about your quick mind and your willingness to jump into action without fear. What has Dave got you doing?"

"To be truthful, I'm a hacker. I'm not very good at it yet, but Jack taught me enough to investigate financial issues for Dave's clients. I'm on a case now that has me frustrated. There's some embezzling going on, and I think I have identified the culprit, but when I tried to sneak Jack's IP bug into his computer his firewall shut me out. It was like a brick wall. When I tried another of Jack's invasion programs the computer shut down. Now that he knows I'm trying to break in he'll throw up new defenses that I don't have any idea how to penetrate."

"Maybe you should go around the brick wall, not through it."

Lynn froze. "What did you just say?"

"I said that maybe you should go around the brick wall. Hack into the corporate accounting computer files and find how he's siphoning off the money."

Lynn just stared at him.

"What's wrong? Did I say something that upset you?"

"N . . . No. It's just that last night, J . . . someone else told me the same thing in my dream."

"That's amazing. You must be clairvoyant or something." Jackson said with a laugh.

As Lynn recalled the rest of what Jack had told her she wondered again where the software code Jack promised was to be found.

"How do I get into Great Eastern's accounting system and locate the leak?" she asked him.

"That's easy. I can write you a few lines of code that will solve that problem."

Lynn just shook her head slowly and smiled. "Lets have some Danish and coffee and maybe you can start on that."

Lynn pulled out her laptop and opened it up for Jackson to see.

"Wow, that's the Rolls Royce of laptops." Once he got a look at the installed software he revised his statement. "No, it's the Lamborghini of laptops. There couldn't be more than a couple of dozen in existence. Did Jack get this for you?"

"Yeah. He got one the entire team – the Forseti group – when we were trying to keep Winston out of the White House."

"That's a story you'll have to tell me sometime. Jack was very secretive about what he was doing."

"He had good reason to be. Our lives were on the line constantly."

"Okay, let's get started. Show me the Great Eastern web site."

Thirty minutes later Jackson's new computer code – spyware – was scanning through all of Great Eastern's financial transactions identifying the transfers of corporate money into an offshore bank account. When the spyware scan was complete it reported back to Lynn's computer a total of $489,792 transferred to a bank in Dubai.

"Well, now we know where the money is going so let's find out who is sending it there." With a few more keystrokes Jackson found the secret Dubai account number of the embezzler and the password needed to access the account. He logged in and pulled up the account profile.

"There you have it, Lynn. You were right; the money is going to an account in the name of George Henry Davidson."

"Wow you're good. I wish I could create my own hacking and spy software. I'm a pretty decent hacker using the tools Jack developed, but I don't know how to write my own code for specific tasks like this."

"There are places you can go for a crash course in writing this kind of computer code. Ask Dave to send you to one of them. For now though why don't you email this information about the embezzler to Dave so he can turn it over to the company lawyers."

Later that afternoon, Lynn and Jackson were sitting in her living room talking about memories of Jack. Lynn asked "Tell me about your relationship with Jack as you were growing up. Was he a good dad?"

"Dad was away on business a lot. His job at the Agency took him all over the world. But when he was home we spent a lot of time together. He taught me sports, computers, electronics, and self-defense – and he made sure I was better than him at all of them. That background has been invaluable in my job."

"If you don't mind me asking, what is your job?"

"If I told you I'd have to shoot you. That's what dad always said about his job."

"So you followed him into the family business – a secret agent man?"

"Yes, but my work is a little different. I'm an expert in covert surveillance for a three-letter Government agency that must remain nameless. We use everything from eyes-on stalking, to hidden cameras, to satellite imaging to find out who's doing things they don't want us to know about. Our recent work has been focused on tracking middle eastern terrorists so our drones can neutralize them."

"That sounds more exciting than what Jack said he did before he retired. Actually, I think he got involved in a lot more exciting things after retirement. We were being chased around the country by some Russian thugs who were following Charles Winston's orders to shut us up any way they could. That was definitely the most exciting time of my life. I kind of miss it now."

After a pause, Lynn asked, "Tell me about Jack's first wife – your mother."

"She was an angel. She knew her role was to support Jack in every way she could. She ran the household, raised me, did the family accounting, and welcomed Jack home with loving arms whenever he returned from an assignment. The only cross words I ever heard between them was about treatment for her cancer. Jack wanted her to get chemo and radiation, even though it would only prolong her life for a few months. She told him that it was her life and she would die the way she chose to, without the misery of useless treatments. When she died dad wrapped his arms around me and bawled like a baby. It was the only time I ever saw him cry. . ."

"He cried with me sometimes, especially when he talked about Helen's death and his depression. He said he wasn't able to cry for most of his life, until God opened up his heart. I guess most men are like that. How about you Jackson. Can you cry?"

"Not often . . . it has to be a really powerful feeling to make me cry."

"Work on that, will you? Your wife and family will love you for it."

"I'm not married. With all the travel my job requires I didn't think it would be fair."

The question _Is he gay?_ passed through Lynn's mind, but he quickly erased it with his next comment. "I have a close woman friend that I spend time with when I'm back in states, but we each have our own lives and priorities. That makes our limited time together more enjoyable."

"That sounds like my relationship with Jack. We were two married people living together, but with no claim on each others' time. It was wonderful."

"I'm happy to hear that his life ended in so much happiness. After Mom died I didn't think he could ever be happy again."

Lynn's eyes teared up again at the thoughts of her happy times with Jack. After a moment she changed the subject. "What powerful feelings make you cry?"

After a little thought Jackson cleared his throat. "It was at a restaurant with Louise, my woman friend. The Italian restaurant was one of those with a singing waiter who, on this particular night, was an older retired opera singer. The date was September 11th, 2001. The country was in shock after the terrorist airliner attacks on the Twin Towers and the Pentagon. The restaurant was only half full because so many were still in shock. At 8:30 the waiters passed out candles and a pack of matches for each diner. 8:46, exactly twelve hours after the first plane crashed into the North Tower, the old gentleman stood on a chair, asked everyone to light their candles, then sang the most moving rendition of God Bless America I have ever heard. Everyone in the restaurant was crying after that. I still choke up whenever I talk about it."

[Note from author: This event actually happened to me at the Macaroni Grill in Albuquerque, N.M., and I'm choking up as I write about it. JDG]

"Wow. That's a reason to cry if I ever heard one, Jackson. You've got me crying about it."

"Yeah, but it takes something like that to break through my protective wall. Most of the time I'm cold, clear, and calculating. I couldn't do my job well if I wasn't – I couldn't survive if I wasn't.
Chapter 11 – Undercover Assignment

Two days later Lynn was working on her report for the Great Eastern embezzlement case when Donna called. "Have you got time to meet with Mr. Cramer in the conference room in an hour?"

Lynn agreed, and spent most of the next hour wondering whether Cramer was going to pat her on the back or reprimand her for the illegal tactics she used to nail the embezzler. Or it could be a new assignment. If that was it she hoped it would be something that would get her out of the office – maybe taking surveillance photos of a husband and his mistress walking into a hotel, or a city official taking a payoff from a mob boss. _I've been watching too much TV_ she thought.

When the time for the meeting came she stopped by the restroom to freshen her makeup and run a comb through her hair, then headed for the conference room. When she got off the elevator and looked through the glass wall of the conference room, she had a moment of fear. There were several others in the room with Dave. Had she been caught hacking into the Davidson's Dubai account? Were these people from the FBI, here to question her . . . or arrest her! She took a breath, let it out slowly, and entered the lion's den.

"Here she is" Dave announced. Everyone in the room, four men and two women, turned to look at her. She blushed and moved to take a seat but Dave came over and took her hand.

"Come on up front, Lynn, and meet the management staff of Great Eastern Financial Holdings. Lynn is the brain behind our success at catching your embezzler. Not only that, she identified the dates and amounts of each theft and found the number of the off-shore bank account where Mr. Davidson sent the money. Based on her work, Davidson has been indicted in Federal court for international embezzlement and failure to pay income taxes. Once the evidence against him was revealed, he confessed to everything, which will allow your lawyers to transfer the funds back to your corporation."

After a round of applause, Avery McCoy, the CEO of Great Eastern, spoke up. "How much are you paying her, David? Whatever it is I'll double it if she will come and work for us."

Dave looked at Lynn for an answer. The offer was attractive, although she didn't need the money, so Lynn gave the answer Dave was hoping for.

"Solving this case was a team effort, Mr. McCoy. I simply provided the key to unlock his secret account. If I went to work for Great Eastern you would only get a small piece of the package that brought Davidson down."

McCoy replied, "Well said Ms. Preston." Then he turned to Dave.

"It looks like the only way we can stay connected to your team is to keep you on permanent contract to us, if that's acceptable to you."

"It certainly is acceptable, Avery. I'll have my people get together with your people and draw up a contract."

"Let's get going on that right away, then. I want your accounting investigators to provide full time monitoring of our funds movement."

They set a time for the for the negotiations, shook hands, and said their goodbyes. As Lynn started to leave Dave signaled for her to stay. "Come into my office. Let's talk about your next assignment."

Lynn sat in front of his desk and Dave sat on the edge, as usual. Dave saw the desk as a barrier to communications, so he rarely sat behind the desk when he spoke with someone.

"I have a job that could be dangerous, Lynn. It's an undercover job with a defense contractor, U. S. Munitions. I would prefer to send one of my seasoned male agents, but the position available doesn't fit with any of their capabilities. Whether I send you in is a decision that you need to be part of."

"I'm up for it, Dave. Tell me about it."

"Okay. The factory is located in Wilmington, Delaware. It manufactures assorted munitions for the Army, but everything that shows up on the shipping manifest doesn't make it to the Army ammunitions depots. Some of the inventory is being diverted to another destination. The Army wants us to find out who's involved at the munitions factory and where it's being diverted to. Once we get that for them, they'll take over and trace it to the end recipient, which is probably ISIS terrorists. At that point they'll roll up the entire supply chain with arrests."

"Holy sh . . . Are you serious! I would love to be part of this operation. What will I do?"

"There's a job opening in their inventory tracking department. It's mostly computer work, but it will put you in a position to keep your eyes and ears on the operation and look for the illegal shipments. The one thing that makes me hesitate in giving you this assignment is the possibility that you will be found out – that the bad guys will figure out that you're after them. Given the money involved in these illegal shipments, they could have you killed if they figure out what you're doing."

"You know me Dave. You've seen me in action against Winston's men. I'm good at playing a role and good with a gun."

"Whoa. Who said anything about guns. If it were that dangerous I wouldn't be sending you."

"Your men carry guns on some of their operations. I just wanted to remind you that I can handle myself."

"Consider me reminded. I'll have someone keeping an eye on you in case you need help. He will be up here in a couple of minutes to brief you on the operation."

"Who is it?"

"A friend of yours from the Forseti team – Tom Gutierrez."

Lynn's eyes lit up. "That's great. I would trust Tom with my life any day. He saved my butt a couple of times back then."

"While we're waiting for him Margaret told me to remind you about dinner at our place tonight. Once you go undercover your only contact with us will be through Tom. Tom and Jackson will join us tonight."

"I heard my name. What were you telling her about me?" Tom said as he entered the room.

Lynn jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. "It's great to see you, Tom. Dave just told me you'll be backing me up on this new case."

Tom hugged her back, then sat down beside her. "I think you will like this operation, Lynn. You have the perfect skill set for going undercover at U. S. Munitions without suspicion."

"Okay, tell me about it."

"Dave gave you some background on what we're looking for. We need to find out who is diverting shipments of RP7 rocket propelled grenades and how they are getting them out of the plant undetected. The Army put a tail some of the loaded trucks to see if they stop to unload part of the shipment on route to the depot, but they haven't uncovered anything so far. Their current theory is that the full shipments never leave the plant – that somehow they're smuggling product directly out of the factory. The position you will fill as inventory tracking analyst will give you the authority and a reason to show up at the shipping docks at anytime. While you're there checking shipping procedures and documentation you can look around and see if you can find anything suspicious going on. But you can't spend too much time down or it might tip them off that you're a company spy."

"Whoopee! I always told Jack that I loved the spy stuff and now I get to be one. When do I go in?"

"We've already created a new identity for you and rented a cheap apartment near the plant. You will have a car with registration to match your identity. The company created paperwork to show that you just transferred from their Pittsburgh facility. You and I will fly out there this afternoon so you can get familiar with the job and be able to talk about the layout if anyone asks you. Tomorrow I'll drill you on your background as your fake identity, Cynthia Carson – where you grew up, went to school, that sort of thing. You will start the new job on Monday. Here's the information so you can start studying it. We . . . we uh . . . made you a widow. Your husband died of a heart attack six months ago and you're still grieving, so that will give you a reason to avoid talking about your family life."

"I won't be doing any acting to play that part." Lynn sniffled and dabbed tears from her eyes. "Just your comments about a fictitious husband's death set me off."

"I'm sorry, Lynn. I didn't mean to upset you, but that cover story will be easy for you to remember."

"It's my problem, Tom, not yours. I'm slowly leaving it behind me."

"Okay. We've got a two o'clock flight to Pittsburgh to catch. We'll be coming back later this afternoon so you don't have to pack anything."

They were all sitting around the dinner table at Margaret and Dave's home, finishing up their dessert and coffee. Jackson kept them entertained with stories about his father and him during his growing up years, and Lynn talked about her crush on Jack while they were students at Coal Creek Junior High School in a West Virginia coal mining town – "in the middle of Hatfield and McCoy country" as Lynn liked to put it. When they moved to the living room with after dinner coffee Lynn turned to Tom.

"How is your life going, Tom. I remember your wife divorced you after one of your daughters was kidnapped by Winston's Russian thugs. Have you moved on from that?"

"I was pretty depressed after that and tried to drink my pain away, but with God's help I left that behind. Mary tried to get sole custody of the girls but the lawyers Dave got me connected with put a stop to that. I get them one weekend a month, which is the highlight of my life – and theirs. Mary is incapable of loving them, but I try to make up for that whenever they're with me."

"Have you remarried, Tom?"

"No, I don't want to complicate my relationship with the girls. Once they're away from Mary and in college I may start dating again."

"Don't you get lonely living by yourself?"

"Not at all. After all those years under Mary's control and anger, it's refreshing to be free."

"I'm happy for you, Tom."

After a short silence Jackson brought up a new subject. "Dave, Lynn has talked to me about what she sees as her inadequacy in writing new hacking code. She got the breakthrough on the Great Eastern job because I stepped in and provided what she needed. I think your firm would benefit from improving her capabilities in software development."

"You have a good point, Jackson. How can we remedy that?"

"There's a school in New York City called The Recurse Center – it used to be called the Hacker School until they chose a more politically correct name – that offers a six-week course in computer code development for hacking. It's sort of a hacker's boot camp. The tuition is $12,000, and the dormitory housing is another $2,000, but with the what she already knows, she will come out of it with skills beyond what most hackers can offer. I think you should send her there after the undercover assignment is over, Dave."

Lynn gave Dave a questioning look. "Please say yes, Dave. I want to get as good at this as Jack was."

"I like the idea, Lynn. I'll have the accounting department set it up for the next time the course begins. But tell me about your visit to U.S. Munitions in Pittsburgh?"

Lynn answered excitedly, "It was great. I'll be able to step right into the job at the Wilmington plant. Tom equipped me with a special cell phone that will stream live audio and video back to the Cramer Security communications center whenever I key in a three number code. That way you will be able to record what I see and hear my conversations with others. It has a very stylish belt holster so I can clip the phone on the front of my belt or my purse so it will provide a good video image and sound."

"Good. It sounds like you're all set."

"Tom helped me move my clothes into an ancient apartment complex near the plant. The refrigerator and freezer are well stocked and there's an old laptop on the desk with souped up software so I can do my internet research at the apartment."

"What about transportation?"

"Tom fixed me up with a twelve year old Mazda Miata convertible. It looks old but the engine is in great shape . . . in case I have to outrun the cops or something" Lynn added with a laugh. "I'll drive it to the apartment tonight and begin my life as Cynthia Carson, free spirited widow, inventory analyst, and corporate spy extraordinaire. I'll start work first thing Monday morning."
Chapter 12 – Lynn/Cindy

Lynn showed up at the personnel director's office early Monday morning. After signing several forms and receiving her ID badge, she was directed to her desk in the Inventory Management Department. The department head showed up a few minutes later and introduced himself. "Hi. I'm Warren Ziggler. You must be Cynthia Carson."

"Please, call me Cindy."

"Okay Cindy. I see from your records that you have done this job before – at our Pittsburgh plant."

Yes. I'm familiar with the job. It may take me a day or two to learn the specifics of how things work here, but I'm a fast learner."

"Nancy has been filling in until you could get here, so I'll have her walk you through the daily grind. Nancy, come meet your replacement, Cindy."

"Hi Cindy. I'm so glad you're here. Computers are not my strong suit, so I've been struggling to keep up. I'm way behind on my inspections, so why don't we go down to the shipping dock and start there."

"Great. What do I need to take with me?"

"I just ran off this inventory printout. That and my clipboard are all we need."

Nancy led her to a freight elevator near the back of the factory. It didn't look very stable so Lynn stepped onto it gingerly. "Does this thing every break down?"

"It stalls between floors now and then but they usually get it running after a few minutes. Sometimes I welcome the break . . . at least when there's no one on it with me."

Lynn thought she detected a note of fear in Nancy's voice and wondered if there was a particular person she didn't like to get stuck with. "Who else uses this elevator?"

"Oh, some of the guys from the shipping floor . . . Mostly it's Jake, the dock foreman."

"Can I meet him this morning?"

"Definitely. He's the one who signs off on the shipping bills of lading. When your inventory numbers don't match up with his shipping documents there's big trouble."

"When happens then?"

"Uh . . . we discuss it and he ends up having his way."

"Is that the way things are supposed to work?"

"No. I'm supposed to climb onto the loaded trucks and do a count with him, but I don't like to do that."

Lynn looked at her with concern, "Why is that?"

"He . . . he scares me."

"Is that all he does?"

"N . . . I don't want to talk about it. He's coming over here."

A large, heavily muscled man with tattooed arms walked up them. "Well, this must be our new inventory gal. What were you two been talking about?"

Nancy looked down at the floor, but Lynn stepped up to him and reached out her hand. "Hi. I'm Cynthia Carson. And you are?"

He eyed Nancy intently for a moment, then looked up at Cynthia. "I'm Jake Dillon. They call be Big Jake."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dillon. And what is your responsibility here on the shipping floor?"

Jake glanced at Nancy again then looked Lynn/Cynthia hard in the eyes.

"I'm in charge down here, Ms. . . . Cynthia. I control everything that goes in or goes out of the factory. Nothing moves without my signature. If something should happen to delay a shipment, then whoever is responsible answers to me."

"Well, as long as everything on my inventory shows up in the right truck, you won't get any trouble from me, Mr. Dillon."

Jake was silent for several seconds, then looked her in the eye again. "You aren't going to make trouble for me, are you missy. Nancy and me worked real good together and I expect the same from you."

"We'll see Mr. Dillon, we'll see."

With that, Lynn took Nancy by the arm and led her back towards the elevator. She could feel Nancy's arm trembling. When the elevator was moving upward Nancy turned to her with tears in her eyes. "You shouldn't have said that, Cindy. You don't know what he's capable of."

"I can handle myself, Nancy. Lets get you upstairs and back to your regular job so you won't have to deal with 'Big Jake' anymore."

By noon the next day Lynn had re-organized the inventory tracking system to focus on the shipping part of the operation. She could call up every munitions crate on the computer and know what it contained, where it was in the factory, and when it was loaded and trucked out to a destination. Then she went through the shipping records for the past six months looking for a pattern in the missing crates – when they were manufactured, who packed the crates and loaded them on the trucks, who the drivers were, where they were shipped to, what route they followed, where they stopped along the way, and who signed off the receipt documents at the delivery point.

Lynn thought a bit, then asked herself a question. "Why can't I see a pattern here somewhere – days of the week, individuals involved, specific truck drivers. It all seems random."

Lynn was back at the shabby apartment eating pizza for supper. She figured that's what her undercover self would eat. Her mind wandered back to the stolen inventory problem. There were so many places along the path from shipping out of the factory to receipt at the military depot where someone could slip a few of crates off the truck. Maybe even while the truck driver was busy picking up some woman at a bar. To find out, each truck would have to be followed, but with and average of thirty-two trucks leaving every week that would take too much manpower. And the crate theft didn't happen to every shipment, only about one out of ten or twelve truckloads, and then only a few crates at a time.

As she pondered the problem the answer popped into her mind. If Big Jake was keeping Nancy from doing a full inventory check on the loaded trucks, that meant the crates went missing right here at the factory, not after they were shipped. Nancy signed the shipping list as if all the crates were on the trucks, but she never actually checked to see if there was a full load. Jake had her so intimidated that she was afraid to do her job. With that answer, Lynn knew what she had to do tomorrow. She had to do a complete inventory on every truck just before it left the factory.

When Lynn/Cynthia got to her office the next morning she printed out the all the shipping lists that were scheduled to go out that day, then rode the freight elevator down to the shipping dock. The workers had already started loading the trucks under Big Jake's supervision, but when she hopped up on top of a stack of crates everyone turned to look at her.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I have an important announcement. Under the authority of the Inventory Division Manager, there will be a change in policy regarding inspection of outgoing shipments. No truck will leave this facility until I have personally gone through the truck and checked each item against the bill of lading. Mr. Dillon will accompany me as I inspect each shipment. I have a list of all shipments going out today and the scheduled departure time. I will be at the dock fifteen minutes before each departure time to inspect the load. If everything checks out the truck will be closed up and released to the driver. If there is a discrepancy between my inventory count and the shipping bill, the truck will be unloaded and reloaded under my supervision. Are there any questions?"

Big Jake pushed his way through the crowd of workers to stand in front of her and looked up at her with fire in his eyes. "You can't do this missy! I'm in charge down here and I won't allow it. It will screw up the entire shipping schedule, and throw all of the deliveries behind."

Lynn looked Jake straight in the eye to purposely challenge him. "If there are problems we will make adjustments to resolve them. If you have a complaint why don't you and I go up the Division Manager and discuss it right now."

He stared at her for several seconds, then turned and yelled "You heard the lady, men. Let's get these trucks loaded." With one last menacing look back at her, he stomped off toward the nearest truck and conferred with the loading crew. One of them headed towards the back of the shipping room.

Lynn stepped down from the crates and looked busy making meaningless notes on the documents she was holding. What she was really waiting for was to see what would happen next. Five minutes later the man reappeared driving a forklift with two additional munitions crates, which were quickly put onto the truck along with the rest of the load. Then she walked up to Jake and asked, "Is this truck ready for inspection now Mr. Dillon?"

He looked at her with a phony smile and replied "It sure is. Let's climb in and have a look." When they were inside away from the other workers Jake leaned in to her ear. "Shipping docks are very dangerous places, missy. Serious accidents can happen that could cripple or kill a careless person – especially a greenhorn like you."

"Is that a threat, Mr. Dillon?"

"Take it any way you want to, dearie."

At the end of the day, all the trucks left on schedule with complete agreement between the inventory lists and shipping bills. As Lynn was gathering things from her desk Nancy stopped by to ask how things went on her first day. Lynn answered, "If you want to grab a drink with me somewhere I'll give you a blow-by-blow account."

Nancy paused for a minute. "I would like that, but I have to be really careful. If Jake or one of his crew saw us talking we could both be in danger. I know a place a few miles from here where none of the workers go." Nancy scribbled an address on a notepad and handed it to Lynn. I'll meet you there in half an hour."

"Great, Nancy. I see you then."

Lynn gave Nancy time to get out of the parking lot before she walked out to her Miata. She had only been driving it for two days but she felt like a race car driver in it. It was a 1994 MX-5 – the premium model with the big engine, a 5-speed manual transmission, and the Montego Blue Mica paint job that sometimes looked deep blue and other times a deep emerald green, depending on how the sun was hitting it. The upholstery was shot, but it ran great. She checked out that model online and found that only 3,000 were manufactured that year, and that it was a popular model for the amateur racing circuit. Lynn couldn't wait for a chance to take it out on a straight country road to see what it could do.

Before she left the office Lynn printed out a map to The Brew 'n Booze Tavern and memorized the route. Six blocks after she left the U. S. Munitions factory she thought she picked up a tail. A silver Ford Mustang was making the same turns, but hanging back a hundred yards or so. Lynn took a quick look at her map and changed her route, making a sudden right turn followed by a sharp left onto a freeway ramp. As soon as she hit the ramp she went through the gears and got her speed up to 85 mph and merged into the freeway traffic. She looked in the rear view mirror to see if she was really being followed or if she had an overactive imagination. . . . "Yep, there it is, accelerating to keep up with me." She looked at the map again and saw the next exit coming up shortly. She stayed out of the exit lane, looked at the traffic around her to make sure she had room for her next move, and drove just beyond the exit ramp. At the last second she slammed on the brakes, did a 180-degree turn back toward the exit ramp, followed by another sliding turn onto the ramp. As she sailed down the ramp she looked back to see the Challenger miss the ramp entirely and continue on down the freeway. At the bottom of the ramp she circled back under the freeway and re-entered it going the opposite direction. She kept an eye out for the tail until she was sure she had lost them and resumed her trip to the Brew 'n Booze.

Nancy was already there, nervously watching the door when Lynn entered. She thought about how to approach Nancy to get the information she was looking for and decided not to tell her about being tailed. She just hoped that Nancy hadn't been tailed by some dock workers herself. After a quick look around she didn't see anyone paying too much attention and figured it must be safe. When she saw Lynn, Nancy smiled and relaxed. "I was worried you wouldn't come, Cindy. I thought maybe some . . . something happened to you."

"I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself, even against Big Jake."

"You don't have any idea how violent he can be. That's why I agreed to meet you – to warn you about what could happen to you. Jake is not one to mess with."

Lynn paused, then asked in a soft, sympathetic voice, "What has he done to you, Nancy?"

"Nothing. He hasn't done anything to me."

"I hear your voice telling me one thing, but your eyes and your demeanor are telling me a different story. You can share your fear and pain with me, Nancy. I'll never tell a soul."

Lynn could see that Nancy was struggling with a decision. Finally she said, "Okay Cindy. I'll tell you what he's done to me. But only so you can realize how cruel and powerful he is. . . . When I first started as a temporary replacement for Jeanie, the last inventory analyst, I had no idea what I was in for. I should have suspected something – Jeanie had to quit because she was attacked, beaten, and raped in her home. She didn't report it to the police because she was afraid the attacker would return to kill her. Looking back at what I know now, I believe it was Big Jake who broke in and was waiting for her when she got home from work."

"Why would Jake take a risk like that? Couldn't Jeanie identify him as her attacker and have him put in Jail?"

"I talked to Jeanie after the attack and she claimed the rapist was wearing a mask so she couldn't tell who he was, but I think she was lying to me. I think she was too afraid of another visit from Jake, so she resigned from the company."

"Why would Jake Dillon do that to her, Nancy?"

"I can only answer that based on my brief time as her successor. I was on the job two days when I found a discrepancy between a shipping bill and the inventory data. When I asked Big Jake about it, he told me that there were always clerical errors in the system and not to worry about it. That didn't seem right to me so I told him I would have to report it. He said to go ahead – that was my job. I walked back to the freight elevator to go upstairs to report to the manager, but Just as I was closing the door, Jake slipped into the elevator. I pushed the button to take us up, but between floors he pressed the emergency stop button. . . . "

"What happened next, Nancy?"

"He . . . he put his hand over my mouth and whispered in my ear that if I tried to scream he would kill me. I was terrified! Then he pushed his body up against me and grabbed my . . . my breasts. He asked 'Have you ever been raped, Nancy? It can be very pleasurable, or very painful. I can make it whatever you want.' I begged him to let me go. He forced a kiss on my lips. It was all I could do not the throw up. Then he stepped back, looked me up down, and told me that, unless I ignored the inventory discrepancies, he would finish what he had started."

"Oh my gosh, Nancy! What happened to you was terrible. Did you report him?"

"No. He said that if I said anything something even worse would happen to me. After that, I never went into a truck to check the inventory. I just accepted his version of the shipping documents and signed off on them."

"Did he ever do anything else to you?"

"He would slip onto the freight elevator at the end of a shift now and then and feel me up, just to keep me in line I guess. I couldn't wait to get home and into the shower to scrub his filth off me."

"He'll be sorry if he tries anything like that with me. I won't be afraid to report him."

"You don't understand, Cindy. If you get in the way of his secret operation he could kill you!"

"My husband . . . before he died . . . taught me how to take care of myself. I know a few moves that will make him wish he hadn't messed with me."

"I wish I had your skills, and your confidence. I always let men run over me because I'm afraid of them. My father used to beat me when I was little. He would come home drunk, smack my mother around, then start on me. When I started developing as a woman I had to run away because I knew what was coming next. I lived with an aunt until I finished high school then ran off with my first husband – who turned out to be just like my father. After he put me in the hospital twice I filed for divorce. He came to the restaurant where I was working and yelled that he would kill me before he let me go. That and the beatings were enough to get him some jail time. I was scared that when he got out he would come after me, but his temper solved that problem. He got in a fight with another inmate and was stabbed to death."

"How did you get your job at U. S. Munitions?"

"I took some accounting courses at the community college. That's where I met my second husband. I thought he was such a sweet guy, but that changed as soon as we were married. He expected me to be the perfect wife and homemaker – hot dinner on the table the minute he got home, not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere, waiting on him hand and foot, and ready to please him in bed every night no matter how tired I was. And if anything displeased him, he would whip me with his belt."

"How awful! Are you still married to him?"

"No. After several months of that I went on strike and did nothing for him. He got tired of whipping me and divorced me. I feel sorry for whoever he gets to replace me."

"No wonder Big Jake intimidates you so, after how the men in your life have treated you." Lynn thought for a minute, then asked Nancy, "Your first husband got what was coming to him, but do you ever think about getting even with the second one?"

"Oh yes. I spend a lot of time thinking up ways to get revenge – very prolonged and painful ways mostly. But it's just fantasy."

"It doesn't have to be. I might be able to help you with that. Not right now, but we can talk about this again in a few weeks. I'll give you my personal phone number." Lynn said as scribbled it on a napkin.

"Now you have me curious, Cindy. Are there some hidden things about you that I need to know?"

"That's a topic for another time. I need to get back to my place and get some rest. This first day on the job was a little stressful."

"Well, thanks for listening to me. I needed to get some of that off my chest."

"Anytime I can help, let me know."
Chapter 13 – Flashpoint!

When Lynn got to her desk the next morning inventory sheets for the day's shipments were on her desk. As she paged through them she realized that there were twice as many trucks scheduled to go out than on the previous day. She didn't see how she and Jake would have time to check all the cargos before the scheduled departure times. She thought _Why so many trucks? What's going on._ Then it came to her. _Jake wants me to get behind schedule so I'll have to skip some of the inspections. Those are the trucks he will hold back crates from to divert to his own customers._ Lynn grabbed the inventory sheets and headed for the loading dock.

When she got there she went straight over to Big Jake waving the papers in her hand. "You have eleven trucks scheduled for departure today. How do you plan to get them all loaded and inspected in eight hours?"

Jake gave her a self-satisfied grin. "Oh, my boys will get them loaded. I had a talk with them and they agreed to step up their efforts to make sure we finish. My question is how do you plan to get them all inspected? If you hold them up, the drivers get overtime pay and management won't be happy about that. I suppose we'll just have to spot check some of them and you can just sign off on the others so they get out of here on time."

Lynn glared at him, then climbed on a crate and called the men together in front of her. "Listen up! We have to load and inspect eleven trucks today. I understand that Mr. Dillon has asked you to work hard enough to get it done and you have graciously agreed. But to avoid a bottleneck with inspections, we will have to change the loading procedure. I want each truck's load to be stacked on the loading dock behind the truck, with the shipping labels all facing to the right. When the crates are ready to be put in the truck, let me know and Mr. Dillon and I will rush over, complete the inventory, and sign off on it. As soon as that's done, I want a double crew available to load it immediately while I watch. Any questions?"

She looked over at Jake and saw him glowering at her. She gave him her own smile of satisfaction and asked, "How about you, Mr. Dillon? Any questions?" He shouted to the men, "You heard the lady - get to work!" Jake held Lynn in his threatening gaze for a few seconds, then turned and strode off.

Things went slowly at first as the men got used to the new procedure, but after that it picked up. By lunchtime they had the shipments for four trucks ready to load with several others underway. When they called her over for the first inspection she pulled Jake from the busywork he was doing and headed for the stacked crates. On the way over she turned to Jake and said, "You might have to roll up your sleeves and do some actual loading work to stay on schedule, Mr. Dillon."

He answered in a low voice so no one else could hear, "This isn't over, missy. I'll have a union representative in here tomorrow to see how you order my men around. By union rules, I'm the only one who can do that."

"Then maybe I'll have to join your union myself so I can play by your rules."

By quarter to five the last truck pulled away from the dock. Lynn was bone tired, but satisfied with herself for beating Big Jake at his own game. _I wonder what he will come up with tomorrow,_ Lynn thought as she stepped onto the freight elevator and started to close the gate. At the last second, Jake ducked under the gate to join her. She started to move to the opposite corner of the elevator box, but then stopped and stood her ground. _I can't show any of the cowering weakness that Nancy did. It will encourage him to make a move on me._ She thought for a second, then said, "That was a good day's work, Mr. Dillon. Who would have thought your crew could get eleven trucks out in a single day."

"They can do that any day, missy – at least until some of them start calling in sick."

Lynn casually hooked her thumb in her belt and switched on the special cell phone Tom gave her. Everything Jake said and did from here on would be transmitted back to the communications room at CSIC for Dave's people to watch and record. If she needed help they would call Tom to help her, but here in the factory that would take some time. So Lynn started mentally rehearsing the moves she would use to incapacitate the big man if she needed to. It didn't take long before she had to go into action.

O'Malley was leaning back in his chair keeping watch on several computer screens that were monitoring various cameras CSIC had in place. Typically only two or three CSIC cases at a time required hidden video cameras to gather evidence or monitor clients under their protection. But now, with Lynn's cell phone camera, he had an extra screen to watch. His attention was currently focused on a camera showing a well-known political figure about to climb into bed with a woman twenty years younger. His wife knew he was having an affair and she wanted some proof to go to court with. From the way this scenario was unfolding she would have all she wanted by tomorrow. He was watching good, clear video as the two of them engaged in some preliminary foreplay. O'Malley regretfully blanked out the computer screen before it got too explicit and let the action go into the computer memory. He wasn't into that sort of thing and company policy required that he record it without watching. The DVD video would be shown to the politician's wife and her lawyer, and they would decide what to do with it. When the motion-activated camera sensed no more movement by the two it would stop collecting the video, automatically record it on a DVD with a secure access code, and erase it from the computer memory. Only someone with the access code would be able to view the DVD.

The problem right now was that he had spent too much time watching the couple warm each other up that he missed the screen from Lynn's cell phone when it came to life. When he sat back to survey the rest of the screens he caught it, but it had been running for almost five minutes. "Shoot! What did I miss! Uh oh. That's bad. Really bad. I need to call Tom and Dave right away."

Dave had just arrived home after a grueling day and couldn't wait to sit down with a drink in his hand, Margaret at his side, and Fox News catching him up on the day's events. After several minutes of watching the talking heads argue with each other about subjects they had no expertise in, he switched it to a soft music channel and pulled his wife close to him.

"This is the absolute best time of my day, Margaret. It's why I can put up with all the oversized egos, anger, and demands of my clients. Sometimes I wish it was still just you and me running the smallest detective agency in Philly. We worked long hours, but the clientele we dealt with were everyday folks who needed a little help with simple problems. Now I have to deal with corporate CEOs who think they know everything and never miss a chance to blow their own horns. And the staff members they bring along to witness their greatness – most of these know their boss is a buffoon – but they have to agree with him on everything or they're fired. My staff members know to question everything – to let me know when I'm like the _King With New Clothes_ from Hans Christian Anderson's tales."

"That's called the _Emperor's New Clothes_ dear."

Dave laughed. "Just like I said. I surround myself with people who aren't afraid to correct me."

He gave her another hug and held it longer, hoping to communicate to her the hopes he had for after supper. She turned her mouth up for a kiss, letting him know that the message was received. Just then Dave's cell phone rang. "Damn! Just when it was getting interesting. Hello, Dave here. This better be important."

"It's O'Malley, Dave. There's a problem with Lynn's assignment."

"I'm headed for the car. Fill me in on the way."

He looked down at his wife. "Can you give me a rain check on that, sweetheart? I shouldn't be too long." He knew it wasn't true when he said it, but he always felt guilty when work got in the way of his family life.

"I'll be ready and waiting whenever you get home, dear. I'll wear that black satin negligee. Maybe it will entice you to get home sooner."

Dave groaned. "Torture me, why don't you. I'll be back as soon as I can." He gave her a long, passionate kiss and said "I hope that will keep you warm until I get back."

As Dave headed for the office to see what O'Malley had to show him, Tom called and redirected him to Lynn's undercover apartment. Dave thought, _Well, at least it wasn't the hospital._ She and Tom were waiting for him, with O'Malley on the computer screen.

"Tell me what happened" Dave said as soon as he entered the apartment. O'Malley replied "It's best if you see it yourself, Dave. I'll play the video for you."

When the video cut in, the cell phone in Lynn's belt holster showed a large man with tattoos facing her. Lynn was telling him "If you call a sickout won't that limit the number of trucks that can be loaded and released for departure?"

"It sure will, missy, but I'll tell management – and the union – that it was your fault because you increased the workload today. The union contract says we don't have to load more than seven trucks a day, but you told us we had to do eleven trucks – eleven trucks in an eight-hour day. If the crew had worked at it's usual pace, they'd have got time and a half for the extra time it would'a took."

"If you go to management, they will ask why your men can't do eleven trucks every day. The fact that they did eleven today is proof that they're slacking off most of the time – purposely working slowly so they can have time to B.S. with each other – and for moving some of the crates to your hiding place for off-the-books shipping to other customers."

Dave spoke up. "You shouldn't have said that, Lynn. You just gave away your cover."

Tom added, "But only to Jake. If we can get him out of the picture we still might be able to see how the shipments are getting out."

"I may have solved that problem, at least in the short term. Watch the rest of the video."

O'Malley started it back up, ready to stop the action at critical points in the video.

It picked up with Jake's response. "What do you know about that! Are you a cop? I'll show you how we handle cops around here – especially woman cops."

The camera showed Jake moving in on Lynn, but before he got close, a foot shot out and kicked him between the legs. He doubled over in pain, but Lynn hadn't pressed her advantage. He recovered enough to growl at her and renew his attack. This time he moved in close to avoid her kicks and was too close to the camera to see what he was doing. But the audio came through clearly:

Jake grunted "I'll make you wish you never heard of me." That was followed by the sound of cloth ripping. The next second Big Jake flew backwards away from the camera with a piece of Lynn's shirt in his hand and blood pouring from his nose. At this point the camera was knocked from Lynn's belt and landed in a corner. It couldn't have landed in a better position - they watched the rest of the action from a ringside seat in the corner of the elevator.

As Jake recovered his feet and moved in again, Lynn hit him in the chin with the heel of her hand. Pieces of Jake's teeth flew out of the scene. Lynn's next move caught Jake in the Adam's apple followed by a blow to the solar plexus – the place just below the center of the ribs that paralyzes the diaphragm, making breathing all but impossible. Jake crumpled into a corner gasping for breath. Then they saw her walking toward the camera, picking it up, and pointing it at Jake's face to record the mess that was left. Then they watched her take a selfie pumping her right arm up and down and saying "YES!"

They all sat for a few minutes, then O'Malley said "We can edit out that last part – it wouldn't play well in front of a jury."

Dave looked around the room. "Our goal here was to uncover a link to the RPG munitions smuggling, not to get payback on a Neanderthal dock loading chief. I see that you had to defend yourself, Lynn, but it's almost like you wanted him to attack you just so you could unleash your anger on him. You revealed your undercover mission with your comment about off-the-books shipping. Now he thinks you are a cop. If that information gets back to the dock workers or the union, you'll be lucky to get out alive. I think we have to terminate the operation for your protection, Lynn."

Lynn started to protest when Tom cut in. "So far, Jake is the only one who suspects Lynn, and he's in the hospital with his jaw wired shut and drugged to the gills. If Lynn can get back in there tomorrow and figure out how the illegal shipments are getting out, before Jake has a chance to communicate what he knows, it might work out. But tomorrow will have to be her last day. If she can't crack the case by close of business we have to pull her out."

Lynn added her input to Tom's. "Let me do this Dave. I've figured out how Jake was short-loading some of the trucks. Now I just have to find where he stashes the stolen crates and gets them out of the factory. . . . Please, Dave, let me finish this."

"Well, it's against my better judgment, but I'll give you one more day. Tom, you park your car at the diner across the street from the employees' gate in case you have to get to her quickly. And I'll post a couple of my guys staking out her apartment in case Jake gets the word out somehow." With that, Dave got up and said "I'm going home. I have something special waiting for me there."

Lynn was drifting in and out of sleep, with snippets of her memories of Jack running through her mind. Nothing scary this time – just pleasant times together. Then, in her dream, Jack reached out and shook her shoulder – hard. _"Wake up. There's someone in your apartment!"_

Lynn's eyes popped open as she focused her hearing on the sounds around her. The air conditioning, the refrigerator, the creaking of . . . of what! The front door opening? Lynn closed her hand around the Glock handgun on the night stand and quietly slid out from under the covers and over the side of the bed onto the floor, leaving her pillows under the blanket. The space beneath the bed was high enough for her to slide under. She lay there with her gun aimed at anyone whose feet showed up in her bedroom doorway.

Two pairs of feet appeared, both men in black sneakers. One pair moved closer to the bed and paused. Lynn heard two muffled gun shots from a silenced weapon, followed by the scrambling of feet as the men ran for the front door and closed it behind them. Thirty-seconds later the front door burst open again. Lynn tensed, ready to shoot at the next pair of feet she saw.

"Lynn! Lynn? Are you all right?" Tom shouted.

As Lynn picked herself up from the floor, she answered, "I'm in here, Tom. I'm okay. Where were you? Sleeping in your car?"

"I had to step into the alley to take a leak. I didn't know they were here until I saw them running out your door. I was too far away to stop them, but I got a license number. What did they do in here?"

"I slid under the bed with my gun and listened while one of them put two shots from a silenced hand gun into my pillow."

"Did they see you?"

"No. I resisted the urge to cripple them both by blowing away their ankles."

They both stood there silently until Tom reached out and pulled her to him. She was trembling so he held her until she was calm, then sat her down on the couch.

"What do we do now, Tom?"

"Well, if they think they killed you, they won't expect you to show up at work tomorrow. Maybe you could go in late, after they have pulled some crates from a shipment or two and hidden them away. Then you show up and announce an inventory of the trucks. They'll have to send someone to sneak the diverted crates back to the loading dock. Meanwhile I'll be wandering around as a janitor to see where they go to recover the hidden shipping containers."

"I like that plan, Tom. And by looking to see who is the most surprised at my re-appearance, I might figure out who came over for the midnight visit."

At ten o'clock the next morning Lynn showed up at the loading docks and immediately climbed up on some crates. No one noticed her until she yelled "Listen up, everybody." Lynn paused as she scanned the workers faces, but none of them seemed surprised to see her. "Is this everyone? Where is Mr. Dillon this morning?"

One of Jake's friends looked up at her. "He didn't show up today. He must be sick or something."

"Aren't we missing two forklift drivers? Where are they?" No one answered, but as if on cue, two fork lifts rounded the corner and headed for a stack of crates behind one of the trucks. Neither of them saw her until she yelled "Hey. Over here. We're having a meeting." They turned to look at her and slammed on their brakes. For a second or two Lynn saw looks of surprise, then fear cross both faces. She smiled because she knew O'Malley back at CSIC was watching on her cell phone link and recording it all.

"I said we're having a meeting. Now get off your vehicles and join the rest of us." After they timidly approached the group Lynn continued speaking. "I got held up in traffic today so I got here late. I see you have already started loading the trucks without my inspection, so I want no more crates loaded until I have time to inspect what's on the trucks already. You can continue to stack the crates behind each truck like you did yesterday until I can get to them. Who is going to sign the shipping documents – who is Mr. Dillon's replacement when he's absent?" One of the crew raised his hand.

"Okay, I have to go upstairs and print out the inventory list for today's shipments. I'll be back in thirty minutes, then you join me for the inspections." Lynn hopped down from her makeshift podium and took the freight elevator up to her office. When she got there she hacked into the company personnel files looked up the two forklift drivers. She emailed their files and photos to O'Malley with instructions to forward the photos immediately to Tom's smart phone.

Tom had shown up at U. S. Munitions before Lynn got there, had a meeting with their chief of security, and left his office in a pair of dirty coveralls, a company badge, and a wide broom. He had studied the floor plan last night and marked some areas where the stolen crates might be hidden, so while Lynn was speaking to the crew, he stumbled along behind his broom looking for evidence. When his phone vibrated he went to a dark corner and answered it. O'Malley had sent him photos of two forklift drivers who were probably involved in Jake Dillon's theft ring.

Tom thought for a minute then mentally kicked himself for missing the obvious. Of course, there had to be forklifts involved to move the heavy crates. He hurried towards the loading docks just as Lynn told the crew she would be back in half an hour. Tom smiled. Lynn gave him the perfect setup. With her getting there late some of the crates would have been hidden already. When she announced a full inspection of the inventory, the looters would have to rush back to the crates they had already diverted and bring them back to be inventoried. He would just lurk in the shadows and see where they go to get the stolen crates.

Tom didn't have to wait long. Two forklifts lumbered past him headed toward the far end of the shipping and receiving area. He hurried in that direction, went through some double doors, and quickly froze. The two men were busy unloading four crates from a delivery van parked at the receiving dock. Fortunately they hadn't seen him yet, so Tom slowly backed out through the doors and hid behind some shelves. After the forklifts passed him on their way to returning the crates he went back to the receiving area and got the license number of the van. He sent it to O'Malley with a text describing what was going on. Once Dave tells the Army investigators who the van belongs to, they can follow up from there.

Tom texted Lynn " _All done here. Good work! You should leave now, but don't go back to the undercover apartment. I'll meet you back at CSIC."_

Lynn looked at Tom's message, then headed for Nancy's desk.

"Hi Cindy. I hear you're doing a great job down in shipping."

"That's what I want to talk to you about. I'll be leaving the factory in a few minutes and you will get a call telling you to take over for me."

"Are you going home sick or something?"

"Yeah, or something. But I won't be back, so the job will be yours if you want it."

"I can't do the job right as long a Big Jake is around."

"He won't be a problem, Nancy, not today – not ever."

"Seriously! What did you do, get him fired?"

"No, but it won't be long before you know the story. I have really enjoyed our friendship. If you ever need any help – with abusive men I mean, call me."

"So this is goodbye, huh." Nancy got up from her chair and hugged Lynn with tears in her eyes and a whispered "Thank you."
Chapter 14 - Peace

Lynn drove her undercover vehicle – the '94 Miata – back to the CSIC office, talking to herself, as usual. "I wish I could keep this car. It fits me like a glove. It's a little noisy with the convertible top up or down, but with stereo speakers in the headrest, I can still listen to my favorite music – oldies from when I was growing up. I wish I could keep it, but the company paid for it, so it has to go back for resale. It's worth almost $3,000. New upholstery and a paint job would add another thousand. It's in great shape mechanically with not too much mileage on it. The new upholstery and a paint job and it will like new. I think I'll ask Dave if I can buy it from CSIC."

When she entered the reception area Dave, O'Malley, Tom, and half a dozen other friends from CSIC were there to greet her. Dave got everyone's attention and made a short speech congratulating her and welcoming her back from the undercover world. Afterwards, alone with Dave in his office, he gave her a hug.

"Your instincts on this operation were right on, Lynn. The Army has people watching the Machine Tools, Inc. warehouse –the company van that Dillon used to ship out the stolen crates. At the army's request U. S. Munitions shipped out a truckload of RPGs without explosive warheads with no inventory inspection. The forklift drivers diverted three of the crates to the van, which transported them to Machine Tools. The crates had GPS trackers planted in them so the Army can track them all the way to the final destination. Once they have the entire chain identified they will roll it up, with arrests all the way back to the U. S. Munitions forklift drivers and Jake Dillon. Those guys will spend a long time in prison. If the stolen RPGs ended up is the hands of ISIS or Al Qaeda they could be tried for treason with a possible death sentence."

Lynn thought about this. "I don't think a death sentence for Jake and the forklift drivers is warranted – they were just greedy men trying to make a buck. But if some of those munitions were used to kill American soldiers, then they should get whatever is coming to them."

"I agree with you on that issue, Lynn. Whatever happens to them, you did a superb job on this and I would like to give you this bonus check as a reward for boosting the reputation of my company."

Lynn accepted the check and looked at it. "Four thousand dollars is too much, Dave. I can't accept it. But if you were to offer me the Miata undercover car, I would gladly accept it."

"Consider it done. I'll let accounting know and have the title transferred to you. Now, about your immediate future. Jackson pulled some strings and got you into the next session of the hacking school in New York City. The school offers housing for out of town students, so we booked a room for you for the six-week term. It starts a week from Monday. Until then I want you to take some time off, with pay. Go somewhere where you can depressurize."

Lynn was luxuriating in the huge garden tub back at the CSIC guest apartment with a glass of wine in her hand. She thought about how nice it would be if Jack could be in here with her – she would snuggle up spoon fashion with Jack behind her and his arms around her. She let her imagination run with that for awhile until it triggered the pain in her mind over losing him. 'I need to find a new train of thought to distract me from how much it hurts.'

She directed her thoughts to the week and a half vacation Dave gave her, and what she would do with it. There was no one she wanted to visit, nowhere she longed to go. At her age she hadn't created a bucket list yet, so she had given no thought to what she might have missed in life. She thought about Jack again. _The short time we were together fulfilled my every dream. I felt more loved, more respected, more in love than any other time in my life. What else could I ever want . . . except more of it_. That brought tears and a return of the pain. _No matter what I think about, it always comes back to the pain, to the hole in my heart that Jack left behind._ Lynn poured another glass of wine and directed her thoughts back to the fantasy of Jack being in the tub with her.

Lynn woke up laying across the bed with a towel wrapped around her . . . and a splitting headache. She groaned and rolled over on her back. It took a few minutes for her memory from last night to drag itself into her consciousness. "I should have quit after two glasses of wine. Why didn't I. . . . because I was trying to kill the pain! It felt good when I got numb after the second bottle, but by then I didn't have the sense to quit. I could be an alcoholic so easily. I would rather be numb than in emotional pain, but I have to fight that. I can't let myself be dragged into this mind numbing state."

She pushed herself up off the bed, put on a robe, and went to start the coffee. While it was brewing she removed two bottles of wine from the refrigerator and a bottle of vodka from the freezer. She lined them up on the counter and poured them down the drain one at a time. When the coffee was ready she poured a cup and dialed a number from her speed dial.

"I need a pep talk, Harriet. I got drunk again last night and I liked it – the escape from the pain. I need a friend to lean on, to help me get through this pain rather than wallow in it."

"Oh, honey, I'll do anything to help you through this. I can be up there by noon and we can talk."

"I just had an idea, Harriet. Do you like riding in a sports convertible with the top down?"

"As long as it isn't raining."

"Do you feel like a cross-country trip in a Mazda Miata with me? We can pretend to be Thelma and Louise."

"Do I get to be Louise?"

"Whatever works for you, dear. But we won't drive over a cliff at the end."

"Not unless we kill someone on the road."

The next morning the two of them set out in Lynn's Miata and headed west. Their destination was Telluride, Colorado, where the remains of Lynn's home . . . and Jack and her granddaughter, were. Lynn was hoping that facing the origin of her painful memories might help her leave them behind. They could make the thirty-hour trip with one overnight stop near St. Louis. The two fifteen-hour days would be tiring, but with both of them driving it could be done. It was ten p.m. on the second night when they rolled into Denver, so they decided to stay at a Hampton Inn there and drive the last few hours to Telluride the next morning. The last part of the trip was over mountain roads that would make night driving a challenge.

After they finished supper at a nearby Cracker Barrel they sat in bed with their laptops to catch up with the day's happenings. There wasn't much going on in the news – the usual fighting in the middle east that's been going on since Isaac and Ishmael, a new medical breakthrough for treating Parkinson's disease, and the battle for control of congress that's been going on for the past 200 years. The weather channel was forecasting a late snowstorm for the Rockies tomorrow.

"There might be some winter weather coming in tomorrow afternoon, Harriet, so we should get an early start."

"Where are we staying in Telluride?"

"This late in the season there should be several ski lodges with rooms available. I'll check online and get some reservations. What are you coming up with on your laptop."

"I spend a lot of time on crime websites – learning what I can about interesting cases that stump the police. Occasionally I find something they missed, so I send them an email to get them back on track."

"Anything interesting happening now?"

"There was a murder in a Philly hospital. Someone sneaked into the room of a guy named Dillon and smothered him with a pillow. Not much detail on the victim – and no leads on a suspect."

"What! Was it Jake Dillon? He's the one at U. S. Munitions who was smuggling RPVs out of the factory. I put him in the hospital when he tried to make a move on me. It looks like the people he was working for don't want him to talk."

"You were undercover at a munitions factory?

"Yeah, I was Cynthia Carson, Inventory Analyst. Some shipments weren't making it to their destinations, so Dave sent me in to find out what was happening to them.

"Wow, what a fun life you're living, Lynn. I didn't have that much action when I was with the Agency."

"I hope Dave can keep interesting cases coming for me, especially if they involve computer hacking. . . . Oh, did I tell you? Dave is sending me to a hacker boot camp when we get back. It's a place in New York City called The Recurse Center that runs a six-week course in programming for hackers. It gets its name from one of a programmer's important tools – recursion. It's when a program zeros in on solution by repeatedly applying an procedure. It's one of a hackers main tools."

"That sounds terrific, Lynn, but are you sure you will be okay all alone there? If you want I can come with you."

"I think I'll be all right, especially if this trip give me the catharsis I hope it does."

"Well, you know where to find me if you need someone."

"We better get some sleep. We should leave here no later than eight o'clock. See you in the morning."

Lynn's Miata rolled into Telluride just after noon, with dark clouds showing in the distance. They drove through town up to the ski area and The Peaks Resort and Spa. Lynn explained that she chose that one because it was close to Lynn's old house, so they could hike over to Lynn's property. They parked in front and a young man showed up with a luggage buggy to take their suitcases to the room, while another parked the car.

"This is a pretty classy place, Lynn, with lots of guests. How did you get us into a room?"

"I know the manager, Carole. She and I used to ski together when I lived here. She gave us the best suite in the house."

As they walked through the door into the room Harriet said "Wow. You were right about that. What's this place costing us?"

"Not that it matters, but Carole said everything is on the house. I told her that was unacceptable, and she said 'Then you can't stay here. You and Jack were two of my closest friends. It's the least that I can do for you.' So I gave in."

After they had unpacked and put their clothes away, they went down to the lunch buffet, then headed over to Lynn's property. The snow clouds were getting closerr, but it was a 15 minute walk so they decided to go on over there. They came out of the pine trees into a clearing with a driveway winding up the hill to a bare flat place cut into the side of the mountain. Lynn stopped in her tracks and looked up to where her house – her mountain ski home – used to be. A friend in the construction business had called her a month after . . . after it happened, and offered to clear the lot for her. She told him to go ahead and send her a bill, which he never did. She would stop by and see him about that before they left town and settle up.

They walked up the driveway until they were at the level of the house foundation. Her friend had cleared the land well – all evidence of the house and garage were gone, and some spring grass shoots were starting to sprout. Lynn took Harriet on a tour of the house floor plan and showed her the great room used to be, with it's view of the ski area and the town below. As she moved around the site she pointed out the kitchen area – even the pipes had been removed there – the guest bedroom, and the master bedroom, where she and Jack had started their married life together. Those memories came flooding back as she looked where the bed had been, and the bathroom where they shared many showers. It was like all the memories she had been locked up inside her came boiling out, one after another. Harriet backed away to sit on a rock to let Lynn process her memories.

After several minutes tears welled up in Lynn's eyes as she looked over at Harriet.

Harriet got up and put her arms around Lynn. "I'm sorry I agreed to let you come here. I can see the memories are just too painful."

"No, these aren't tears of pain, Harriet. They're tears of joy for the wonderful memories that were released. I felt the pain lifted from me – I'm at peace, at least for now. Thank you for bringing me here."

As Harriet hugged her, Lynn looked at the sky and saw snow starting to fall. "It's time to head back. These spring snowstorms can dump a lot of wet, heavy snow in a very short time." They started walking at a fast clip but didn't get more than hundred yards into the woods when the snow descended on them like a heavy curtain. Lynn changed her pace to a trot with Harriet right behind her. In another few minutes the snow covered the path back to the hotel so they had to slow down and pick their way through the trees. As Lynn felt the chill against her skin she thought _Damn. We should have brought jackets. If we don't get back soon hypothermia will start setting in._

Fifteen minutes later they still hadn't reached the hotel. Lynn stopped and pulled Harriet under a the low hanging branches of a large pine tree. "I think we're lost. Even at this slower pace we should be there already. If we keep going we'll just get further from the hotel. And we can't stay here very long because we'll get too cold to move."

Harriet pulled out her cell phone to check their GPS location but couldn't get a signal. "We can't even call the lodge and ask for help without phone service. The snow is probably interfering with the signal. If it lets up we should be able to get through."

"Don't count on it. Cell reception has always been erratic here on the mountain. We need to make a fire, but I don't have any matches. Do you?"

"No, I don't have anything that could light a fire. There are plenty of dry dead branches under the tree here, but no way to get them burning. Do you know how to rub two sticks together?" Harriet added with a brief laugh.

"No, I missed that lesson when I was a Girl Scout. Let me think . . . something is trying to bubble up in my mind."

As Lynn concentrated she thought she heard Jack's voice in her mind, but it was probably just the wind in the trees. No, there it was again! . . . She mumbled out loud "Yes, yes, that's it. Now I remember. Thank you Jack."

"So we're going to use something Jack taught you to build our fire?"

"Yes, and he just reminded me of it. Pile up lots of small sticks, while I take the battery out of my cell phone."

Harriet didn't know where Lynn was going with this, but she pulled together a mound of small branches and pine needles. Lynn slid the battery under the tinder, then pulled out her room key. She took off one of her leather hiking boots ripped the tongue out of it, and used it to hold the key while she short-circuited the battery terminals.

Nothing happened except that the leather between her fingers started smoking. But a few seconds later the battery split open and caught fire.

As the tinder started blazing Harriet let out whoop, then started adding larger and larger sticks to make the fire grow. In five minutes they had a big enough fire to keep them both warm with the heat trapped under the pine boughs. Lynn laughed and said "Take that, Girl Scouts."

They huddled together next to the fire for the next thirty minutes then, just as quickly as it had started, the snow stopped falling and the sun came back out. Harriet checked her cell phone and saw the GPS coordinates of their location pop up. "Yesss! I'll call the hotel and give them our coordinates." She dialed the front desk and, after she explained their problem Lynn heard a pause . . . "No, no! This is not a hoax. I'm telling you the truth." Another pause . . . "They hung up on me!"

"Here give me the phone." Lynn redialed the hotel and as soon as the switchboard operator answered she took command of the conversation. "This is Lynn Preston. I want to speak to Carole Cunningham immediately. I'm a close personal friend of hers. . . . Hi Carole, it's Lynn. My friend and I are in a bit of a fix and need your help . . ."

Twenty minutes later Carole's husband, Bob showed up at their tree shelter. "Knock, knock. Is anybody home?"

The women crawled out from under the tree branches to see Bob and another man holding open blankets to wrap around them. Lynn gave Bob a hug and said, "You two are a welcome sight. How did you get here so quickly?

"We used our snowmobiles," Bob answered as he stepped back and motioned behind him.

Harriet asked "Why didn't we hear the motors as you approached? Snowmobiles are noisy."

Lynn answered for Bob, "Because these are electric snowmobiles made by the Sierra Snow Company – ultra light weight, seating for two, and whisper quiet."

Bob looked at her in surprise. "How do you know about that? These have only been on the market for the past six months."

"I . . . uh . . . I had an occasion to use one recently." Lynn was talking about her visit to Alexei Brusilov's log home in Northern Wisconsin, where she got even for Jack's murder. She wondered if anyone had found him and his car at the bottom of the lake yet.

"Let's get you girls back to the lodge and in front of a warm fire," Bob said as he stepped into the saddle of his Sierra Snow Electric. Lynn climbed on behind him.

"These are pretty pricey vehicles. Why did you choose them?"

"Telluride has a new noise abatement law that will phase out gasoline models before next winter. With all the tourists buzzing around the area in rented snowmobiles it gets pretty noisy."

"What will the rental businesses do? They won't be able to afford to switch to electric models."

"One of them has already closed down for good. The other two are trying to sell off their gasoline models to get some cash for the new electrics."

"The environmentalists will own the country some day, then . . . look out for your personal freedom."

Back at the resort Lynn, Harriet, Bob, and Carole sat in overstuffed chairs in front of a huge fireplace with cups of hot spiced wine, a favorite with skiers after a cold day on the slopes. Carole turned to Lynn. "I hope this little adventure didn't ruin your vacation."

"No, it's given me exactly what I came for – peace about losing Jack. My mind is flooded with good memories about our time together. Now I can move on with my life."

Harriet wondered if that life would include another man, but didn't bring it up. It was too soon to discuss it. "Speaking of moving on, when are we going back?"

"As much as I love this place, I think we should leave tomorrow. We have a two-day drive ahead of us, and I want to spend a night or two at Jack's place in West Virginia before I go back to work. If you don't want to stay gone that long you could have Rick drive there and pick you up."

"I think I'll do that. We've only been gone a few days but I miss him already."

The thought that she would never see Jack again started to bring Lynn down, but she quickly replaced it with thoughts of their good times together.

"Bob and Carole, thanks for you hospitality – and the rescue. I lived out here for several years and should know better than to go out when a snow storm is coming. Harriet, let's go up and pack our luggage so we can get out of here at first light."
Chapter 15 – Escape – Phase 1

Z decided it was time to start putting her escape plan into action. Her first move was to get herself, and the three she had picked to help with the escape, assigned to the prison laundry at the same time. Most of the inmates at the Central California Women's Facility, CCWF, had to work – either in the kitchen, the fruit and vegetable gardens, grounds maintenance, or the laundry. They rotated among each of these assignments for two week periods, then moved on the next one. The first of each month the inmate work groups were jumbled up so that no one worked with the same other inmates for very long. Z and her co-conspirators – Shakira, Juanita, and Alice – were rarely assigned to work together, but Z was cultivating a friendship with a guard who had access to the computer that made the assignments. If Z could get something on the guard – something to blackmail her with – she would get the four of them on the laundry work list at the same time. That's when they would escape.

Z had thought through the possible ways she could blackmail the guard, Corina Alvarez. Like several other prison guards, Corina brought drugs into the prison. Inmates would call a friend or relative on the outside, who would then get the drugs to the guard and pay them. The guard brought in the drugs and slipped them to the inmates as they passed in a hallway.

Z gathered her three accomplices together in one corner of the exercise yard so they could discuss the escape without being overheard. The few inmates in the vicinity turned and moved away – they knew better than to come near Z uninvited.

"Here's how we're going to do this, gals. I'll start by blackmailing a guard who supplies dope to the inmates. Yesterday I ordered a drug delivery from Corina who works in the admin office. The bag will have her fingerprints on it, so when I threaten to take it the warden, she'll do anything I ask. She's the one who will rearrange the work schedule to get us all on laundry duty next week."

Next Z went over the details of the escape plan with them. Shakira was a convicted car thief who had stolen a couple dozen cars and four semi trucks. Her job would be to hot wire the laundry truck and drive them to the next stop – an abandoned warehouse in nearby Chowchilla, California – where four cars were waiting for them. From there they would each drive to Fresno and leave there by different highways. Then they were on their own.

Juanita was a gang banger – a member of the Los Surenos gang.

"How is the gang coming with finding us some get-away cars, Nita?"

"They're going to L.A. Sunday to steal the cars from a used car dealers around town. I told them to stick with popular older models so we won't stand out in the traffic. I don't want to be on the six o'clock news being chased by cop cars and a helicopter like O. J. They will drive the cars straight to the warehouse in Chowchilla and have them ready to go Monday morning."

"They know what we want in the car trunks, don't they?"

"Yep – food, clothes, disguises, $400 in cash, fake identification documents, and a gun. They already have everything but the fake I.D.s.

"Great. How about those documents, Alice? Will your brother make them for us?"

"Yes, but he wants to get paid for it. He's the best forger on the west coast so he wants top dollar – $1,000 for each set. He's working on them now – driver's licenses, car registrations, and credit cards. He hacked into the prison records to get photos of each of us."

"Yuck. That's the worst picture of me ever. I don't want that on my driver's license."

"Don't worry Shakira. He'll run them through his Photoshop software to make us look like movie stars."

"Then I want to be Jennifer Aniston."

"Hasn't anyone told you? You're black."

"Yeah, but I could be a black Jennifer."

"Enough of the chatter, girls. Alice, tell your brother I'll make a call and have someone pick up the documents Sunday morning. He will have $4,000 cash to give him. 'Nita, the same goes for your guys with the money they will put in the car trunks. Tell me where you want it delivered and I'll take care of it."

Shakira's eyes got big. "Where you gonna get money like that, girl?"

"I have it stashed inside my mattress back in the cell."

Shakira said "You lyin' to me, Z" before she remembered who she was talking to.

Z gave her a menacing look. "Careful who you call a liar. I've killed people for less than that."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean it. I was just kiddin' around."

"I'll let it slide this time, but don't do it again."

"Yes, ma'am."

Z turned back to all three of them. "Okay, that's our plan. Any questions.?"

Juanita spoke up. "What about all the cop cars that will be looking for us. If we don't get out of the area quickly they will have road blocks up."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Some people I know on the outside are going to stage a huge traffic accident involving a semi and as many other vehicles as he can mow down before he runs into a ditch. It will be on Highway 52, about five miles west of town, to draw all law enforcement vehicles out that way. They'll be tied up with that for at least an hour while we drive south towards Fresno."

Just then the speakers blared out "Exercise period is over. Line up at the door for an inmate count."

Chapter 16 – Almost Heaven

Lynn and Harriet took the scenic route through West Virginia, stopping briefly in Coal Creek where Lynn and Jack had met in eighth grade. It looked just as drab and dirty as when Lynn grew up here except that many of the businesses were boarded up. As they passed the old Island Creek Coal Company. Lynn remembered a newspaper photo of Jack Kennedy standing on the hood of a car in front of the building giving a campaign speech. That was back when coal miners meant something to the Government. The EPA had forced the coal companies to stop releasing the black water from their washing operations into the rivers and miners with black lung disease started getting monthly checks. Now the Government wants to put them out of business.

Lynn's Miata had no trouble negotiating the winding roads through the mountains, so they made good time getting to Jack's cabin. As she climbed the dirt road up to his property – her property now – memories started flooding back. Lynn let them come and go, both the good ones and the bad ones. The bad memories had little power over her now. The trip to Telluride exorcised those ghosts. Lynn hoped that didn't mean Jack's dream spirit had departed. He hadn't visited for quite awhile and she missed talking with him. As they arrived Harriet saw Rick's car parked in front of the cabin with Rick behind the wheel. As soon as Lynn stopped beside him Harriet was out of the Miata and into Rick's welcoming arms.

"How long have you been sitting here, honey?"

"A couple of hours. I hoped you two might arrive early and I was anxious to see you. Driving a little car like that over these roads is dangerous; a coal truck coming around a bend in the wrong lane would squash it like a bug."

"You didn't need to worry. Lynn handles the Miata like a race driver."

Rick replied with a smile, "I know she's a good driver, but I was afraid she might let you drive."

Harriet stepped back and punched him in the shoulder. "Enough of your misogynist jokes, buster."

"Are you ready to head back to The Farm."

Harriet didn't want to leave Lynn alone on her first night in the cabin. "How about if we stay here over night and leave in the morning? Is that okay with you, Lynn."

Lynn had the same thought and was feeling apprehensive herself. "That would be great. We can talk about the adventures we shared here when Winston sent Alexei to shut us up."

As they sat in front of the fire Rick asked "Don't you worry about someone breaking into the cabin while you're away, Lynn?"

"You must be reading my mind. I was just thinking the same thing."

Harriet joined in. "I remember that Jack installed a state-of-the-art security system in the house and around the property. If anyone was prowling around, his system would send a warning to his computer immediately and give him a live video feed. Can you reactivate that?"

"I suppose I should. Jack kept everything on a computer system hidden in the basement. After we finish our coffee, let's go down and see if it can tell us how to get things working again."

After breakfast the next day, Harriet and Rick climbed into their Cadillac Escapade and headed down the hill. After thirty minutes of dirt road they would be on the highway that would take them home. Lynn washed the dishes and then went to the basement to see what else she could find on Jack's computer. The surveillance system was up and running, but she wanted to explore the hard drive for other useful stuff, and set it up to send intrusion warnings and video to her own laptop.

The first place she went to was a file marked 'Jack's Programs,' and was surprised to find dozens of computer routines and documents Jack had created. She picked one titled 'Security System Operating Instructions' and opened it. "This is great! It shows me how to configure the cabin security system by adding features." The first few pages described the video and acoustic sensors Jack had installed surrounding the property and at the cabin.

"This is amazing. His video cameras can be programmed to examine the shape of anything moving in the field of view and compare it to things that would cause false alarms. It's got image templates for bears, deer, and large dogs installed. Jack must have gotten lots of false alarms from these creatures before he thought up this program. Damn he was brilliant."

The other thing she noticed was a facial recognition routine. It could zero in on the key features of a face – the spacing between the eyes, the nose length and width, the shape of the cheekbones, the length of the jaw line, and the depth of the eye sockets to produce a unique digital faceprint. With this information Jack could hack into the FBI database, search for the closest matches, and send him the personal information about the face. Lynn found photos of several people Jack had gotten information on, but she didn't recognize any of them . . . "Wait a minute! There's a search on me. Let's see when it was. . . . Right after he came to visit me the first time. I guess he wanted to verify that I was who I claimed to be. I'll forgive him for that." Lynn couldn't think of any reason she would need that feature, but she enabled it anyway.

Next Lynn went through Jack's folder of hacking routines, and was amazed again. There were hacking programs designed to get into dozens of very secure sites – the FBI, the CIA, the National Security Agency, the IRS, the Federal Reserve, three Caribbean offshore banks, major investment companies, and a dozen private companies. "Wow, what a find! I'll copy these onto my laptop so I can use them for my hacking jobs."

After she finished that task she fixed herself a sandwich for supper and washed it down with a glass of sweet tea. She took a cup of coffee out to the front deck and sat in Jack's favorite rocker to watch the sunset. Once again memories flooded into her consciousness of when she and Jack shared these moments. She tried to focus on the good ones but the image of Jack getting shot in her foyer took over. And then she saw the fire burning up his body alongside Selena and O'Malley. She hadn't witnessed either event because she had gone to town for groceries, but she had formed pictures in her mind of how it must have happened. Now those images were just as real as the burning house the she saw as she rushed back home.

Lynn felt the dark claws of depression closing in on her as she sat there and cried. She was about to give into it when a sane part of her mind pushed aside those thoughts. _Get up, Lynn! Go for a walk . . . or better yet a run_. She dragged herself out of the chair, put on her running shoes, and took off for a run around the lake. By the time she had covered the first couple of miles she was breathing hard but felt her spirits rise under the influence of the adrenalin. By the time she finished her run she was worn out and ready for bed. After a quick shower she climbed between the sheet of the bed she and Jack had spent their honeymoon in. She dwelled on those good thoughts this time as she drifted off to sleep. The last thing she said was "Come back to me again, Jack. Let me see and feel your spirit tonight."
Chapter 17 – On The Loose

Z and her three helpers were working side-by-side in the prison laundry on Monday morning. The blackmailed guard had come through for them. Juanita had called her gang contact and verified that the cars were loaded and ready. The laundry truck had just pulled up and the driver went over to talk to the guard. The two of them looked around and ducked into the restroom. Lynn had noticed this before and suspected the driver was delivering drugs. Now was the time!

Shakira pushed a full laundry cart over to the truck loading bay and scurried around the truck to the driver's door. She climbed into the cab and laid on the floor to inspect the wiring, then pulled a bundle of wires out from behind the steering column. "Damn. It's too dark under here. I can't see the wire colors." Another minute went by while she hand checked each wire, trying to feel which one came from the ignition switch. With sweat running into her eyes she narrowed it down to two possibilities. "I'll try connecting them to the battery lead one at a time. If I'm lucky I'll hear the engine start. If I'm unlucky the horn will probably blow. Here goes . . . the engine turned over. As soon as Z and the other two heard the engine come to life they scrambled into the back of the truck and shut the door. That was Shakira's signal to pull out of the bay and head for the nearby gate. The man in the guard house looked at the truck and glanced at Shakira. "He's going to stop me, Z! What do I do?"

"Stay calm, look straight ahead, and be ready to floor it."

She breathed a sigh of relief when he pushed the button to open the gate, then had to wait 20 agonizing seconds until it opened fully. She drove through the gate and onto the highway at a slow pace, even though her fear told her to speed up. She watched in the rear view mirror as the gate closed behind her and headed toward Chowchilla. When the others saw the prison fading in the rear window the cheered and hugged each other.

They pulled into the warehouse in Chowchilla and watched the garage doors close behind them. Two of Juanita's gang friends had all four cars ready with the trunks open so Z could make sure everything was there, including a set of street clothes for each of them. Z stripped down to her bra and panties right there and started dressing. The others were a little bashful about doing that in front of the two male gang members and went into the office to change. One of the gang members made the mistake of whistling at Z and strolling over to her. He reached out to touch her and said "Honey, you got one sexy body there. Got time for a quickie before you leave?" Z's hand shot out at lightning speed and smashed the guy's nose, while with her other hand she bent his fingers back until they cracked. The other guy started moving toward her but was stopped cold by the fierce look in Z's eyes.

"If you pull a gun you'll be dead before you can aim it at me. The only reason this guy is still alive is because you helped us out." The guy raised his hands in the air and backed away.

Just then the other three women came out of the office with their street clothes on. Juanita saw her gang friend laying on the floor sobbing. "What did you do to him, Z?"

"He got fresh with me." Juanita knelt down beside him. "Oh baby. I'm so sorry she busted you up. Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Z spoke in a menacing voice, "Nita, leave him alone. We're going to get into our cars and get out of here – now!"

"But I can't just leave him here, Z"

"If you don't leave with us, you'll get caught. And if you get caught, you will get the rest of us caught. So you can leave now, or I'll kill you both. Your choice. Either way it makes no difference to me."

Juanita knew she meant it, so she bent over, kissed him on the forehead, and headed for the cars. Forty minutes later they hit Fresno and set off in different directions. Z knew exactly where she wanted to go, so when she stopped for gas two hours later she bought a road atlas. Later, at a rest stop, she traced her route to West Virginia with a pen.
Chapter 18 – Leaving Heaven

Lynn woke up slowly the next morning, disappointed because Jack hadn't joined her in her sleep. She put her jogging shoes on and went for another run – this time to locate the perimeter security cameras that Jack had installed. She had a map of their locations and photographs of where they were mounted in the trees, but it took her awhile to find them. She moved around in front of each of them so she could make sure they were all working when she got back to the cabin to check the computer. She stopped at a spot directly across the lake from the cabin and tried to imaging her and Jack sitting together with coffee mugs warming their hands. The thought made her smile. With the morning mist rising off the lake, she started humming John Denver's song, _Almost Heaven._

As she got ready to continue her run she saw something on the forest floor. She knelt down to have a look. It was some aluminum camping cookware that someone left behind next to some burnt pine logs. She immediately froze and looked around. She saw no sign of shoe prints, but it had rained heavily two days ago. Just to be sure she felt the remains of the fire to see if there was any residual heat, but the wood was cold. Someone had spent some time at this spot . . . two days ago, or two weeks ago, or even months before. It was an ideal spot to keep a surveillance watch on the cabin. Was someone watching for her? Or was it someone who was watching Jack back when Alexei and his men were after him? Lynn stood up, looked around once more, and jogged quickly back to the cabin.

After making a cup of coffee she sat down at Jack's master computer and checked the security system cameras. She was relieved to see that they all still worked. Jack had the foresight to place small solar panels in the top of each tree to keep the batteries charged. After paging through the file directory she found one called 'Jack's Journal' and looked for an entry about some people he had caught across the lake in the camping spot. She had to go back almost a year, but there it was.

Jack had spotted two men watching the cabin with binoculars just about the time he started his work to discover what Charles Winston was up to in his quest for the White House. She read the account and burst out laughing. Jack had sneaked over to their camp while they were in town for lunch and planted dead fish in their rolled up sleeping bags. By mid afternoon two bears had followed the scent to their camp and ran the men off before ripping their bedding and tent to shreds to get at the fish.

She read through some of the other journal entries and decided to copy them to her computer in case she wanted to learn more about how Jack got involved in the Winston thing . . . and with her. "I wonder if he has some entries about me in there. She started to look for some but glanced at her watch. "Damn. It's time to head back to Philly so I'll be fresh at work in the morning." That thought brightened her mood when she remembered that on Tuesday she would be headed up to New York City to start a six-week term at Hacker School.

She set up an encrypted link between Jack's computer and her laptop so she could access his files whenever she needed to, then went back upstairs and closed the heavy trap door behind her. Jack had built the door into the wood flooring so skillfully that it was impossible to spot. To open it, she had to take the cover off the thermostat and press a miniature button that activated the motor to lift the door.

She packed her things, took one last look around, activated the alarm system, locked the front door, and headed for her Miata in the garage. When she got there she saw Jack's dusty Sport Trac and decided to drive that and leave the Miata here. The small pickup truck would be more sensible to drive to New York City for hacker school. As she drove off she thought _When I get back to CDC after the Hacker School, I'm going to spend a lot of weekends here._
Chapter 19 – The Hunter

When they split up in Fresno Z turned east and headed up into the Sierra Nevada mountains. She figured the others would continue on south to Los Angeles or west to pick up I-5 going north. She wanted get far away from them as quickly as she could. She figured that those three idiots would be captured in a day or two, and they would tell the police what kind of car she had and maybe even the license number if any of them thought to look at it. But up here in the mountains, on the mountain roads that weave their way east into Nevada, no one would think to look for an escaped prisoner. In another couple of hours Z would intersect U.S. 95 that would take her to Las Vegas, where she could get another car, and some more cash. The $400 wouldn't last long.

It was late at night when Z pulled into the long-term parking lot at McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas. She found a parking spot and waved down the bus that took her to the airport terminal. From there she caught a hotel transport van to the Golden Nugget Hotel in the old downtown district. This was the easiest place for her to blend in with the mass of vacationers, gamblers, and guys looking to pick up a woman for the night. She sat down at the bar and told the bartender she was waiting for someone. Her eyes scanned the room looking for a mark. A couple of men returned her look, but they looked as broke as she was, so her eyes kept on moving. _Now there's a likely looking victim_ she thought. He wore a Rolex watch and expensive cowboy boots. He carried himself straight up and looked at those around him with disdain. Z knew that look – some of her past victims were just like that. She couldn't catch his eye so she got up from the bar and walked past him to the ladies room.

Z was an extremely attractive woman – slim but not thin, black hair, nice breasts. But it was the cat-like way she moved that drew furtive looks from men. She stayed in the restroom a few minutes, straightening her hair, brushing her teeth with her finger, and opening two more buttons on her shirt. She took a breath and left the room – and ran right into the man she was after.

"Oh, excuse me ma'am. I was headed for the men's room. Are you all right?"

Not a very original pick-up technique, but she rolled with it and sucked her breath in.

"You . . . you startled me. Let me catch my breath."

Z looked down at the floor as she faked shortness of breath. _I have to be careful with this. If I come on to him he will think I'm a prostitute. Let him make the move._

He pointed to the bar. "Come over here and sit down for a few minutes. That should help."

Z, faking reluctance, slowly followed him. She wanted to play the compliant but apprehensive woman – someone he could easily dominate in bed.

She hesitantly sat down beside him at the bar, keeping her breathless act up. "T . . . thank you. I'll only need a minute. When I get startled it triggers a panic attack." She held up her shaking hand. "I'll calm down soon."

"Let me order a drink to help relax you. What can I get you?"

""Nothing. I don't tolerate liquor well." 'That should start the bells tingling in his brain – and elsewhere.'

The man turned to the Bartender. "Bring the lady a coke. And a bourbon straight up for me." Then he turned back and held out his hand. "I'm Brandon Cunningham."

Z quickly ran through some names in her mind and decided Rebecca would fit her persona. "I'm Rebecca Rose . . . Hughes."

"So do I call you Rebecca, or Rebecca Rose, or . . ."

"Only my mother calls me Rebecca Rose. I like to be called Becca."

"That's a nice name, Becca Hughes. Where are you from?"

Some more quick thinking. _I should have planned this on the drive over here._ She said the first thing that came to mind. "Chowchilla California."

"I don't have a clue where that is, but it doesn't matter. Where you are from doesn't define a person. I split my time between here in Las Vegas and New York City. I have real estate businesses in both places."

"Doesn't your family miss you when you are away?"

"My parents are dead and I haven't married. Maybe someday."

_The perfect victim,_ Z thought.

When their drinks arrived they chatted some more, Z/Becca – and maybe Brandon, – making it up as they went. When they finished their drinks, Brandon invited her to have dinner with him.

Z's stomach growled at the thought of food. She hesitated a few seconds, continuing to play a woman unsure of herself. "No. I'm not hungry." After she hesitated just long enough she relented. "All right. I guess that would be okay. She looked around. "Where's the dining room?"

"Actually I thought we could have it in my hotel suite, if that's agreeable to you."

"I . . . I don't know you well enough, Brandon."

"Hey, it's just dinner. No strings, and you can leave whenever you want."

"Well, I enjoy your company so . . . Yes, I'll join you. Are you staying here at the Golden Nugget?"

"This old place? Never. I live in a suite at the Trump International, just off the strip."

"Is that a good place? I've never been there."

"It's just the newest and classiest hotel in town. Come on out front and I'll have my limo brought around."

Even with the limousine Z wasn't certain that Brandon was the real deal until she entered his hotel suite. Then her mind kicked into overdrive. _I planned to pick up someone, take them to bed, then kill them and steal their money like I used to. But this guy is too well known, and the hotel staff saw me come in with him. If I kill him, someone will find out and the cops will put up road blocks. I'll never get out of town. I need to do this all over again with a nobody at a no-name hotel. So how do I get myself out of here?_

Brandon broke into her thoughts. "I'll order some dinner brought up. What would you like?"

"Is there a menu?"

"No, the kitchen will make whatever I order."

Z thought, _I want a medium-rare steak with all the trimmings and a bottle of fine red wine, but that would be out of character_. "I'll have a cheeseburger and fries."

"Is that it! You have the choice of any meal you want, and you pick a cheeseburger and fries?"

Z answered "It . . . it's what I'm used to." As her mind worked out a new approach to getting the money she needed.

Brandon picked up the phone and placed her order, adding a steak, baked potato, and salad for himself. "What's going on with you? You're not what I expected in a bar pickup. What's your story?"

Z paused the appropriate length of time before she forced tears out of her eyes. "My husband is after me. He beat me up again so I had to leave. If he catches me he'll kill me. I waited until he was asleep and took everything he had in his wallet – $138. I needed more so I hocked my wedding ring." Z manufactured a couple of sobs and kept the tears flowing. "I spent most of my money on a bus ticket. I wanted to go to my sister's place in Dallas, but this is as far as I could get with the money."

Brandon knelt down beside her and reached to put his arm around her to comfort her, but she pulled away from him thinking, _That's what a battered wife would do. She would be afraid of men._

Brandon pulled his arm back quickly. "I'm sorry. I only intended to comfort you – nothing more. Forgive me."

She sobbed some more, then slowly regained her composure. "I'm sorry for acting this way. It . . . it's just that . . ."

As he heard room service knock he said "I understand. Let's get some food in you. That should make you feel better."

"No it won't. Nothing will. I'm afraid all the time. I thought that knock might be my husband until I heard it was room service."

"How could he find you here? No one knows where you are."

"I know that, but being afraid keeps me from thinking straight."

"The table is set up for us. Let's talk some more after we eat."

Z gobbled up her food like she was a starving runaway. She didn't have to act the role because she was a starving runaway. As they sat across from each other drinking their after-dinner coffee Brandon looked at her with genuine concern in his eyes. "What are you going to do, Becca? You can't keep running. And you're out of money. Why don't you stay here for a few days?"

Z shot him her best frightened look and started easing out of her chair.

"No, it's not what you think. I just want to provide food and shelter – nothing else. No strings, remember?"

"How do I know you won't call my husband and keep me locked in until he gets here?"

Brandon thought, _Wow, this woman is really paranoid. But I guess being abused does that to you._ "I promise you I won't do that. Besides I don't even know his name or phone number."

"You could get it from the operator. We're the only Hughes in Chowchilla." Z formed a look of panic on her face. " No, I can't trust you. I can't trust anyone. I have to leave – now. And don't try to follow me." Z got up and started edging her way toward the door – slowly, because she wanted to give him time to respond like she expected.

"Look, if you won't stay here at least let me give you some money."

"No . . . Well, maybe. But just enough to get to Dallas. That's all I'll take."

Brandon went into the bedroom and came out with a handful of $100 bills.

"I can't use those. If I start handing out big bills like that people will remember me and Kurt will find me."

Brandon thought a minute, then took out his wallet. "Here's all the small bills I have – close to $100 dollars."

She reached out and grabbed it, then stuck it in her bra. _Damn, I was hoping for more than that._ As she reached for the door knob he said "No wait. That's not all. Here's my debit card. Withdraw whatever you need from the ATM machine in the lobby, then leave the card at the front desk. You can get up to $500, and it will all be in twenties."

"I . . . have no way of paying you back, at least not for now."

"This is a gift, Becca, from me to you. There's no need to pay me back. I have more money than I know what to do with. But if you get back on your feet and this thing with Kurt clears up, come back and visit for a few days – no strings."

"Okay, no strings . . . and no promises."

Z took the card from him and went down to the lobby. Before going to the ATM, she stopped by the gift shop and bought a black hooded sweatshirt and a ball cap using the cash he gave her. She stopped into a restroom to put the hoodie and cap on, then headed to the ATM machine, looking around to be sure Brandon wasn't following her. She pulled the cap down to cover most of her face from the ATM camera and withdrew $500. She thought about keeping the card and withdrawing more money tomorrow, but he would probably cancel it. So she left the card at the front desk and went outside to catch the airport shuttle.

When she arrived at the airport terminal she caught the next shuttle to long-term parking. She gave the driver a phony parking spot number and got off the bus in the middle of the 10-acre lot. She didn't want to linger, so she waited until a the right kind of car swung into an empty space and watched the driver lock up and get on the bus. As soon as the bus was gone she walked over to the convertible, pulled out the pocket knife she bought in the gift shop, and cut a small "X" just above the driver's door. With a quick look around, she stuck her arm down through the hole and lifted the door latch. She was lucky this was an older model that still had latch buttons on the window sill. Otherwise it would have taken a much bigger hole and some gymnastics to reach the inside handle.

Once she was in the car, she got on the floor and searched out the wires on the steering column. She found the right two wires, cut them with the knife, and spliced them together to turn on the ignition. Then she cut another wire and touched it to the splice to crank the starter. In a couple seconds the engine roared to life. "Bingo! Shakira isn't the only one who knows how to hijack a car" she said to herself. She took out the parking stub she got when she parked her get-away car and used it to get out of the lot. Twenty minutes later she was on U.S. 93 headed for Kingman, Arizona where she would pick up I-40 east. _West Virginia, here I come_ she thought as she moved along with the traffic. _Damn, everyone drives so slowly around here. Lord, send me a speeder who I can get behind and use as smokey bait._ She wasn't really serious about the 'Lord' part. She hadn't been to a church in her entire life, and didn't believe in that God and Christ stuff.

Z had a stop to make before she could check out Jack's place in West Virginia – a small house in Alexandria, Virginia that Alexei owned. The taxes and bills were paid automatically from one of his bank accounts. He kept it as one of his hidey holes he could run to when he needed to disappear. At this point, no one knew he was dead – even Z wasn't certain – so the safe house should still be secure. The reason Z assumed he was dead is that he hadn't written to her in prison since his last letter telling her that he had "taken care of" Jack Preston. Z knew about the Forseti Group and was certain one of them killed Alexei as revenge for his murder of Jack Preston. So her mission was to take out the Forseti Group, one at a time, starting with his widow, Lynn.

Z circled the block twice, watching Alexei's house for signs that cops were watching the place. The third time she turned up the driveway and into the carport. With a quick look around, Z got out of the car, retrieved the door key from under the planter, and entered the house. She closed the door behind her and listened for any unusual sounds. When she heard nothing, she slowly went from room to room to be certain she was alone, then she let herself relax and enjoy the feeling of home. She and Alexei had lived here together off and on for the past four years and to them, it was the closest thing to home they ever had. They never married, but in every other respect they were man and wife.

She wandered into the bedroom and lay back on the bed they had shared. Alexei was one of the few men in the world who she would let get close to her. When she grew up in Moscow her father had abused her physically and mentally. When she passed her fourteenth birthday she had all she could take, so she let him take her to bed. Then, when he was sleeping afterward, slit his throat with a knife she hid under the pillow. She ran away before her mother came home from shopping and lived on the streets for a month. She saw posters with her picture that read "WANTED FOR MURDER, ZARAH SAVVIN, followed by a phone number to call if she was spotted. Her hair was long in the poster photo so she took her knife – the one she killed her father with – and hacked off her hair, leaving only 3 or 4 inches. If it wasn't for her strikingly good looks, she could have passed for a boy.

Then one night, as she was being friendly to a drunk while she slipped his wallet from his pocket, two men closed in on her and took her away in handcuffs. She was thrown into dark cell where she stayed for an indefinite length of time – two days, six days – with no daylight she lost all track of time. Then two matronly women showed up and dragged her into a shower room, where she was scrubbed all over and given a towel to dry herself. Then they led her into an empty room with clean clothes laid out for her. As soon as she was dressed a guard led her to an office somewhere upstairs. They told her to sit and wait, then left the room. She immediately got to her feet and started searching the office for anything she could use – a weapon, something of value she could trade for food when she got out of here.

She was going through the desk drawers when the door opened and a muscular man with an expressionless face entered. "That's just the kind of resourcefulness I like to see in my agents."

"Agent? I'm not anybody's agent."

"From this moment on, my dear, that's exactly what you are. I am Col. Alexei Brusilov of the SVR – the Soviet Foreign Intelligence Agency. One of our responsibilities is to train Russian men and women to serve in foreign countries as undercover agents – spies. You have already demonstrated an essential quality in a spy – the ability to kill without remorse. I've gone over your police files covering the brutal murder of your father, and I like what I see. I will take you under my wing and make you one of the best female agents the SVR has ever trained."

"Don't I have a say in this?"

"No, you are effectively my slave. Any attempt to escape will result in your immediate execution for the murder." Alexei buzzed for his assistant. "Have her transported to the Institute. They will know what to do with her."

Three years later she had 'graduated' from Russia's premier spy school and was sitting at an elegantly set table in Alexei's palatial home. He discussed what she thought of her training and asked her if there was anything she would do to improve it. This surprised Zarah. No man had ever asked her for her opinion before. She thought for a few minutes and began listing some areas where she thought the training was ineffective or useless. When she noticed that Alexei was writing them down, her respect for him improved greatly. But she knew what was coming next. The evening would end with him taking her by force, just as all the men in her life did.

As the dishes were being cleared Alexei said, "There is a guest room prepared for you upstairs, with a maid to attend to you. Please enjoy a full night's rest and we'll talk some more in the morning."

Her surprise showed on her face. "I thought . . . I expected . . ."

"I understand. You expected me to do what most men in my place would do. But I'm not most men. You, Zarah, have turned into a woman who should be respected, and that's how I intend for our relationship to be – one of mutual respect and admiration for each other's mind and capabilities. We will be the greatest spy team that Russia has ever sent into the world."

A year later Alexei would be on the run, charged with embezzling SVR funds. He took Zarah to the U.S. with him and started a personal security firm known for operating outside the law. That kind of work was in high demand, so it took the two of them only a year to make their first million dollars. Two years later they had over four million dollars spread among several bank and investment accounts.

Then Alexei got the job as chief of security for the Charles Winston and made another million. But they ran into Jack Preston and his team, who were trying to stop Winston's election to the White House. Alexei's attempts to take Preston out of the picture met with failure after failure. Winston was elected President in spite of Preston's opposition but didn't survive the inauguration.

During the investigation one of the Forseti team, Tom Gutierrez, had uncovered Zarah's hobby – sleeping with men she picked up then killing them. The police labeled her the praying mantis killer. An anonymous tip from one of Preston's men sent her to prison for life. Alexei caught up with Jack Preston a month later in Telluride, Colorado and got his revenge.

Z snapped out of her recollections and got back to the reason she was here. She went down to the basement and slid a cabinet out of the way to get at the wall safe behind it. When Alexei set up this safe house he programmed the fingerprint lock to work for both Z and himself. She placed four fingers of her right hand on the pads provided, and was rewarded with the satisfying click of the opening lock.

Alexei had stocked the safe with everything he and Z would need to escape the area – or the country if necessary. Fake driver's licenses and passports, $50,000 in cash, and ATM cards to an account with almost a million dollars in it. It also contained two 9 mm Glock 17 pistols and several spare ammunition clips. Z removed the cash, an ATM card, and a Glock with four extra magazines.

Next she went upstairs to Alexei's office to see if he left behind directions to Jack Preston's cabin. His desk, like always, was a mess. But this time the mess was covered with a heavy layer of dust. She sorted through the books and papers – nothing interesting there. When she opened the file drawer she spotted a file folder labeled J. Preston with a printed Google map detailing the route to his place. She put the folded the map in her pocket and went through the rest of the file. The only thing of interest was another map to Rick and Harriet Goodman's farm outside of Leesburg. _I'll take care of them too,_ she thought _, but Mrs. Preston comes first._

Zarah left the house on foot and walked to a bus stop. Thirty minutes and two bus transfers later she got off in front of M&B Auto Sales. After looking over the inventory of used cars, she drove off in a 2014 black Chevy Avalanche truck that she paid cash for. She left Alexandria on I-66 headed for the eastern mountains of West Virginia.
**Chapter 20 –** **Hacker School**

The airport taxi pulled up in front of the Recurse Center at the corner of Broadway and Grand in Manhattan. Lynn wanted to drive Jack's truck up here, but once she heard how bad the traffic really was she was glad Dave talked her into taking a plane. The cab driver pulled her suitcase from the trunk and wheeled it over beside her. She gave him a good tip and stood back to take in the front of the Center. It wasn't new or impressive – it was just another old building repurposed to be a computer school.

When she walked in the front door a friendly young woman looked up and said "Hi. I'm Melanie. You must be Lynn Preston."

"Yes, that's me."

"We've been expecting you. I'll show you to your room, then you can stroll around and get the feel of the place. The new class orientation starts at nine in the morning."

On the way to the room Lynn asked her "Is there a class schedule I can look at?" Melanie looked confused at first, then smiled. "Oh, we don't have classes here. There is no structure. Everyone is given an assignment to complete, and when they're finished they get a more difficult assignment."

"I don't have a lot of computer experience, What if I don't finish the course during the six week session?"

"No one 'finishes' the course here. You learn as much as your intelligence and perseverance will let you in six weeks, then you leave."

As they reached Lyn's room she asked, "What time is dinner. I've had nothing but airline pretzels today?"

"That's another part of our free-form philosophy. We have a small cafeteria that's open 24/7 – you just walk in and tell them what you want. We call it the Recharge Station. There are small tables, couches, stuffed chairs scattered around. That's where much of the interaction among our students happens."

"So other students are allowed to help me if I get stuck?"

"Discussions with other students is where 90% of the learning happens around here. It's a totally interactive environment – all day and all night. You sleep when you need to and spend the rest of the time working on your assignments."

"Wow. I like it already."

Lynn showed up at the small classroom just before 9 a.m. and took a seat in the back. She wanted to be inconspicuous around all these brilliant computer geeks. After three more students showed up Melanie came in.

"Good morning, everyone. Would you all please move down front here. I want you to get used to being close to other students from the beginning. Most very smart people grew up as loners, but you have to get over that here since interaction is essential to our learning plan. To break the ice in that regard, I would like each of you to tell us a little about yourself. Lynn, would you go first?"

"Well . . . to start with I don't think I belong here. I'm not a computer genius, just someone who does computer investigations for a private investigative agency. My boss thinks I can be more useful to him if I learn about getting into financial records."

A woman sitting next to her said, "Your talking about hacking. Right?"

"That's not something my boss wants known, so we don't use the word hacking. We call it special investigation."

They all laughed at that. Melanie said, "We're all familiar with the stigma attached to the word. By stigma I mean the illegality of most hacking. But around here, we're not shy about admitting we're hackers. The Government hires many of our top students to do their hacking. We run a special course twice a year for Government programmers to learn how to hack the hackers – to trace exactly who and where the foreign hackers are."

After the other new students talked about their backgrounds, Melanie gave a run down of how things worked at the center, then brought in the four leaders who would mentor each of them through the learning process. Lynn was assigned to Lawrence, a thirty something man who seemed to be all business. _He must be one of the loners,_ Lynn thought. _Maybe I can help him come out of his shell while I'm here._

Their first assignment was to learn the major computer languages used by hackers and the computers they hacked into. Lynn and one of the other new students, Alyssa, spent the day in the classroom with an instructor who showed them that all computer languages are basically the same, with the same subroutines and structures. The differences were in the symbols and syntaxes used for each. He showed them some simple subroutines written in five different computer languages and ran them on the classroom computer to show that they all got the same result. Then he gave them some homework to do the same thing themselves, but with more difficult subroutines. He told them that the forty-two computers at the center all had the languages available on them, and they could pick any one they wanted to work on. Alyssa asked, "Will there be computers in our rooms so we can work there?"

"No, we want everyone to work together down here. Loners don't learn much here."

Lynn had brought her laptop and wanted to keep in touch with Dave and the others, so she asked if there was internet access available in the rooms for personal use. "We only use encrypted Ethernet cable access points, so there's no Wi-Fi available. Wi-Fi is the easiest thing to hack into from the outside, and we don't want anyone to know what goes on here. If you want to use your personal laptop there's an internet café around the corner on Broadway that our students frequent."

After class, Alyssa and Lynn headed for the Recharge Station to get something to eat. They chatted about why they were here at the Recurse Center. Lynn told her about her job as a computer investigator and her occasional interactions with hackers on the Darknet. Alyssa's eye's got big at the mention of the Darknet. "I've heard about the underground network of hackers, but I thought most of them used their skills for illegal purposes. I also heard that it is an exclusive group that won't accept anyone but top-notch hackers into the club. How did you get in?"

"My husband got me in."

"Oh, you're married. What does your husband do?"

Lynn thought that it might not be good to tell her about her husband's death, so she answered "He . . . he's a retired Federal Agent."

"An agent? You mean like FBI or CIA or something."

Lynn gave her the standard answer that usually cut off that line of conversation. "Yeah, something like that. But if I told you any more, I'd have to kill you."

Alyssa looked at her in surprise. Apparently she hadn't heard that joke before.

"I was only kidding. . . . But I would have to give you a lobotomy."

Alyssa laughed at that one, but quit asking questions.

Lynn sat down at an available computer in the main room and pulled out her notes from class. It didn't take her long to come up with an algorithm – a set of rules that would take the input data, perform mathematic and logic operations on it in a certain order, and create the desired output. Lynn spent a little more time tweaking the algorithm, making it shorter and more efficient, before she turned it into a BASIC language subroutine. After that, she wrote similar subroutines in the other four languages; C, C++, SQL, and Java. After running them side-by-side to compare their performance, she made a couple of changes and declared her homework assignment complete.

It was still early, so Lynn got up to speed on a couple other languages, C# and JavaScript, and wrote subroutines to work the problem in those languages too. After that she decided to go back to her room and get some sleep. She lay in bed thinking about good times she and Jack shared and smiled at each one. Then the memories turned to their intimate moments – the 'courtship' when they kept their feelings in check, waiting until they could get married. The honeymoon at her Telluride home. She thought, _The honeymoon was never over for us, was it Jack._ She replayed some of the more delightful times in her mind – relived them in her imagination, until she noticed a familiar tingle. _I'd better stop thinking about intimate moments – they'll leave me with an empty feeling_.'

Lynn switched memory gears to the times they went cross-country skiing, enjoying the fresh snow, the smell of the outdoors, and their breath turning into tiny snowflakes in front of them. A few minutes later she fell asleep with those thoughts. At some point during the night she was certain she could feel Jack snuggled against her back, arms around her, kissing her on the back of the neck. When she awoke she realized that it was just a dream brought on by her reminiscing . . . or was it?"

Class the next day consisted of each of them calling up their homework programs on the big computer screen up front. When it was Lynn's turn she displayed her algorithm and explained how she went through a couple of iterations before she was satisfied with it. Then she showed how she implemented it, first in the four assigned languages, and then with the other two. The instructor gave her a hard stare. "Did you get help on this from the more advanced students? They're not supposed to interact with new students this early in the program."

"No, it was all my work."

"Then you appear to have a gift for programming. Creating the algorithm first was brilliant. Most student blunder through the routine in BASIC, then try to adapt it to the other languages, which is much more difficult."

Alyssa looked down at the floor. Lynn felt sorry for her because she had done it the hard way. Lynn leaned over and said to her "Why don't we work together on the next assignment, Alyssa." She turned to the instructor. "That's okay for new students to work together, isn't it."

"Certainly. Alyssa, stick close to this woman and you will learn a lot."

They had their new assignment by lunchtime, so they got together on one of the computers and started in on it. Again, Lynn saw straight through to the essential algorithms and created them, taking time to explain her reasoning to Alyssa. For this assignment, they had to create a web page for a fictitious business in whatever language they chose.

"Let me try this on my own in C++," Alyssa said.

"Okay, I'll use JavaScript and we can compare results."

Lynn finished up in a couple of hours, but she noticed Alyssa was lagging behind. So she wrote her own version in C++ to see if she could give the other woman some tips.

Three weeks later, Lynn had moved to the head of the class. Not just the new students, but the advanced students often came to her for help with a tough programming problem. Her latest assignment was to create a computer firewall – one that would block a dozen different viruses from entering the computer. To evaluate the students' work one of the instructors would try several different techniques to try to break through the firewalls. Lynn had been struggling for three days to come up with a really good firewall. She decomposed firewall programs from some of the leading commercial suppliers, but wasn't satisfied with any of them. They had to work for hundreds of different computer configurations to be sellable. Hers needed to work on only the high end computers like they had here at the center.

She started down several roads to creating an effective firewall, only to find flaws that could be exploited by the average hacker. As she tried to come up with some kind of unique approach, she remembered Jack's Mirror Firewall, the one that would reflect the virus back to the attacking computer and infect it. She went up to her room and downloaded the copy she had onto a memory stick, then installed it on the Center computer she was working on. She made a few changes so the program wouldn't actually infect the attacking computer, but instead pop up a graphic of an ugly cartoon virus on the screen with the caption "You would have been infected by your own virus if I weren't such a softie."

The next morning she reported that she was ready for the trial attack. She watched as her instructor hacked into the computer she was using and launched a virus attack. She couldn't help but smile when she heard him say "What the hell! Where is this coming from." He went to another computer and tried again, using a different approach, but got the same virus cartoon on that computer. He called a couple of the senior staff members over and asked them to do the best they could to break into her computer, but they all got the same result. They turned to look at her. "How did you do this? Where did you get the routines."

They gathered around Lynn's computer as she let the Mirror Firewall code scroll slowly down the screen. They asked her to stop the scroll several times so they could examine some of the subroutines. Finally her instructor looked at the others "This is amazing. It's pure genius. Did you write this?"

She was about to answer when a man from the back of the group spoke up. "No, she didn't. I recognize the programming style. I've seen it before on some stuff created by the king of hackers. I know we're on a first name basis here, but would you tell me your last name, Lynn?"

"It's . . . Preston, Lynn Preston."

"You must know Jack Preston. This is his style. Are you his wife or his sister?"

"I'm his wife – his second wife. His first wife passed away. Jack and I were married almost a year ago."

Half the group, mostly the middle-aged ones who knew Jack's reputation, looked at her in awe. Her instructor said "Jack has taught you well, Lynn. How is he doing now days. I don't see him much on the Darknet anymore."

"He . . . uh, has retired to his cabin in the West Virginia mountains."

"Wow. A new wife who is a knockout and a computer whiz, and a cabin in the mountains. How can you beat a retirement like that!"
Chapter 21 – The Stalker

Lynn was back in her office at CSIC when Dave walked in. "Welcome back, Lynn. I hear you did pretty well at the Recurse Center."

"Yes, I did. Apparently I have a gift for programming that I didn't know about. It's mostly about the patterns of thinking we develop in childhood – thinking outside the box rather than constrained linear thinking, being able to take leaps of the imagination – that makes a gifted programmer. Whatever it is, I've got it. That, plus having Jack as a mentor, turned me into a primo hacker. Turn me loose on a case, Dave, so I can do some challenging hacking."

"I've been waiting for you to return so you can start on a new case that fits your skill set perfectly. The wife of one of our long-time clients has been getting emails from an internet stalker. She gets messages that show us the stalker is somehow able to read her personal emails. This one she got yesterday demonstrates he – or she – is following her:

I followed you to your exercise class today. You really look good in that leotard. It shows off your perfect body shape so well. A lower neckline would look even better on you, or maybe a two-piece outfit with a bare midriff that would show me more skin.

"So what do you want me to do?"

"First of all, become her friend so you can go where she goes without looking like a bodyguard."

"Will she know what my job is – that she's my job?"

"No, she's made it clear to her husband that she doesn't want protection, but he came to us anyway. You will have to use your natural charm to get, and stay, close to her."

"So what do I do when I'm not with her?"

"Hack your way into her computer so you can trace her emails. Maybe that will lead you to the stalker."

Lynn sat down at a table near the door of a Starbucks two blocks from the gym where Catherine Stevens went for her daily seven a.m. exercise class. She found the place by parking outside the gym and following Catherine after class for three days. It seemed to be part of her morning routine – she dropped her kids off at school, went straight to the gym, came out forty-five minutes later, and drove to this coffee shop where she ordered a Mocha Latte Grande and worked on her computer for twenty or thirty minutes. Yesterday Lynn followed her into the Starbucks and got in line behind her. As Catherine was waiting for her brew, Lynn ordered a Mocha Latte Grande for her self, in a loud enough voice that Catherine could hear. As Lynn had hoped, Catherine glanced at her briefly before taking her coffee and laptop to a table – a table Catherine probably identified as "hers." Lynn thought _Perfect. Now she'll recognize me tomorrow when I come here._

The next day Lynn got there early enough to order her Mocha Latte and claim Catherine's regular table for herself. She had just opened her laptop when Catherine entered, ordered her Mocha Latte, and turned toward the table. When she saw Lynn, she hesitated for a second, then started looking around. Lynn looked up and said, "Do I have your regular table? I'm sorry, I'll move."

Catherine looked embarrassed. "No, no. There's no need to do that. I'll sit somewhere else."

"Well, at least join me so I won't feel like I'm trespassing. . . . please. But if you would rather not have any company, I understand."

"Okay. But now I feel like the trespasser. After all I don't own this table. It's just that, when you get into certain habit patterns you don't want to change them."

As Catherine sat down Lynn reached out her hand. "I'm Lynn . . . Lynn Preston."

"I'm Catherine. Catherine . . . oh first names are enough, Lynn."

Lynn thought _She doesn't trust me enough to give me her last name. For all she knows, I'm the one stalking her._ With that thought Lynn looked around casually to see if anyone was paying too much attention to them. _What am I looking for – someone with a 'Stalker' sign around their neck?_ That's when she realized that she didn't have a clue about how to spot a stalker. _I need to get some tips from Dave on that_. She made one more visual scan of the room, hoping she would see someone furtively stealing glances at Catherine, but everyone seemed interested in their own thing.

Catherine opened the conversation. "I saw you in here yesterday. Do you come here often?"

"No. It's on my way to exercise class so I decided to change my routine and stop here on the way."

"Where do you go for your class?"

"It's across town, at the Urban Defense Fitness Center." Lynn had looked for a place where she might get Catherine to go with her and learn some moves to protect herself from an attack. The UDFC, which focuses on teaching women self-defense moves in the shortest length of time, was just the right place.

"Oh. You're into Judo and that stuff. I go to the gym up the street for aerobics every day to fight my loosing battle with sagging skin."

"It looks like you're doing a pretty good job of it."

"Thank you, but you're just being kind. You on the other hand look like the self-defense workouts are keeping you trim. I'll bet there lot's of muscle in there somewhere."

"Not really. The method they teach isn't about strengthening your muscles. It's more about learning how to focus what strength you have on the right places of your attacker."

"Now that sounds like something I need. Do they have room for any new students?"

"I'll check and let you know. Will you be here tomorrow?"

"Definitely. I want to hear more about this . . . and you."

Lynn closed her computer and said "I need to get to my class, but I'll see you tomorrow."

Lynn was back at the same table the next day, without her laptop. She wanted to encourage more friendly conversation. While she was waiting for Catherine she stole quick glances to different people in the room, hoping to catch one of them looking at her before they could look away, but it was the same as yesterday – no one showed an interest.

Catherine showed up right on time, without her computer. _She must be looking for some social interaction, too,_ Lynn thought. Once she had her coffee and joined Lynn at the table she asked, "So, where do you live, Lynn?"

She's still a little suspicious . . but I would be too if I was being stalked. If I make something up, it might show in my attitude, so I'll tell her the truth.

"I live in an apartment building in Logan Square."

"Wow. That's a pretty pricy neighborhood."

"It's a corporate apartment my employer provided until I can find something a little more in my price range. I've been there a month, but my boss keeps my so busy that I don't have much time to find a new place."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a computer crime investigator for a private detective agency."

"That sounds exciting."

"Not really. I just study balance sheets and accounting documents looking for anomalies. Sometimes I get lucky and find one."

"Does your husband live there with you?"

Lynn answered, as she choked back a sob, "No . . . no, he died last year. That's why I started back to work."

"Ohhhh. . . . I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"It's . . . just that I haven't been able to let it go. I guess I never will. But it isn't as painful as it used to be." Lynn didn't mean to choke up, but it had a good effect on improving her relationship with Catherine. Now she had an empathetic connection with her.

Catherine broke the silence. "I tell you what. You have to get to your self-defense class. Why don't I follow you over there and check the place out. If I like it, I'll sign up."

" . . . Great. Good idea. I'll meet you in the parking lot."

Catherine signed up for the class and a week later they were both showing progress. The instructor, Ari Hoffman, didn't waste time with formal fighting styles like Tae Kwan Do or Karate. He favored a new approach based on the Israeli military self-defense training called Urban Krav Maga. It focuses on defending against street attacks using surprise moves to end the confrontation before the attacker begins. It includes innovative ways to protect against choke holds, knife attacks, baseball bats, and other common weapons. It's a great fighting style for women because it doesn't require a lot of size or strength, but depends on surprise, quickness and leverage.

As Lynn hoped, they became good friends and spent most of their spare time together. Lynn had to maintain the fiction that she worked in front of a computer most of the day, but when she and Catherine weren't doing something together, Lynn was shadowing her to catch the stalker. At night she scanned Catherine's email through a hacking link she had set up, looking for more threats, but so far nothing had showed up.

Then one morning as they left the gym after class Lynn saw something. As she looked around her eyes briefly saw a camera lens inside a car parked nearby. The driver had jerked it down out of sight, but not before it registered in Lynn's brain. Lynn looked away, but not so quickly that the man would suspect she saw the camera. Lynn made a mental note of the make, model, and color of the car as they walked toward their own vehicles. She didn't have a good angle to see the license plate. Lynn let Catherine exit the parking lot before her, and took her time easing out into traffic several cars behind Catherine. She hoped the stalker would try to follow Catherine so Lynn could get the license number, but she didn't see his car anywhere – until she looked in the rear-view mirror. He was following her! She couldn't get a look at his face because the sun was glaring off his windshield, so she turned left at the next street to see if he would follow, but he stayed on the parkway.

Lynn knew a shortcut that would put her back on the parkway in front of Catherine and the stalker – if she didn't get stopped for speeding. She took a left turn and accelerated to twice the legal speed limit. Twelve blocks later she made a dog-leg right turn without even slowing down and added another ten mph to her speed. She sped past a donut shop with two cop cars parked out front and hoped they wouldn't come after her or call another squad car up ahead to stop her. She crossed her fingers and kept on going.

As she came to the parkway entrance three miles ahead of Catherine she slowed down and slipped in behind a slow-moving truck. She stayed there until Catherine passed her in the left lane and pulled in two cars behind her. She watched in the rear view mirror for the stalker's car, but he was gone. _He must have given up the chase, but I'll follow Catherine home to make sure he stays gone._ As Catherine approached the wrought iron gates to her driveway, they opened up in response to her remote control. Lynn parked a block down the street to make sure someone didn't try to sneak in before the gates could close.

Lynn went back to her apartment to shower after her workout, then sat down at her computer to check her email. There was a query from Dave asking how the case was going, so Lynn sent him an update about their growing friendship. She activated the hack into Catherine's email and saw nothing unusual. As Lynn was about to break the connection she heard the new mail ding-a-ling. There was a new email to Catherine from the stalker.

I watched you working out at the new gym in the self-defense class. You looked sexy in your outfit, but so did your friend. You don't need any friends but me. Get rid of her! When you got home I watched through the window as you took off your clothes, before your shower. You have a beautiful body, Catherine. I wish I could have seen you in the shower, but that will have to wait for another time. Until then, I'll treasure the photos I took.

Your friend, Tom (as in Peeping Tom.)

The email had four photos attached – two showing Lynn and Catherine coming out of the gym, and two showing Catherine removing her clothes for a shower. Lynn forwarded the email to Dave, then picked up her phone and called him.

"Dave here."

"It's me, Lynn. We have a new development from the stalker. He's taking pictures of Catherine, some of them inside her own house. I just forwarded the email to you. Look it over and let me know what I should do next."

"Has Catherine seen the email yet?"

"No, I intercepted it as soon as it came in."

"Is there a way you can remove the email without leaving a trace? I don't want her upset about this."

"Sure, I can do that. I'll store it in the archives on my laptop. Should we try to send the stalker an answer that looks like it came from Catherine? Something we can bait a trap with?"

"Good idea, but first I want you to find where the photos of Catherine undressing were taken from. The angle should be easy to figure out from the house floor plans, but he could have been anywhere along that line-of-sight path out to a few hundred yards."

"Okay, I'll get on it right after our class. . . . No, I'll skip class and investigate this. That way I don't need to worry about her spotting me. I'll call her now and tell her I can't make it."

As soon as she finished her call to Catherine Lynn hacked into the Philadelphia Construction Permits Department to download the floor plans for Catherine's house. She compared the master bedroom window location to the photos and determined a range of angles the stalker had to be within to take the pictures. Then she looked at a satellite view of the house on Google Earth to see what the terrain was like within that angle. _He must have been somewhere on that hill behind the house. With all the trees, it will be a tough climb,_ she thought. But as she zoomed in on the hill she saw a dirt trail winding through the trees. That's probably how he got to area – maybe on a motorcycle. The trail didn't look wide enough for a car.

The next morning Lynn parked her truck at a small shopping center a couple of miles from where the dirt trail entered the woods. She hooked up an aluminum ramp to the tailgate and wheeled the rented motorcycle off the truck. The bike was powered by a super-quiet electric motor running on batteries, like the snowmobiles in Telluride. If the stalker was back up on the hill this morning to take more photos she didn't want the noise of a gas-powered motorcycle scaring him off.

A few minutes later she turned onto the trail and started up the hill. She went very slowly, watching the trail for signs of recent traffic. When she saw some fresh tire tracks she took some pictures with her cell phone, hoping to be able to match the tread pattern to a particular motorcycle make and model. "That will be a long shot, but I can tell from the knobby tires that it must be a trail bike rather than a street bike. That will narrow down my online search." Lynn murmured to herself. She checked her GPS location with her cell phone and saw she was only 150 feet from the location the photo must have been taken from, so she hid her bike under some roadside bushes and continued on foot. As she came around the next curve she saw a long section of straight road. The road was clear so she walked along looking for a place that had a clear view of Catherine's bedroom window. The trees below the road blocked most of the viewing locations but she found one spot where a tree had fallen down that gave her a clear view.

She could tell from the tire tracks that a trail bike had stopped here. She looked around for some evidence – a cigarette butt or something – with no luck. So she snapped some pictures with her cell phone to compare with the stalker photos. After walking to the far end of the straight trail section she found nothing. As she turned to head back to her trail bike she heard an approaching motorcycle, so she quickly ducked into some bushes. She watched the rider as he rounded the bend and stopped where he had a scenic view of the bedroom window. He got off the bike and pulled an expensive camera with a telephoto lens out of his saddle bag. As he moved to a good viewing position he stopped suddenly, looking at the ground. He stooped down for a closer look.

Damn! My shoeprints. I should have erased them. Now he knows someone found the spot.

She peeked through the bushes as the stalker slowly stood back up and lifted the camera to his eye. He snapped a couple of photos of Catherine's place, then turned the camera quickly toward her hiding place and took some photos. Just as quickly he spun 180 degrees and photographed the road in the other direction. Then he quickly got back on his bike and sped down the trail with his camera around his neck. Lynn listened to see if the motor sound stopped when he got close to her bike, but he kept going. _That was a close call. I wonder if he caught my face in the photo. . . . Damn! I missed a chance to get a picture of him on my cell phone. Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Then she heard Jack's voice in her head. _"You're not stupid, Lynn. You did take some pictures of him. They're right there in your mind. Focus on them and pick out all the detail you can while the memory is fresh. When you get back to the car make a list of everything you can remember."_

She looked around to see if Jack's spirit was with her, but there was nothing. _Maybe it doesn't show up in the light. He could be here beside me and I'd never know it._ She spent the next few minutes deep in thought, creating an image of the stalker and his bike. When she closed her eyes she could see a clear image of the entire scene. She moved her mental vision over the image and captured everything. She would be able to call up the same image when she got back to the apartment to write down most of what she saw.

Lynn went back to her motorcycle, pulled it out of the bushes, and started down the trail to the highway. As she rounded a bend she had to brake and lay the bike on it's side to keep from running into a barricade of dead tree branches. As she saying "What the . . ." her mind kicked into high alert. _The stalker did this. Where is he?_ As she got quickly to her feet someone slammed into her back knocking her forward. As she fell she lowered her shoulder and rolled back into an upright position facing her attacker just as he was moving in for another body slam. She stepped aside and propelled him forward into the pile of wood. He jumped to his feet swinging a heavy tree limb that caught her on the side of the head. She fought back the pain and dizziness as she back-peddled away from him, but he closed in fast and swung at the other side of her head. She ducked under the club and delivered a kidney punch, but it didn't do much good through his motorcycle jacket.

Her mind was racing through the self-defense counterattack options she had learned in class. A blow to his head was out because he was wearing a motorcycle helmet with a face visor, so she moved in quickly with a knee to the groin. It didn't hit the target because he rotated his hips and took the blow on his thigh. He reached out to grab her leg but she was too quick for him and pulled away. He threw the club down and came toward her, but she stopped him with a steel toed boot kick to his left kneecap. He howled in pain and fell backwards. As Lynn moved in for another assault he pulled a pistol from his jacket pocket and pointed it at her.

Lynn's mind was racing. _What do I do now. He's too far away for me to take his gun. Damn! Why didn't I bring my own gun. The only thing I can do is stand there and pray that he doesn't shoot. Maybe I can talk to . . ._ Her thoughts were interrupted by a shot from his gun. Lynn instinctively cringed and waited for the searing gunshot pain Jack told her about. But it didn't come.

"That was a warning, bitch. Stay away from Catherine. She belongs to me!"

Lynn raised her hands in the air, watched him limp back to his motorcycle, and take off down the road. When he was out of sight she sat on the ground and tried to get control of the shaking that took over her body. She looked upward and said a quick prayer of thanks. A few minutes later she had calmed down enough to get back on her own bike and slowly head down to the highway.

Back in her apartment she just started a long hot shower when she saw blood mixed with the water. She felt her scalp where the club hit and came away with blood on her hand. She finished her shower quickly and examined her injury in the mirror. Luckily it was only a surface abrasion and wouldn't need stitches. She cleaned it with an alcohol swab and taped a gauze patch over it. "I'll have to think up a lie to tell Catherine about how I got this – I don't want her to know what her stalker is capable of."

She dressed, went into the kitchen to pour a stiff drink, and sat down with paper and pencil to record everything she could see in the mental image she called up. _The stalker looks to be about a little over six feet with a weight at about 200 pounds. He was wearing black motorcycle leathers – no, they were cheap vinyl imitations._ She focused on the dark visor that covered his face, hoping her mind had captured some of his facial features, but there was nothing there. Next she turned her attention to his motorcycle – it had a Honda logo on the tank with the model number CRF150.

Finally she turned her attention to the final scene as he drove away from her . . . "There! A license number. Unless you stole that bike I've got you now bad boy," she said with a smile. Twenty minutes later she had hacked into the state motor vehicle registration database and came up with a name: Carl James Martin. She wrote down his address, then broke into the driver's license database to download his identification photo. She started up a conversation with herself, which she often did when analyzing a situation.

"I don't have anything I can take to the police. Only what's in my memory. They can't arrest him without more concrete evidence."

"Yes, but I know who he is and where he lives. That has to be worth something."

"Not really. With no other witnesses it'll just be a she said/he said thing. And you can't visually identify him because of his helmet. It might not be Martin at all. Maybe someone borrowed his bike."

"You're right. . . . but I know he has a limp because of my kick to the knee cap."

"That's still not enough for an arrest."

"But if I go over to his house and get a look at him, I'll know for certain it's him."

"What good is that? It still won't get him arrested."

"Maybe I'll have to be the agent of justice in this case – plant some phony digital information that will get him arrested for something else."

"Careful, dear. That's a slippery slope that could get you some prison time."

"You're right. I'll hold that in reserve as a last resort."

One last thought went through her mind. _When I talk with myself like that, it's just like discussing things with Jack. I wonder if he was part of that conversation?_

The next morning, after her self-defense class with Catherine, she drove to Martin's neighborhood and parked a block away with a good view of his front door. After an hour and a half she was about to give up and get lunch somewhere when he came out the door and limped to his car. _Yes! He's the stalker. Now I need to find out why he chose Catherine to terrorize._

As she drove back to her apartment she ran through the three things he said – two in his emails and the other as he held a gun on her. Martin emphasized two things – his possessiveness of Catherine and his future intention to see her face to face. _Hmmm. . . I wonder how he knows her name? Maybe he's someone she met. That would really help if I could connect Martin with Catherine's past._

Lynn called her on the phone. "Hi Catherine, it's me. I'm feeling down and need someone to talk to. How about we eat out tonight?"

"Sure. My Husband's out of town, so dinner out sounds good. There's an Olive Garden near my place. Do you want to meet there?"

"That works for me. Is five o'clock too early? We can get in on the early bird specials."

"Sure. I'll see you then, Lynn."

Lynn arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early and was shown to a booth. On the drive over she thought about how he could show Catherine the stalker's photo without giving away her real reason for befriending her. After running a few scenarios through her mind, she still hadn't come up with a way that wouldn't look contrived. Before she thought any more about it Catherine slid into the seat across from her. "You seem to be deep in thought, Lynn."

"Oh . . . I was running through some old memories."

"Nothing painful, I hope."

"No, I've left most of the memories of Jack's death behind me. . . . Or I've buried them deeply in my psyche where they will lurk until something unleashes them back into my mind."

"You haven't told me how he died. If it will help you, I'm a good listener."

Lynn debated with herself about whether to tell her the truth. She decided on a half truth.

"We were living in my home in Telluride, Colorado. I went into town for groceries and as I carried them out to the car I saw heavy black smoke coming from the hill I lived on. I rushed home to see the whole house in flames. It burned to the ground before the fire department got there. I ran around in the woods shouting for Jack and my granddaughter, Selena, hoping they got out, but they both died in the fire."

The image of the fire, and the charred bodies of Jack, Selena, and O'Malley exploded into her mind. She covered her mouth to keep from screaming, but the pain in her heart was almost unbearable. She jumped up from the table, ran to the ladies room, and locked herself into a stall. She managed to keep the scream down to a moan, but she couldn't hold back the hot tears. Catherine came in after a few minutes. "I'm so sorry, Lynn. I didn't mean to cause that."

Lynn came out of the stall and splashed water on her face. As she dried it with a paper towel she looked at her friend. "You didn't cause it, Catherine. Like I said earlier, it was lurking in my subconscious waiting to pounce. Whenever that happens I feel a sense of relief afterward, like I've purged the memories from my mind, but I know they have just gone into hiding until the next time."

"I know you're in no shape to go out there and eat supper. Let's just go over to my place and raid the fridge."

"And maybe talk about pleasant, soothing things?"

"Do you want to ride with me and come back for your car?"

"No, I'll follow you."

As they walked back through the restaurant the looks they got from the other diners ranged from sympathy to disgust. Lynn got into her truck and followed Catherine's Cadillac up the curving street to her upscale neighborhood. Lynn parked in front on the street as Catherine keyed the automatic gate and drove into the garage. As Lynn got out and started toward the front door she surreptitiously looked up on the hillside where she encountered the stalker. She couldn't see anyone up there, but there were plenty of bushes for him to hide behind.

Catherine was in the kitchen pouring some wine when Lynn knocked. "Come on in and make yourself at home. You want red or white wine?"

Lynn came in and looked around. "I'll have whatever you're having. . . . What a beautiful home! I've never been in a place as nice as this."

"Really? You haven't ever gone to open houses to see how ostentatious homes of the rich and famous can be?"

"It's not ostentatious if you can afford it."

"I married an investment broker who has more money than either of us knows what to do with. When we had this place built ten years ago I couldn't wait to decorate it like a modern mansion. Now it all seems useless. This isn't what life is about. It's supposed to be about love and family."

"Do you have any children?"

"No, we tried for a few years without any luck. A few months ago I saw a doctor and she said there was no reason why I shouldn't be able to get pregnant. She wanted to have my husband in for a visit, but he refused. She only wanted a sperm sample, but he wouldn't do it. So right after we made love one night I went into the bathroom and used a syringe to extract some of his semen from myself. I took it into the doctor the next morning for analysis. She called me the next day to tell me that the sample had no sperm in it – that he must have had a vasectomy sometime in the past. I was heartbroken – that he would do that without telling me. And I wanted children so badly."

"Why would he do that? Doesn't he love you?"

"I thought he did – until I got into his personal files and saw some credit card receipts for women's jewelry, lingerie, and motels. The bastard had been having affairs for years. With a vasectomy he didn't have to worry about impregnating any of his women."

"Did you confront him? Call him out on it?"

"No, I got back at him another way."

"What did you do? . . . No, you don't have to tell me. I don't want to pry."

"I . . . I'd rather not share it with anyone."

"Okay. How about some more wine and a change of subject."

"I vote for that. Do you have any children?"

"I had a daughter, but she and her husband were killed in a car wreck. Drunk driver. He spent two years in prison for robbing me of my only child. Her daughter, Selena, was staying with me, so I at least have her . . . had her." Lynn beat back the sob that tried to escape.

Catherine got up and opened the refrigerator door. "Okay, we have sandwich stuff, leftover chicken lasagna, hot dogs, and some salad fixings. Anything else will need defrosting. What will it be?"

"I have simple tastes. A hot dog will be just fine, with maybe a small salad on the side."

Two hours later the two women were laughing and talking about meaningless trivia from their past – high school boyfriends, college escapades, the dating scene of their youth, favorite movies and music – and drinking more wine. Anything to keep their minds off their anger and grief. Later Lynn looked at the clock on the wall. "It's late, so I'd better be going. I have a bit of a drive ahead of me."

"You're in no condition to drive. I would take you home, but I'm as drunk as you are. Spend the night in the guest room and go home sober after breakfast."

"Yeah, you're right. But I'd feel more comfortable on the couch."

"Okay. I'll get you some sheets and a pillow. There's a new toothbrush in the guest bathroom."

As Lynn curled up on the couch she was thankful for the alcohol that dulled her emotions. The outburst from earlier in the evening was just below the surface, trying to push it's way out. "I wish you were here with me tonight, Jack. I miss you so much." A tear rolled out of her eye as sleep overcame her.

As sunlight came through the living room window, Lynn opened her eyes and stretched. It took her a couple of minutes to figure out where she was and what she was doing here. Catherine's voice solved the momentary brain freeze. "Well, you're finally awake. I have some bacon and scrambled eggs almost ready. Go wash up and I'll have it on the table when you get back."

Lynn came back and sat across from Catherine. _There's something I need to show her, but I can't remember what. . . . Oh yes. The picture of Martin._ After they finished breakfast Lynn came up with a way to do it. She reached in her purse and took out a copy of Martin's driver's license photo and slid it across to Catherine. "When I came out of the gym yesterday this was stuck under my windshield wiper. I don't know who it is or why someone would put it on my windshield. Does it mean anything to you?"

Lynn watched her face lose it's color as she flinched. She pulled the photo closer with shaking hands. "No, I don't recognize him. I don't know who it is."

What should I do? Call her on the lie or let it pass? I'll push a little harder.

"You're sure, Catherine? It seems strange that someone would put it on my car when we're together in the gym,"

Catherine pushed it roughly back to Lynn. "I told you I don't know him."

Lynn wadded up the picture and tossed it in the trash can. "Well, it's of no use to me. I better get going. Thanks for an enjoyable evening. See you monday at self-defense class?"

"Uh . . . yeah. I'll be there." Lynn went out the front door and looked at her truck. Someone had spray painted "Stay Away" in big letters along the side. Lynn glanced back and saw Catherine looking out the window, then walked down and looked at the other side of the truck. Same paint, different message. "She's Mine."

As she opened the door to get in the truck Catherine called to her from the front porch. "Lynn, please come back. I need to tell you something."

As Lynn came back into the living room, Catherine said, "I wasn't honest with you. I know the man in the picture. I told you earlier that I did something to get back at my husband for his lying and affairs. Well, I went out and had my own affair – with an exercise trainer at my old gym. Carl Martin is his name. He's the one who painted your truck. After a month of motel meetings my guilt took over and I ended it. I told him it was over and that I never wanted to see him again."

"How did he take that?"

"Not very well. He's been stalking me ever since. My husband hired a private investigator to find out who it was, but I don't think they have found anything yet. If my husband finds out it's my former lover, he'll divorce me. The investigator wanted to put a tail on me, but I told him I wouldn't stand for it. I didn't want anyone to find out who it was."

"I have a confession to make myself, Catherine. I haven't been totally honest with you either. I'm your tail. I had to do it undercover so you wouldn't find out."

Catherine looked shocked for a minute, then broke out laughing. "You were pretty darn good at it. I never suspected you weren't who you said you were."

"Oh, I'm who I said I was. You made friends with the real me. I just didn't tell you the whole story."

"Well, I'm glad we can still be friends. Now what are we going to do about my stalker?"

"I need to talk that over with my boss, Dave Cramer, and see what he suggests. But since Martin hasn't committed any crimes – other than vandalizing my truck – we probably can't do anything but get a restraining order."

"You mean he can keep stalking me?"

"As long as he stays far enough away so he doesn't violate the order. That's usually only a couple hundred feet."

"What can I do? He scares me."

Lynn thought for a moment, then decided to offer her special brand of retribution. "This is just between you and me, Catherine. Not even my boss can know. I have sort of a hobby on the side where I help women who are being victimized. I can do things with my computer that will cause him a lot of grief – have the police computer create a warrant for his arrest, for instance. Or I can mess with his credit card accounts, even his bank account. I think I can make things bad enough that he will have to leave town. That would solve your problem."

"You can do all that! I thought stuff like that is against the law?"

"It is. But when bad people need to be straightened out and the law can't help, I step in."

"This is fantastic! When can you start?"

"I'll report back to Dave and tell him I identified the stalker. He doesn't need to know about the affair part. Then I'll start running him out of town."

Catherine came over and gave Lynn a hug. "Thank you so much, Lynn. You have lifted a big load off my back. Can we get together every now and then?"

"Sure. I'll let you know when I'm finished with my attack on Martin. We can get together to talk about it."

Three weeks later Carl Martin had been arrested four times, each for a different offense. The last charge was child molestation. The police could only hold him for a day or two because they couldn't find any evidence. The computer had a record of the supposed crimes, but they couldn't locate the arresting officers to corroborate the information.

His credit cards had turned into a nightmare. Besides having to pay for lawyers to get him out of jail, there was no record of his last two months payments and they were threatening to cancel his credit. His last rent check bounced because there was no record of the automatic deposit to his bank account. The last thing Lynn did was to send his employer a notice from the Pennsylvania Department of Corrections informing them that Martin was an ex-convict who had skipped out on parole.

By eavesdropping on Martin's email, Lynn found out later that, when he went to work the next day, his employer stopped him at the door and told him to wait for a parole officer to arrive to take him in. He ran to his car and left the state. Lynn raised both hands over her head and shouted "Mission accomplished!" She sent an email to Catherine that repeated those words.
Chapter 22 – The IRS

Lynn was back at her CSIC desk writing up the report on the stalker case when Dave knocked on her door jam. "Good job on identifying the stalker, Lynn. I'm disappointed that there wasn't enough evidence to get him arrested, but apparently he has given up his stalking of Mrs. Stevens. Any chance he will start stalking her again?"

"I don't think so. I took some measures to ensure that wouldn't happen."

"Do I want to know about those measures?"

"Probably not."

"Okay, I'll leave it at that."

"Have you got a new assignment for me yet?"

"I have something, but I'm worried that it's too risky for you."

"What do you mean by that! You don't think I can take care of myself?"

"No, the last two cases demonstrated that you can take care of yourself just fine."

"What then? Is it because I'm a woman?"

"No. A woman would be just what I need for this case. It's just that . . . Jack was a good friend of mine. He would expect me to keep you out of danger."

"No he wouldn't. I was in more danger with him than I'll see for the rest of my life."

"I'll think about it. We'll talk again tomorrow. Finish up that report for now. . . . And don't mention the 'measures' you took to keep the stalker away."

Lynn had just completed the report and was wondering what to do next when her personal cell phone rang. She opened it and answered "This is Lynn."

After a short silence a woman's voice said "I'm sorry, I was trying to reach Cindy. I must have dialed the wrong number."

"Nancy? Is that you?"

"Yes, but I want to talk to Cindy."

"I am Cindy. That was my undercover identity for the U. S. Munitions assignment."

"Wow. I knew there was more to you than met the eye. I'm calling to ask a question. Do you remember when you said you might be able to help me get revenge on my second husband?"

"Sure. And the offer is still good."

"Well, he's harassing me again. He calls me up and says he wants me back, and shows up in front of my apartment when I get home from work. I told him there's no way we would ever get back together, but he won't quit. Then last night he pushed his way into my apartment and started pulling my clothes off. "

"Did he hurt you . . . or worse?"

"No. I told him if he didn't leave I would start screaming so the neighbors would come and check on me. He pushed me away and left."

"Are you free for lunch? We can talk about how to put an end to that."

"Great! Where can we meet?"

"I'll pick you up at the factory gate and take you to that Chili's restaurant on 16th street."

"Okay, see you then. You don't know what a relief it is to have you on my side."

Lynn and Nancy had finished their lunch before Lynn said, "Let's get down to business. Tell me everything you can about your second husband, starting with his name."

"Derek Dalton. He's a branch manager for the First National Bank. He started there several years ago as a teller and worked his way up. He likes the power and prestige that he thinks goes with the position."

"Do you know how much he makes?"

"No, he handled the finances."

"How about credit cards – does he use them a lot?"

"I don't know; he wouldn't let me get one or use his."

"Where does he live?"

"He got the house in the divorce . . . I had a lousy lawyer."

"Does he have a mortgage on it?"

"Yes, we had a mortgage but I don't know any of the details. . . . Oh, wait. I saw some mail from Capitol County Mortgage, so that's probably where it is."

"How about a car loan?"

"Definitely. He always drives the latest model Mercedes Benz and finances it through First National."

"How about affairs? Did he have a mistress on the side."

"Yes, but it wasn't on the side. He openly flaunted her to me – bragging about how she was a better lover than me, telling me when he was going out with her, and putting her framed picture on his bed stand."

"He's a very cruel person to do that to you. He must have enjoyed torturing you about her. Do you know her name?"

"No, I asked several times but he wouldn't tell me. He was probably afraid I'd confront her. I told him that the woman must not be real if he couldn't give me her name; that he just made her up to torment me."

"What did he say to that?"

"He dragged me into his study and played a video on his computer showing him and the woman making love."

"Are you sure it was him? He could have found a video on the internet where the man looked something like him."

"Oh, it was him all right. He has a birthmark on his shoulder."

"Okay, I have the idea. But now I need some details, like account numbers for credit cards, banking, and loans. If I had a picture of the mistress I might be able to identify her. Of course her fingerprints would be even better. Is there any way you could get this information for me?"

Nancy thought for a few minutes, then replied "I still have a key to his house that he doesn't know about. I suppose I could go in sometime when he's at work and get what you need."

"That's pretty risky, Nancy. What if he comes home early? Like if he's sick or something?"

"He's never taken a sick day in his life. And it won't take me long – I know where he keeps his files with this sort of stuff. If he does come home I can go out the back way."

Lynn gave this some thought. _I don't like the risk involved, but if she's my accomplice she can't have a change of heart and turn me in._

"Alright, I'll let you do it. But don't remove any documents. Use your cell phone to take pictures then put them back. When can you get off work to do this?"

"I have some vacation time built up, so I'll just take a day off next week."

"Good. If you change your mind, just call it off. I can't do much without the information, but I'll figure something out."

As Nancy drove past Derek's house for the second time she looked for signs that someone might be there – his mistress maybe – but she saw no signs of anyone. She started to drive around the block once more, but turned into the alley that ran behind the row of houses. As she came up to Derek's back yard she got out to open the gate. _Oh oh! He has a padlock on it. I don't want to go in the front door where someone might see me._

She got back in the car and started to leave, but then she thought of the tire iron in the trunk. She opened the trunk and rummaged around to find it. _One of these days I'm going to clean up this mess._ She finally found it wedged down into the spare tire compartment and started to work on the lock. She couldn't see how it to pry the lock open, so she took a closer look at the hasp the lock went through. The wood it was screwed into looked old and cracked, so she wedged the tire iron behind it and pulled. After three tries with the screws giving a little more each time the hasp loop pulled out of the wood.

Nancy opened the back door and slipped in quietly. Derek's office, where he kept all of his financial documents, was upstairs. As she opened the office door slowly it gave off a squeak. _Was that loud enough for someone else to hear?_ She stepped in and quickly closed the door. She hurried over to Derek's desk and pulled on the file drawer. _Damn, it's locked. What now?_ She looked around the room for something that she could use to open the drawer. _I could go back to the car and get the tire iron, but that would leave signs that the desk was broken into. Maybe he hid a key somewhere. . . . but where?_

She sat down in the desk chair and swiveled around. _It would be a place where he can reach it without getting up from the desk._ She stretched out her arm and rotated the chair in a circle. The only thing within reach was an old cracked coffee mug on the window sill. When she picked it up and turned it over the key fell out in her hand. She unlocked the top desk drawer and pulled out the big file drawer. As she went through the folders looking for a likely place for the documents she stopped on one labeled Bills and Receipts. She pulled it out, put it on the desk, started paging through it for papers to photograph. Then she heard a door open and close . . .

_Derek's home! He'll beat the crap out of me if he catches me here. . . . No wait. It wasn't the front door, it was one of the upstairs doors_. She listened intently for another noise that would tell her more. The toilet flushed, the water in the sink ran briefly, and the bathroom door opened. _Whoever it is will be going back into the bedroom. I can hurry down the stairs and out the back door_. When she didn't hear the bedroom door Nancy opened the office door just enough to peek out. She saw a shapely woman in a thin negligee going down the stairs.

_Crap!! Now I can't get out. And I definitely don't want to be caught taking pictures of the file documents._ Then she heard sounds from the kitchen. S _he's making coffee. I can't get past her to the back door. The front door! I'll have to use that_. She looked at the file folder on the desk, then scooped it up and took it with her. She was halfway down the stairs when she froze. _Did I close and lock the file drawer? I think so, but maybe not. I can't risk it. I'll have to go back._

Nancy turned and tiptoed back up the steps to the office. She pushed the door open quickly – this time and it was silent. She went around the desk and found the drawer still open. She closed and locked it and then, as an afterthought, she quickly went through the other drawers for anything useful. All she found was a framed photo of his mistress; the one she just watched walk down the stairs. She slipped it into the file folder, put the key back in the cup, and hurried down the steps to the front door.

As she closed the door behind her she wondered how long it would take Derek to realize the folder was missing. He usually did the household accounting twice a month. The end of the month was a week away, so that's when he's likely to find out. _I hope Lynn has what she needs by then. Something that will keep his mind off the bills._

When she was on her way out of the neighborhood she called Lynn's cell phone. She was bubbling over with excitement and talking a mile a minute. Lynn assured her that was a normal response to getting out of a fearful situation.

"Jack called it the post-mission high." When Nancy told her the details she commented "You must have been terrified, but it sounds like you're someone who can think clearly in a tight spot."

"So what now? When can I hand over the files to you?"

"I'll be off work in about an hour. Why don't you come over to my place in say, two hours, and we can go over the papers together. I'll bring some carry-out for supper. Will that work for you?"

"Sure. Are you still in that old motel near the factory?"

Lynn laughed. "No, that was part of my undercover operation. I'm back at my apartment in downtown Philly now." She told Nancy the address and the code to get her into underground parking.

"Great. See you then."

As Nancy was taking the elevator to Lynn's floor she was amazed that the woman she knew as Cindy could live in a place like this. _She must be making big bucks, but after seeing her in action she's worth every penny._ When Lynn welcomed her into the apartment she was even more amazed. "How can you afford this place. Are you a millionaire or something?"

"Oh, this isn't my place. It belongs to the company, Cramer Security and Investigation Company. It's a VIP suite for corporate guests. They're letting me live in it until another apartment opens up."

"Watch out that you don't get spoiled. It'll be tough to move down to something ordinary after this."

"I'm pretty much satisfied with anything that doesn't have roaches. . . . I brought home a variety of stuff from P. F. Chang's. Let's eat before it gets cold. The dishes are up in that cabinet. You can set the table while I put the food in serving dishes."

They chatted while they ate and Lynn filled her in on her life – meeting Jack in Junior High School then marrying him forty years later, the close calls during their attacks from Winston's hired thugs, and their "retirement" to her place in Telluride.

"Your lives sound like a conspiracy novel. With all you've been through it might take two novels. When did your husband die?"

Lynn thought, _Here it comes again. The pain and the crying._ But she immediately diverted her mind to cross country skiing with Jack and stopped the onslaught. _Should I tell her the story? . . . No reason to. I'll tell her part of it._

"Jack was killed in a fire. My home in Telluride burned to the ground with him and my granddaughter inside."

"Oh, how awful!"

"It was at the time. I went into a dark depression for awhile, but some friends pulled me out of my well of self-pity and brought me here to this job."

"Everyone needs friends like that."

Lynn wanted to change the subject before her reserve broke down, so she got up and cleared the table. With the dishes in the sink she said, "Alright, let's get started."

Nancy laid the accordion file folder on the dinner table and opened it up. "I don't know what's in here. I didn't have much time before I had to get out of there. It looks like Derek has everything filed in subfolders – monthly bills in one, bank and credit card statements behind that, then mortgage and auto loan papers followed by tax documents. Why don't we each take a subfolder and go through it looking for the information you need, plus anything else that might be useful. I'll start with monthly bills and write down all the account numbers."

"I'll start at the other end with taxes and work toward the middle."

Nancy was already on her third subfolder while Lynn was still focused on Dalton's taxes. She said with a smile, "Will you look at that. You ex has been cheating on his taxes for years."

"Like how?"

"Well, for starters he's been claiming the marriage deduction every year since your wedding, even after the divorce. He claims you as a dependent living at home. And there are several suspicious business deductions, including motel bills that are probably from his trysts with the mistress. It looks like he forged your signature on the joint tax return. It will take me a week or two, but there may be enough here to put him in prison for tax fraud."

"Put him in prison?"

"Yes. Is that payback a little harsher than you have in mind?"

"No, I was hoping for the electric chair."

Lynn laughed at that. "Seriously, what level of retribution do you have in mind? We can probably put him jail for the tax issue – that would get him maybe three years. There will be some pretty hefty fines and back taxes to go along with that. Or we can create financial difficulties on various levels – overdrawn credit cards, missing mortgage payments, money missing from his bank account – that sort of thing. We could also get him demoted, or even fired, from First National Bank based on the tax fraud or some apparent embezzling."

"What do you mean by 'apparent embezzling?'"

"I can make some money disappear from investment accounts he manages – enough to trigger an audit – that would likely get him fired. After he's gone, I would put the money back into the client's account."

"You can do that? How do you do that?"

"Sorry. Trade secret."

"So you could do that to anybody – even me."

"It's possible. But I'm the good guy in this story. I make sure the target has done what he or she is accused of and that the penalty is suitable for their behavior."

"So what do you think is suitable for Derek.?"

"Well, he should have spent some jail time for abusing you like he did, so I think the IRS legal trouble is appropriate for him."

Nancy thought for a minute. "That's good, but I want something to happen to his mistress. Nothing real bad. Just enough to remind her of what she is. . . . Oh! Wait a minute. I brought something back from his desk drawers." She rummaged around in her oversized purse until she found it. This is the picture of her that he kept beside our bed."

Lynn pulled a tissue from a box on her desk and took the picture from Nancy. "There may be some fingerprints of hers on this. I'll get a friend of mine to lift some prints and try to find a match. Assuming he can identify her, what could we do that would remind her of who she is?"

"I don't know. She's nothing but a glorified prostitute who thinks the term mistress is somehow less revolting."

"Let me think about her for awhile. In the meantime I'll finish going over Mr. Dalton's tax records to see what else I can find."

They spent another two hours finishing up their examination of Drake's records. Lynn had a list of several other suspicious tax deductions that she would have to check out. Nancy stretched her arms over her head and said, "Thanks for a truly enjoyable evening, Lynn. I can't remember when I've had so much fun plotting against someone who has it coming. I'd better get back. I have to get up early for work tomorrow."

"Me too. But I don't have to drive to work and fight the traffic. I walk to work and stop off for a Starbuck's on the way."

"Ahh. What a life. I'll never get there, but I will have peace in my life because of you."

Lynn stayed up half the night digging deeper into Drake's tax records. After checking the statutes, she ended up with half a dozen actions that were definitely illegal and another ten she couldn't be sure about. _I'll hack into the IRS computer system and tag Mr. Dalton for immediate investigation of the actions I've listed_. She left a quick link into his IRS file so she could check back later and see how the investigation was proceeding. If necessary she could speed it up by inserting some additional violations.

By the time she rolled into bed she was dead tired. She slid between the sheets and was asleep in thirty seconds. When she woke up she was in Jack's cabin. There was a full moon outside, but other than moonlight through the windows, the cabin was dark. She got up, walked barefoot into the living room, and peered out the big window. She thought she saw someone out there, but the image was fuzzy. She blinked to clear her eyes but it didn't help. Whoever it was they were approaching the cabin. She rubbed her eyes to get a clear view but still couldn't make out the details of the visitor. She turned toward the door to go outside for a better look when Jack appeared and shouted _"Get down!"_ just before he tackled her. Lynn heard the crack of a rifle and the front window burst inward in hundreds of pieces. She looked up at the space where the window used to be to see the woman in a black combat outfit – the one from an earlier nightmare – lean in and point an M-16 at her forehead. Jack rolled in front of her just as the gun started spitting out bullets. She felt Jack's body jerk with the impact of the bullets and screamed.

She woke up sobbing and looked around the room to make sure that she wasn't still dreaming. She ran into the living room to see the apartment window intact and no Jack. She wailed "Who is that woman, Jack? What are you trying to tell me?"

When Lynn got to work the next morning she stopped by the lab and asked her friendly technician if he could examine the picture frame and photograph surface for identifiable finger prints. "This one is a personal favor, Ian. It's for a friend I'm trying to help out." She smiled at him and he blushed – like he always did around her. _I think he's sweet on me. I'll have to let him take me out to dinner as compensation for what he's doing for me._

Back in her office she worked on some investigations into the bank accounts of deadbeat dads – men who had left their families, were ordered by the court to pay child support, but had quit paying. Some of them had lost their jobs and couldn't afford to pay, but most just wanted to keep more of their income. CSIC took on cases like this at no charge as a service to the community. Lynn or another investigator would get a court order to open bank accounts for a look at income and savings, then turn the information over to the court system for enforcement. Lynn had requested a warrant for two such dads, but the court was notoriously slow in issuing them. Lynn's approach was to hack into their bank and investment accounts for the information before she had the warrant. Then, when the warrant arrived, she could immediately turn everything in to the courts.

It took her most of the day to get the account information of three deadbeats. One of them had a meager bank account with little income but owned a luxury car and condo. She dug a little deeper and found a large bank account he hadn't reported to the court. She smiled when she thought about the worthless father being dragged into court to pay what's due. She was about to call Ian to see how he was coming with the fingerprints when the phone rang. It was O'Malley telling her he had the results ready . . . and-oh-by-the-way- can-I-take-you-to-dinner tonight? That's how he said it – all run together like one long sentence he had to get out before she hung up. She thanked him and asked for a rain check and said she would be down in a few minutes to get the results.

When she got home Lynn opened the envelope Ian gave her and found out that the woman's name was Louise Wilkerson. A quick internet search provided her address and phone number. _Time for payback, Louise_. With that thought Lynn hacked into the Philadelphia Police Department and created a false warrant for her arrest on prostitution charges. She would spend a couple days in jail before the police could sort it all out. While she was in jail, Lynn would add a positive HIV test result to her record just for good measure.

After she was finished she called Nancy to report her success. Nancy's gleeful response amplified Lynn's feeling of satisfaction. She sat back and thought about this for awhile – the good feeling she got when she helped people with their problems. A thought was forming in her mind, so she carried on a discussion with herself to fill in the details.

"Maybe I could do this full time. Start my own investigation business to help those who have been wronged."

"But how would I find people who need my help? I can't advertise because what I do is mostly against the law."

"Maybe word of mouth – my happy clients telling their friends about me. That would start out slowly but as my client base grows more will come."

"I can't do it all by myself. I would need an assistant to do all the boring paperwork stuff . . . but who do I know that I can trust? Maybe Harriet would want in on this. Her federal agent experience might come in handy."

"No, she won't want to leave Rick and The Farm to come here to Philly."

"But I don't have to work out of here; I can do my stuff from anywhere. So maybe they will let me work out of the Farm. I could even live there."

"This line of thinking is getting interesting. What would I call my business? Preston Investigations?"

"But I do more than investigate. I help the clients get retribution against those who did them wrong."

"How about Retribution Incorporated . . . no, Revenge Incorporated – Revenge Inc. That has a nice sound to it."

"I've convinced myself. I'll go ahead and make some plans."

Lynn turned back to her computer and started a list of action items.

Chapter 23 – The Intruder

The way up to the mountain cabin was thirty minutes of dirt road full of curves and potholes, but her Avalanche handled nicely in this terrain. She had to stop twice to move fallen branches from the road, which slowed her down a bit, but they also told her that no one has been up this way recently. Finally she came around a curve and saw the cabin up ahead. She pulled off the road into the bushes, took out her binoculars, and moved through the trees to a place where she could see the cabin across the mountain lake. She studied the house and property carefully, looking for any sign that someone was there, then decided she was alone up here. From Google Earth satellite views she knew that the nearest neighbor was over two miles away, so she didn't worry about being seen by someone else.

Finally she decided it was safe to approach the cabin, so she went around the lake shore through the bordering trees. She took her time, being as quiet as possible until she got to the edge of the clearing around the house and garage. After checking the house windows with the binoculars for movement inside, she stepped out into the clearing and walked quickly to the cabin. She circled it once looking for cameras but didn't spot any, so she approached the back door. It looked too solid to break down so she pulled a case out of her pocket with lock picks of various sizes and shapes. On the third try the lock opened for her. She put the picks away and slowly pushed the door open while standing off to the side. She had heard about people setting up shotguns to fire at the door if it was opened, so she wasn't taking any chances. Satisfied it wasn't booby trapped she entered the kitchen and closed the door behind her. Her eyes scanned the room for video cameras or other sensors, then moved into the main room and repeated the process. _If Preston has any surveillance stuff in here, it's hidden well_.

After going through the entire cabin opening drawers, cabinets, and closets and finding nothing interesting. Before she left Alexei's house she put several useful items in a backpack and brought it up here with her. Now she took three wireless video cameras from it. After peeling the plastic film off the adhesive backing, she stuck two of them on the wall covering the back and front doors from the inside. Then she went out to the garage to install one there. The first thing she saw when she entered was a cute little Mazda Miata. _That has to be his wife's car – he would have a hard time fitting behind the wheel. I want to kill her in person so I can watch her die, but if I can't find her, a bomb under the driver's seat will do the job._

She rummaged through the backpack and found what she was looking for – a small block of C4 explosive, a detonator, and a pressure switch to set it off when someone sat on the seat. The C4 was more than enough to propel the seat and the driver – well, actually pieces of the driver – through the cloth convertible roof. Z laid down on the floor, scooted over to the driver's door, and opened it just enough to slide the bomb under the seat and wedge the pressure switch beneath the seat spring. Once she was satisfied the improvised explosive device was ready to go, she made the electrical connections and closed the door gently. Then she left the garage and walked back around the lake to her truck, leaving almost no evidence that she had been there.

She ran through a checklist in her head – the surveillance cameras she put in the house would send an alarm and video to her cell phone if anyone entered the cabin or garage. If Lynn Preston sits in the driver's seat of the Miata, the IED will kill her. The cabin was in such a remote place that no one would hear the explosion, so the birds and scavengers would have plenty of time to eat the flesh off the bones. _I'll stay in a motel nearby for a week or so to see if she shows up. If she doesn't I'll pay a visit to Tom Gutierrez, the one who put me in prison. I would really enjoy torturing him for a day or two before I kill him._

Zarah started the Avalanche and drove down the hill with a smile on her face. It had been quite a while since she had last smiled.
Chapter 24 – The Annuity

Lynn pulled the next folder from the stack and opened it. Leticia Gonzales – 31 years old with three kids ages two, three, and five. Her husband, Roberto Gonzales, left her a year ago after police were called in on a domestic abuse call. Roberto had put her in the hospital twice with broken ribs and a beating that left her face with several stitches. He spent a week in jail on the abuse arrest until the judge sentenced him to parole for six months with a court injunction to stay away from his wife and family, and $250 a month in child support. But that didn't stop his threatening phone calls to Leticia.

He has a good job in the municipal vehicle maintenance department and makes enough to pay the child support the court ordered, but he hadn't paid a dime of it. Lynn mumbled to herself, "This one is more complicated than the others I've done. If I turn him in to the police, he'll get jail time, but he will also lose his job so he couldn't pay child support even if the court wanted to garnishee his wages. I want him to get what he deserves, but I want him to pay child support. How can I fix this?"

Lynn began by examining his finances. His paycheck went into a local bank account with frequent ATM withdrawals. Nothing big – food, liquor, internet, and rent to Green Terrace Apartments in Northeast Philly. He apparently spent most of his paycheck for living expenses with little left at the end of the month. Next she checked the motor vehicle registration records and found a big surprise. Roberto owned a new BMW Z4 sports car. "That's funny. I didn't see any auto payments coming out of his bank account for that. The Z4 retails for over $60,000. Let's see where he bought it from and how he's paying for it."

Lynn hacked into their sales records of the only two BMW dealers in town. When she typed in the serial number of Roberto's car she got a hit at one of the dealers. Their sales records show that he paid cash for the car! "Where did he get money like that. He must be doing something on the side to have all that money. Maybe he's got a rich girlfriend . . . or is he dealing drugs maybe? Let's see if I can find another bank account I missed."

Lynn entered the Darknet and searched for accounts linked to Roberto Z. Gonzales. The only account she found was for Robert Zapata Gonzales at a bank in Miami, Florida. When she hacked into that account she found what she was hoping for – a half-million-dollar account with frequent large deposits and withdrawals, which is typical for drug dealers. But was this actually the Roberto she was investigating? When she found where the monthly statements were mailed to she knew she had him – Green Terrace Apartments!

She thought a bit about what to do with this information. "If he's a big-time drug buyer and seller like I suspect, he definitely wouldn't want the IRS to know about this account. But if I turn him in for that his wife has no hope of seeing a support check. . . . but . . . maybe I can arrange a way for her to get something from this account. . . . No, the IRS will freeze it as soon as they find out about it. . . . What if . . . what if I hacked into his account and withdrew enough money to open an account in Leticia's name? But that wouldn't survive the IRS snooping. There must be a way." After a minute she picked up the phone and dialed Rick Goodman's number.

"Hi Harriet, it's Lynn."

"I'm so glad you called. I haven't heard from you in awhile and was getting worried."

"I was on a couple of undercover assignments from Dave, but I'm back in the office for now. Is Rick available?"

"Sure. I'll get him. . . ."

"Hey, Lynn. What's up?"

"I need some financial advice from my friendly wizard."

"I'm no wizard, Lynn."

"Based on what you've done with our Forsetti funds, you are definitely a wizard. Here's what I want to do."

Lynn went on to explain the situation with her latest case, leaving out Gonzales' name to protect Rick in case he's investigated over this. As she expected, Rick had an immediate answer.

"I can set up an anonymous annuity that will send a monthly check to the wife and an annual check to the IRS to keep her out of tax trouble. If the annuity is large enough the monthly interest income will cover the checks and the principal won't be depleted. How much a month are you talking about?"

"Oh . . . lets make it $1,000 a month."

"Okay. That means that you would need to invest around $240,000 in the annuity."

"I can arrange that. But what happens to the principal eventually?"

"Annuities cover a certain length of time – typically ten or twenty years – then the remaining amount goes to the beneficiary; the wife in this case."

"Great. Let's do a fifteen-year term so the final payout will arrive in time to send the kids to college. Can you do that for me?"

"It will take me a couple of days to set up the paperwork. Then all I need is the money."

"Let me know where to transfer it to when you're ready, Rick."

Lynn went to work on getting the money right away. She opened up an account in an offshore bank under one of the aliases Jack set up, then hacked into the Roberto's Miami account and transferred $240,000 into the offshore bank. Whenever Rick needed it she would transfer it to the annuity account, then erase any trace that the offshore account ever existed.

**Chapter 25 –** **Terror**

Lynn drove home that evening with a satisfied smile on her face. It felt so good to help someone who was powerless to change her life. After a shower she put on a comfortable sweatshirt and some jeans and opened the Mexican carry-out she brought home. As she was putting the chicken enchiladas on a plate she remembered that she hadn't checked her laptop since yesterday morning. She brought it to the table and turned it on so she could check for emails while she ate. As soon as it came to life it began to sound the alarm that activity had been detected at Jack's cabin. She opened up the link from the security system and watched the camera video as an intruder circled around the lake and entered the cabin. At the first close up view Lynn felt something grab her throat – pure terror. This was the woman in black from her nightmares!

"No, no. It can't be. I must be asleep, dreaming . . . but I'm not asleep. This is real!" A single cry escaped her throat. " **Jaaaack!"**

An hour later Lynn was in the truck headed for Jack's cabin. She would have to drive most of the night to get there, but the adrenalin from the shock of seeing the someone in the cabin – and the anger that their special place had been violated – would keep her going. Before she left she checked Jack's secret compartment under the pickup bed to see what weapon choices she would have when she got there: an M-16 with full-auto capability, a long-range sniper rifle with a night vision scope, an assortment of explosive and smoke grenades, a rocket propelled grenade launcher with half a dozen rounds, and a combat knife. Other gear included night vision goggles, ranging binoculars, and laser dazzler flashlight called The Dissuader that temporarily flash blinds adversaries. She also had her Glock pistol ready to add to the holster on her belt.

The sun was just coming up as she reached the cabin. She approached on a back road and stopped in the woods overlooking the back of the cabin. She got out and surveyed the cabin and the surrounding area with binoculars. When she was satisfied the intruder wasn't around she walked down the hill to the back door and went inside. She went from room to room to see if anything had been disturbed, but the intruder was good – she put everything back where she found it. The last place she checked was Jack's desk. _Everything looks normal . . . but something's not quite right. What is it? . . . The picture! Jack always kept a framed 8x10 photograph of me on his desk, but it's gone._ She opened the top drawer – and there it was. But someone had written on it with magic marker "You are Next Bitch." Lynn dropped the picture, breaking the glass and quickly looked all around her. Then she drew her pistol and crawled up to peek out each of the windows. "Nothing moving. It's been two days since the woman in black was here. She wouldn't stay around that long on the off chance I might show up" she said to herself. "But I shouldn't hang around."

She cleaned up the glass and metal from the broken picture frame and put it in a large zip-lock bag. Maybe Dave's people could learn something from it. She took one last look around and was about to leave when she remembered the Miata in the garage. The battery had a habit of going dead if it wasn't driven now and then, so she went out to start it and let it run for a bit. She opened the garage door and checked to see that nothing in there had been disturbed. She leaned in the passenger door, inserted the key into the ignition, and turned it. Nothing happened. She leaned in further and turned the starter switch again . . . still nothing. She thought for a minute and realized the clutch had to be pushed down before the starter would work. She went around and opened the driver's door.

Z was watching a Jason Bourne movie on TV in her motel room when her cell phone rang. _No one knows this number, so it must be the cameras at the cabin_. Sure enough, when she answered she was treated to a live shot of Lynn Preston entering the cabin. She Her cameras covered only the front and back doors, so she couldn't see what Lynn was up to, but the microphone picked snatches of conversations as she talked to herself. Z caught an occasional glimpse of her as she passed through the kitchen or the living room. She didn't seem alarmed, so apparently Lynn hadn't discovered Z's hidden cameras. Z didn't wait to see if Lynn left. She hurried out to her truck and started the 35 minute drive to the cabin.

Just as Lynn leaned in to sit in the driver's seat she was startled by a shout.

Lynn, stop! Freeze where you are!

"Jack?? Is that you?"

_Do exactly what I tell you. Step backwards away from the car. . . . No! leave the car door open. There's a bomb in it_ _!_

As Lynn backed out of the garage door she stopped and looked around for Jack's spirit. "Where are you, Jack?"

You can't see me when you're awake, but I'm here watching over you. Right now you need to get back to the truck and get out of here. She's coming up the road to the cabin.

Lynn paused long enough to hear the sound of a truck engine laboring up the hill, then turned and started climbing the steep hill to her truck. She was almost there when the engine sound got suddenly louder. She looked back to see a black Avalanche careening around the corner of the cabin and heading right at her. She ran the last few steps up to Jack's truck, jumped in, and headed back into the woods on the forest road. After 100 yards she looked back to see the Avalanche plunging through the trees behind her. The Avalanche was more powerful, but Lynn knew these backwoods roads well – she and Jack had used them to escape from Alexei's thugs more than once.

After zigzagging through the interconnecting dirt roads Lynn couldn't see her pursuer behind her, so she pulled into a roadside clearing, jumped out of the truck, and opened the cover to Jack's arsenal. She grabbed the M16 automatic rifle and moved behind a tree. Fifteen seconds later she heard the noise of the engine coming toward her. She leveled the rifle at a point three feet above the ground where the Avalanche would first appear around the curve and waited. As soon as it came into view Lynn fired a dozen rounds into the vehicle's grill, and was rewarded with a cloud of steam from the ruptured radiator. As the truck slid to a stop, the intruder started to get out of the truck . . . until Lynn fired another burst into the partially open driver's door. The door closed immediately and he driver ducked out of view behind the dashboard.

Lynn climbed back into her truck and accelerated down the dirt road, wanting to put as much space between them as she could. After five minutes, she was certain she wasn't being followed so she slowed down to negotiate the turns at a sane speed and headed for the highway back to Philly.

It was midnight as she pulled into the parking garage of her apartment building and let out a sigh of relief. Her body had been running on high-test adrenalin for over 24 hours and was screaming for some rest. She locked the apartment door behind her and headed for the shower but, as she passed the bed on the way, she collapsed into it. Her last thought was _Thank you, Jack, for saving me._ It was almost morning when she thought she felt Jack snuggle up spoon-fashion behind her. A feeling of contentment came over her as she lay there feeling Jack's warm body against her. "Jack, who is that lady in black who wants to kill me?"

She was Alexei's agent and mistress; the one who killed Jim Norton down in Florida last year. And the one who Tom Gutierrez tied naked to a chair and wrapped in Plastic wrap after he called he police.

"If she wants to kill me, how do I protect myself? How will I know if she's stalking me, or laying in wait somewhere waiting for an opportunity to grab me?"

Stay alert, all the time. Pay attention to everyone around you. Look for a woman – or a man; she could disguise herself – who seems out of place, who doesn't seem to be acting normally.

"Will you warn me, like you did today?"

I'll watch over you, but I can't always break through to your world to warn you. There are forces that control a spirit's ability to enter the world of the living.

With that Lynn snuggled her body back into his a little tighter and fell back asleep.

**Chapter 26** **– The Bodyguard**

Lynn was back at her desk Monday morning getting ready to start in on the stack of deadbeat dad files when Dave called her to his office. Before he could start telling her about her new assignment, Lynn broke in and told him all about her experience with the intruder at the cabin. She was talking so fast and excitedly that Dave couldn't even stop her to ask questions. When she finally ran down he scolded her for not calling him to go with her to the cabin. "Now tell me again how you found out about the bomb just in time to keep from blowing yourself up"

Lynn didn't want to tell him about Jack – he would have her committed – so she said, "I heard a voice in my head, sort of a sixth sense, warning me not to get in the car. And when I left the garage I heard the sound of an engine climbing the hill to Jack's property, so I ran back up to my truck and disappeared into the woods."

"Did this other vehicle follow you into the woods?"

"Not very far. I lost her."

"And how do you know it was a woman?"

"Like I told you, I could tell it was a woman from the security video in the cabin. She moved like a cat . . . a graceful feline."

"Did you find any evidence that might help us identify her?"

"No, she was very careful to put everything back in its place. . . . No, wait. I found Jack's photo of me – the one he usually keeps on his desk. It had a message written on the picture frame glass. It said "You're next, bitch."

"Did you bring it back with you?"

"Yes, but it's in pieces. I dropped it and broke the glass."

"Well, get that over to our lab to see if they can find anything on it. I'll send someone up to remove the bomb."

"Okay. Now why did you call me up here, Dave? Is it about that new assignment?"

"Yes it is. I've thought it over and decided you're ready for it. Next week the CEO of an Italian pharmaceutical company, de Luca Farmaceutico, is coming to Wilmington, Delaware for a week-long conference. He'll have his wife and 16-year-old daughter with him, along with his personal bodyguards."

"Why the bodyguards?"

"Most people with his wealth and power keep a staff of bodyguards to protect them and their families. In this case the CEO, Antonio de Luca, has received some threats lately from an environmental watch-dog group who claim that De Luca Pharmaceuticals is polluting the Po River from its plant in Turin. He wants a personal bodyguard for his daughter – but one who doesn't look like a bodyguard – who will stay by her side 24 hours a day."

"I thought you said he already had some bodyguards?"

"Yes, but they're men who can't follow her into restrooms or stay with her in her bedroom. That's why I want a woman for this job."

"Would I be armed?"

"Yes, you'll need a concealed sidearm with you at all times. But I don't expect that you will have to use it."

"I have my Glock 15, but that's too bulky to conceal."

"You haven't seen our weapons arsenal yet, have you. Let's go down to the basement and find a weapon you can hide easily."

When Dave opened the door to the weapons room and turned on the lights Lynn's eyes lit up at the number and variety of CSIC's weapons. "You and Jack must think alike. He has a lot of the same weapons underneath the pickup bed." As her eyes scanned the room she focused on one section that held small pistols on a metal rack. She went over and examined some of them before pulling a Glock 26 – the "Baby Glock" nine millimeter – from the shelf. She checked to be sure it wasn't loaded, then hefted it and took aim at an imaginary target. "The trigger pull on this one is a little stiff, Dave. I'd have to be careful not to move it off target when I fire it. Otherwise, it's a good weapon."

"I've noticed that myself, but with the size of my hand I don't have much trouble with that. Glock makes another one just like that but with a more powerful 40 caliber cartridge, but that would be even harder to control. Try that Ruger LC9 down on the bottom shelf. That little beauty is less than an inch thick. You could probably hide it in your bra."

"Trust me – there's no room left in there," Lynn said with a grin. She took it off the shelf and dry fired it a few times. "I really like this one. What kind of holster do you have for it?"

"We have a slimline holster that clamps onto your belt in the small of your back. With a loose fitting shirt or jacket it would be nearly invisible. I'll have our weapons technician clean it and deliver the gun and holster to your office later today. Tomorrow we'll schedule some time in our shooting room for you so you can get used to drawing and firing it."

"You have a shooting room here in the building? I've haven't heard any shooting."

"It's down here in the basement in a soundproof room. State-of-the-art, with a video projector that can create any scenario we choose onto the target wall for you to react to, and then shows where your shots hit."

"Terrific. I'll be down here first thing in the morning."

"Let's go back upstairs to my office and tell you the rest of the details about your assignment. While we're up there Donna will give you a company credit card so you can go out and buy whatever clothes you need to conceal the gun and to fit in at the Hotel du Pont. . . . Oh, and you will need to get a concealed carry permit. You can stop by City Hall while you're out shopping for clothes and fill out an application. Tell them you're working for me so they'll expedite it." Dave started up the stairs then remembered one more thing. "Tell Donna that you'll need one of our special cell phones."

"What's special about it?"

"It can only communicate with other phones on our network using a one or two buttons that connect directly with me or one of the support staff. It's very thin and flexible so you can wear it anywhere on your body as long as it touches skin."

"Why does it have to be against my skin?"

"Because when it rings, it delivers a mild electric shock to let you know you have a call. No bells, no buzz; just a tingle. It also has a GPS that will tell us your location, and a panic button that tells us you need help immediately. One of my other investigators will stay within a mile or two of wherever you are, so you'll get a quick response when you need it."

"It sounds like you've thought of everything, Dave."

Lynn was feeling a rush of excitement as the limousine pulled into the Hotel du Pont underground parking garage in Wilmington. _This assignment is definitely not going to be boring – not with a 16 year-old girl in my charge. And this hotel is an elegant luxury hotel built back when luxury actual meant something._ The car pulled into a reserved parking space and the chauffer got out to open her door. He was built like an NFL lineman – tall and broad-shouldered with the bulge of muscles showing beneath his clothes. He was also the silent type – Lynn tried to start a conversation with him several time during the drive from Philadelphia, but she was the only one talking.

The chauffer/bodyguard retrieved her luggage from the trunk and spoke his first words to her. "Follow me, Mrs. Preston. There is a private elevator to take us to the top floor penthouse." She saw the elevator was operated by another bodyguard, who was built pretty much like the chauffer.

She stepped off the elevator into the large living room of a penthouse suite, and was confronted by yet another bodyguard who gave her a full body pat-down. He found the gun but not the phone, which she had planted underneath the back strap of her bra. _Score one for Dave_ she thought.

He inspected the Ruger firearm, weighed it in his hand, and said "Good choice. I'll return it to you once you are officially on-duty."

"I'm not on duty now?"

"No, Mr. de Luca has the final decision. Come. I'll introduce you."

_This bodyguard is definitely more friendly than the others_ , she thought. _Maybe he's a personal assistant/bodyguard_.

"Mr. de Luca, may I introduce Mrs. Lynn Preston of Cramer Security and Investigations Company. Mr. Cramer believes that she will make an excellent personal bodyguard for Gabriella." De Luca looked her up and down, then walked around her. When he was back in front of her he made a sudden move to strike her in the throat. Lynn's reflexes responded before she had time to think by grabbing his wrist and twisting it backwards. Fortunately, her conscious mind took over just before she broke his wrist. She stepped back and said "I apologize for my reaction, sir. I should have assessed your attack before I responded. Your eyes would have told me that you weren't serious."

"No, no! Don't apologize. That's exactly the reaction I was looking for. You are very good and very quick. You will make an excellent bodyguard for my daughter. Come, let me introduce you."

De Luca led Lynn into an adjoining suite where Gabriella was sitting on the couch reading. "Dear, this is Lynn Preston. She will be your shadow for the rest of our stay in America." Lynn stepped up to her and reached out to shake the girl's hand. She looked up at Lynn briefly, then returned to her reading without a word. The father looked embarrassed at his daughter's rudeness but didn't try to correct her behavior.

"Well then . . . I'll leave you two alone to get acquainted. Mrs. Preston, your bedroom is the one on the right, Gabriella's is on the left."

"I'll be sleeping out here on the couch where I can intercept unauthorized people before they reach her." De Luca nodded his head in approval and left the room.

Lynn looked back at Gabriella and started to say something, then changed her mind. She thought _this is like getting close to a new pet. You just go about your business and let them approach you a little at a time. Eventually they get comfortable in your presence and accept you._ So Lynn went into her bedroom to change into something more comfortable and unpack her suitcase. As she was putting on a loose-fitting shirt to conceal the Ruger in her back holster she looked up and saw Gabriella standing in the doorway.

"Do you carry that gun with you all the time?"

"When I'm on an assignment like this I do."

"Are you any good with it?"

"Yes I am. I can put six bullets into a three inch circle from fifty feet away in five seconds. Have you ever used a gun, Gabriella?"

"No . . . and I'm Gabbi. . . . with an 'i'. Only my parents call me by my full name." With that she turned around and went back to the couch to read some more. Lynn waited a couple of minutes, then got a pad and pencil and sat in a chair across from Gabbi making notes about her plans to start a getting-even business. After a few minutes Gabbi asked, "What are you writing? Are those the rules I have to follow when we're together?"

"No, I don't need to write the rules down for you because there are only two. I will stick with you 24 hours a day, and you will never be more than twenty-five feet away from me."

"What happens if I want to go shopping . . . alone?"

"There is no alone. I'll go with you wherever you want to go."

"What if I sneak out on my own?"

"If you ever stray more than twenty-five feet from me, I'll handcuff you to my wrist."

"You won't be able to catch me. I'm a fast runner."

"I'm faster . . . but don't make me prove it. Now, do you have any plans for today?"

"I usually go for a walk after lunch, but father's bodyguards always go with me, so you won't be needed."

"Have you forgotten rule number one so quickly. I will be at your side at all times."

"But if you're beside me on my walk you'll will ruin my fun."

"What fun?"

"I flirt with boys I see. I smile and wink at them, and sometimes they stop to chat with me. But they will think you're my mother and stay away."

"Good. Close encounters in a strange city are dangerous. The smiling and winking are okay, but I'll cut off anyone coming toward you."

"Party pooper."

The rest of the day went by without any problems. Gabbi was giving Lynn the silent treatment, but that's standard behavior for sulking teenagers. Lynn remembered when her granddaughter went through that phase. That thought brought up some painful memories of Selena's murder, but Lynn pushed them away. At bedtime Gabbi went into her room and closed the door, but Lynn told her the door would have to stay open. Her reply was, "But what about my privacy?"

"You can have all the privacy you want when you get back to Italy," Lynn retorted.

Lynn stayed up until midnight developing an action plan for starting Revenge, Inc.

  * Call Rick and Harriet to see about running the business out of their country home.

  * Pass the state and federal private investigator exams.

  * Hire a lawyer to draw up the incorporation and licensing papers.

  * Talk to Dave about my plans. Offer to take on selected cases for CSIC as a consultant.

  * Open a business bank account and get liability insurance.

  * Find clients who need my services – recovery and revenge for wrongs done to them. (How do I do this? I can't really advertise – I want to keep a low profile. Word of mouth from satisfied clients? Search for cases on the Internet news sites?)

  * Make a list of necessary office equipment – (FAX, copier, desks and chairs, internet servers, computers.)

When she was satisfied with this initial list she saved it to the hard drive. "I'll call Harriet and Rick first thing in the morning to get the ball rolling" she mumbled to herself. She closed her laptop, got some sheets and a pillow from her bedroom and made up the couch for sleeping. She put her gun underneath the pillow as she snuggled into the soft cushions she said softly, "I love you and miss you, Jack." She thought she heard him reply with _Me too, sweetheart_ _._

Lynn was up and active by 5 a.m. the next day, running through her duties and action items in her head. She went into the kitchen and brewed coffee using the Keurig machine on the counter. The hotel had provided a dozen or so coffee varieties, but she went with her favorite, Maxwell House Bold. It gave her the initial jolt of energy she needed to get on with the day.

She looked for something to eat in the mini fridge, but found nothing but wine and liquor shooters. She wasn't sure what the breakfast arrangements were here, but she was hungry. The personal assistant/bodyguard must have heard her stirring because he entered Gabbi's suite through the connecting doorway.

"Good morning, Mrs. Preston. I brought you some coffee, but I see you already have some."

"Thanks for the thought . . . what should I call you?"

"Michael will do, ma'am. Here is a breakfast menu. Let me know what you would like and I'll have it sent up."

"Thank you Michael."

After she ate her Eggs Benedict, ham, and Danish pastry, Lynn figured that Harriet would be awake so she pulled out her cell phone and dialed the number. She got a recording that said "Harriet Goodman here. Please leave a name and number and maybe I'll get back to you . . . or not." Lynn smiled at the characteristic Harriet humor in the answer message and replied with her own humorous response, in her best Ernestine voice:

"Hello, and welcome to the mental health hotline."

If you are obsessive-compulsive, press 1 repeatedly.

If you are co-dependent, ask someone to press 2 for you.

If you have multiple personalities, press 3, 4, 5, and 6.

If you are paranoid, we know who you are and what you want. Stay on the line so we can trace your call.

If you are delusional, press 7 and your call will be transferred to the mother ship.

If you are schizophrenic, listen carefully and a small voice will tell you which number to press.

If you have low self-esteem, please hang up. All operators are too busy to talk to you."

"No, seriously Harriet. This is Lynn. Call me. I have a proposition for you." Lynn was about to hang up when she heard Harriet's laugh coming through the earpiece.

"Are you there, Harriet?"

"Yes, but let me get over my laughing fit.." After a couple of deep breaths she composed herself and said, "Alright, I'm listening for your proposition. Does it involve selling ourselves on the street?"

"You can if you want to, but what I have in mind is more fun than that." Lynn spent the next ten minutes explaining her ideas for Revenge Inc. to Harriet. When she was finished Harriet said, "I can't think of a better cause to use our collective talents for. We're not enjoying our so-called retirement much. We need something worthwhile to do, and this sounds like it."

"I'll send you some more ideas and action items as I think of them."

"Rick came in half way through your proposition, Lynn, but he's nodding his head. It sounds great and we would love for you to move to The Farm and run the business from here. Let us talk it over and get back to you later today. Rick can help out with the business setup and administrative details."

"Terrific! When do you think we can get started?"

Rick spoke up at this point. "It will take a month or so to get it all set up, Lynn. I'll check on everything today and give you a more definitive answer this evening."

"I'll be waiting for your call. Bye, guys."

As Lynn got up from the bar stool to get more coffee she noticed Gabbi standing in the doorway. Lynn said, as cheerfully as she could, "Good morning Gabbi. Did you sleep well?"

"I wouldn't know – I was asleep. . . . What was that phone conversation about?"

Lynn was about to say "It was personal" and then caught herself. _If I open up to her, that might improve our relationship_. So she told Gabbi the essentials of her idea for Revenge, Inc.

"Wow, that's cool Mrs. Preston. There are lots of people out there who need that kind of help."

"If we're going to be friends, you can call me Lynn."

"Thanks. Is there a Mr. Preston? What does he do for a living."

Again Lynn thought about giving her a phony answer, but went back into her relationship-building mode and told her the truth. "Jack was an Agent with the Federal Remediation Agency until he retired two years ago, after his wife of thirty-two years died of cancer. He and I knew each other in high school and I rediscovered him on the internet. We were married almost a year . . . but I lost him three months ago . He was . . . he was murdered." Tears came to Lynn's eyes at the thought and Gabbi responded by coming to sit beside her. "I'm so sorry, Lynn. It was dumb for me to ask that question."

"It's Okay, I can handle it now. I was in a deep depression after his death – I didn't want to go on. But he talked me into moving forward."

"He talked to you? I thought he was dead."

"Don't think I'm crazy, but he talks to me in my sleep now and then to help me through the grief."

"Really! His spirit communicates with you?"

"That's what it seems like. But a psychiatrist would probably have a different theory."

Gabbi put her arm around Lynn and gave her a long hug. Girls and women are big on empathy. "I'm sorry I've been giving you a hard time, Lynn. I was really reacting to my father's attempts to control me. He doesn't realize that I'm already a woman – a young woman. I can take care of myself."

Lynn knew better than to correct her thinking – that would destroy the closeness they had just developed. Lynn decided to draw her even closer. It would be helpful in an emergency.

"I had a granddaughter your age, Gabbi. Her name was Selena. We spent a lot of time together at my home in Telluride, Colorado."

"From what I hear, that's ski heaven. I've skied the Italian Alps a few times, but I would love to spend some time skiing in the Rocky Mountains. How old is she?

"She's . . . gone. She was murdered with Jack. They were shot and my home was burned down around them."

"Oh you poor woman! You have suffered so much, Lynn."

"Losing Selena makes me super cautious with regard to your safety. I may seem a little paranoid to you, but I hope you can understand why."

"I do, Lynn. And I promise not to give you a hard time about anything anymore. I'll obey you like a well-trained dog." That caused another tear or two about O'Malley, but Lynn held it back. "Thank you, Gabbi."

"Mrs. Preston . . . I mean Lynn. I have never been shopping in an American department store. Do you think you could take me this afternoon, instead of our walk?"

"Sure, if your mother says you can. Let's go ask her."

Gloria Durant, her brother Carlos, and two other men sat in her Chevy passenger van in the Hotel du Pont parking garage for the for the third day in a row. Carlos commented, "de Luca's daughter has to be getting restless in that hotel room after all this time. Maybe her father won't let her go out."

"Then we will go back to Italy and do the job there."

"How we gonna afford that?" one of the men in the back seat asked.

Gloria gave him a hard look. "I'll figure out a way if it comes to that. Maybe I can sell your organs on the black market."

The man briefly looked frightened, then smiled as he realized she was kidding. Wasn't she?

"Just keep your eyes on the exit door until we spot de Luca's daughter getting into the limo. Then buckle up, because I'm not going to lose them."

Gabbi's mother had no objection to the shopping trip as long as the chauffer/bodyguard accompanied them, so after lunch their limo pulled into the parking garage to pick them up. The chauffer looked at her in the rear view mirror and asked "Where would you like to go, Mrs. Preston?"

Gabriella interjected, "Make it someplace nice, Lynn. Something memorable with the latest clothing and styles."

"How does Neiman Marcus sound? It's pretty much top of the line in department . . ."

"I know about Neiman Marcus. My mother used to come to New York City a couple of times a year to shop there. I would love to go there."

"Neiman Marcus in Philadelphia, Mr. . . What do I call you?"

"Leonardo, ma'am"

She watched as he selected their destination on the limo's GPS system and a map popped up on the screen. "It will be about 55 minutes on I-95, ma'am. There seems to be some delays on that route. I can get us there in under 40 minutes if I take Route 291 along the river."

"Let's do that. It's more scenic anyway."

Leonardo punched their destination into the GPS as he left the hotel parking garage. It diverted his attention long enough that he didn't see the van that followed them out. Normally he kept a constant check on all the traffic around him, but this mistake would be costly.

A short time later the limo was out of the city driving through the forested land near the river when he noticed a van coming up fast behind him. Leonardo slowed a little and hugged the right shoulder to let the speeder pass. When it was beside the limo the van veered right into the front fender and forced the limo off the road. Leonardo tried his best to regain control but the Van kept pushing him to the right until the limo went over an embankment headed for the trees. Lynn had responded to the hit by the other car by pulling Gabriella's face down onto her lap and holding her as tight as she could. Then came the collision with a massive oak tree.
Chapter 27 – Kidnapped

Dave was going over the list of new clients they had taken on and wondering how he was going to stretch his limited staff to cover them all. I _guess I'll need to hire some more investigators. I never thought CSIC would grow this big this fast. It was so much easier to manage back when I started the company with my wife and two buddies from the FBI._ His intercom buzzed. He was annoyed at the interruption, but Donna knew better than to disturb him unless it was urgent, so he pick up the phone.

"Dave we apparently have a situation with the de Luca job. I got a call from Antonio saying that his daughter and Lynn hadn't returned from a shopping trip. His security chief called the body guard who was driving them to Philly and got no answer. The GPS locator on the guard's phone puts him just off Highway 291 along the river, halfway between here and Wilmington. He's sending two of his men to that location. What do you want to do from our end?"

"Get a couple of our guys armed and ready to travel. And let me know as soon as de Luca's men report back."

"Do you have anyone in mind?"

"Yes. Let's use Tom Gutierrez and whoever else is available. Lynn and Tom go back a while so he might give us some insight into her thinking."

"I'll take care of it, sir"

Lynn's head was spinning from the impact with the back of the driver's seat. She couldn't think. She couldn't even remember what happened. She felt something wet on her upper lip and reached up to wipe it away, but the wetness kept coming back. Her mind was starting to form thoughts, but they didn't make sense. _Why is my nose running? Do I have a cold? And why do I have a headache?_ She sat up and looked at the young girl laying across her lap. _Where did she come from?_ Her vision was starting to clear so she swiveled her head to see what was around her. A broken window to her left, a smashed windshield up front, and the driver draped over the steering wheel. _Did he fall asleep . . . or is he dead? No, he just moved his hand, so he's alive._ Then he sat up and reached inside his coat . . . _Why is he getting his gun out?_

In that second it all came back together for Lynn. The driver was taking her and Gabbi on a shopping trip when another car ran them off the road. They collided with a big tree and she was recovering from the impact. She looked at her hand and saw the blood she had wiped from her nose. That put her mind into full alert mode as she quickly assessed the damage to her body. She could move all her limbs and she didn't feel the dampness of blood on her clothes, so it must just be the nose bleed . . . and the headache. Her next move was to sit the girl upright and check for injuries. She was unconscious but had no apparent injuries. Lynn then turned her attention back to the driver – the chauffer/bodyguard. He aimed this gun out the window and pulled the trigger. A second shot echoed right after the first, but it came from outside and hit the driver in the forehead. As he slumped forward Lynn was reaching for her own gun when her door was jerked open.

A man in a ski mask pointed his gun at her and snarled, "Don't do it lady. Put both hands slowly in front of you where I can see them. That's right . . . now get out of the car. When Lynn hesitated, trying to think how to handle this, the man jerked her out of the car and smashed the butt of his gun on her head. Lynn felt the lights go out just before she collapsed to the ground. The man looked up at Gabbi. "You aren't going to cause me any trouble, are you?"

"N... N... No, sir."

"Good then slide over here and get out of the car."

Gabbi did as she was told, being careful not to step on Lynn as she got out. The man quickly pulled her arms behind her and snapped handcuffs on her wrists. Then he bent over and did the same to Lynn's unconscious body and took her gun. Two other masked men came down from the road and the three of them dragged Lynn and Gabbi up to the road, blindfolded them, then pushed them into the side door of a van. The three men climbed in behind them and the driver sped off down the road.

A few minutes later Lynn regained consciousness and went through her mental checklist again. The nosebleed had stopped, but she couldn't breathe through it and it hurt big time. Her headache was worse, and she was in handcuffs in the back of a fast moving van. No traffic noise, so they must be on a rural road. She decided to pretend she was still unconscious. Then she heard a woman in the driver's seat ask one of the men how the capture went. He answered, "I had to kill the driver, but other than that it went down good."

"You killed the driver!! Why?"

"He shot at me; I didn't have a choice."

"Now we're really in trouble. We have to move up the timetable – get our five million and disappear before too many cops get involved. Your stupidity is going to make our escape a lot tougher, Carlos."

When Lynn heard the woman's voice she had a brief thought that it was the woman in black from her dreams and Jack's cabin, but Zarah wouldn't wait until Lynn happened to be guarding a rich man's daughter to grab her; she would kill Lynn on sight. _It must be Gabbi they're after, either for ransom or to pressure her father into doing something. They killed the bodyguard so they are capable of killing Gabbi and me, and anyone else who gets in their way._

De Luca's men were driving slowly along Highway 291 looking for the limousine. One of them was on the phone with Dave Cramer. "We're right where the GPS says they should be but I don't see them pulled off the road. There aren't any side roads they could take. Where is it.?"

Dave thought for a minute. "The GPS locator only shows us where the phone is. If someone hijacked the car they might have thrown the driver's phone out the window. Walk along that stretch of road while you dial his number – maybe you'll hear it ringing."

They pulled off the road and started walking along the shoulder, listening for the cell phone's ring. "I doubt it will be loud enough to hear, but let's double back one more time. . . . Wait! I see some tire skid marks." At the edge of the road where the skid marks ended they saw that the tall grass was flattened and followed it to an embankment. "There it is. We found it Mr. Cramer. It left the road and hit a tree. We're going down to it now. . . . "Oh no! Leo is behind the wheel with a bullet in his forehead! And the women are gone."

"Sit tight. My men are on the way"

Gutierrez and Weaver arrived ten minutes later and joined de Luca's men at the wreck. They introduced themselves and asked for a rundown on the situation.

"We followed those skid marks and found the car smashed into the tree. The left front fender has damage that looks like they were run off the road by another vehicle. He had some injuries from the collision, but the shot to his head is what killed him. So this definitely wasn't an accident."

Tom leaned in the window to look at the back seat. "There's some blood back here that must have come from Gabbi or Lynn. There's not a lot of it, and there's some on the back of the driver's seat, so I'm guessing it was an injury from the accident. I don't see any blood on the other side, so apparently one of them wasn't injured badly. Based on everything we see here it's obviously a kidnapping. I'll report back to Dave and see how he wants to handle it."

Dave answered on the first ring and listened to Tom's report, which ended with a question. "Should we call the cops on this?"

"Not yet. De Luca wants to keep it quiet until we know more. Have Weaver and one of de Luca's men stay at the scene; you come on back here and we'll put a kidnap team together to look at our options. Hopefully de Luca will be contacted about a ransom before then."

After half an hour or so the van slowed down and made a left turn. Lynn heard a garage door rolling up, then the car pulled forward and stopped. _I guess it's time for me to wake up._ Lynn groaned and shook her head as if to clear her thoughts.

"It sounds like sleeping beauty is awake," the woman driver said. "Did you have a nice nap?"

Gabbi turned and said "Thank God you're awake. Are you alright?

"I hurt pretty bad, but other than that I'm alright. How about you?"

"I'm alright. They didn't rough me up like they did you."

"That's because you are the prize they're after. Their ticket to a big ransom payday."

Lynn made sure those up front heard her. Their response might tell her something about their motive for the kidnapping.

"It's more than the ransom, lady. . . . What's your name?"

Lynn didn't see any advantage to lying about that so she told them.

"I thought you were Gabriella's nanny until I saw the gun Carlos took from you. So you're what – her personal bodyguard? You don't look like one."

"What do you mean more than ransom?" Lynn asked.

"My husband died two years ago. He was 34 years old. When his mother died he went into a mild depression, so his doctor prescribed a new antidepressant made by de Luca Farmaceutico. Two weeks later he put a bullet in his brain.

"I hired a good drug liability lawyer, who found that the company did a study that showed the drug causes suicidal thoughts at a much higher rate than other antidepressants. They also kept the increasing number of reported suicides from the public. So we sued the company for five million dollars. But they brought in their own team of slick lawyers and had the case thrown out for some legal mumbo jumbo reason. I'm going to get that five million back from the de Luca girl's father as ransom for you and the girl."

"How do they know they'll get their daughter back alive if they pay the ransom?"

"They don't. But they will pay and hope they get her back."

The woman turned to one of the men. "Carlos, put your mask back on and lock them up in the basement. You can take their blindfolds off there."

Carlos led them down several steps and into a windowless room. After he snapped a pair of leg irons on each of them he removed their hand cuffs. Lynn tried to take a step toward him, but the short chain of the leg irons stopped her. There was no way she could try any of her hand-to-hand combat moves on the guy with these on.

"You two enjoy yourselves; you could be here awhile. There's a bathroom through that door and the refrigerator has food and water for a week." He pointed to the heavy steel door. That's the only way out of here, and it has a heavy padlock on the outside, so there's no use trying to escape." With that, he strode out the door and slammed it behind him. Lynn heard the padlock snap shut and then the sound of his boots climbing the wooden stairs.

Gabbi immediately sat down and started crying. "They are going to get the ransom, then kill us, aren't they."

Lynn sat down and put her arm round Gabbi. "I won't let that happen. I'll find some way to get us out of here."

"You heard what he said. There is no way out of here."

Lynn stood up and walked the perimeter of the room, studying the door, the walls, and the ceiling for weaknesses. The walls were cement block, so there was nothing she could do there. But the ceiling was wood. _If I could get up there, like climb up on the refrigerator, maybe I can pry some boards loose. But not with these leg irons. I need to solve that problem first._ As she continued her circuit of the room she saw a glint up in one corner of the ceiling, but glanced away immediately – it was a video camera and she didn't want them to know she had seen it. Maybe she could use it to her benefit later.

Lynn was sitting next to Gabbi when she felt three tingling shocks in the middle of her back. _What the . . . Dave's secret cell phone! I forgot about it. He just signaled me to pick up, but if I take it out and answer, they'll see me on their video monitor._ She thought for a minute, then reached around to scratch her back. As she slid the phone out of the bra strap she let the it slide to the floor between her back and the wall.

She said loudly, "Damn bra strap makes me itch." just in case there was a hidden microphone built in to the video camera. _Okay, I have the phone behind me, and I can contact Dave if I remember which button to press._ She called up a detailed image of the device from her memory and read the labels on the buttons. _There, that's the one_. She reached around to scratch again and paused long enough to make the connection. She heard someone's voice from the phone but she cut them off with a loud comment. "Gabbi, did you know they have a camera watching us from up in that corner? And they're probably listening to us, too."

"Why would they do that?"

"To make sure we're not up to something, I guess."

"That's creepy. I don't want those men watching me."

Dave understood Lynn's warning and realized it was going to be a one way conversation, but at least he knew they both were alright. He immediately called de Luca. "Antonio, I've made contact with Lynn. They're both alive and talking."

"I know. I just got an email demanding five million dollars to get them back. It had a link to a live video camera – I can see them both now."

"Forward me a copy of the email. Does it say how long you have to get the money together?"

"Until tomorrow morning. They say they will start cutting off fingers after that – with us watching!"

"If they will do that, then they would have no problem killing them after they get the ransom. Can you get the money together by that time?"

"Yes, I already have my bank working on it. But the kidnappers haven't said where to take the money. . . . There, I just forwarded the email to you."

"Yep. Here it is." Dave opened the email and clicked on the video link. "Lynn has some blood on her face, but it's no longer bleeding." Then he heard Lynn on the phone again.

"I wish I knew where we were, but with the blindfolds I couldn't see how they got us here."

Dave was so excited at hearing from Lynn he hadn't had time to check the GPS location from her phone. He turned to Donna. "Get the tech boys to ping her phone for the GPS location. Then get me some maps and photos from Google Earth."

As he waited he watched the live video. Lynn and Gabbi talked quietly to each other until the door opened a man in a ski mask came in. He pulled out a knife, walked over to Lynn, and ordered her to stand up. When she didn't respond immediately he grabbed her by the hair and jerked her up next to him. Then he faced the video camera and held the knife to her throat. As Dave and de Luca watched he drew it quickly across her throat – then the video feed went black.

"Oh my God! He killed her! Dave shouted into the phone "Lynn! Lynn! Talk to me."

Instead of Lynn's voice he heard a man speak. "What the hell? That bitch had a phone! How do I turn it off? It's not an ordinary cell phone. . . ."

Dave watched as the man threw the phone on the floor and ground it up with his boot heel. "De Luca, did you see that? They slit Lynn's throat! The killer picked up her phone, then destroyed it. That shut down the GPS. We have the current GPS reading, but if they move the women we can't track them. We need to get to that place before they leave!"

Just then Donna brought in the printouts from Google, along with a large map of eastern Pennsylvania. Dave continued talking to de Luca on the phone "It looks like they were taken from the wreck north along Highway 322 to a location east of West Chester. The Google Earth photo shows that it's a house outside of town – the address is 4321 East Strassburg Road. I can have my people there in 15 minutes. We're closer so my men will get there first, but send everyone you have."

"We're on our way. Dave."

Donna handed Dave his coat. "I have two cars and six men ready to go, sir. They're waiting for you. Should I call West Chester police chief?"

"No, this is no job for small town amateurs. We'll call them in later." Dave grabbed his coat and headed for the elevator. As the doors opened he shouted back to Donna, "Have an ambulance from West Chester standing by for our call."

As the CSIC cars approached the address on Strassburg Road Dave told the Tom Gutierrez, "Pull off the road into that clear spot. We'll approach the house through the woods." Then he called the other car on his walkie talkie. "Drive past the house to get a visual, then park and approach it from the rear – we'll go in the front door. Tom, did you bring the 12 gauge?"

"It's in the trunk, along with the other weapons – assault rifles, tear gas, tasers, and plenty of spare ammo clips in case this thing turns into a battle."

"There won't be a battle. This is a surgical strike – we go in, kill anyone who gets in our way, find the girls, and get out quick. De Luca doesn't want to be connected with this and neither do I. After we're on the way back to the office I'll have Donna arrange for an anonymous call to the police."

Dave keyed his microphone: "Unit one here. Is everybody in position?" When he got an affirmative from the rear-entry team he gave the order. "Move, move, move!"

Tom led the charge against the front door with a shotgun blast that blew out the lock. The rest of the team followed him through the door and fanned out quickly into the other parts of the house. Dave and Tom ran to the kitchen and down to the basement. Tom was ready to blow the lock off the metal door until he noticed it was open slightly. He pushed the door open and held it as Dave charged into the room. "Damn it! They're gone. Both of them!"

"That could be good news, Dave. If Lynn was dead they aren't likely to drag her with them. Is there any blood?"

"Yeah . . . here on the floor. But that's old blood so it's probably from Lynn's earlier injuries. . . . Wait a minute! Here's some fresh blood, where she was standing when the guy held a knife to her."

"There's not a lot of it. Not nearly enough for a deeply slit throat. Hell, maybe Lynn got some licks in and it's his blood."

They went back upstairs, hoping the others found something, but the house and the garage were empty. Dave sat down and put his head in his hands. "Idiot, idiot, idiot! I knew I shouldn't have sent Lynn out on this job. Now she might be dead and it's all my fault."

"Don't beat yourself up." Tom said. "She was the best person for the job and you had no way of knowing it would turn out this way."

"But now we've got nothing. No GPS and no idea which way they went. I'll call de Luca and have him pull his men back. We'll meet him and his security chief back at CSIC to discuss our options . . . options? We have no options. Our only hope is that the kidnappers will call back and we can take them out at the money drop."
Chapter 28 – Getaway

They headed north out of West Chester as fast as the speed limit would allow. Carlos could tell that Gloria was pissed at him for not finding the cell phone when he frisked the woman, but he knew better than to say anything. One of the men in the back seat started to open his mouth, but Carlos shook his head at him. After a few more minutes Carlos couldn't stand it any longer. "So what's the plan, Sissy?"

"Shut up! I'm thinking. And don't call me by my nickname."

"We passed an old gas station back there. The windows were boarded up, so no one is there."

Gloria answered after a short pause. "Were there any houses close by?"

"There was one across the street, but it was boarded up too."

Gloria drove for another couple of miles, then turned around and headed back to the Gas Station. After driving past to check it out herself she did another one-eighty and turned into the gas station. After another quick look, she drove around to the back and parked the van out of sight. "See if you can get in that back door, Carlos."

It was padlocked, but a couple of whacks with a piece of pipe took care of that. When he looked back at the van Gloria yelled at him, "Well, don't just stand there. Go inside and check it out."

Carlos thought for a second that she would drive off and leave him if he went in, but he didn't think she was that pissed so he went inside. The place smelled like grease, mildew, and dirty restrooms, but it was tolerable. There was light coming in through the ceiling skylights. He walked around the car repair bay and checked the roll-up door in front. It was locked and rusted shut, so their captives couldn't escape that way. He tried the sink in the bathroom and found it working. There was even an old vending machine in the corner with an assortment of ancient candy bars and chips. He broke out the front glass and helped himself to a Milky Way. It was dried out and hard to chew, but the machine contents would provide enough food for a couple of days. He went to the back door and signaled Gloria to bring the others in.

Dave, Antonio, and his chief of security, Lou Rossi, sat in the CSIC conference room laying out various future event possibilities and their best response to each of them.

"Dave, how do you expect they will want the ransom delivered?" Antonio asked.

"The most common method is like you see on television cop shows. The kidnappers will call and tell the money carrier, probably Antonio in this case, to come alone and bring the money to some location they specify. When he gets there they look for signs that he was followed. Then they call the again and send him to another location. They may do this two or three times to make sure that it's not a trap. When he gets to the last stop they will tell him to put the money somewhere out of sight and leave. After watching the drop location long enough to be sure there aren't any police, they pick up the money and run."

"What about Gabrielle . . . and Lynn if she's still alive. How do we get them back?"

"The kidnappers will usually tell us up front that, once they have the money, they will call – or email – where they are."

"What are the chances we'll get her back alive?"

"Fifty-Fifty . . . if we're lucky."

"So . . . What? We just sit and wait until they call?"

"No, there are some preparations we need to make. I'll have my techs outfit the car with a hidden GPS locator so we can track you, Antonio. I'll have another one – one of our special tiny cell phones – inside the money container. As we speak, they're hiding one inside the lining of a briefcase, and another inside one of Gabrielle's school backpacks."

Lou spoke up. "What if they transfer the money to another bag and throw the briefcase or backpack out the window?"

"When they tell us how they want the money – usually in small, unmarked bills, as they say on TV – we will insert another phone inside one of the wrapped money packs as a backup."

Antonio looked at Dave over the top of his reading glasses. "If you're going to deliver five million dollars in small bills, you'll need something bigger that a briefcase or backpack."

"Good point. I hadn't thought about that. Just how much space would it take up?"

Antonio did some quick calculations in his head. "In twenty dollar bills, the volume would be about nine cubic feet – a little larger than a two feet by two feet by two feet box – and it would weigh over a hundred pounds."

"So much for the small bill theory; it wouldn't fit in briefcase or a backpack, and a hundred pounds if too heavy to lug around. I wonder if they know how big that would be?"

"Probably not. If they ask for small bills we'll explain the problem. Maybe they would settle for thousand dollar bills. Then the volume would be less than a cubic foot with a weight of under three pounds. Since they probably have no way to use thousand dollar bills without suspicion, they might want it in hundreds, which would be a box about fifteen inches on a side and would weigh a little over twenty pounds."

"Antonio, can the bank put together a package of both thousand and hundred dollar denominations so we'll be ready to leave as soon as we hear from them?"

"I don't know, you're talking about ten million in cash. Coming up with that amount quickly will be an issue. I'll have them put it together in hundreds. If they want it some other way tell them they can have it in hundreds within a couple of hours, or they can wait a day for us to get it together."

Just then the de Luca's assistant called him. "Sir, I'm forwarding a call to you. It's from the kidnappers."

Antonio put his phone on speaker and set it in the middle of the table. When it rang he pushed the button to accept it and answered "This is Antonio de Luca. Whom am I speaking with?"

A low-pitched woman's voice replied, "It doesn't matter what my name is, I'm in charge here. Do you have the money?"

"You didn't specify how you wanted it – what denominations. I can't put it together until you tell me."

She paused, "We want it small, unmarked bills with random serial numbers – tens and twenties.

"Are you aware how much space that would take up? You're talking about a container at least three feet on a side."

"So? . . . Put it in a box!"

"That many bills will weigh over one hundred and fifty pounds. It will take at least two people to lift it."

They could hear the woman cover the mouthpiece and relay the information to someone else. They couldn't quite make out what the other person said, but then he shouted "Damn it, Gloria! You should have thought of that. . . . Tell them to put it in a suitcase with wheels."

"Did you hear that, Mr. De Luca? Pack it into a wheeled suitcase."

"I have the money ready to deliver, but it's in hundred dollar bills. It will be more manageable than . . ."

"Hold on."

They heard some more mumbling in the background then the woman came back on the phone. "The hundreds will be good. Now get your ass in a car and bring it. You have three hours. . . . Goodbye, Mr. de Luca."

Antonio shouted "No. Wait. Don't hang up! Where do we deliver it to?"

There was a pause – long enough that they thought she hung up.

"Uh . . . yeah, I forgot that part. I'm new at this. I will call you back."

Dave had one of his technicians on another line. "Did you get a trace on that, Jimmy?"

"No sir, it was a cell phone. The best I could do is identify the cell tower it originated from."

"Where is that?"

"Give me a minute . . . there's the tower. It's about twenty miles north of Westbrook."

Dave turned to Lou. "Can you get some of your people up to that area to standby until we get more information?"

"How large an area are we talking about?"

Jimmy answered immediately. "The maximum range of a cell tower is twenty-two miles. So if you draw a circle that big on the map around the location of the tower, they would have to be in that area. And the map shows four main roads in the area.

Lou replied, "If I put four teams around the perimeter, on the highways, the one closest to where they are would be no more than thirty minutes away." De Luca nodded and Lou made the call to his men.

Dave turned to de Luca. "What else do we know about the kidnappers? I get the feeling we're missing something. Do we know what kind of vehicle they're using?"

Tom answered that as he came into the room. "We do. I got the video from the Hotel du Pont parking garage. Let me throw it up on the screen. . . See this white van parked in the shadows? The same van has been parked in that spot for the past three days. You can see some movement through the windshield, but no one gets out of the van. I think they were on a stakeout, waiting for something to happen.

"This next camera monitors the exit from the hotel into the garage. This footage was taken just as Gabriella and Lynn came out and got into the limousine. Next we'll move to the camera that captures all vehicles entering and leaving the parking garage. Thirty seconds after Leonardo drives out onto the street the same white van follows them. It may mean nothing, but the timing is suspicious."

"Did you get a license number?"

"Not on this shot. But I backed the video up to when the van showed up at ten after seven this morning. As they came down the entrance ramp the camera caught the license plate for less that a second. I've got the tech people trying to freeze and clarify it. We should hear from them any minute."
Chapter 29 – Escape

Carlos was in a rage. "How could you be so stupid, Gloria? First you didn't consider the huge amount of small bills that would take, and then you forgot to tell them our plan for the drop off. What's going through that tiny brain of yours? This was supposed to be easy – one, two, three and we're outta here. Now we're on the run before we even have the money. We have to get the ransom and get away soon or they'll start closing in on us."

"Hey! Back off! I don't need you jumping on me for every little mistake. Nothing's really changed. We go ahead with the ransom drop off and pick up plan we came up with, head for JFK airport, and leave the country. Nothing to it."

"It better work. One more of your screw-ups and I'll drop you off in front of the police department in handcuffs."

"Yeah. You and who else, you wimp?"

Gloria had always be able to intimidate her younger brother, but this time she was worried. The two men they had hired to help with this job quietly moved over to stand beside Carlos. _It looks like they have chosen sides,_ she thought. _Not good._

She backed up a bit and whipped out her pistol. "You gonna threaten me you better have a weapon in your hand. Now put your weapons on the table and back away. All three complied because they knew Gloria didn't make empty threats. She gathered up their guns and growled "You can have these back when we go for the pick up. Carlos, you call de Luca back and tell him the plan."

When the phone rang again de Luca took a deep breath, pressed the speaker phone button, and answered. "This is de Luca."

"Here are the instructions." It was a man's voice this time. "Mr. de Luca will deliver the ransom tomorrow morning. Put the money in an overnight bag with wheels and go to the Millbourne station of the Market-Frankford subway line. Board the train that leaves for City Center at 7:21. Get off downtown at the 13th street exit, walk down one level to the Broad Street Line, and stand next to the men's restroom with the suitcase beside you. Someone will come up to you with a note telling how to get your daughter back. Walk away from the suitcase, board the southbound train, and don't look back. We will have people watching. If we see anyone following you, we leave and your daughter dies. Have you got that straight?"

"Yes, I believe I do."

"Good. If you're late, she dies. If anyone follows you, she dies. If you plant tracking devices in the package, she dies.. . . . click."

They all sat in silence for a few minutes before Dave spoke up. "Well, we can throw the GPS tracker idea out. And the downtown morning subway rush will make it all but impossible to follow the pick up man – lots of escape routes, multiple trains, hundreds of people moving everywhere. I don't see how we can track him or the money. And even if we could track him, after the others pick him up they would be crazy to go back to where they're holding the girls."

"If they're serious about killing Gabrielle – and Lynn if she's still alive – they will leave someone there to carry out the kill order and meet up somewhere later."

"Good point, Tom. Our best chance is to focus on finding where they are being held. Any progress on clearing up the license plate image?"

Tom replied "I'll go check on it," as he left for the lab. Ten minutes later he called Dave. "We got it. It's an Ohio plate registered to a Gloria Durant, who lives in the Lincoln Heights section of Cincinnati. The van is a white 2012 Chevrolet Express passenger van. That's all I have. If we had Lynn here she could hack into some records for more detail, but . . ."

"Thanks, Tom. We'll get this information out to Lou's teams. Maybe we'll get lucky and spot the van."

Gloria Durant was going over the plan one more time with Carlos and the other two. "Have you got this straight? Tomorrow morning we'll take the van to the Millbourne subway station and park near the entrance. I'll go inside to pick up the suitcase while Butch here follows behind me looking for a trap. Darrel will stay in the van keeping a lookout for suspicious vehicles or people in the parking lot. If either of you sees anything – anything at all that doesn't seem right – call me on your speed dial."

Carlos spoke up. "Why can't I be in the van? Leave Butch here to watch the women." Gloria gave him another one of her intimidating looks. "Because you're the only one I can trust to kill them. These two don't have the guts to do it."

"Why do you have to leave tonight? I don't want to stay awake watching the women all night?"

"Because I don't want to take a chance on traffic slowing us down in the morning. We'll park at a 24 hour Wal-Mart and sleep in the van. Once we have the money we'll drive back here to pick you up and head for New York." Gloria's thoughts were on an entirely different plan. After she had the money she would pay off Butch and Darrel and drive to JFK by herself, leaving Carlos behind.

"Time to leave, boys," Gloria said as she thought about the cleverest part of her plan. She would get the suitcase from de Luca just before he boarded the train at Millbourne. If they planned a trap for her at City Center, they were wasting their time.

Lynn overheard their plans, and as soon as they left she started to work on her escape plan. She and Gabbi were chained to pipe with their leg irons. When they needed the bathroom one of the men would come over to unlock the ankle cuff, holding a gun on the other who was still chained. That's what kept Lynn from attacking the guy – that and the other three in the building. Now there was only one of them.

Lynn waited patiently until after midnight when she could see Carlos drifting off to sleep in his chair. She wanted his alertness dulled. Then she called out "Hey. Carlos. I need the bathroom. Bad . . . Hey! Did you hear me?"

Carlos raised his head, then decided to ignore her. "If you don't let me go I'm gonna crap in my pants and you'll have to put up with the stink all night." That made him reconsider. He pulled himself out of the chair, grabbed the leg iron key and his pistol and walked over to let her loose.

As soon as the ankle cuff was loose, before he had time to point the gun at Gabbi, Lynn delivered a lightning quick chop to his throat and grabbed for the gun. Even though he was choking he stepped back and pointed the gun at her, but before he could pull the trigger she stepped inside his gun arm and kneed him in the crotch. When he doubled over she brought her knee up again, this time to smash him in the face. The gun fell from his hand as Lynn kneed his face a second time. He collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

Gabbi woke up when Lynn shouted for a bathroom visit and watched the whole thing. "Wow! Are you superwoman or something? That was amazing. He didn't know what hit him. Can you teach me that stuff?"

"Maybe someday. For now let's get those leg cuffs off you and get some help."

Lynn took Carlos' cell phone from his pocket and dialed Dave's personal cell number. The irrational thought 'I hope I don't wake him up' went through her mind just before he answered.

"This is David Cramer. Who am I talking to?"

"It's me, Dave."

"Who?"

"Lynn! Did you forget about me so soon?"

"No. We saw the live video of someone cutting your throat and thought maybe you were . . . were dead."

"It was a shallow cut, just into the skin. It bled some but there's no permanent damage. He was just trying to scare you and Antonio; let you know they were serious."

"Where are you! We have some men in the area."

"Just a second. Gabbi. Go out front and see what the address of this place is."

A few minutes later she told Dave the address.

"But what street is it on?"

"There's no street sign in view, but it's a defunct gas station named Blake's Gas and Auto Service."

"We can work with that. Someone will be there shortly."

"One more thing, Dave. The woman who leads this gang has a change of plans. She's going to intercept de Luca at the Millbourne subway station, not in City Center."

"Great! I'll have some men there to grab them."

"We are also going to need an ambulance out here."

"What? Are you hurt? Is Gabbi hurt?"

"No, but the guy I beat up is in bad shape."

Two days later Lynn was at the Hotel du Pont saying her goodbyes to the de Luca family. As she hugged Gabbi they both had tears in their eyes. They had shared a lot together.

"I'll never forget you, Lynn. And I'll miss you. Please come to Torino and visit."

"I'll miss you too. And you let me know anytime you're in the country. I'll drop what I'm doing and come see you."

When she turned to Antonio he looked at her gravely. "You have done so much for us, Mrs. Preston. I feel I must repay you somehow, but you wouldn't take the money I offered. Would you take it if I doubled the amount? Made it $200,000?"

"No sir. It's not the amount. I was just doing my job. But if you ever need my services again, anywhere in the world, just call Dave."

De Luca nodded, gave her a slight bow, and herded his wife and daughter out the door.
Chapter 30 – Desk Duty

Monday morning Dave scheduled a meeting with Lynn and most of his staff – a debriefing as it's called in the business – to go over her experience in detail so they could discuss how things could have been handled better so they could all learn from her ordeal. When Lynn told them about threatening to poop in her pants if Carlos didn't let her go to the bathroom they all laughed. It broke the tension that had built up in all of them as they imagined themselves going through what Lynn experienced.

When she was finished everyone stood and clapped. Dave finished the meeting with a few comments.

"What was the most important asset Lynn used in this?"

Some said it was her fighting skills, others her calmness, or maybe her emotional stability. But Dave had his own opinion.

"Lynn has an incredible gift of resourcefulness and cleverness, coupled with a quick mind. I would have her to teach us how to acquire these qualities but, for the most part, these thing are innate and can't be taught. But if you hang out with her enough, maybe some of it will rub off. We're very lucky to have her as an asset in CSIC." Lynn felt a twinge of guilt as she thought of her plan to go off on her own shortly.

Another round of applause, then the meeting broke up. Dave asked Lynn to stay to talk about her future assignments.

"This assignment was very taxing on you, both emotionally and physically. Frankly, I don't know how you got through it. When I thought they had killed you I hated myself for giving you the assignment. I imagine you feel totally drained by it all."

"No, not really. It was a great adrenaline rush. I haven't felt so alive since before Jack died."

"Well, regardless, I'm going to keep you here at the office for awhile on desk duty. I'll find the most interesting cases I can for you to work your hacking magic on. What kinds of cases do you prefer?"

"Actually, I found the deadbeat dad assignments rewarding. I'd like to continue working on those for awhile. Not the ho-hum everyday ones. Give those to someone else. I want the challenging ones."

"Good. I'll sift through the cases and cherry pick the tough ones for you. But for now, take a couple of days off to recuperate."

"Can't do that. I need something to do – to keep me busy – to get my mind refocused."

"Don't argue. Get out of here."

Lynn sat in her living room watching the TV news in the middle of the afternoon. _If I just had another payback job or two, that would get my mind working again. But how do I find new business? Damn am I bored._

She picked up a newspaper and scanned the front page. Nothing there. But on the third page a headline caught her eye.

Rape Charges Against State Senator Dismissed

She thought, _I wonder why the charges were dropped? Did he really do it?_

The story below the headline had the answer. The Senator was charged with raping one of the woman on his staff, but a key piece of evidence was declared inadmissible – the semen collected from the woman at the hospital. His defense lawyers had it thrown out because the nurse who took the sample wasn't certified to administer the test.

Lynn opened her computer to find more details and some photos on the newspaper's web site. According to the woman's testimony, the Senator had asked her stay late and help him finish a report. After everyone else was gone he made advances and, when she told him no, he hit her in the face, held her down on the couch, and raped her. The other evidence – a torn blouse, bruises, and her blood on his couch – was strong, but he testified that she didn't stay late; that he was alone in the office. His lawyer claimed someone else must have committed the rape and she tried to blame her boss to ruin his chances in the upcoming election for governor.

_If the rape kit had been admitted and showed it was the senator's semen, he would be on his way to prison._ Lynn's mood lifted at the thought of taking the man down. _This woman needs some justice, some payback for what he did to her, and I'm going to give it to her. How should I go about this? Should I let her know what I'm doing? . . . No, she needs deniability in case this comes back on me. Maybe when I'm done with him I can send her an anonymous email._

Back at the computer Lynn started digging into the financial affairs of Pennsylvania Senator Jeremiah A. Ritter, middle name Alphonse. _There's got to be something illegal going on here – he's a politician. Kickbacks, payoffs, even blackmail. I need to find something that will get him a prison sentence. Most guys like him don't bother to hide their criminal activities very well. They're so arrogant they think no one will come after them._

It took Lynn the rest of the afternoon and half the night, but she found several things she could use, including a numbered account in the Bank of Mexico City with a large deposit every month. When she traced the source of the deposits she found it was an offshore bank in the Caribbean. With help from the Darknet, she tied that account to the AFL-CIO union in Philadelphia. _What are they paying him for?_

She hacked into the Pennsylvania Senate archives to see if he had a voting record of favoring the union, and found that for the past five years he fought every issue that would limit union power, like right-to-work laws and limits on union dues. _That's pretty damning, but being a union supporter isn't against the law. There has to be something else I can nail him with._

Lynn went back to the Mexican bank account to look for other deposits and payouts. She found another monthly deposit that wasn't as large as the AFL-CIO deposits, but she traced it back to its source – Voyeur Entertainment Corporation, VEC. She couldn't find much about it on the internet so she went back to the Darknet for details. The company is a leading producer and supplier of child pornography videos. But what was the Senator's connection? After some more digging she learned that one of the VEC studios was just across the river in Camden, New Jersey. She looked at the corporate officers – there were only two – but didn't find the Senator's name. _"Hmmm. Where's the connection. Why would VEC be sending Ritter monthly deposits into his anonymous bank account?"_

She was about out of ideas when she realized she should examine the money transfers from the other side of the balance sheet. She hacked into the VEC accounting software and looked for expenditures matching the Senator's deposits. She found the transfers, but the VEC account listed them as rental fees. _That's probably just a cover story to justify the expenses,"_ Lynn thought. . . . _"But . . . But what if it_ _is_ _the rent payment! That means Ritter owns the building. And I can find that out from Camden tax records._

Lynn started to hack into those records when she realized in was almost 3 a.m. "Damn, I'm so close. But I need some sleep. I have tomorrow off so I can finish this in the morning. Besides, Jack warned me about hacking after hours – hacking is more easily detected when not many others are using the system.

She showered and climbed into bed, but she couldn't shut her mind down. It was running full speed. That's the problem with having A.D.D – you can't turn it off at will. She directed it at what she would do if the Senator did own the building, and turned her mind loose.

_I'll take it to the police • but what could they do • renting space to a pornographic film maker is not a crime • the FBI could raid the place and shut it down, but the landlord wouldn't be in trouble • I could get the local news media involved, but the worst that would do to Ritter is lose his election for Governor – maybe • but that's not much of a punishment_ • _I want him in prison • if he's somehow involved in the business that might get him prison time • I'll run down that angle tomorrow to see where it leads • but the lawyers will just get him off again • and even if they can't it will drag on for a year or two • I want revenge for the woman he raped now before he can do that to someone else • what if he finds out I'm investigating him • will he send some goons after me? • they'll be sorry if they mess with me • what time should I get up in the morning? • I want to get an early start on this • • • I forgot to brush my teeth • that can wait 'til morning • darn, I forgot to pee • I better get up and do it or I'll wake up in an hour • • •_

When Lynn got back to bed her mind had slowed down to a more normal pace, so she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

Lynn woke up the next morning with a new thought. Maybe she could connect Senator Ritter to the video company from his end – hack his computer. She used the approach Jack taught her – send him an email with a link he can't resist opening, and when he does Jack's invisible spyware is installed on his computer. It can't be detected by anti-virus programs, and if they can't find it they can't erase it. It will open up the computer to Lynn's probing from then on.

She found his email address at his campaign website and five minutes later had composed a message that he was sure to open. She emailed it to him using one of her online aliases and waited for the Senator to open it. She hoped he checked his email frequently, otherwise it could be a day or two before she could probe his computer.

While she was waiting she went into the Camden database of property owners to find who owned the building that VEC rented. Her instincts were right about that one – it was Jeremiah Ritter.

Senator Ritter lived in a luxury suite at the Ritter Hotel in downtown Philadelphia. Room service brought him his customary breakfast in bed this morning, which he ate while reading the Wall Street Journal. When he called for the maid to take away the breakfast tray, she brought his laptop computer to him. That was the second part of his morning ritual – scanning the online news services, checking to see how his investments were doing, and reading his emails. Sometimes he would visit a secret corner of his computer's memory for a special treat.

Halfway through the emails – there were 23 of them this morning, mostly from friends and associates – he saw one from a Dorothy Bradbury. He didn't recognize the name, but the subject line read Large Campaign Donation for Our Future Governor, so he went ahead and opened it.

Dear Senator,

We met last summer at the annual Ball On The Square sponsored by the Friends of Ritter Square, where I enjoyed the delightful conversation we shared. You impressed me with your plans for our state after you are elected Governor, and I asked myself what I could do to ensure your victory.

I went back to our home in Pittsburgh and organized a golf tournament and an exclusive dinner as fundraisers for your campaign. The response was excellent; we raised over $92,000. It's being held in an account at the PNC bank awaiting transfer to the Ritter for Governor account at the Wells Fargo Bank in Philadelphia. The link below provides the routing information for the transfer.

www.PNCTransferRouting.com.

I look forward to meeting you at your Inaugural Ball.

Dorothy Bradbury

"Well thank you Dorothy Bradbury! I don't remember meeting you, but there were so many people at the ball, and I was pretty drunk. It's all a jumble in my mind. That's a nice chunk of change. I'll transfer it now before you change your mind." Click.

A message popped up on the screen. "Site is unavailable at this time. Please try again later."

"Damn internet! It's always something. Too many people online first thing in the morning. I'll try later. But the money got my motor going this morning. I'll spend a few minutes in my secret playground." He clicked on the icon of a carnival merry-go-round that took him to a locked partition of his hard drive, where he chose a recently downloaded video.

Lynn was at her computer following Ritter through his keystrokes. A video titled "Mary Had A Little Lamb", produced by Voyeur Entertainment Corporation, started running. It only took a couple of minutes to get to the shocking part. "He's watching a porn movie! . . . Those girls are so young!" She watched a few more seconds, then turned it off in disgust.

Now he definitely has to go to prison – for a long time. How can I make that happen?

After some more internet searches she found the web site of the Internet Crimes Against Children Task Force, ICACTF. She spent the next hour learning how they find violators, collect evidence, arrest them, and prosecute them. It sounded great to Lynn until she saw that the average time for them to get the case before the courts is twenty-seven months. _That sucks,_ she thought. _I have to stop this man now, not two years from now. I'll have to do it myself – destroy him without waiting for wheels of bureaucratic justice to turn._

Lynn closed her laptop in disgust and contemplated what to do next. She thought about exploring more of the videos on the Senator's computer to see if there was something that would get him arrested, but she couldn't stomach the idea of watching more sexual abuse of young girls. She thought about the principle that got her this far in her investigation – changing perspective by looking at problems from the opposite direction – and decided to go back to VEC and hack deeper into their files. She found a library of films customers could choose from – she wasn't about to watch any more of those. But when she opened the last file in the directory titled 'PRIVATE' she saw a list of videos and still photos that looked promising. Most had titles like 'Bobs Favorite Girls', 'JR in Action', and 'VP Gang Bang.'

These didn't sound like titles of films offered to the public, so she opened the first one. It showed an older man laying naked on a massage table. He waved his hand and said "Come to uncle Bob, my darlings." Immediately six girls in their early teens swarmed the table and started performing sexual acts on him. Lynn shuddered and closed the file. As she opened the next one, 'JR in Action,' she had a fleeting thought. _Could JR be Jeremiah Ritter?_ The first scene showed a younger girl being tied to the four posts of a bed by some older girls. She was crying and shivering because they had stripped her clothes off . Then an unclothed Jeremiah Ritter entered the scene, smiled at the camera, and climbed on top of the poor girl. As the girl screamed Lynn disconnected the link. She was angrier than she had ever been in her life. She felt her blood pressure rising. Her hands were shaking. She couldn't think straight. She wanted to walk into Ritter's office and blow his brains out – splatter them all over the wall. Then go the VEC studio, free all the girls they must be holding captive there, and castrate every man who worked there. _These are crazy thoughts! I have to calm down so I can think again._

She walked into the kitchen, poured several ounces of bourbon into a glass, and drank it down in two gulps. It burned all the way down and took her breath away . . . her lungs filled with alcohol fumes, choking her. She doubled over in a coughing fit as her eyes flooded with tears. She thought she was going to pass out on the floor, but she finally sucked in a lungful of air and started to recover.

_Damn! I've never had straight liquor before. I don't know how people do that._ After a few minutes everything started to return to normal – sort of. She wondered if her throat would ever quit burning. But the anger was mostly gone and she could think again. _It's obvious that Ritter does more than collect rent from VEC. The video clearly links him to the porn producer. If there was a way I could get this out to the public his career, and probably his marriage, would be destroyed immediately. But television news would never run the video, and without the video he would claim it's all a smear campaign by his opponent. I need a new angle._

When she stood up to go back to work her legs were unsteady and she felt a little dizzy. _It's the bourbon. I drank it on an empty stomach. . . . Time for a little nap._

As Lynn lay on the couch, her mind was still working on her dilemma – plenty of evidence but none of it useful in the short term. _Now if it was murder, the authorities would be all over him right now. But I haven't found any evidence on that._

As her eyelids closed, pulled shut by some force she couldn't control, she heard Jack speaking to her. That brought her back from the brink. She looked around and saw him sitting in the recliner watching her. He had a smile on his face.

"What are you looking at?"

" _I always loved watching you sleep, Lynn. With your face so relaxed your true beauty shows through."_

"Are you trying to seduce me?" Lynn asked with a naughty smile on her face.

" _Not something us spirits can manage. At least not with an earth-bound human."_

"So what are you here for, my wonderful spirit husband?"

" _To help you get Ritter. I'll leave it as a question. Where does he get his girls from and what happens to them after he's finished with them?"_

"That's two questions."

" _The answers will give you what you want."_

"What do you mean? What do I want.? . . . Jack. Jack?"
Chapter 31 – Justice

Lynn awoke as the sun was setting, rested and ready to resume her attack on the pedophile Senator from Pennsylvania. She vaguely recalled the visit by Jack's spirit earlier, but couldn't remember what he said. . . . _"Two questions, he said. . . . About the girls in the videos. What were they? . . . Yes! Where did they come from and where did they go . . . afterward. When they weren't useful any more."_ Lynn opened her laptop and began a search that would finally give justice to everyone he had hurt.

Even though it disgusted her Lynn went back into the VEC data files and watched the first few minutes of several videos to capture facial images of the girls in them. Some of the videos were over five years old, so these girls would not look the same now, but she might be able to identify some of the more recent ones. When she had face image files of more than a dozen girls she left the VEC computer system and opened the FBI missing children web site. One at a time she entered the faces of the girls and waited for the results.

Lynn's impatience made the wait seem longer, but she started getting results back in just a few minutes. The first victim identified was Lisa Carson, age 11. She disappeared from her middle-class Boston neighborhood just over a year ago and was never found. There was no sign of foul play – she just didn't come home from school one day.

The next one, Elaine Spitzer, was twelve years old when she disappeared three years ago. Her mother left Elaine in the car while she went in to pick up a few groceries. When she came back out her daughter was gone. No one in the area saw anything helpful. She was found six months ago, dead from an apparent drug overdose. The police in New York City where she died carried out a brief investigation, but without results. To them she was just another runaway who got hooked on drugs.

Latisha Frasier was kidnapped from her Baltimore home while her parents were out to dinner. Apparently they thought there was nothing wrong with leaving a 10-year old girl home alone. The police found evidence that the back door had been pried open with a crowbar, but the crime was never solved. Her file had a footnote: Latisha Frasier's body washed up on the beach in Atlantic City two years after the kidnapping. What was left of the body showed signs of sexual abuse and drug addiction.

The next two on Lynn's list, Winifred and Gloria, disappeared less than a year ago, but there was no mention that that they had been found, dead or alive. Hopefully that meant they were still alive. Lynn looked at the release date of the two videos featuring the girls and found the most recent was produced just last month. She sat back and thought about it. _If they're still alive, where are they? Where does VEC keep them when they aren't making movies? If I could find that out, the police could raid the place and rescue the girls – the ones who were still alive at least._

Lynn sent Dave an email asking for the rest of the week off, then pulled up a map of Camden and located the address of the VEC building. She moved to Google Earth and got a good image of it. It was larger than she imagined – five stories with a foot print of 450 feet on a side. That would be plenty of room for dormitories to house the girls. It would also keep them from getting out and telling what was happening to them.

Lynn knew she needed more evidence before the police would act. She might even be wrong about the girls being there. _I guess it's time for a stakeout._ She checked the time and realized it was almost four a.m. _Too early to start watching the building, but I could check out the place and be there when the employees start arriving. Maybe I'll see Ritter go in._

An hour later Lynn was sitting in Jack's truck parked in an abandoned lot diagonally across the street from the VEC building. She noticed there weren't any signs advertising the Voyeur Entertainment Company. _A business like that has to keep a low profile_ , she thought.

She brought along Jack's 35mm camera with a zoom telephoto lens. Like everything Jack owned it was top of the line – high resolution digital photos and video capability with enough memory to store thousands of pictures. While she waited for the workers to show up she used it to scan the upper floor windows, looking for some sign of occupancy. A light went on in the corner of the third floor, so Lynn zoomed in for a closer look. She saw a fiftyish woman taking pots and pans down from the cupboard. _Must be a kitchen up there! They would need to feed the girls if they stayed here._

She watched the woman busy herself at making breakfast for a few minutes, then she saw two more third floor windows light up. Then another . . . and another. _It must be the girls waking up! Wait a minute. Slow down. I'm jumping to all kinds of conclusions based on my assumption that the girls live here. It might be something entirely different. I need something I can take to the police._

A figure stepped up to one of the windows and looked out over the city. Lynn stared so long that she almost forgot to take some pictures. She ran off a dozen pictures before the person moved away from the window. She carefully studied the girl on the camera screen. _It's her! It's Winifred Williams! From a missing children case and one of the videos._ Lynn was so excited she wanted to call the police – or at least Dave – right then, but she turned her camera back up looking for other faces in the windows. She got good shots of two other girls, but she didn't recognize them. They weren't in the videos she had watched.

As people started arriving for work in the parking lot, the upstairs lights snapped off one-by-one, so she turned her attention the parking lot. To get into the building each of them held a card up to a box beside the door – tight security to keep unwanted visitors out. Lynn thought about trying to get inside to see what was going on but decided to get back to her place with the photos. She was just about to leave when a cab pulled up in front of the building. She aimed her camera and zoomed in. Two well-dressed men got out and headed for the door.

She was rapid-firing her camera to catch them from every angle, but they wouldn't turn toward her. One of them held an entry card up to the scanner and, as he stood aside to hold the door for the other guy, she got what she wanted. Then, when the other man turned back to thank him, she got a bonus shot. As she enlarged the images on the display she smiled . . . It was Ritter and the Mayor of Philadelphia. They were using the VEC studio as their personal brothel.

Lynn spent the afternoon wrestling with her options. If she went to the city police the mayor might be powerful enough to shut down the investigation. If she went to one of the federal agencies, they would put it at the bottom of their priority list. She could go to the news media with it, but she didn't know how far the Ritter family power reached. They were one of the oldest families in Philadelphia. They would do anything to protect their reputation. And she didn't have anything linking him directly to the kidnappings.

"I've got to find something else on him; something that would guarantee immediate action. Maybe I could link him to the dead girls. Seven of the thirteen girls from the image identity search have turned up dead. All were ruled suicides or accidental deaths, but seven out of thirteen is way too high to be coincidental. These girls were murdered to keep them from talking. I need to check into those cases more closely."

Lynn grabbed a cup of coffee, sat down at her laptop, hacked in to the New York City Coroner's Office computer system, and searched for the autopsy results on Elaine Spitzer. She found nothing remarkable – no physical trauma that would indicate she was forcefully injected. The drug overdose had been huge – four times the fatal dose. And there was only a single needle puncture, so she wasn't a regular user of injected drugs. Hair samples showed traces of cocaine, and the lining of her nose was eaten away – another sign of cocaine use.

Lynn thought back to the videos the girls were in. They acted like they were high on something, so maybe the video producers gave them cocaine before filming. The other thing she remembered, particularly in the older girls, was a sadness in their eyes. They were laughing and cavorting, probably from the cocaine, but the joy didn't reach their eyes.

Lynn went back to Elaine's report to see what else the coroner found. Not much. Except the sexual abuse. The coroner said the physical damage to her genitals was severe, like she was forcibly raped recently. In fact, he extracted a semen sample from her that was still viable. But without a suspect to match it to the sample was useless. The DNA test results were run through the database of known sex criminals but no match was found. At that point it officially became a cold case.

"I'm getting nowhere on this. Every idea I try leads to a dead end. I guess I need to run more images through the missing children database. Maybe something will show up."

She hacked into the VEC system again and opened another video. This one had four girls in it, so she captured the face images of them all. As she zoomed in on the images to get more detail she paused on one of them. _She looks familiar. I must have seen her in one of the other porn movies._ Lynn was studying the other images when it hit her. "That's the girl who Ritter raped in the private video 'JR in Action.' She's a little older – filled out more in the face – but it's definitely the same girl."

Lynn switched back to the missing children web site and submitted the girl's face image. Three minutes later the information popped up on her display. Marietta Moore, age 10, disappeared from a shopping mall in Trenton, New Jersey a year and a half ago. Later examination of the mall security video had showed her sitting at a table in the food court when a young man came up and sat down across from her. They started chatting and, from their body language, it seemed they knew each other. After a few minutes he took her hand and led her away. Another camera showed them leaving the mall through a fire exit. No trace of the two was ever found. _Not much there,_ she thought. . . . Then she saw the footnote:

Subject deceased. Refer to Case File 10258-16 in Harrisburg, Pa. homicide records.

In took Lynn only four minutes to hack into the Harrisburg police records, and another three to get the coroner's report. The girl was found in an abandoned house in the slums of the city. She had been strangled, then sexually violated after death. Initially a 30-year old black man was arrested for the crime, but he had a solid alibi – he was in the county jail for car theft at the time. No other leads were found.

"Yessss! This is it. I have a video showing the pedophile senator raping a girl who ended up murdered." She felt an emotional high surge through her body, as it always did when she won at the revenge game.

"So, who do I send this information to? Who will act quickly on it? I already ruled out the Feds and the Philadelphia police . . . But not the Harrisburg police! The District Attorney will jump on this unsolved murder so fast that Ritter – and VEC – won't know what hit them."

Lynn spent the next two hours composing a letter with the details she had learned and putting it, along with the 'JR in action video,' and the internet link to the VEC movies showing more girls who ended up dead, in a manila envelope addressed to the police chief in Harrisburg. She made two more copies of everything – one for the District Attorney and the other for the newspapers in case the police didn't move fast enough. She was careful to wear gloves so no one could trace the letters back to her. After adding more than enough postage stamps, she drove to a branch post office and dropped the envelopes in a drive-through mailbox.

Lynn kept a close watch on the news from Harrisburg for the next few days to see if they would act on her information. She was rewarded a week later while watching the nightly news on the ABC affiliate, WPVI, in Philadelphia. It showed the arrest of Ritter and a raid on the VEC studios. By the seven a.m. the next day the story was carried on all four major networks. When she saw this Lynn she set her coffee cup down and went into what a television commercial would call her 'happy dance.'
Chapter 32 – Body Parts

Tom Gutierrez was a happy man. He sat in a folding chair on the sidelines watching his 15-year-old daughter, Lorena, play soccer on a pleasant Saturday afternoon. She was good at it. He liked to believe she and his other daughter, Claudia, inherited their soccer skills from him. Although he spent an hour or two here and there showing them some moves before the divorce, like so many fathers he had been too busy to give them the attention they needed. Now it was too late. He got to be with them one Saturday a month, from 8 a.m. until 7 p.m., when he had to have them back to their mother. He couldn't be late or his ex-wife would cancel his custody time for the next month. He talked to his lawyer about it, but he said that Tom had technically violated the custody agreement by getting them home late a time or two. If it happened too often, she could keep them way from him for good. And he didn't want that.

The divorce was anything but amicable – in fact, the marriage wasn't at all amicable either. His ex was a shrew from day two of the marriage. Her pleasant demeanor and occasional premarital sex had lured him into the den of an ogre . . . bitch, to use a more modern term. Once she had her two children, she closed her legs and locked them for good. But he was a good husband who believed God when He said thou shalt not commit adultery. His faith kept him from straying from the marriage bed – or two beds in their case, in separate bedrooms. But he was thankful he got to spend one Saturday an month with the girls. They adored him and hated their mother, which fed her anger even more.

His 12-year-old, Claudia was sitting beside him in another folding chair studying him. "Where's your mind at, Daddy? You don't look happy."

Tom snapped out of his negative thinking and turned to her with a smile. "You're right, sweetie. I let my mind go somewhere it doesn't belong. Thanks for breaking me free."

He had taught his girls, several years ago, that they didn't have to let their mother's nagging destroy a good mood. It was in their power to break free, and replace negative thoughts and feelings with positive ones. He was glad he had a chance just now to demonstrate this lesson to Claudia.

He looked at his watch. "When does your game start?"

"In 45 minutes, but Lorena's game is almost over so we'll make it in time."

With his two girls playing on separate teams at different parks it sometimes made his time with them hectic, but they managed. Soon soccer season would be over and they could spend more time actually doing things as a family – an almost family. Not that any of them missed Mary Catherine – the name she insisted they call her by. These once a month custodies were the only time the girls could really let their guard down and didn't worry that the next thing they said might set their mother off.

Tom felt a prickling at the back of his neck. His hair was standing up. He had learned by experience not to ignore this primitive self-preservation reflex. Somebody was watching him. Whoever it was, he didn't want them to know he sensed them, so he turned to face Claudia directly and talked about her soccer team while he scanned his eyes back and forth. He saw nothing there, but when Lorena broke free from the pack on her way to another goal, it gave him a reason to stand up and cheer while he looked around. He thought he saw a flash of motion beside a car in the parking lot, but it disappeared from view as soon as he saw it. He unbuttoned his jacket so he could reach his gun easily, just in case. He definitely didn't want to start a shootout in a crowd like this, but he had to be ready. Just then Lorena ran off the field to him.

"Did you see that last goal, Daddy? That was a move you taught me."

"I sure did Lorena. I saw all three of your goals today. Keep that up and you may get a college soccer scholarship. . . . Let's get moving. We have to make it to Claudia's game." As they climbed into the car Tom took one last look around _. Nothing there, and the prickly feeling is gone. Maybe it was my imagination._

They just had time to finish their pizza at Poppa Johns before Tom had to rush them home – their mother's home. On the way Lorena looked at him. "Did . . . did you know mother is seeing someone, Dad?"

"No, no I didn't. Is it serious?"

"I don't know . . . Maybe."

Tom was dying to ask her what the man's name was so he could check out his background, but he bit his tongue. "What do you girls think about him?"

"He's nice. Brings mother flowers and candy for us. But I don't think she's serious about him."

"You don't think she's serious, or you don't want her to be serious?"

"Both, I suppose. We don't want anyone around to replace you. We would never let that happen."

"I'm glad you feel that way, but Mary Catherine is probably lonely and wants some companionship."

"No, she just wants someone else to boss around, to control."

"You're probably right about that. . . . Well, here we are, with six minutes to spare."

Before the girls got out of the car they each wrapped their arms around Tom's neck and told him they loved him. As they walked to their house the tears came to Tom's eyes, as they always did.

As he drove back to his apartment Tom was too absorbed in his emotions to notice the car following him. He might have noticed if he was alert and watching his rear view mirror – but the driver was very good at moving in and out of traffic to keep out of his field of view. When Tom turned into his gated apartment complex the other car continued on down the street. But at the next intersection the driver doubled back toward the apartments and pulled up in an alley behind the rear fence. The driver parked in the shadows, left the car, and nimbly scaled the fence, dropping silently on the inside of the complex. The hooded figure sauntered casually along the walkway that led to Tom's apartment, looking every bit like one of the residents out for an evening stroll.

When Tom turned the light out, the stalker moved quickly around to the back and scaled a drainpipe to the second floor balcony. Patio door locks were more difficult to pick, but to someone as well-trained as the stalker, it was a minor inconvenience. Two minutes later the stalker became an intruder inside Tom's apartment.

Tom was about to fall asleep when he felt his hair stand up again. His body and mind immediately went into the alert mode as he strained to hear even the faintest sound. He lay still in bed, his muscles coiled to respond in an instant once he identified the nature and location of the threat. He sensed motion near the foot of the bed and quickly rolled to the right, landing on his feet facing the intruder. At that instant the intruder shined a bright flashlight in his eyes, temporarily blinding him. As he back pedaled trying to reorient himself he felt a massive blow to his head. In less that a second he was flat on his back, out cold. It that state he didn't feel the arms dragging him into the kitchen, or the bite of the duct tape used to truss him hand and foot.

As he regained consciousness he realized he was taped to a chair. He tried to focus his eyes on his attacker, but his vision wasn't working right. He saw a face in front of him and heard someone say "Oh my, I must have knocked you cockeyed. Your right eye is looking way off to the right while your left eye is trying to focus on me. Try closing your right eye."

Tom struggled to put his thoughts back together, to make sense out of what was happening. He closed his right eye and looked at his attacker. "You! You're supposed to be in prison!"

Zarah laughed and replied, "You can't keep a good killer locked up. The smart ones – like me – will find a way to get out. Well here I am, free as a bird, and ready to avenge Alexei's death."

"I don't know anything about that. I left the case after you were sent to prison. I don't know what happened to Alexei."

"You may not know anything, but Lynn Preston, knows. I think she killed him, maybe at his hideout in Wisconsin. So it's really about getting Lynn to talk – which is hard to do without her cooperation. But to save your life, I think she will cooperate."

"Don't bet on it. She won't believe you have me. And if she does, she'll come in with the cavalry, guns blazing."

"How will she know where you are? You don't think you're still in your apartment, do you? Oh, I forgot. You can't see a damn thing."

Tom closed one eye and looked around. "Where the hell am I?"

"Someplace she will never find you. Now let's talk about getting a souvenir for her so she knows you're alive." Zarah held up a meat cleaver and chopped down on the chair arm. It took Tom two seconds to realize she just cut off his index finger. Two seconds later the pain hit him and he screamed.

When Lynn showed up at work Monday morning she had a small package on her desk. There was a note wrapped around it that had been opened and read by the receptionist. Lynn spread it flat on her desk. It was addressed to David Cramer at Cramer Security and Investigation Company:

Mr. Cramer.

This package is intended for delivery to Mrs. Lynn Preston. I do not know her current address, but I do know her husband was associated with you before his untimely death. Please see that Mrs. Preston receives the contents of the package.

A note from Dave was attached to the letter saying that the package had been scanned for explosives and was safe to open. Lynn slowly unwrapped the package and removed the lid from the box inside. Then she screamed.

Dave and several others crowded around Lynn's desk, studying the contents of the box. "It's an entire index finger . . . from a right hand. It was severed by a sharp instrument in a single stroke – there aren't any jagged edges. What we don't know is who the finger belongs to." Dave looked at one of his technicians. "Can you get a scan of the fingerprint?"

"I'll be back with my laptop in a couple of minutes."

After he scanned the print they all waited with held breath until the match from the FBI's Automated Fingerprint Identification System, AFIS, came through. Lynn was the first to react.

"No. Nooo! It's Tom Gutierrez. Someone cut off his finger!"

Dave assessed the situation immediately. "This is proof of life . . . proof that someone is holding Tom captive."

"How do we know if he was alive when it was cut off?" Lynn asked.

"The wound continued bleeding after the trauma. So he's alive . . . At least he was when the finger was severed."

"What do we do now?"

"I expect we will get another message from them with their demands." Dave looked around at the others. "As of now we are on high alert. No one goes in or out without an I.D. badge."

That afternoon an email came to the CSIC internet address. When the receptionist saw it she forwarded it to Dave and Lynn. As Lynn read it tears started flowing.

I have Tom Gutierrez tied to a chair. I can do whatever I want to him and there's not a thing you can do about it. More body parts will arrive tomorrow unless Mrs. Preston calls me on my throw-away cell phone by 6 p.m. today at 555-861-3013.

Zarah Savvin

Two minutes later Dave burst into her office. "Is this Zarah who I think it is? Alexei Brusilov's accomplice?"

Lynn tried to get control of her emotions. "Y . . . Yes, it's her. The one who was sneaking around at Jack's cabin. The lady in black from my dreams. What am I gonna do, Dave?"

"Before we can come up with a plan you need to make the call so we know what she's got planned. Come, use my office phone. I can set it up to record the conversation."

The woman picked up on the third ring. "Lynn Preston I presume?"

"Yeah, it's me. And if you do any more to Tom, I'll hunt you down and kill you myself."

"Bold talk when I'm the one holding the cards."

"What do you want?"

"You, of course. I'll exchange what's left of Mr. Gutierrez for you. Then I can cut you into pieces slowly – very slowly. . . . Is that how you killed my Alexei?

Without thinking Lynn answered "No. I tied him up in his HumVee and sent it to the bottom of the lake at his place in Wisconsin. I don't know if he used up the trapped air or froze to death first. Either way, he paid for killing Jack and my granddaughter."

Zarah was silent for a few moments, imagining what Alexei's death must have been like. Then she yelled at Lynn. "You will pay for that!" and hung up.

Lynn sat there frozen with the phone in her hand . . . until Dave took it from her and hung up.

"What have I done, Dave? Signed Tom's death warrant?"

"No, I don't think so. She still wants you – and Tom is her only leverage to make that happen. No, she'll keep him alive to trade for you. She'll send another email any minute now."

"If I knew where she and Tom were, I'd give myself up right now. Tom's got a family and I have no one. If I cause his death I couldn't go on living."

"This is Zarah's sickness, not yours Lynn. She's a psychotic killer with no conscience. Don't heap the blame on yourself."

Lynn didn't answer him – she couldn't. She was crying too hard to say anything.

They didn't hear from Zarah that day, or the next. On the third day a courier delivered another package from her. Dave called Lynn and asked her to meet him down in the lab. She arrived right on his heels.

"What is it? Something else from her?" Lynn never wanted to say Zarah's name again. It made the threat a little less intimidating.

"Don't know. I haven't opened it yet. It might be a bomb for all I know." He handed the package to one of his technicians with orders to x-ray it.

The x-ray revealed that it was another body part – a foot.

Lynn screamed out in her anger. "Ahhh! No, no, no! This isn't happening. It's one of my nightmares. Come talk to me Jack so I know it's a dream."

She didn't see Jack, but she heard his voice in her head.

It isn't a dream, Lynn. It's real. But if you're going to be any help finding Tom, you need to rise above your emotions. Put your rational mind back in control.

Lynn nodded her head in response. Dave watched as her face turned stone cold. The tears disappeared, the emotions fell away.

"Alright. What now, Dave?"

He turned to the technician. "Unwrap the package to see if there is anything useful to us. When you're done come up to the conference room.

"Come with me, Lynn. We'll put together a strategy team in the conference room and explore our options."

"What options?"

"We won't know until we start brainstorming the problem."

Dave gathered his best experts together in the conference room, along with pencils and pads, coffee, soft drinks, and a large plate of sandwiches. "We might be here awhile so I had some food and drink brought in. Let me start by bringing you all up to date on where we are on this problem. . . ."

Twenty minutes later everyone knew as much as he and Lynn did about the situation with Zarah and Tom. Most had filled a page or two with notes. One of them asked "So we haven't gotten any communication from this woman since she hung up on Mrs. Preston?"

"That's correct . . . unless there's a note in the latest package. Our forensic tech is examining the package now. As soon as he has something he'll let us know."

As if on cue the tech entered the room. Everyone looked at him expectantly. He was a little shy so Dave asked "Well, what did you find, Darren."

"There's good news and bad news. The bad news is that, like the finger, the foot was cut off while the . . . the, uh . . . 'patient' was still alive. It looks like it was done with a small chain saw."

Everyone except Lynn cringed at the news, imagining the pain if it happened to them. Lynn focused her hardened look on Darren. "Well, what's the good news.?"

"It's not good news really, but it might be. I don't really know."

Lynn barked at him. "Out with it! What is it you are struggling to say?"

That caused him to cringe a bit.

Lynn apologized. "Sorry. I'm not usually that blunt."

"Yes ma'am. I understand . . ."

She barked again. "So say it already!"

"There was a note inside the wrapper. . . . Here, you read it."

Lynn unfolded the note and read it to the others.

I have decided to make you suffer even more, Mrs. Preston. I'm a patient person. I can get to you anytime I want to. So I'll continue to send pieces of Tom until he is no longer alive. At some point his heart will give out I imagine, but he's a strong man so it may be awhile.

They all sat motionless. No one wanted to be the first to speak. Finally Dave spoke.

"This is now a police matter. We don't have the resources for a full investigation. I'll call Matt Murdoch, Chief of Detectives and an old friend from my FBI days. He has the pull to get anything done, and he doesn't let rules get in the way. He once told me that rules were for when you run out of brains."

Lynn asked, "Can he get his people on this immediately? I hear they're pretty busy over there."

"He'll make it happen."

An hour later Murdoch and his team arrived at CSIC. Dave had already set up the conference room as a command center with computers, large-screen TV monitors, and a dozen throw-away cell phones in case they wanted to make some untraceable phone calls. More sandwiches, drinks, and coffee were waiting for them.

They started with the briefing from Dave that he gave his own people earlier. Then Dave stepped aside and let Murdoch take over. "My people and facilities are at your disposal, Matt. If we don't have it, we'll get it here pronto."

"Thanks, Dave. I'd like to start by interviewing everyone who is involved in this, starting with Mrs. Preston. Is she available? I understand that she and Mr. Gutierrez were close friends. Is she in any shape to talk?"

"Oh yeah. She got past the emotions and is now in her emotionless analytical mode. And she's very bright. . . . I don't know if I should tell you this, but just between us, she is also an ace hacker. She can get into pretty much any computer system, pull out information, and leave without a trace. . . . Just in case you need that sort of thing."

Matt smiled and nodded. "Who knows where this will lead. Would you have her brought into a spare office so we can talk privately."

Dave pointed. "It's that office across the hall, and she's waiting for you."
Chapter 33 – The Funeral

Lynn was letting her mind run free, hoping she would think of something that would lead her to Zarah before the police get there. She wanted to deal with that evil woman herself. Her mind took a right turn and started thinking of what she would do to her.

"Mrs. Preston?"

Lynn snapped out of her reverie. "Yes?"

"I'm Matt Murdoch, the lead detective on this case. May I ask you some questions?"

Lynn looked him up and down – about six feet two, two-hundred pounds – mostly muscle, dark hair, chiseled face, wrinkled suit, and hazel eyes. Lynn hoped he was good at his job.

"Go ahead."

"Why don't you start by telling me everything you know about Mr. Gutierrez?"

"No. . . . I can't do that. I can't think of him right now. We're close friends."

Matt looked her in the eye, hoping she would continue, but that was it.

"How about the woman who is holding him?" He checked his notes. "This Zarah Savvin?"

Lynn pulled her still wandering mind back into focus. She had to be careful here. She couldn't tell him about their work to keep a madman out of the White House. And she definitely had to keep Alexei out of he story since she had murdered him.

"I guess the best place to start is Barbados in the Caribbean islands. Tom was down there investigating the murder of a friend, Jim Norton. He found evidence that led him to a woman guest who lived next door to Norton's condo as the prime suspect. He pretended to be interested in her – let her pick him up in a bar – and when she tried to poison him he turned the tables, tied her up, and called the police. It turns out she was a serial killer the FBI called the praying mantis killer, because she would seduce her male victims, then kill them right after having sex. . . . That's what praying mantises do."

"Whoa. I'm going to need a lot more detail than that, Mrs. Preston."

"No, you don't. That's got nothing to do with the present situation, other than she is holding and torturing Tom as retribution for sending her to prison."

"So she went to prison then?"

"Yes. The FBI had her extradited back to the States and gave her twenty years in a federal women's prison in California."

"So, did she escape from there?"

"Of course. How else could she be here?"

Matt thought that last statement had an unspoken 'dummy' at the end. _This lady has an attitude problem. I'll have to tip-toe around it to get anything out of her_.

"I'll check on the escape details."

"Again, you're wasting time on irrelevant details, Mr. Murdoch. We need to find out where she's holding Tom and move in before she mutilates him even more!"

"You speak very directly, don't you Mrs. Preston."

"No time for wasted words. And call me Lynn. I'll call you Matt."

"What else can you tell me?"

"I did an online investigation into Zarah Savvin last night. She's killed five men including Jim Norton. She's Russian. Came here eleven years ago. Worked for a shady private investigator named Brusilov. Sentenced to twenty years at the Central California Women's Facility in Chowchilla. She and three other women escaped three and a half weeks ago. Zarah's the only one they haven't caught."

"That's great, Mrs. . . Lynn. I'll send someone to Chowchilla to question the other women. She might have talked to them about her plans."

"Exactly what I was thinking."

Matt studied her more closely. _This woman has a good mind for this – quick thinking, no wasted time on dead-end leads, logical, and straight to the point. I could use someone like her as a detective._ He realized he was wasting time with thoughts like that and turned back to Lynn.

"Do you have any information about where she might have lived before she went to prison?"

"No, but I'll find that out as soon as I get back to my computer."

"Why don't you do that now. That could be the most promising lead yet."

"Give me thirty minutes."

As she fired up her laptop Lynn's mind was already prioritizing her internet search options. _I know Zarah and Alexei lived in the Washington D. C. area when they worked for George Winston. He, or she, might have bought a house down there. But probably not using their real names. Just in case they were careless I'll start with the property tax records for D. C., northern Virginia, and Maryland. After that I'll hack into the vehicle registration and driver's license files._

Ten minutes later she got a hit on Alexei Brusilov in the Virginia DMV driver's license records. His address was in a residential neighborhood in Alexandria. Lynn printed it out and took it to Matt.

"This is an address registered to Alexei Brusilov in Alexandria, Virginia."

"Is it current, or could he have moved?"

"Someone pays his taxes for him. That might be Zarah."

"If he's still living there he probably pays them himself."

"No, he . . ." Lynn caught herself. Only she, Zarah, and now Dave knew what she did to him. "He travels a lot. Hardly ever home. He may have his bank take care of it."

"How do you know he travels a lot? Do you know him?"

"No, but my husband did."

"Did know Brusilov? Is Brusilov dead?"

_Damn, Lynn. Pay attention!_ "No, my husband is."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. How long ago did he die?"

"Not relevant. Get some people to that Alexandria address."

Murdoch thought, _She just took over the investigation from me! How did that happen?_

"Right. I'll get the FBI out there immediately."

Lynn followed up with her next question. "What has your team found out?"

"It's a little early in the investigation, Mrs. Preston. They're just getting organized."

"So you have nothing to show for the past hour. I knew calling in the police would be a waste of time."

"Our forensic team is working on the severed limbs and the packages they were delivered in. But nothing yet."

"Delivered? . . . Yes. That's it! Have they questioned the couriers who delivered them? They had to pick the packages up from somewhere."

"No, but we'll get right on it." _Why didn't I think of that?_

An hour later they had two drivers from Lightning Courier Service in the conference room. Lynn let Matt take over the questioning. "So your computer routing system took you both to the same pickup address?"

"Yes sir. It was an old warehouse down in the Navy Yard area – 4911 South Broad Street."

"Who handed you the package?"

"It was left outside the office door."

"So you didn't see anyone?"

"No sir."

The other driver spoke up. "But I did see a vehicle parked near the door. It was a black Chevy Avalanche, a couple years old."

Lynn jumped up. "That's it! That's her truck!"

Matt looked at her with hard eyes. "And how do you know that, Mrs. Preston?"

"Irrelevant. But I know it's her."

Murdoch glared at her for a few more seconds, then told his men "Get moving. Frank, call the chief and have him put together an assault force. We'll swing by the station for guns and vests and meet him there."

As he headed out the door he looked back at Lynn. "You have a lot of explaining to do when this is over."

Lynn drove to within a block of the address and parked her truck around the corner from the warehouse office. She knew it would take the Philly police time to get ready for the operation – someone had to put check marks in a lot of boxes before an armed police force could leave the station. As soon as Matt and his men were out of the CSIC parking lot Lynn ran out to Jack's traveling armory and sped off toward the Navy Yard.

She got there in record time, slipped out of the driver's door, and opened the false bottom to the pickup bed. She grabbed an M-16 assault rifle, her Glock pistol with extra magazines, and three smoke grenades. After clipping the grenades to her belt she set off on a trot for the back of the warehouse. The sliding door to the truck entrance was open a few inches. She tried to squeeze through it, but the opening was too narrow.

She looked up at the rollers and track at the top of the door and saw nothing but rust. _This door hasn't been moved for quite awhile. If I can push it open a little more I can get inside. But if the rollers squeak it will alert Zarah . . . here goes._ Lynn put her full weight – all 118 pounds of it – into pushing on the door. Nothing happened. She looked around for a pole to pry it open with, but there was nothing light enough for her to pick up alone. _Okay. One more try_. She pushed until she thought her insides would split open . . . _Creeek._ The door moved six inches – just enough for her to wiggle her way through it.

Z was sitting in front of Tom Gutierrez. His hand was wrapped tightly and the stub of his leg was in a bucket of ice water _. I'm glad I thought to bring the ice cooler. I don't want him bleeding to death until I'm through with him._

Tom's head lolled to the side again. She slapped him hard across the face. "Wake up! I don't want you to miss a minute of the pain." After another slap he was able to pull his head upright. But she was wrong. There was no pain. His mind had cut off all communication with his pain nerves hours ago. He prayed again in his mind that it would be over soon – that God in his mercy would take him to heaven to be with Christ. He remembered back to when he had tried to kill himself – after Mary left and took the girls. When he started drinking. He put a pistol in his mouth, but couldn't pull the trigger.

Zarah was talking to him again. "What should I cut off next? Another hand – or a leg – or maybe what's hanging between your legs. Now that would be painful." Zarah paused and cocked her head. "What was that! Did you hear that, Tommy boy? It sounds like someone has come to the rescue." Zarah left Tom and climbed up onto the overhead crane framework. Then she banged her knife against the metal to lure the intruder Tom. _I hope it's Jack's wife – all alone. She will slowly enter the room, look over and see Tom, cautiously look all around for me, maybe even walk the perimeter of the room looking in all the dark corners. But she won't look up – they never do. Then she'll rush up to Tom and try to talk to him. Maybe hug him. That's when I'll drop down and attack._

Lynn didn't do any of those things – except the last one. She rushed up to Tom, set her rifle down, and looked in his eyes. "Oh Tom. I'm so sorry I did this to you. All she wanted was me."

Tom shook his head from side to side – just barely, but enough for Lynn to know he was still alive. "Thank God. Thank you Lord for sparing him." She looked in his eyes. One wasn't working but with the other he kept looking up, then down, up, then down. He was trying to tell her something. "What is it Tom?" Then she stood up, and looked up just as Zarah leaped from her perch. It was just enough time for Lynn to move sideways to avoid a direct hit. Zarah's boot struck her on the right shoulder as she came down from above. Lynn reached to draw her pistol from the holster, but the arm wouldn't respond. The blow had temporarily paralyzed it.

She immediately went into herself-defense mode – dropped to the ground, rolled away from a kick and came out of it in a fighting stance, facing her opponent. She could see that Zarah was surprised at the move, and that was good because Lynn had several more moves she intended to attack with. They circled each other for a few seconds, then Zarah launched another attack – a swift kick to the head. Lynn was just barely able to pull her head back in time so the kick missed. As Zarah's momentum carried her leg around Lynn shot her a stiff-fingered blow to the kidney with her left hand. That got a grunt from Zarah and a smile to Lynn's lips.

_With only one hand I won't be attacking her, but I can still defend myself and land some counter blows._ Zarah's next attack was a feint down low followed by a straight-on blow to Lynn's chest. Lynn was able deflect it somewhat but it still stunned her. She back pedaled while she fought the pain. Her opponent realized her advantage and moved to close in for another blow, but Lynn dodged it and shot her a kick to the kneecap. Another grunt.

Z limped backward and eyed Lynn warily. Then she pulled a knife from an ankle sheath and moved in quickly. Instead of retreating Lynn moved forward and got inside the knife, grabbing the wrist on the way. Z was starting to overpower Lynn's left hand with her right, the knife coming closer and closer to her neck. Lynn's mind was running through all the moves she knew for one that would work here, but nothing came to mind. Their faces were only inches apart when she remembered how sensitive the nose was to an attack, so she grabbed Zarah's nose in her front teeth and clamped down hard. That got a scream out of Zarah followed by the sound of the knife clattering to the floor.

Zarah back away, holding her nose with her left hand. She paused for a second, slid sideways to where Lynn had set her rifle down and scooped it up. As she was raising the rifle, Lynn yanked a smoke grenade from her belt and threw it at her. It hit Zarah square in the face and made her stagger. When she could stand up straight again she got an evil look on her face. She slowly turned the gun toward Tom and shot him in the forehead. She looked back at Lynn and said, "Now it's your turn, Bitch." As the rifle swung around the smoke grenade went off, belching a dense cloud between them. Lynn dropped to her knees as she heard the gunshot and felt the bullet zip through her hair. Lynn dropped another grenade between them and crab-walked off to the side. Zarah took another wild shot at where Lynn used to be before the second smoke cloud erupted. Lynn moved quickly back out of the smoke, putting distance between them. She spotted a forklift and moved behind it. She heard two more shots, then silence. She peaked around the forklift but the smoke cloud blocked her view of Zarah. Lynn managed to ease her pistol from its holster using her left hand. She fired a couple of shots into the cloud and heard nothing but bullets hitting metal siding. Then she heard a car start up and peel out of the parking lot. Lynn ran through the smoke to the office door and saw Zarah's truck speeding away. She let out the breath she'd been holding, sat on the floor, and let the gun slide from her fingers. Then she looked up at Tom and broke down in tears.

When Murdoch and the police arrived a few minutes later that's how they found her. Dave knelt down, put his arm around her, and helped her to her feet. Matt Murdoch took in everything at the scene, guessed at what went down, and saw Lynn in a whole new light.

A few days later Murdoch stood next to Dave, who again had his arm around Lynn, and listened to the Catholic priest pronounce the Rites of Committal for Juan Thomas Gutierrez. His daughters were there at graveside, sobbing beside Lynn. Rick and Harriet Goodman had driven in from The Farm for the service. Tom's ex-wife was noticeably absent.
Chapter 34 – The Inquisition

Lynn was not looking forward to the day ahead. Matt Murdock was coming to CSIC to question her about Tom's kidnapping, mutilation, and murder. Her biggest worry was that she would say something that could get her, and maybe even Dave, in trouble with the police. She couldn't say anything that might lead Murdock to discover the bad stuff she had done – hacking into personal, business, and government computers; changing bank account information; and worst of all, murdering Alexei.

As Lynn walked into the CISC lobby the receptionist told her that Murdock was waiting for her in the conference room. She thought about making him wait for five or ten minutes, but decided that might antagonize him. So she dropped her purse and laptop off in her office and went to meet her inquisitor. That's how Lynn viewed the interview – as an inquisition.

"Good morning Detective Murdock. I see you already poured a cup of coffee. Let me get a cup and we can begin." Lynn already had her fill of coffee this morning but she thought pausing for a sip now and then might give her time to think before responding to his questions.

"Good morning to you, Lynn. Go ahead and get your coffee; I'm in no hurry this morning."

One tactic Lynn had come up with was to delay her answers and go off in irrelevant directions so he would run out of time and leave, but she could see that wasn't going to work.

Lynn sat across the conference table from Murdock. "Okay, I'm ready. Fire away with your questions."

"Before I get into that I want to tell you how this is going to go. I'll ask direct questions and you'll give me direct answers. None of the 'It's not relevant,' or 'You don't need to know that' stuff I've been getting from you. I need to know everything you know, then I'll decide what's relevant. Are we clear on that?"

Lynn gave him a smart-ass "Yes sir!" for an answer. He sighed and started his questioning.

"Let's start with Tom Gutierrez. How long have you known him? When did you first meet him?"

"I'm not sure exactly. He was a friend of my husband, Jack Preston, before Jack and I met. We got together about a year and a half ago, and I met Tom shortly after that. Before Jack retired Tom worked in the Federal Remediation Agency, the FRA, with him."

"What's the FRA? I haven't heard of that."

She gave Matt another smart-ass answer, but with a smile. "If I told you I would have to shoot you."

"I told you I wanted direct answers, not your usual beat-around-the-bush crap."

"Oh, that was pretty direct. Jack and Tom were agents for the FRA. What they do is highly classified. Jack could only hint at it to me."

That took Murdock by surprise. He thought, _am I getting into some international spy stuff here. Is that what this is all about?_ "Does this case have anything to do with their work? Was Zarah Savvin a spy also?"

"I didn't actually tell you that Jack and Tom were spies. You jumped to that conclusion yourself."

"So they weren't spies?"

"Well, that's not exactly true. But I can definitely tell you that Zarah's kidnapping of Tom had nothing to do with Tom or Jack's agency connection."

Murdock didn't look satisfied with her answer, but things were definitely not what they seemed to be. He thought for a minute before continuing. "I want to know more about your husband – Jack Preston. What was his full name?"

Lynn replied "That's not relevant," but after seeing the look Murdock gave her she went on. "Jackson Joshua Preston. He died a few months ago when my home in Colorado burned to the ground. . . . My granddaughter with him." Lynn choked a bit on that last comment.

"Oh . . . I'm sorry, Lynn. I won't ask any more questions about your husband. I'll take your word that none of what happened here has any connection to your husband. Is that a true statement?"

"Well, not exactly."

Murdock threw up his hands. "There you go again! This is getting us nowhere. I could ask you questions all day and leave here with nothing useful."

Lynn paused for a moment. "Look, Matt. Why don't you let me tell the story my way. Then if you have any questions, I'll try to answer them."

Matt slowly shook his head. "Alright. I guess I'll have to be satisfied with doing it your way. Go ahead."

"Jack had a friend, Jim Norton, who had retired to the Caribbean with his life savings. Norton fancied himself a ladies man, so he rented a condo on the beach tried to pick up young women for one night stands. One of the women was Zarah Savvin, from the condo next door to his. It didn't take him long to get invited to her place for the evening. That's the last anyone heard of him. When Jack couldn't reach him, he sent his friend Tom down there to check on Norton. He discovered Jim was seen at the bar with Ms. Savvin on the night he disappeared, so he went to the bar himself that night and let her pick him up. When they went to her apartment she tried to do the same thing to Tom, but he 'got the drop on her' as they say in cop movies. He tied her to a chair and called the local police. I told you the rest earlier – about how she went to prison for several murders and escaped recently."

"Yes, I checked on that and what you told me is exactly what happened. Remind me where you got that information about Zarah."

"The internet."

"That's funny. I had my computer guys try to find the same information and they had no luck."

"It's all in how you search the web – and where you look. I'm gifted in that area. Actually I'm not all that gifted. I learned most of it from Jack before he was killed."

"Killed?? You said he 'died' in the fire, now you say he was killed?"

Damn. My first slip up. Where can I go with this?

"Yes. He was murdered. The fire was arson. You can check with the Telluride, Colorado police chief."

"Who did it? Have they been caught?"

"Yes. . . He was caught and executed."

"Executed? Colorado doesn't have a death penalty."

Another slip up. I have to get off this subject.

"Incarcerated. I meant to say incarcerated. . . . But I spent a lot of time wishing he would be executed."

"I can understand that, Lynn. You must have been very angry."

"Yes, I was. And that anger put me into a deep depression for a couple of months."

"Again, I'm sorry. But let's get back to . . ."

"No, let me get back to my narrative about Tom and Zarah. The Telluride situation had nothing to do with that." _Actually it had a lot to do with that, but I can't go there._

"Alright. But I'm making a list of all the questions I want to ask, and it's getting pretty long. Go ahead with your story."

"There's not a lot to tell after her prison escape. Somehow she got back east and tracked Tom down. Her anger at Tom for giving her up to the police probably festered in prison, so when she escaped he was number one on her to do list."

"What about the notes Ms. Savvin included with the body parts she sent? Your name was included in them. Why would she be after you?"

Lynn thought _Uh oh. I forgot about the notes. I hope Dave didn't tell him about Zarah's phone call._ She took a long sip of her cold coffee while she thought up an answer.

"Ms. Savvin somehow found out that it was Jack who sent Tom to the Caribbean to find Jim. She told Tom before he left her tied up that someday she would get even with both him and Jack."

Murdoch rolled his eyes, indicating that he didn't believe it. "Come on, Lynn. You can do better than that. This story gets more unbelievable by the minute."

"I . . . I need a bathroom break," Lynn said as she got up from her chair and quickly left the room. Murdock just sat there, adding to his notes.

Lynn went straight to Dave's office and entered without knocking. "Dave, I need your help. His questions are pushing me toward telling what really happened, not just with Tom, but about Jack and Alexei and stuff. What can I do? Get a lawyer?"

Dave thought about it for a minute, then said "Come on. Let's go back in there."

Matt was surprised to see Dave as he and Lynn came into the room. Dave sat down next to Murdock while Lynn returned to her seat across from him.

Dave turned to Murdock. "Matt, you and I go way back, so you trust me, don't you? Because I have to know I can trust you."

Murdock seemed to sense where Dave was going with this. "Absolutely, Dave . . . unless it's about a crime she committed."

"It's about that last phrase. Lynn, Jack, Tom, and even me, have been involved in some pretty shady things over the past few months. Trust me when I say it was to stop some very dangerous things from happening to this country. In the process Lynn has broken several laws, but in every case it was justified by circumstances. She's worried that if she has to tell you about these things, you might have her prosecuted."

Murdock glanced over at Lynn, who was looking down at her lap, and back to Dave. "You're putting me in a tight spot, here. Technically, if I know about a crime I'm required to report it, even if it occurred somewhere else."

"Well, unless you want her to bring in a lawyer and plead the fifth on every question, you need to figure out a way that you can deal with this."

Matt sat still for several minutes, deep in thought. Dave was about to terminate the interview and take Lynn out of the room when Matt looked up and gave his answer. "Here's how we will handle it. I will preface every question I ask from here on with the word 'hypothetically.' And you, Mrs. Preston, will begin your responses with 'hypothetically speaking.' That will keep us all out of trouble and give me the information I need to sort this out. Does that work for you?"

Lynn looked at Dave, who nodded, then back at Matt. "Okay. We have a deal . . . hypothetically speaking, of course," she added with a smile. Dave thanked Matt and left the room.

Murdock pulled his notebook and pen over in front of him. "Lynn. May I resume my questioning now?"

"Go ahead . . . Matt."

He went down his list of questions and Lynn gave him direct hypothetical answers. As the pieces started to fall into place in Matt's mind he smiled and thought, _This woman is amazing! How did she hold up through all that's happened to her. He knew he had one more tough question, though, and he hoped it wouldn't push her away._

"I have one more issue to cover, Lynn. It might touch on some emotional issues for you, but I have to ask."

Lynn sat up straight and prepared for the worst. "Go ahead."

"When we were wondering where this woman lived before prison, you went off to do some computer magic and came back with an address in Alexandria. It belonged to one Alexei Brusilov. Why did you think she might have lived there too?"

"Zarah worked for Brusilov in his private security business. They were pretty close, so I searched some computer data and found where he lived. It was a long shot, but it was all we had."

"I sent the FBI there immediately, if you recall."

"Yes. What did they find?"

"This Alexei Brusilov was quite a character. He had files on several illegal activities he and his agency were involved in. If we ever find him, he will spend the rest of his life in prison."

"Did you find anything related to Savvin?"

"Yes. She was definitely spending time there before she went to prison. But she returned there recently, after her escape. There was a vehicle in the carport that was stolen from the Las Vegas airport the day after her escape. They also found a wall safe that had been opened recently."

"What was in it?"

"False identity papers for her and Brusilov, and information on a shared bank account with a large amount of money in it. She has made several withdrawals from it in area ATMs over the past week. We alerted the bank to notify us as soon as she uses it again."

"So there's a chance you might catch her?"

"A very good chance."

That scared Lynn. _Zarah knows where to find Brusilov's body. If she gets captured she will definitely tell the authorities and I'll go to jail. But not if I find her first and get even for what she did to Tom._ Lynn tried to hide the flicker of fear on her face, but Matt noticed it.

"So here's my last question for you, Lynn. Actually two questions. First, how did you know to search for the name Alexei Brusilov? Did you know him?"

". . . Hypothetically speaking, let's just say our paths crossed. . . . He tried to kill Jack and me a couple of times."

That raised Matt's eyebrows – again. "Here's the last question. I checked with the Telluride police chief – he sends his regards, by the way – and found that you husband and your granddaughter were both shot in the head before the fire started. Were Brusilov and Savvin responsible for their murders?"

Tears welled up in Lynn's eyes. She felt a constriction in her chest. But she fought it off. After she recovered she looked Matt in the eyes and said "Brusilov, but not Savvin. She was in jail already. Alexei Brusilov shot Jack and Selena . . . and O'Malley."

"Who's O'Malley? His name hasn't come up before. The police chief didn't say anything about him."

"O'Malley was a her, not a him. And she was my Irish setter."

Murdock was about to say he was sorry again, but that seemed superfluous at this point. His face told Lynn what he was feeling.

Lynn steeled herself for the final question – what happened to Alexei. When Matt didn't continue Lynn asked, "Aren't you going to ask me the final question?"

"And what question would that be, Lynn?"

"How about what happened to Alexei?"

Matt paused briefly, put his notebook and pen back in his coat pocket, then answered, "I don't see that it's relevant to our case here. I'm finished."

The tears came into Lynn's eyes again, but they had nothing to do with her loss. "Thank you, Detective Murdock."

He reached across the table to shake her hand, but held it for a moment. "This probably is not the best time to ask, Mrs. Preston, but could I take you to dinner sometime?"

Lynn laughed. "I would like that, Detective Murdock."
Chapter 35 – The Break

Lynn was sitting in front of the fireplace in her apartment, contemplating her future. It had been three weeks since Tom's death – murder – and work at CSIC was getting to be routine. Oh, she had nailed a couple of deadbeat dads, but when Lynn reported her findings to the court the men quickly responded to the judges decree. The cases were challenging in that Lynn had to do some serious hacking to uncover what was going on, but she missed the thrill of helping others get even.

"Maybe it's time for me to make the break – to go out on my own. To start up Revenge, Inc. I can find plenty of cases in the news to go after, and Catherine Stevens hinted that she has a couple of friends that might need my services. . . . Yep. I think it's time. I'll call Harriet about coming to The Farm for the weekend."

As Lynn pulled up to the front door Harriet ran out to greet her. "At last. Some female company! I love Rick and all, but men don't know how to chat. Come on in and have some supper. Rick's got some ribs in the smoker and his special sauce is to die for."

Lynn pulled an overnight bag from the truck, the one with wheels that held five million in ransom, and followed Harriet into their home. "Where am I sleeping?"

"Anywhere but with Rick. He's mine. Take your pick of the guest rooms."

Lynn chose one with a pleasant view of the rolling Virginia farm country. Most of the places out here weren't working farms anymore. They had been bought up by wealthy Washingtonians who got rich milking the Government instead of cows and wanted a weekend getaway place to display their wealth to everyone. She changed into casual clothes and went down to the kitchen.

Rick reached out to give her a hug. "Hey, Lynn. It's great to see you! You're looking healthy. Working for Dave must agree with you."

"It's been an adventure – actually several adventures. I'll tell you about them sometime."

Harriet came over with a glass of wine, shaking her finger. "Oh no you don't. You don't get to give us a teaser like that and then clam up. Tell us everything."

"Won't dinner get cold?"

"The longer my ribs stay in the smoker the better they taste. Let's go in the living room and get comfortable."

For most of the next hour Lynn recounted what she had been through since the last time they were together, ending with the most recent encounter with Zarah. Rick and Harriet sat in rapt attention until she finished.

"You're lucky to be alive, Lynn! Zarah had you in her sights and you got away. So where is Zarah now?" Harriet said with a worried expression on her face.

"No one knows. She disappeared after she got away from me at the warehouse. The FBI staked out Alexei's home for a week, but she didn't go back there. They issued a BOLO alert in the surrounding states but that came up empty. I guess we'll just have to wait for her to show herself again."

"But your life is in danger. She could be stalking you back in Philly."

"Dave has some of his people watching my back for now, but he can't keep that up."

"You need to move out here for protection. Don't forget that Jack put in the same perimeter security system here that's at the cabin. We'll keep that activated full time until Zarah is caught."

"Actually, that's why I came out here. I'm ready to get my Revenge, Inc. business off the ground, and I would like to headquarter it here. Is your offer to let me move in still good Harriet?"

"Of course it is. When can you move out here?"

"I haven't told Dave yet. I'll need to give him two weeks notice so he can find a replacement for me."

Rick laughed. "A replacement for you doesn't exist, Lynn. No one can come even close to doing what you do as well as you do it."

Lynn smiled. "Thanks for the compliment, Rick, but I'm nothing special."

"Oh yes you are. Dave would have to hire two or three people to cover all the skills you have. And he will never find a hacker as good as you."

"I've been thinking about that. I'll offer to do my internet magic for CSIC as a part- time consultant. That will keep me busy while we figure out how to drum up business for Revenge, Inc. Have you given any thought to that, Rick?"

"Harriet and I brainstormed that and came up with two ideas. Since most of your revenge work so far has involved marriage and divorce abuse issues, we need to find a way to keep track of court decisions in that area. We should also monitor domestic abuse cases reported to the police. That might be more than we can handle unless we limit it to nearby cities.

"The second idea is to follow criminal and civil court cases and identify clear injustices – criminals who walk on a technicality, or bribe witnesses. There are way too many of those cases to look through, but we'll select the worst and go after them with our own form of vigilante justice."

"That's going to keep all three of us tied up full time, and I don't want that. Rick, I think you can manage the business without too much work, while Harriet and I do the research to nail them. How about if we hire a lawyer full time to comb through court cases and alert us to the ones that need our help?"

"Not a bad idea, but since much of what you do – hacking, changing financial records, moving money out of bad guys' accounts – is illegal, a lawyer might think it's his duty to turn you in."

"I didn't think of that. Everything we do has to be hidden from the law. Maybe we could find one who has been disbarred or something. . . . The smell of those ribs is making my stomach gurgle. When can we eat?"

"Give me ten minutes to set the table while Rick cuts up the ribs."

When Lynn got to work Monday morning she stopped in to see Dave right away.

"Morning, Lynn. Have a seat. You look like there's something on your mind."

"There is. I haven't told you, but I've been doing a little work on my own – after hours, of course."

"That sounds intriguing. What's it about?"

"I'm using my computer and hacking skills to right some wrongs, to help people who have been treated unfairly get what's theirs, even if it's just getting even. I don't want to go into any more detail than that except to say that, even though it's done for noble purposes, much of it is frowned upon by the law. I've been using false identities, so my work can't be traced back to you or me."

"I don't have any problem with you doing a little moonlighting."

"It's more than that, Dave. I want to start doing it full time – making a business out of it. This work gives me a great sense of satisfaction. I think it's what Jack would want me doing."

"Have you got a name for this business?"

"Revenge, Inc. I thought about Retribution, Inc., but it doesn't have the same ring to it. So anyway, I would like to have your blessing on this. I'll stay around for two more weeks to wrap up my work for CSIC, then I'll move out to The Farm with Rick and Harriet, my partners in this calling."

"It sounds like you have planned well, Lynn. You have my blessing, but I will really miss your internet expertise."

"I have a proposal about that. How about I make myself available as a consultant to CSIC on an as-needed basis?"

Dave's look of concern turned into a smile. "How can I turn down an offer like that. And if you have need of our security services, I'll do the same for you. And forget about that two week notice. I'll assign your cases to other investigators. You can leave whenever you're ready."

"Thanks, Dave."

As Lynn got up Dave walked around the desk and gave her a long hug. "You and Jack are really special to me, Lynn. You keep in touch."

As Lynn was putting some of her personal things from her desk in a box, her phone rang. "Hello, This is Lynn Preston." There was a long silence at the other end. _Oh no! Zarah found me_ , Lynn thought. "Hello?"

"Uh . . . Hi Lynn. It's me . . . Matt . . . Murdock."

"Hi Matt! It's nice to hear from you."

". . . Uh, how's everything? . . . Damn, I'm no good at small talk. I called to ask you out to dinner."

"When?"

"Tonight if you're free, but if you have something else to do, I understand. Maybe another night then?"

"Tonight is perfect, Matt. I've been looking forward to your call. . . . Where are we going?"

"I'm sorry. I'm not very good at this. I don't do this often. Would the M Restaurant at the Morris House Hotel be alright with you?"

"That would be wonderful. What time?"

"Oh. How about if I pick you up at seven?"

Lynn didn't want him to see the upscale condo she was staying in. It might look like she has a high-class social life. She didn't want to send that message. "How about if I meet you in the hotel lobby?"

Matt was relieved. He wasn't looking forward to the uncomfortable silence of a car ride with her. "Sure. That will work. Seven o'clock then."

"See you there, Matt."
Chapter 36 – Dating Angst

"I've got nothing to wear" Lynn wailed. "I haven't been on a date since my first husband courted me in college." _Whoa. Hold on there. This is not a date! It's me getting together with a person I think I'll enjoy being with, that's all. No date –it's just dinner._

"But I still want to look nice. The M is really upscale. I can't go in looking like a slob."

But if I dress up too much he might get interested in me – as a woman – and I don't want that. I'll never be untrue to Jack.

"But jack is gone. He would want me to go after some fun in my life."

No one can replace Jack – not even close. I don't care how terrific Detective Murdock is, he won't be anything like Jack. He'll just be a disappointment – a letdown after what Jack and I had.

Lynn's thoughts were arguing with her inner self.

"You're right. He will never meet my expectations . . . But what if I lower my expectations? Maybe he's a close second to Jack."

Yeah, right. Don't bet on it.

"There's got to be a dress in here somewhere. I don't have time to go out and get a little black dress. . . . How about this one. I used to look good in that."

Yep. That's why it was Jack's favorite.

"Leave me alone. Get out of my head."

Sorry, I'm permanently installed in here.

"A good psychiatrist could make you leave!"

No, I would just burrow in deeper. But I'd still pull your strings.

"Well, if you're going to hang around, help me pick out something to wear."

There's that nice powder blue pants suit down at the end.

"Ugh. It's in the back of the closet for a reason. How about this grey knit two-piece?"

It's cashmere. If he touches it he will like the feel. And who knows where his mind will go from there.

"Damn it! Stop it. You're no help at all."

Lynn continued rummaging through her closet, pulling several outfits out to hold up to her neck in front of the mirror.

"Maybe I should just call and cancel."

Now you're talking.

"No, I don't really want to. I'm looking forward to this. . . . There it is! My navy blue Chico Veronica knit dress. It's perfect. Knee length, a neck that I can unzip as far as I want to. It really shows off my figure – at least whatever figure I have left."

Lynn took it off the hanger and tossed it in the dryer to freshen it up. Then she went to her lingerie drawer to chose her underclothes. "What's next? Half slip, full slip, no slip? . . . No slip. The dress will stick to me because of the static. Now here's a nice bra and panty set. Black, a little lacy. Yes, I'll wear these."

How about you go for the plain-jane, no-frills approach. It's not like he will see them.

"But the lacy ones make me feel more confident, more feminine."

Whatever.

After choosing a sensible pair of black half-heels Lynn stripped and stepped into the shower. After washing her hair and luxuriating under the hot shower for several minutes, she stepped out and dried herself. As she walked into the bedroom she glanced at the clock and realized she only had twenty minutes to dress, put on makeup, and get out the door.

As she put the final touches on her eye liner she looked at the small bottle of orange blossom perfume Jack gave her for her last birthday. She decided against it, slipped her shoes on, and called a taxi. As she headed for the living room she paused, turned, and went back to her dressing table to dab some perfume on.

On the way home that day Matt Murdock stopped at a flower shop to get a bouquet of flowers for his date tonight. As he looked around the shop, his nose filled with an overpowering mixture of dozens of flower fragrances. He wondered what kind of flowers he should get her. He didn't know what she liked, or what she might be allergic to, or what her favorite color was. He was about to give up and leave when the florist approached. "What can I help you with today?"

"I . . . I'm not sure. I have a dinner date with this woman tonight – well, it's not really a date, just dinner – and I thought I should bring some flowers. But I haven't dated in years so I don't have a clue what I should get her."

"Is this your first date with this woman?"

"Like I said, it's just dinner."

"So it's the first time you two have been out together then. Is the dinner at her place?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. It's at a restaurant."

"Then I would suggest something simple. Do you know what her favorite flower is?"

"No, I don't really know her that well at all."

"Well, I hate to lose a sale, but it may be too early in your relationship for flowers."

A look of relief washed over his face. "Thank you for straightening me out on that. I was so afraid I would give her the wrong thing – send the wrong message."

"I glad I could help. When you get to your third or fourth date, maybe dinner at her place, come back and I'll help you out."

As Matt walked out he thought, _I have no idea how to act – or what to say – around Lynn. I'm not looking for something long term, I just want to get to know more about her. I don't want to give her the idea that I'm serious. So how can I keep from giving her the wrong impression, from leading her to think this is anything special for me._

Matt continued this line of thinking as he drove to his apartment. _I probably shouldn't wear anything special – maybe just the coat and tie I work in. Should I shave? My dark whiskers already have a heavy five-o'clock shadow. That would look like I didn't do anything special for our dinner. . . . But younger men are sporting that look, and apparently women think it's sexy . . . and that is definitely not how I want to come across. She'll think I'm planning on some intimacy at the end of our evening._ The humorous side of his mind chipped in with the thought _Maybe I'll only shave one side of my face._ That caused him to smile, but didn't help him out of the dilemma. _I'll figure it out as I go._

When he got to his place – a low-rent apartment that was modern forty years ago but now looked like someone's idea of futuristic architecture back then – he followed his usual evening routine of opening a beer and easing into the creaking recliner in front of the television. _That first drink of beer always tastes so good . . . but I don't want to show up with beer on my breath. She'll think I'm a drunk . . . We'll, she would be partly right. I was an alcoholic for a few years after my wife left. Thank God for A.A._ Matt got up and poured the beer down the drain, then headed for the shower.

It didn't take him long to dress. He chose a blue oxford shirt, no tie, a sport coat, khaki's, and a pair of tan suede loafers. He didn't usually wear men's cologne, but he had a bottle of Old Spice in the medicine cabinet. His sister gave it to him ten years ago and he only put it on when she came to visit, which wasn't very often – every second or third Christmas. As he reached for it he thought, _Will this give her the wrong idea about my intentions? If my clothes have any lingering odors this would cover them up, but maybe she's allergic to Old Spice. Maybe I'll skip it tonight. Maybe another time. If there is another time._

Matt looked at his watch and decided to leave. It was still early, but he wanted to arrive before Lynn so he wouldn't keep her waiting. _But maybe I should be a little late, so I don't seem too eager._

As Lynn stepped out of the cab in front of the hotel entrance she paused, taking a last minute inventory _– no wrinkles in my dress, or my panty hose; zippered at the neck not too far down, don't want any bra lace to show; hair in place; antiperspirant working. Everything's good to go._ That's when she first felt the butterflies in her stomach.

Where are those coming from? This is just dinner with a would-be friend. I have no intentions of getting serious with Matt Murdock – or anyone else for that matter. . . . So why do I feel like a teenager on my first date?

The doorman was holding the door open for her, so she knew it was time to move forward, but her feet were reluctant. She shifted her mind back into control, stepped briskly into the hotel lobby, and moved off to the side to look for Matt. Where was he? _He must be late . . . or maybe he changed his mind._ She felt her heart sink a little, but then she heard his voice behind her.

"Hi Lynn. I was waiting outside the door for you, but you walked right by me. Maybe if I wore my rumpled work suit you would have recognized me."

"Oh, no Matt. My mind was somewhere else. You look great. That color suits you."

"You look . . . really good yourself." _Come on, really good? How lame was that._

"I have a table reserved for 7:30. I thought we could have a drink at the bar until then . . . unless you don't drink." _Getting lamer by the minute. Think of something clever to say._

"A glass of wine would be great, Detective Mur . . . Matt. Sorry, it takes some getting used to."

Matt led her into the bar and found a vacant booth. "What kind of wine did you have in mind?"

Lynn thought, _I shouldn't have asked for wine. In a fancy place like this it will be $25 a glass. Beer must be cheaper, maybe I'll order a Bud Light._

But Matt had the wine list already. "Red or white, Lynn."

"I'll have whatever you're having."

"I don't really drink much wine. I don't have a clue what these wines are. I'll call the wine steward."

"No, don't. I'll have a vodka martini with a twist."

Matt smiled. "In that case I'll have a scotch on the rocks."

After the waitress brought their drinks there was an awkward silence as they both struggled to think of a conversation opener. Lynn spoke first.

"So, are you any closer to finding Zarah Savvin?"

"You just broke my cardinal rule – no shop talk on a date." _Damn. I just called it a date!_

"So that's your number one date rule?" _Damn. He just called it a date!_

"Not really. I just made that up. I haven't been on a date in a long time."

"Why not. An attractive man like you should find plenty of women to date?" _Did I just call him attractive? Well, he is, but I shouldn't have said it. Now he'll think I'm interested in him._

Matt blushed and looked down at his drink. _Is she making a move on me?_

"I've embarrassed you. I'm sorry. . . I just meant that . . ."

Another pregnant pause. Lynn decided to get off this subject. "Look, I think we're both uncomfortable worrying about what the other is thinking. I'm looking forward to having an enjoyable evening of conversation with someone I may want to be friends with. That's all. It's just dinner."

Matt leaned back and laughed. "You have a terrific way of cutting to the core of a situation, Lynn. My expectations are the same as yours. So lets get on with the enjoyable conversation. Tell me about your childhood. Where did you grow up?"

"Well, I'm a West Virginia hillbilly with one leg shorter than the other from walking around the mountain. I grew up in Coal Creek, down in the southwestern coal mining district. That's where I first met Jack Preston. For me it was love at first sight, but he had things to do and places to go – college, marriage, the Air Force, then the FRA. He retired after his wife died and built a cabin in the eastern mountains of West Virginia."

"How did you two meet up again and get married?"

_I have to tread carefully here_ , she thought. "I found him on the Internet a couple of years ago. We started emailing each other, and he showed up in Telluride later. The rest is, as they say, history."

"Is that when you two got involved with Alexei?"

"You just broke your cardinal rule. . . . Let's talk about you now."

Matt paused. "Okay. I can do that. I joined the marines out of high school – Perry High School in Pittsburgh – and, after boot camp, I was stationed at the American Embassy in Tehran in 1979 – one of the Marine's missions is to guard American embassies around the world. Anyway, I was there in November when the mob of Iranian revolutionaries attacked. I was wounded in the firefight before they overwhelmed the defenses and flown out in a medical evacuation helicopter with three other wounded Marines."

"So you weren't one of the sixty American hostages held at the embassy for fifteen months?"

"No, but I should have been. It took some time in therapy to work out my survivor's guilt from that."

"How bad were your injuries?"

"I took two rounds in the chest, one nicked an artery. It was touch and go for awhile but the medics kept me alive until I got to a military hospital. I was in the hospital for three months recovering."

"Did you return to active duty?"

"No, they decided to give me a medical retirement. I protested it – I really wanted to get back to embassy duty . . . No, that's not completely true. I wanted a chance to prove I wasn't a failure as a Marine. But they wouldn't let me do that. So I did the next best thing. I became a cop. First I went to college and got a degree in criminology, then went through a course at the FBI Academy in Quantico to study crime scene investigation. That's where Dave and I met. After that I applied for a detective opening with the police department here and started out as a greenhorn detective."

"You must have been good at it. They made you Chief of Detectives."

"That took a few years, but I guess I was still trying to prove myself. . . . The Maitre de is signaling. Our table is ready."

The two of them spent the rest of the evening exchanging humorous stories from their past and laughing together. Lynn asked him about his marriage, but all he had to say was that he was married to his work. After a few years his wife divorced him and found someone who could be there for her. Fortunately they didn't have kids, so the divorce was over before he could think of a reason to try to keep her.
Chapter 37 – Back on the Farm

At the end of the evening Matt offered to drive Lynn back to wherever she lived. She hesitated, but then agreed. On the way over she explained that the classy apartment she lived in belonged to the company and was way above her pay grade. She didn't want him to think she was too rich for him – which of course she was – but she didn't want him to know that.

Matt looked over at her, trying to assess her mood. _Did she enjoy being with me? I wish I knew. I want to ask her out again, but not if she didn't have a good time. Maybe I should just come right out and ask her._

"I really enjoyed our evening together, Lynn."

"Me too, Matt. You're comfortable to be with."

"Can we do this again – soon?"

"That sounds great, and I really want to but . . . I'm leaving town tomorrow."

"What, for a few days?"

"No, I'm actually moving in with some friends in Virginia. They have a large gentleman's farm west of Leesburg. Harriet and Rick are my two closest friends. I might not be here today if they hadn't rescued me from my depression after Jack was killed."

Lynn could see the look of disappointment on his face. "It's not far, less that a four-hour drive. I'm sure I'll get back here now and then. We can get together then."

Matt was silent for a while after that. "But what about your job with Dave?"

"I'm actually starting my own business that I'll run out of the Farm."

"What's the business about?"

"Private computer investigations, stuff like that."

"Oh . . . you're good at that. I'm sure the business will do well. What are you calling it?"

"Rev . . . I haven't really picked a name yet. Maybe Preston Investigations." _If I tell him the real name he might wonder if what I'm doing is illegal. I can't forget that he's a cop._

"That would make sense."

"Take a right up ahead and we'll be there."

Matt stopped in front of the apartment building and walked around to open her door. She got out and patted his arm. "Thanks again for the great time, Matt. Call me sometime."

He answered with a curt "Sure." _Like she really wants to see me again,_ he thought.

Lynn was up early carrying boxes of her things down to the truck. After a last look around and a re-check of her mailbox in the lobby Lynn headed for the parking garage. Thirty minutes later she was out of the city following I-95 to Baltimore, then to Leesburg. As her thoughts wandered she recalled the evening with Matt and smiled _. I really like that guy. But with me gone he'll get buried in his work and forget about me. Maybe it's for the best. I don't really want to get involved . . . I don't think._

Three hours later she pulled up to the front gate of The Farm and punched in the key code for the security gate. As the heavy steel gate opened Lynn thought it looked strong enough to stop a direct frontal collision by a vehicle. She also noticed they had added a chain link fence behind the six foot tall shrubbery fence of hawthorn bushes Senator Underwood planted when he built the place fourteen years ago. The house was magnificent; built to impress the Washington elite when they came out for frequent social functions. As she approached the house she could see the chain link continued around the entire perimeter of the 80-acre property. "That's new. They must have put it in for my protection. I'm not sure it would slow Zarah down much, though." She pulled the truck under the drive-through portico and tooted the horn to let them know she was here.

The massive front door swung back and Harriet ran out to greet her. "Finally. We were looking for you an hour or two ago."

"I had to finish packing my things. Most of my clothes are still in drawers and closets back at the apartment. I just brought some casual stuff to hold me until I can go back for the rest."

Rick came out and wrapped his arms around her in a warm hug. "Drive the car around back and I'll open the garage doors. I have a surprise waiting for you."

As she approached the front of the six-car garage Rick opened the door to reveal her surprise.

"My Miata! You guys brought my Miata back from the cabin. Thank you! I really love driving that beauty."

Harriet said, "I know what you mean. I got to drive it back from the cabin. It really handles great on those West Virginia mountain curves."

"I couldn't keep up with her in my Escalade. She beat my home by twenty minutes. You'll have to let me take it out sometime."

"Consider it community property. We can all drive it."

"You and Harriet go on upstairs and pour us a drink. I'll put the boxes and luggage upstairs."

Lynn said "Oh no. I'm not letting you do the work by yourself." as she pulled a box out of the truck.

"I won't. Bring the box over here and put it in this cabinet." When he opened the door she saw that it was a small elevator – like a dumb waiter. "Henry here will carry them up for you."

"Now that's neat. The senator thought of everything."

"Yes he did. Henry is large enough to hold a person sitting down and has inside controls . . . in case someone needs to sneak away from an upstairs bedroom."

"With all the people who showed up for his weekend soirees it was cheaper than another butler. It stops at the kitchen and in the upstairs hallway. You two go on up and I'll load your stuff."

A short time later they were all sitting on the rear deck enjoying the crisp autumn air. Lynn surveyed the countryside laid out below them. "This is so peaceful and lovely. I don't think I'll ever live in a city again. Short visits when necessary. But otherwise I'm declaring myself a country girl."

Rick added, "Wait 'til the leaves turn color. Now that's real beauty. The trees at Jack's cabin have already turned. In the Mountains the color show is three dimensional. Takes your breath away."

"I used to get some of that in Colorado. They don't have the variety of colors, but the gold of the aspen patches mixed with the dark evergreens is a whole 'nother kind of beautiful. There's a narrow gauge railroad that winds through the mountains from Chama in northern New Mexico to Silverton in Colorado. In the fall when the aspens turn thousands of people take that ride. They have to reserve a seat on the train and a room in a local motel almost a year ahead of time. But the aspens only stay at their peak for a week or so, and when that will occur depends on the weather and nighttime temperatures. Making reservations for the right time is a crap shoot."

"We all should go out there next year to see it." Harriet commented.

Lynn added, "If we time our trip right, we can also go to the International Balloon Fiesta in Albuquerque. That's another beautiful sight."

After a few minutes of silence, Harriet asked Lynn how her date with the detective went.

"How did you know about that?"

"Dave called yesterday to check on the new security fence. He arranged for the installation. . . . He worries about you, you know. So, what's up with Detective Murdock?"

"We both enjoyed the dinner get-together."

"It was a date, Lynn. Call it what it was."

"Well, at first I didn't think of it as a date, but by the end of the evening it definitely seemed like a date."

"So when is the next 'date?'"

"That will be tough with me living out here. If Dave needs me back in town for some consulting, maybe we can get together."

"Don't let the fire die down, dear."

"What fire?"

"I saw your eyes light up when I mentioned him. You can't fool a woman about these things. Right, Rick?"

"Not being a woman I can't confirm that hypothesis. I'm just a silent bystander. But maybe you can invite him out to The Farm for a weekend sometime. . . . I'm getting hungry, Harriet. When's supper?"

"I'll get started on it dear. Give me an hour."

"An hour! I'm talking starving, here."

"I can provide a good chicken and dumplings dinner in an hour, or you can have a meat loaf TV dinner in ten minutes. Or, if that's not fast enough, I can have a bowl of cereal in front of you in two minutes." Lynn laughed at that. "I love the way you two banter back and forth."

Two days later Lynn was sitting in front of her laptop, in the office Rick created in one of the downstairs bedrooms, searching for her first case as Revenge, Inc. There were a couple of wife beating cases in Alexandria, but local law enforcement was moving aggressively on those. Lynn put them in a pending file to check on later. Then there was a child kidnapping case in Maryland. They found the girl little unharmed in the middle a state park, but they were still searching for the kidnapper. The poor six-year-old spent a cold night all alone in the wild before a hiker found her. "If they catch the guy, I'll add my own form of justice to whatever the courts dish out. . . . Time for some more coffee."

Harriet was in the kitchen cleaning up after breakfast. When she heard Lynn, she stopped what she was doing and turned to talk.

"I don't know if this is a case you can do anything about, Lynn, but let me tell you about it anyway. I help out at the Lynchburg Seniors Center – where the older folk, mostly poor older folk, gather for free meals, bingo, conversation, and sharing their dislike of the Government. I spoke with a couple yesterday, Larry and Eugenia Adams, who are having a problem with their son and daughter-in-law. They are both in their early seventies and living on nothing but his social security. She stayed home to raise a family so she has no income."

"That must be tough to live on just that single income."

"She said they live simply, own their fifty-year-old home, which is now in a run-down neighborhood ignored by the city. They have lived on that income since he retired. But the problem is their oldest son and his wife. They come by their house with a sob story about how he lost another job and is broke and needs cash, or something they can sell – like her jewelry or his stamp collection. If they don't give in to his demands, he yells at them and threatens to have them committed as mentally incompetent. So they give him whatever they can and leave the bills unpaid. Their power has been shut off for the past two months, and they need $1,342 to get it restored. But even if they did that, they would come up short again the next month."

"Wow. How can children treat their parents like that? That's awful. Can I pay their power bill for them?"

"I offered to do that, but they refused. They're too proud to accept financial help. So I outsmarted them. I went to the power company and prepaid their account for the next two years – anonymously."

"How nice of you, Harriet. But where does Revenge, Inc. come in?"

"I thought maybe you could check up on their son and his wife. See if he's lying about his financial situation. Or maybe he's supporting a drug habit. There's got to be something you can do to get him off their back."

"Great idea! My thinking has been too limited about the kind of cases to look for. Give me the son's name and I'll go start on it now."

Lynn was excited as she sat down at her desk. It took her most of the afternoon to find the son, John Edward Adams. Quite a few people shared the same name. She finally found him by accessing the parents bank account. There was only a few dollars left in it, but she found that the son was a co-signer on the account. When she looked at the activity over the past two years she saw that Johnny boy had made regular withdrawals from the account. Right after the Social Security direct deposit came in, John would take half of it out. Even worse, he had the monthly statements sent to his mailing address. The parents never saw what he was doing to them.

Lynn felt her anger flare. "That bastard! He's robbing his parents into poverty. And there's not much that can be done about it legally. He deserves the worst thing I can figure out. Time to learn more about this jerk."

It was after midnight when she finally found what she was looking for on the Darknet. John E. Adams had a sealed court record, and a Federal one at that. He was caught smuggling cocaine from Central America into the U. S. using a power boat – a 53-foot HydraSport fishing hull with four 600 hp outboards. It could outrun anything the Coast Guard had, so he made several runs before they finally stopped him – from a helicopter with 50 caliber sniper rifle rounds through three of the motors. When Adams' son was questioned by the FBI he claimed he was just the driver; that the boat belonged to the Puerto Rican drug lord, Jose Agosto, a.k.a. Junior Capsula. He agreed to give up information about Agosto's location in exchange for probation without jail time for his part in the operation. Two months later Agosto was arrested by U. S. Immigration and Homeland Security agents. But part of the bargain was that Adams had to give up the cash he earned for his illegal activities, which left him broke with no marketable skills.

"Hmmm. I wonder why the cartel didn't come after him. Snitches usually don't last a week once they turn on the organization. What's protecting him? I'm surprised he's not in witness protection."

To answer that question Lynn hacked into the Government investigation records which, although ordered sealed by the court, gave Lynn no problem. And there she found the answer. While he was working for the drug cartel, he assumed the name Miguel Ortiz. With his dark complexion and fluent Spanish learned in the Navy he was able to pull it off. Especially since that was the name of one of his Navy buddies who disappeared just before Adams was released from the Navy. Adams stole his identity, which probably means he killed Ortiz and hid the body.

"So the cartel people couldn't find him because they were looking for Miguel. What if they found out who he really was? It's been a couple of years, but drug Lords have long memories, and a long reach, even from prison.'

Lynn ruminated on this for a bit. _If I give them his real name, they will definitely kill him – probably slowly. Is that too harsh? Does he deserve to die because of what he's done to his parents? He's stolen their life from them. That's a tough one. Let's see what other damning information I can find about him. But not tonight. I need to sleep on this decision._

Lynn was up and 6:30 the next morning, anxious to follow up on the Miguel Ortiz search. She started by hacking into the Navy records to find personnel files on both Adams and Ortiz. They were serving together at the San Diego Naval Base when Ortiz disappeared. They were both assigned to the same crew of a Mark VI high speed patrol boat used to chase down smugglers running drugs from El Salvador into San Diego Bay.

"Hmmm. Adams was the pilot. That's where he got his experience driving fast boats."

As she read down the file on Adams she found a notation that he was once charged with 'Using a Navy craft for transporting contraband,' with a reference to a court martial case covering the incident. She switched her search to the Navy Staff Judge Advocate database to get a transcript of the proceedings. Ten minutes later the picture started to come together. Ortiz had reported Adams to his superior officer for hiding packages of drugs in the engine compartment, which led to the charges. Ortiz was to be the prosecution's star witness, but before he could be put on the stand he disappeared. Without Miguel's testimony there wasn't enough evidence to convict Adams, so the Navy forced him to accept a 'less than honorable discharge.' Though not as damning as a dishonorable discharge, finding civilian employment with that on your record was difficult.

Lynn switched back to Ortiz's file and paged down to his disappearance. He was on shore leave, drinking heavily at a wharf-side bar. Another sailor told him it was time to get back to the ship and helped him out the door. That was the last time he was seen. At the board of inquiry other bar customers were called as witnesses, but they all said it was too dark to identify the sailor Ortiz left with. Since a body was never found, the board officially declared Ortiz absent without leave - AWOL in military speak.

Lynn jumped back to Adams' file and found he was also granted shore leave on the night Ortiz disappeared. "I can't believe it! Any idiot could put two and two together and see that Adams should have been a prime suspect in Ortiz's disappearance. Don't the different parts of the Naval legal system share information? That just doesn't make sense. . . . Oh wait. I forgot about Jack's first law of logic.

Logic and reason have no value when dealing with (a) a bureaucracy , (b) a zealot, or (c) an angry woman. The Navy, indeed the entire U. S. Government, falls into category (a), so of course it doesn't make sense."

Lynn leaned back and thought about what she had found. _The chances are very high that Adams killed Ortiz to keep him from testifying. That left Miguel's identity up for grabs. If Adams took Ortiz's identity documents when he killed him, no one would know. But what about the fingerprints? The coast guard surely would have fingerprinted Adams when they caught him smuggling cocaine. How could that play out? . . . Oh! Sure! Adams reverted back to his true identity when he was arrested – discarded the Miguel Ortiz I.D. and pulled out his own. So the fingerprints matched._

Lynn copied the documents and stored them on her laptop. "I think I've answered last night's question," she said to herself as she went into the Darknet to find a mailing address for inmate Jose Agosto at the Lompoc Federal Penitentiary. She typed an anonymous note to Jose, informing him where Miguel Ortiz was living under the assumed name of John Edward Adams. The wording had to be something that would mean something to Agosto, but not to the prison staff who checked incoming mail:

Miguel Ortiz = John Edward Adams at 4912 Jefferson in 20176

With the street address and zip code, Jose's men will have no trouble finding him. Lynn attached it to an email and sent it to a Darknet web site that would print it, mail it, and erase any connection to her. Then she leaned back and smiled at the pleasant feeling she got from getting revenge on really bad people.

She got up from her desk and saw she had been at it for almost three hours. "Time for some bacon and eggs." She hummed as she entered the kitchen. Harriet was sitting at the bar watching the morning news on the TV over the sink.

"And what are you so cheerful about this morning? Did you have a sexy dream about the detective?"

Lynn laughed. "No, it was better than that. I just nailed my first bad guy as president, founder, and chief investigator for Revenge, Inc."

"Well, don't let it go to your head, dear. What was the case about?"

"Larry and Eugenia's terrible son. I found a drug connection from his past – he ratted out a big-time Puerto Rican drug lord. It turns out that he wasn't only stealing money from his parents, but he killed someone a couple of years ago when he was in the Navy."

"So, what did you do to him?"

"I sent a letter to the drug lord and told him where to find John Adams."

"Wow. . . Serious stuff, Lynn. Are you sure you want to go that far?"

"Yeah, I do. With what he's been doing to his parents, his own smuggling, and the dead sailor in San Diego, he has it coming. The Navy justice system had their chance and did nothing."

"Alright. I'll go along with you on this one. But do you think the three of us should be involved in decisions like this in the future?"

"That's a good idea. I guess we need to come up with some procedures that will keep us all in the loop. . . . That way, you two can join me in prison when they catch me," Lynn added with a smile.

"I can see one problem you overlooked on this case. What happens to his parents? Is there any way they can get back some of that money they lost?"

"You got me on that one, Harriet. That part of the deal slipped my mind. I'll look at his assets this afternoon and see if he and his wife have been saving the stolen money. Then I'll channel it into their bank account a little at a time so they won't notice."

"What about their son's death? As bad as he was, they might be heartbroken if he's killed."

"Maybe in the short term, but in the long run I think they'll realize he was slowly squeezing the life out of them with his stealing."

Rick, Harriet, and Lynn were once again enjoying the autumn evening out on their deck. Lynn told Rick about the Adams case and he agreed that the kid had it coming. "I also like Harriet's idea of reaching a case-by-case consensus on the choice of revenge actions. We have to be careful that we don't get carried away with our power as a self-appointed judge and jury."

"You're right about that, Rick," Lynn answered. "Have you two got anything planned for the weekend?"

Harriet smiled. "It's our thirty-sixth wedding anniversary. We're planning a couple of days in the Poconos. We spent our honeymoon there and as a surprise gift Rick booked the exact same cabin for the weekend."

"How sweet, Rick. Every woman needs a husband like you." That immediately brought back thoughts of Jack and choked Lynn up. She ran for her room as the tears started flowing. Harriet looked over at Rick and said "I'll give her a few minutes then see if I can comfort her."

Lynn didn't want to be comforted. She locked her door, curled up on the bed, and let the self-pity take over – again. She was having these crying spells less often now, but every now and then something would trigger one. Finally she let herself drift off to sleep. Her last thought was _Maybe Jack will come and visit_.
Chapter 38 – Second Date

A few hours after Rick and Harriet left for their love nest in the mountains Lynn was looking for something to keep her busy. She hadn't found any new cases to go after and the inactivity was driving her crazy. She was disappointed that Jack hadn't come to see her in her dreams the other night, and she worried that he might be gone for good.

For some reason thinking about Jack brought Detective Murdock to mind. She remembered his pleasant company and the laughter they shared. Before she lost her nerve she dialed his number. It rang six times, then the answering robot kicked in. She asked him to call her and hung up. _He's probably in the middle of a big case and doesn't have time for me. I guess I'll just stay here. . . . No I won't! I'll drive up there and surprise him. I need to bring the rest of my clothes and stuff back here anyway, so if he doesn't have time to see me it won't be a wasted trip._

Lynn pulled the pickup truck into the apartment parking garage in the middle of the afternoon, anxious to hear back from Matt. She thought about calling him while she was driving here, but her apprehension about how he would react held her back. As she rode up in the elevator she wondered how the conversation would go. Would he be glad to hear from her, or be annoyed at the distraction from his work. She thought about how she would quickly close the dialog if he wasn't receptive. She was still working on that thought when she opened the apartment door and froze. Someone had ransacked the place! Drawers were pulled open, furniture tipped over, drapes were slashed, and the television screen was smashed.

Without thinking she went straight to the bedroom. It was the same story there, except the mattress was slashed open. She was so upset that the thought didn't hit her until fear took over her thoughts – _What if they're still here?_ She dashed for the bedside table where she kept her gun and looked into the empty drawer. It was gone. She froze again, this time to listen carefully for sounds of the intruders. Then she went into the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife she could find. With the knife held in front of her she went through the entire apartment opening closet doors and looking behind furniture.

When she was satisfied no one was there she went out into the hallway, locked the apartment door, and took the elevator down to Jack's truck. She opened the hidden compartment and pulled out two more weapons; a Glock 15 pistol and a military K-bar knife. She clipped the gun holster to the back of her belt, strapped the knife sheath around her ankle, and pulled her pants leg down over it. She got her jacket from the front seat and put it on to cover the gun. Then she took out her cell phone and called Matt Murdock. This was not going to be the conversation she planned on.

Matt told her to stay in the truck until he got there. Ten minutes later he pulled up next to her and quickly got out of his car. Lynn got out to greet him but it wasn't the greeting she expected. Matt came up and put his arms around her in a hug. She hesitated a moment, then returned the hug. When he pulled back his first words were "Are you alright, Lynn? Are you hurt? I was so worried."

"Just in my mind – I'm really pissed off. I feel violated even though I wasn't living here anymore."

Matt gave her another short hug and felt the gun in her back. "At least you were armed."

"Not when I went in. The intruder stole the gun I kept in the apartment. I got this one out of Jack's truck." Matt gave her a quizzical look, but she didn't elaborate. He didn't need to know about her weapons stash.

Just then the forensic van entered the parking garage and Matt waved them over. "Now we can go up and have a look. I'm glad you had sense enough not to touch anything."

"Well, you'll find a large knife with my fingerprints on it. That's the first thing I grabbed."

Matt laughed. "Now that's the Lynn I've come to know. Always ready for a fight."

Lynn sat in a kitchen chair while Matt and the team went over everything looking for hair samples, shoe imprints in the carpet, and fingerprints. They took photos of everything then packed up to leave. Matt came into the kitchen. "There's something you need to see." He led her back to the bathroom and turned her to face the mirror. Another note. Written in black marker pen just like the one in the cabin. Lynn read it aloud. "Now I know where to find you, bitch. Thanks for the gun. I'll use it to blow your head off."

They stood there in silence for a minute or two before Matt asked, "That was undoubtedly written by the woman who is after you. Zarah something."

"Savvin. Yes, it's her work. I've seen it before."

"You have? Where?"

_Uh oh. I did it again. Now I'll have to tell him about what happened at the cabin_. "At Jack's cabin in West Virginia. It's where he lived before he . . . before he came to Telluride." _It's getting better. Just a little hitch in my voice and no tears,_ she thought. "He had a first-class security system in the cabin and around the property. Last month my laptop alerted me that someone was up there. It turned out to be Zarah. She went through the house and left me a note like this. I got some good video of her, but nothing that shows her face clearly. I headed up there immediately."

"Did she do anything else?"

"Uh . . . she put a bomb under the seat of the car I left there."

"A what! What kind of bomb."

"It was an IED – a block of C4 with a pressure switch. It almost got me. I was getting into the car to start the engine when Jack warned me."

"Jack warned you? I thought he was dead.?

"He is. . . . But he talks to me sometimes – his spirit I mean. _Now he'll think I'm loony and that will be the end of whatever this is between us._

"Really? How often do you hear from him?"

"At first it was almost every night. He helped me come out of my depression. But I don't talk to him much any more." _Damn, I made it even worse. If he thinks I have conversations with Jack he'll really think I'm nuts. I'll bet his next comment will be to recommend a good psychiatrist._

"So you see him at night, like in your dreams?"

"Not really dreams. He usually can't come to me unless I'm asleep, but I'm not dreaming about him. It's more real than that. But a couple of times he spoke to me when I was awake. To warn me. Like with the bomb."

Matt mulled this over for several seconds, then looked her in the eye. _Here it comes_ , she thought.

"You know, I believe you. My grandmother had the same experience after grandpa died. He would tell her things that were going to happen days or weeks beforehand. And if she dozed off in her rocker, I could hear her talking with him."

"So you don't think I'm crazy?"

"No. I don't understand the human mind – or the hereafter. No one really does. But I'm certain that the mind is capable of unimaginable things. And the hereafter? That's God's realm and we will never know what goes on there. . . . Not until we die anyway."

It warmed Lynn's heart to hear this from him – to hear that he shared the same thoughts she believed. Especially about God. That was one of the things that drew her to Jack.

"So what do we do now? She destroyed the apartment so much I can't come back here any time soon. I'll have to call Dave and tell him to get things back to normal in here and send me the bill."

"Send you the bill? How the hell will you pay that off. . . . I can help you with that."

"No need for that. Jack had an insurance policy that left me a good bit of money." _Almost screwed up again by letting him know I'm filthy rich. Keeping secrets from him is tough. Maybe someday I can tell him everything._

"So where will you stay tonight, Lynn?"

"I'll find a hotel room."

"I, uh . . . don't want you get the wrong idea. But there's an extra bedroom in my apartment. You're welcome to stay there."

Now what do I do with that? I'm sure he has no ulterior motive, but am I ready to be that close to him?

"Thanks for the offer, Matt. But I would be more comfortable staying in a hotel."

"Uh . . . okay. I understand. I was out of line for suggesting it."

"No, you were just premature in suggesting it." _Did I just say that? I don't want to lead him on. I'm not ready for a relationship – even with Matt._

"Well, we're through here. Can I drop you at a hotel?"

"No, I have my truck."

"Okay. If you need anything else, call."

"Actually, I have a confession to make. Part of the reason I came to town was to ask you out to dinner." She saw his eyes light up.

"Really? That's great. I'm free tonight. Where would you like to go?"

"I searched the web for something and found my kind of place. It's called Hill Country Barbeque over on Chestnut Street. They have New York style ribs and live country and western music."

"Really? You like that kind of music too?"

"Grew up on it in Coal Creek."

"I'll run home and change into appropriate clothes. Want me to pick you up at your hotel?"

"No, I'll get into my duds and boots here and meet you at the restaurant. Does seven o'clock sound okay?"

Matt made a show of pulling out his cell phone and turning it off. "Yep. I don't expect any interruptions."

After dinner and some good country singing Matt walked Lynn back to her truck. "That was another delightful evening, Lynn. I didn't know you shared my love of country music. Do you ever go to shows by big name singers?"

"No, I don't like the crowds. I prefer the smaller settings. I have to admit that this is the first time I've been to one since before Jack and I got married."

"Jack didn't like country and western?"

"We were always too busy trying to change . . . change stuff." _Almost slipped again_.

"Stuff? What kind of stuff?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Matt. But maybe I'll tell you someday."

Lynn wrapped her arm around his as they walked to let him know that she wasn't offended by it. _Or maybe I have an urge to feel closer to him._ When they got to the truck Matt reached out to shake her hand, but she ignored it gave him a quick hug. "I think we're beyond shaking hands, don't you think?"

A smile lit up his face. "It would seem so. I'm glad."

Lynn climbed into Jack's truck – her truck – and paused before she closed the door. "Maybe you could come out to The Farm for a couple of days. I'd like you to meet my best friends."

"I would like that."

"When can you come?"

"I'm swamped at work for the next couple of weeks. I'll call you when I see some free time on the horizon."

"Great. I'll be heading back out there tomorrow unless Dave has some work for me."

Lynn Closed the truck door and headed back to the hotel. Matt followed her at a distance to make certain no one else was.
Chapter 39 – Agents of Mercy

Lynn was back at The Farm hanging up her clothes from the apartment when she heard the front door open. She froze until she heard Rick and Harriet laughing and knew it wasn't Zarah. She finished what she was doing and went down to greet them. "The young lovers have returned! How was the vacation?"

"Absolutely fabulous. A nice mountain resort with a world-class chef, mountain hiking trails with wildlife at every turn, and a private cottage for our intimate moments that brought back all the old memories. It couldn't have been better."

"You're making me jealous. I wish Jack and I had taken time for a honeymoon at a place like that. We had to settle for one night in a cheap motel that would take cash, and woke up to a serious political situation we had to deal with. . . . But that night was . . ."

"Well, we didn't quite capture the bliss of our honeymoon. We no longer have the . . . stamina."

Lynn laughed at that. "You two must be tired from the trip. I'll fix us something for supper."

"No need for that. We had the resort chef put together a wild game gourmet meal for three and put it in a thermal box to keep it warm. A couple minutes in the microwave and the house specialty will be ready."

Lynn looked at Harriet quizzically. "Just what is the house specialty? Sautéed raccoon?"

"Close. It's roast Bambi – venison."

They were out on the deck sitting around the fire pit after the delicious supper. Rick brought out a bottle of dessert wine – a nice Spanish sherry – that they sipped contentedly in silence. After several minutes Harriet spoke up. "This reminds me of a quote I read somewhere that goes 'True friendship comes when the silence between two people is comfortable.' In this case it's three people, but the principle still holds."

Rick said "I'll toast to that," as they raised their glasses. He followed up with "Now that the silence is broken, we might have a new case for you, Lynn."

"Yay, another villain to grind into dust. What's it about?"

"The villain in this case is big, mean, and goes by the name of Ohio Consolidated Health Insurance, OCHI.

"I haven't heard about them. How big are they?"

"All I know is the name. You'll have to find the details on the web."

"So, what's the beef against them?"

Harriet took over. "Rick and I met this couple that works at the resort – he's a maintenance man and she cleans rooms. We came back to the room after breakfast to find the woman, Myra, crying. She apologized and tried to leave but I asked her to stay and tell us what's troubling her. She said her seven-year-old daughter was going to die unless she got medical care, and they couldn't afford the cost. Rick asked if she had medical insurance, which they did, but the company wouldn't pay for the operation."

Rick continued the story. "Both Myra and her husband, Ozzie, are covered by their employee health insurance plan from OCHI. The girl's liver and lungs are deteriorating and she needs a combined liver and lung transplant to replace them."

"Why won't the insurance cover it?"

"They claim that, because it's an inherited genetic problem, it's a pre-existing condition."

"Has she had it all her life?"

"No. She inherited the genetic structure from both of her parents that left her highly susceptible to the condition, but the symptoms didn't show up until she turned six. The insurance paid for the diagnostic tests that confirmed what she had, but OCHI cut her off once they discovered it was genetic."

"What's the operation going to cost?"

"Over a million and a half dollars."

"No wonder they don't want to pay. Have there been any court cases that support their position that a genetic disease is a pre-existing condition?"

"That's something I'll have check on. So what's our plan of attack on this?"

Lynn thought for a minute. "Let's do it this way. Rick, you investigate the legality of their position. Find out if Ohio Consolidated can get away with this. Harriet, why don't you dig up everything you can about this alpha-one antitrypsin thing and see if other insurance companies have covered the operation. Meanwhile, I'll examine OCHI's records and find out what I can."

Harriet and Rick agreed. Lynn held up her wine glass. "How about another round, bartender?"

Lynn woke up with a headache from too much wine, and when she went to the kitchen found that Harriet and Rick were both suffering the same fate. "It was that last glass of sherry you called for that did this to us, Lynn."

"You're right Harriet. I forgot that sherry is fortified with added alcohol. What have you got to cure us with?"

"I could prescribe a 'hair of the dog that bit us,' but it's too early to start drinking. How about some strong coffee and a couple of Aleve?"

"Okay, but let's get those into our system quickly so we can start working on the new case. What's the daughter's name?"

"Emma, Emma Boswick."

"Alright. I officially name this case 'operation Emma.' Should we let her parents know that we're trying to help?"

"I don't think we should just yet. It might get their hopes up, and we don't know if we can deliver."

"You're right Rick. We'll wait until we know more. . . . Where's that coffee, Harriet?"

A short time later they were all working on their assignments. They agreed to meet before dinner and share what they found. Lynn started out at the company's public web page and found nothing of interest until she clicked on the 'About Us' link at the top. That gave her half a dozen photos of smiling corporate officers with short biographies on each. She decided to search for more information about them on the Darknet _. If I can find some bad stuff on any of them we might be able to use that as leverage, which is a fancy name for blackmail._

After an hour she gave up on that approach. The CEO was involved in a class-action lawsuit a few years ago for misrepresenting the terms of health insurance policies he was peddling, but there wasn't enough proof to find him guilty. All Lynn could do with that was conclude the guy was dishonest, which covers about 95% percent of salesmen in the world.

Next she pulled up the company file on Emma. She read through the policy but found too many whereas's and wherefore's to make sense of anything. She decided to send Rick a copy to see what he could make of it. Continuing through Emma's file she saw the letter the company sent the Boswicks informing them that Emma's operation wasn't included in the policy coverage. She also found five letters from the Boswicks – first questioning the company's decision, then begging them to reconsider. She found no responses by the company to any of those letters.

Harriet was having better luck with her medical research. With alpha-one antitrypsin deficiency, a biochemical called trypsin starts breaking down the liver and lung tissue. Trypsin's usual role is to devour unhealthy tissue at infection sites. Another chemical in the blood, alpha-one antitrypsin, is supposed to shut down trypsin activity in healthy tissue to keep it from being attacked. In patients with an antitrypsin deficiency there's not enough antitrypsin produced to keep the trypsin from destroying healthy soft tissue in the liver and lungs.

The genetic combination that leads to the problem is very rare, and mostly occurs in people with Scandinavian heritage. There is no cure for it, other than the liver and lung transplant, but avoiding air pollution and smoking may keep it from showing up until later in life.

Harriet copied all this information in a document that the others could read. _Poor Emma. Even if she gets the transplant she will have to suffer through months of painful recovery. And if the transplant is rejected . . . well, it's not like they will give her another one. Let's see how many cases of this are out there._

Lynn's final try was to see what OCHI has done in the past with these kinds of cases. She hacked deeper into their records and found a list of all the claims processed in the past ten years. She downloaded the list of several thousand claims, then wrote some software to sort them according to any criteria she chose. The first words she sorted on were inherited and genetic, and moved them to the top of the list. Then she sorted those on surgeries and the amounts paid for treatment. She ended up with a list twenty-three claims for genetic based conditions, of which eighteen were paid. She studied the five that weren't paid and found that four of them had been denied during the past nine months. _Interesting. It seems that they had no problem paying for treatment of genetic problems up until nine months ago. What's up with that?_

Lynn went back in to the records department files and pulled the four that were denied payment. Each file had a letter exactly like the one sent to the Boswicks. "Hmmm. It seems like a decision was made earlier this year to deny genetic claims based on a new pre-existing condition edict. And if a decision was made, then someone had to make that decision. And I'm going to find out who. But I won't find them in the case files. Time to get into the corporate email archives."

There were so many emails exchanged during the past year that it took Lynn almost three hours to scan through them. But she finally found what she was looking for. An email exchange between the CEO, Carl Morris, and head of the Claims Settlement Division.

Bill,

I have been going over the claims figures and we have to find a way to reduce the total we pay out annually. If we don't, it will sink us. Can you come up with any ideas on this?

Carl

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Carl,

I have been considering this myself and I think I can come up with a way to do this. On average, we pay out 14% of the total to patients with inherited diseases or conditions. What if we label these cases as pre-existing conditions because they began at birth, and deny coverage on that basis?

Bill

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Great idea, Matt.

I'll send a memo to the claims division establishing this as our new policy. Maybe there's a raise in this for you if it pans out.

Carl

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Carl,

One of the genetics cases coming up is really big – it will cost us a couple million if we have to pay it. In spite of your new policy, this one is big enough that the claimants might get lawyers and take us to court. I just want to know that you're certain about the new policy.

Bill

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Bill,

I looked over the patient's case file and her condition – alpha-one something – will kill her long before it gets to court. Don't worry about a lawsuit. We'll have our lawyers drag on the court proceedings until the claimants give up or the girl dies. It will be cheaper to pay the lawyers than to pay a claim that big.

Carl

"This is awful. The CEO is a cold-hearted bastard. How can I stop this? . . . Time for a pow wow with Rick and Harriet." She sent them an email calling for a meeting in the kitchen in five minutes.

"What's up, Lynn. It sounds important."

Lynn gave them a printed page. "It is. Here's what I found on the CEO's computer." She watched their expressions change from curious to angry as they read the emails. Then she turned to Rick. "What do you think we should do, Rick?"

"I would need to see the Boswicks policy and read the fine print to see if it allows them to take this position. But in the absence of specific language about genetic diseases that don't show up at birth, I think they're vulnerable to a legal challenge."

"That's what I thought, but with their willingness to delay a law suit indefinitely, it could last for years. By then Emma will have died. On top of that the Boswicks can't afford the legal costs of a lengthy litigation. We have to find a way to take care of this now."

Harriet spoke up next. "I think we should threaten the company with an immediate negative publicity blitz if they don't reverse their position on this. It would be nice if we could make the emails public but there's no way to prove that they're authentic. He could claim that we made them up."

Lynn mulled this over and hit on an answer. "If I hack into The CEO's computer and send the emails directly to media and Government recipients, they can be traced back to the IP address of his computer. That will guarantee their authenticity. Will that work Harriet?"

"Brilliant, Lynn. But I think we should send the CEO a message telling him what we're about to do before we actually do it. Maybe that will be enough to convince him to make the change."

"Good approach, girl. We could be open to some lawsuits ourselves if we release the emails."

"We're safe from that possibility, Rick. If I erase the hacking trail to his computer no one can ever trace it back to us."

"That's what I love about you, Lynn. Your devious mind. You could be a very successful criminal."

"Except I'm on the side of truth, justice, and the American way."

"Yeah. You and Superman."

"I'll go get started on this. See you at supper."

"Umm, something smells good. Is dinner ready?"

"Almost. Did the CEO give in?"

"I don't know yet. I gave him 48 hours to respond. He will need to talk it over with his legal staff first. But just to prove to him that my threat is real, I sent copies of the emails from his office computer to his wife's laptop, so he'll have some explaining to do when he gets home. . . . I'll set the table."

As Lynn started getting the dishes out her cell phone rang. She looked at the number but didn't recognize it. _It's probably a sales call. I'll let it ring . . . No, wait! That's Matt Murdock's number._ She opened her flip phone just as it stopped ringing. Her finger hovered over the Call Back button. _Do I want to talk to him? I don't want to encourage him. I'm not ready to get interested in another man. I don't think I ever will be. . . . But maybe he has some information about Zarah._ She pressed the button and put the phone to her ear.

"Hi Lynn. This is Matt – Matt Murdock, the detective."

"You had me at Matt. What's up?"

"I have three days off this weekend. You said to call if I could get the time to come to The Farm for a visit."

"Yes, I did. That would be great! So when can we expect you?"

I'm off Friday through Sunday, so I thought I'd drive over there first thing Friday morning. That would put me there sometime before lunch. Is that a good time?"

"Let me check with Harriet and Rick. They're right here. Hold on."

"Matt wants to come out for the weekend. Will that interfere with any of your plans."

Harriet smiled. "If we had plans we'd break them for this. Tell him to come on."

"Matt, it works for them. Do you know how to get here?"

"I have your address. My GPS will find you. Should I bring anything?"

"Just some warm clothes. The nights are still a bit chilly here."

"I'll pack my long johns."

Lynn giggled at the thought of Matt standing there in nothing but his long underwear. "We'll look for you Friday, then."

"Okay. Bye."

She turned to Harriet and Rick. "He'll be here before lunch on Friday. I'll make him something special."

"We'll need to do some shopping tomorrow. Just you and me. We'll leave Rick here to guard the fort."

"Sounds like a plan."

As the girls left for Leesburg, Rick was on the lawn tractor giving the lawn a first spring cutting. As he mowed along the east fence he saw a car parked on the dirt road that ran parallel to their property line. It was hard to make out through the thick hawthorn hedge, but it looked like a late-model SUV. _I ought to drive over there to get a look at the license plate, but it's most likely someone out for a hike. I'll check back later to see if it's still there._ Rick went on with the mowing and by his third circuit of the property the car was gone, so he continued on, thinking about the great protection provided by the tall hawthorn bushes with their entwined wall of four-inch, razor-sharp thorns. The chain link fence inside the hedge was superfluous, but provided a stronger sense of security.

Lynn and Harriet were back by mid-afternoon with more food than they could eat in a month, and some new clothes. The two of them hurried upstairs to try on the new outfits, leaving Rick to put away the groceries. Harriet came down dressed in one of her purchases. "What do you think, Rick?" He looked at the yellow sun dress and smiled. "You look good in that, dear. Really good."

"You sure know how to make a woman smile. I bought another outfit, but you'll have to wait 'til bedtime to see it on me."

"And you know how to make a man smile – and fill his head with thoughts for the rest of the day." Harriet gave him a hug and went back upstairs.

Ten minutes later she and Lynn came into the kitchen to a plate of assorted crackers and sliced cheeses. "I thought you might like a snack after working so hard at shopping." He poured a glass of sweet tea for everyone and they sat at the kitchen bar crunching crackers and chatting. Rick wondered if he should tell them about the car he saw outside the fence but decided not to worry them. _With the hedges and security cameras we're living in a fortress. It would take a bulldozer to break through._

"Have you heard back from the insurance CEO yet Lynn?"

"I haven't checked today – lets have a look." She picked up her laptop and opened the link into the CEO's computer. She had told him to send himself an email with his answer and she would see it. "Uh oh. Not good."

"What?"

"He says that he won't give in to extortion and he knows how to fight people like us. He had his public relations people release a statement to the news outlets that a smear campaign has been launched against them involving fake emails that discredit the company. In the release he hints that a rival insurance company is behind it."

"Darn. What do we do now? Rick have you got any ideas?"

"Not yet, but let me shift my mind into that gear and see what it can come up with. I'm going out on the deck for some solitude."

Lynn and Harriet chatted for several minutes before Rick came back. "I think I have something. How much control over the company's computer system do You have, Lynn?"

"I can do pretty much anything I want to. My hack let's me roam around inside the memory banks."

"Here's my idea. Compose a letter from the CEO to the Boswicks telling them the company has reversed it's decision and will pay all expenses for the operation, and all medical care for their child for the rest of her life. Include an apology and blame it on an overzealous claims manager.

"Step two is another press release from OCHI to the media highlighting their humanitarian decision to pay 100% of the medical costs for poor little Emma Boswick. Include a photo of Emma if we can get one. . . . I'll call the Boswicks and ask if they can email us some pictures. Once the press release hits the media they won't dare go back to denying payment."

"Ohhh, I like it. Who's the devious one now, Rick."

"I'm no match for your skills in that area, Lynn. But we do have a certain synergism, don't we."

"Yes we do. Rick, will you draft the letter to the Boswicks while Harriet puts together the press release? I'll go back into the OCI computer and see if I can make it print the letter and send it out in their morning mail. That's going to be a challenge."

It was close to suppertime when Lynn finally found what she was looking for. OCHI had a central mail facility to process the large amount of outgoing mail generated throughout the company. All letters are forwarded in an email to the facility, where they are printed, folded, put in envelopes, and run through a postage imprinter – all automatically. A computer keeps track of every letter processed with an assigned code verifying the writer.

"Hallelujah. It couldn't be easier. I'll insert Rick's letter into the CEO's computer and route it to the mail facility under his authorization code. No one will ever read it. I hope the public relations department is that easy to fool." Ten minutes later she had solved that problem too. Harriet's press release would go through the PR department using the CEO's code, then be released for distribution to the media. She pushed her chair back and headed for the kitchen, hoping there was enough leftover roast venison for a sandwich.

Rick and Harriet were ahead of her. They had made open-faced venison sandwiches with gravy to pour over them and some fresh corn on the cob. As they sat down at the table they both looked at Lynn expectantly. . . . "Well? What did you find?"

"I was going to hold you in suspense until after supper, but I'm too excited to wait. Sending out the letter and press release through OCHI is a piece of cake. How are you two coming?"

"We were done an hour ago. We've been waiting for you, slowpoke. I even got Myra Boswick to send me a recent photo of Emma. She's in bed looking sickly, with tubes coming out of her. That will create widespread sympathy and make it certain destruction if OCHI tries to renege on the letter."
Chapter 40 – Visitors

Lynn was up early on Friday, too excited to sleep. Looking forward to Matt's visit made her happy . . . and nervous. She enjoyed being with him, but worried that the relationship might move in a direction she wasn't ready for. She still clung to the notion that she was somehow cheating on Jack by seeing Murdoch. _If only Jack were still alive. Why did you leave me, Jack? You haven't snuggled with me for weeks. Even if it's just your spirit, to me you're real._ That brought a sadness that destroyed her happy mood. She laid on the bed and let the sadness take over her mind. She felt a familiar ache in her chest and tried to will herself back to sleep so Jack would appear next to her. . . . But it wasn't happening.

After a few minutes of self-pity her rational mind took over. _Stop it, Lynn. You'll drag us back into the depression prison we fought so hard to break out of. Don't go there! Turn around. Slam the door on your pain._

It took her a few minutes to shut off the negative feelings and replace them with good ones. But she realized that, instead of pulling up good thoughts of her time with Jack, they were thoughts of the good feelings she got when she helped someone break free from their problems and made those responsible pay. Her joy was coming from her present life. Maybe she was moving forward.

Lynn got up from the bed and went in to take a shower. She turned the water to cold and let the shock of it snap her out of her lingering melancholy. After she dried herself she put on a robe and went downstairs to make some coffee. Rick beat her to it. He heard her coming down and had already poured her a cup – black, no cream, no sugar.

As she took her first long sip – actually a slurp because the coffee was still too hot to swallow, she said "Thanks, Rick. I needed this."

"Figured you would. What's the timetable for today?"

"Well, Matt's coming sometime before lunch and I want to get his guest bedroom ready."

Harriet came in and joined them. "I already finished that. Fresh sheets, pillow cases, towels, washcloths, and toiletries."

"Wow, you run this place like a first class hotel."

"Yeah. I figure when we get older maybe we'll turn it into a bed and breakfast for the Washington gentry. You'd be surprised at how many overworked, overstressed people from the DC area would treasure a few days out here. Since we're already rich we don't have to make a profit, so we can pick and choose who we let stay here. We can keep up with the latest scandals and affairs by eavesdropping on the guests."

Lynn laughed. "And I could install hidden cameras in all the bedrooms so we can record the activity. That way, if we do run out of money, we can get rich on the blackmail payments."

Rick looked at her. "Like I said, a devious mind. And a pervert."

"What's the weather supposed to be like this weekend?"

Rick said "I haven't checked yet, Harriet.," as he turned on the TV. "Looks good Friday. Saturday will be good until after dark, then a storm's coming in."

"I hope it doesn't interfere with our weekend. I'm looking forward to some extended time with Matt. I want to find out what he's like when he's not on his best dating behavior."

Harriet reassured her. "The two of us will give you guys plenty of time alone. You could even take him up to Jack's cabin tomorrow."

"That's an idea, but I'll see how things are going with us before I commit to that."

"You're really being cautious about this, aren't you Lynn."

"I'm not sure how I feel about taking the relationship beyond friendship."

"I think you'll know after this weekend."

Lynn and Harriet spent the rest of the morning preparing the lunch – potato salad, soup, a sandwich bar, and Lynn's specialty desert, key lime pie. They finished just before they heard the intercom from the front gate. "Hello. .. Hello? . . . Is anybody there?" Rick pressed the gate lock release and answered, "Come on up to the house, Matt. There's room in the garage to park your car. I'll meet you down there." He turned to the women and asked, "Are you two coming down with me?"

Lynn replied "I don't want to seem too eager, so I'll stay in the living room."

"Me too," added Harriet.

Rick left shaking his head. _I'll never understand women_ , he thought.

A few minutes later Rick and Matt came up the stairs laughing at some shared comment. When Matt stepped into the living room and saw Lynn his face lit up. She got up and came over to greet him. _Should I hug him? Not in front of Rick and Harriet; they'll read something into it._

Matt stood there, uncertain about what to do _. Should I hug her? It might embarrass her in front of her friends._

Lynn solved the problem by slipping her arm through his and giving it a squeeze. "Matt, this is Rick's one and only, Harriet." Harriet wasn't bashful – she stepped up and gave him a long hug. "Welcome to The Farm. Sit here with Lynn and rest a bit while I get lunch ready. . . . You coming, Rick?"

He gave her a quizzical look, then realized it wasn't a request and jumped up to join her in the kitchen.

Lynn turned to face Matt on the couch and leaned over to hug him. Matt returned the hug and smiled. "It's so good to see you again, Matt. I . . . I missed you."

"Me too. . . . I mean I missed you too."

That led to a mutual laugh, which broke the tension. "You must be tired after the drive."

"Not really. I knew there was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow."

Lynn blushed as she smiled at him. "You certainly know the way to a girl's heart."

"That sounded corny, didn't it."

"Not at all, Matt. I enjoyed the compliment . . . it was a compliment, wasn't it?"

"Yes yes, of course . . . Oh, I get it. That was a sample of your humor."

Lynn laughed. "At last. You're starting to understand me."

"I'm sorry. It's just that I'm uncomfortable around women."

"I'm not a woman, I'm your friend."

"I could debate that point, but it puts me more at ease. Thanks."

Harriet called out, "Lunch ready in five."

Lynn took Matt's hand. "Let me show you to your room so you can freshen up. Did Rick send your luggage up with Henry?"

"Henry? Oh, the dumb waiter. Yes he did."

Matt grabbed his overnight bag in the upstairs hall and followed Lynn to his room. He looked out the bay window. "This room is too big. I'm used to small boxes. I don't know if I can sleep in a room this big."

"Well, we have a broom closet down the hall that might be suitable."

"I'm allergic to dust, so I guess I'll have to put up with this place."

Lynn turned to leave. "I'll see you downstairs when you're ready." As she walked down the stairs she thought _, I love it that he's good at joking back and forth. That's something Jack and I did all the time._

After lunch they all went out on the deck to enjoy the afternoon sun. Matt opened the conversation. "So tell me about this business you started, Lynn."

She looked at Harriet and Rick and got silent nods of approval. "We call it Revenge, Inc. We find people who are being abused or cheated and set things right."

"How do you do that?"

"Well, it depends on what the offender has done. If a deadbeat dad is refusing to pay alimony and child report, I dig into his accounts and see if he is hiding assets from the court."

"Then what do you do?"

"Well, I found a dad recently who had half a million dollars in a hidden account while his ex-wife and kids were barely getting by. So I took some of his money and had Rick put it in an annuity that provided them with a monthly check, and would have enough left over to pay for the kids college when they graduated from high school."

"Why didn't you just report it to the court?"

"Because it would take months to get the judge to act, and the man's lawyers would probably get him off the hook. His family would be no better off"

"When you say you took some of his money, I presume that you hacked into his hidden account to make that happen?"

"I'll need immunity from prosecution to answer that, Matt."

"Oh, come on Lynn. I know what you do isn't squeaky clean. And as long as you're playing Robin Hood I have no problem with it. But please tell me you never have or never will use it for personal gain."

Lynn looked over at Rick and Harriet again. With their nod she answered his question. "Matt, we're multimillionaires . . . from legitimate sources. We don't need any more money. As a matter of fact, we use our own assets to fund our work – and to help people out if we can't get it from the offender."

Matt stared at her. "You're shi . . . you're kidding me. Are you serious?"

Rick answered him. "I can show you our financial records and tax returns if you like."

"No, no. I don't need to see them. It's just that it's so hard believe. I mean, you're all so ordinary, down to earth. I don't see a bit of rich snobbery like the Philadelphia blue bloods flaunt."

"That's because we only acquired our money several months ago. We didn't grow up as spoiled rich brats."

Matt looked at Lynn. "This changes how I look at you. I mean, being in the presence of a multimillionaire – I don't know how to act."

Lynn gave him a dirty look. "Get over it! I'm still the Lynn you enjoy being with. Nothing's changed. Pretend I'm from a poor coal miner's family – which I am by the way – who will always let you pick up the tab. Forget I ever told you about the money. That's why I didn't tell you earlier. I didn't want to scare you off."

Matt nodded his head. "Okay. I can do that. If I get out of hand smack me on the back of the head to straighten up my thinking."

Lynn gave him a smack. "There. Did that reset your thinking?"

Matt smiled at her. "Yes ma'am."

They all laughed at that and started talking about other things until the sun was low in the sky and the evening chill set in. They went back inside and lit a fire in the huge fireplace. Rick poured them all a drink while they watched the evening news on Fox News Network. They were carrying on their own conversations when Lynn shouted "Wait! Look at that! They're talking about operation Emma." They all focused on the news report.

There's a heartwarming story tonight about a little girl who needs an organ transplant, and a big-hearted insurance company that has agreed to pay all of her medical bills, even the deductible amount. This little girl, from Pocono Pennsylvania, has a rare genetic disorder that started destroying her lungs and liver six months ago. Without the operation she has only a few months to live. The operation will cost close to two million dollars, and the four-hundred-thousand dollar deductible was beyond the ability of the low-income parents to pay. When the CEO of Ohio Consolidated Health Insurance Company heard of the family's plight, he sent them a letter waiving the deductible amount. The combined liver-lung transplant surgery is expected to take place within the next few weeks.

Lynn jumped up, waved her arms in the air, and shouted "Whoo hoo! It worked. We won." Harriet and Rick stood up and the three of them gave high fives and hugged.

Matt wondered what the excitement was about. When they calmed down he said, "Well . . . are you going to let me in on it."

Lynn told him the whole story. When she was through Matt gave her a hug. "Now I understand what you guys do, and I think it's terrific. What you did for that family is . . ." At that point he choked up, overwhelmed by his emotions. He tried to hide the tears that followed, but Lynn pulled him closer and kissed him on the cheek. Harriet smiled and gave Rick a nudge in the ribs with her elbow.

Lynn finally dropped her arms and took a step back. She felt her face flush and noticed that his did the same.

"This calls for a celebratory meal. We have some thick steaks in the fridge, and I'm sure Harriet and Lynn can come up with some mouth-watering side dishes. I'll get the fire started. Matt, put a coat on and join me on the deck."

Harriet whispered to Lynn. "Isn't Rick wonderful. He knows we can't wait to talk about things so he's giving us some space."

The next morning they were eating breakfast burritos smothered in green chili sauce. Lynn waited for a break in the conversation and asked Matt, "Would you like to drive up to Jack's cabin this morning?"

"Sure. Is there a reason we're going there?"

"I've got a few remaining ghosts I need to deal with – memories from up there I need to make peace with."

Rick and Harriet looked at each other, realizing it was probably a good thing for Lynn, but concerned that it might push her back toward depression. "Are you sure you want to go up there, Lynn. You have some pretty scary memories about the place."

"No, I'm okay with it. I'll have two men watching over me; Matt and Jack."

Matt smiled at that, finally putting two and two together. "So this the place where Jack saved you from the car bomb. What else happened up there?"

"Just a couple of quick exits when some bad people came after us. I'll fill you in while we're driving there."

"I can't wait. You're finally going to tell all. I have been hoping you would let your guard down and tell me more about your amazing adventures."

"I didn't say I would tell all. There are some things you don't need to know. But I'll give up most of it."

"Great. When do we leave?"

"How about an hour? And dress warmly. It gets pretty chilly up in those mountains."

"Cold enough for long johns?"

"That would be good." Lynn had to swallow a giggle as she again imagined him in nothing but the long underwear.

They were almost to the cabin. Lynn had started her story with her first email to Jack about an experiment he did in junior high school – all the way to her job with Dave. When she was finished she turned to him. "That's enough about me. On the way back you can tell me all the bad stuff you've gotten into."

Ten minutes later they got out of Jack's truck and took in the view from the front porch. Matt whistled. "This is amazing – mountains covered with a pristine forest of hardwoods and evergreens, set behind a glass smooth lake. It doesn't get better than this."

Lynn keyed in the combination to the front door lock and stepped into the main room. Matt came up and stood close to her right shoulder. She could feel the warmth emanating from his body. "I'll start the generator to get some electricity. Why don't you get a fire going. The wood is stacked outside the back door."

Matt stood beside the woodpile and look up the hill, remembering the car chase Lynn just told him about. He couldn't see how a car or pickup could fit between the closely packed trees, but Lynn said there was an old road that came to the top of the hill and connected with some logging trails. He put a few logs in the carrier and took them inside.

A short time later they were sitting on the sofa in front of the fire, letting its warmth overcome the chill. Matt had taken a seat at the far end of the couch from Lynn because he wanted to give her some time with her memories.

Lynn looked at him and said, "What, are you afraid I'll bite? Come on over here and put your arm around me."

Matt quickly scooted over until their thighs were touching and put an arm around her shoulders. "Ummm. That's better. Jack and I used to snuggle here for hours talking – or just sitting silently. Those kind of moments strengthened the bond between us."

Matt looked down at Lynn wondering whether she would choke up at the memory, but she had a smile of contentment on her face. Lynn reminisced about other things she and Jack had shared. Matt was a little jealous of Jack, thinking _how can I compete with a ghost_. But he realized she needed to talk about him to loosen the emotional connection that kept her from letting go of him.

Finally Lynn quit talking and got up from the couch. "I'm hungry. How about a sandwich?" They had stopped at the town grocery store in Mill Creek on the way here and got some fixins as Lynn called them. She put together two ham and cheese sandwiches and made some hot tea.

"Is it too cold to eat out on the porch" Matt asked?

"Not if you're wearing your long johns."

"Yes, I took your advice and came prepared."

They sat side by side on the wooden double swing and took in the scene. "Quite often we see wild animals out there – raccoons, squirrels, deer, bears, and eagles. And tons of cardinals. I love their pretty singing. I'm good at imitating their call with a whistle. Sometimes I carry on conversations with them."

"So among your many other talents you talk to birds? What do you talk about?"

"Oh, mostly about the weather, and where the lady cardinals might pick up a bright scarlet male. . . . No, not really. I was making up that last part. But I do wonder what a cardinal thinks I'm saying with my whistles."

Matt laughed. "I knew you were kidding about the bird conversation. But I wasn't really certain. You do so many other things well I thought it might be possible for you to discuss things with them."

"I should have kept you guessing. How about a tour of the place?"

"Great. And I want to start by following Jack's string of wireless video cameras to where he got the bears to attack the guys spying on him."

An hour later Lynn finished the tour in Jack's hidden basement command center by describing the computer-controlled surveillance system. She even played back the videos of the two of them walking the trail around the lake. Lynn turned on the audio tracks to show him how clear the sound of their conversations was.

"Now you know everything about my secret hideaway in the mountains."

"Do you come here often?"

"Only a couple of times recently. It's a six-hour drive from Philly. But now that I'm closer I expect to spend more time up here. The peace resets my stress level to nearly zero."

It was almost three p.m. when they came up from the cellar, and they didn't like what they saw outside. Ugly clouds were gathering quickly as the storm moved in ahead of schedule.

"We better get out of here before the rain hits, Matt. These mountain roads can be treacherous in the rain. You put the leftover groceries in the truck while I turn the alarm system back on."

They only got halfway down the steep road between Jack's place and the main highway before the rain hit. It was so heavy that Lynn couldn't see through the windshield, so she pulled over to wait for the rain to let up. Almost an hour later the rain had let up enough to see the road, but she had to drive very slowly – which was a good thing because as she rounded a curve Lynn slammed on the brakes just in time to stop short of a rock slide across the road.

"You think we can move these rocks?" Lynn asked Matt hopefully.

"Not unless you're looking forward to back surgery."

"So, what now?"

"How long will it take the road maintenance people to get up here to clear it?"

"With this rain there will be similar problems throughout the county. Since this is a seldom-traveled road we're pretty low on the priority list. I think we'll be lucky if they even get to it tomorrow."

"What's Plan B?"

"I don't have a Plan B. We could try taking the back road out behind the cabin, but we'd be sliding downhill on muddy roads most of he way. So that's not really an option."

"How about Plan C. Can we get someone up here with a bulldozer?"

"No, they would have to bring it up on a flatbed, and no one will try that in this weather. So unless there was one up here already for construction or road work, there's no way. . . . Wait! There is one up here. Jack has a Bobcat with a front-end loader parked in the barn. It's a lightweight as dozers go, but I think it can handle these rocks."

Matt thought about it. "That should work, but by the time we get back up there it will already be getting dark. We'll have to wait until morning – and hope the rain is gone by then." He looked at Lynn to see how she would react to spending a night together.

She sighed as she turned the truck around to head back to the cabin. "Alright. We can't do anything about it tonight." Then she smiled and said, in a kids voice, "I get the top bunk."

"You have bunk beds? . . . Oh, you're putting me on again. I'll get used to it. What about food. We might squeeze one more sandwich out of the lunch leftovers, but that won't be enough."

"Not to worry. Jack has a freezer stuffed with trout and deer meat. Or, you being an old military man, I have some MREs that might appeal to you. What does that stand for, anyway?"

"There are lots of ugly names attached to that acronym by the soldiers who have to eat them, but the official army name is Meals – comma – Ready to Eat."

"Why not Ready to Eat Meals? It would save all that ink it takes to print the commas."

"It's the military. There's a sign over the entrance to the Pentagon that reads 'Abandon All Logic and Reason, Ye Who Enter Here.'"

"Now you're putting me on. There isn't really a sign like that, is there?"

"No, but there might as well be."

When they arrived back at the cabin Lynn pulled into the garage and lowered the door. "The Bobcat is over there in the barn. Let's go check it out to make sure it still runs. I don't think it's been started in over a year."

Lynn opened the side door of the garage and saw the barn door fifty yards away. She took Matt's hand and ran for the barn door. By the time she got it unlocked they were both soaked to the skin. They tumbled in the door laughing and stopped to look around. "There's the Bobcat over in the corner."

"Jack had a liking for big boys toys, didn't he. A snowmobile, a jet ski, a lawn tractor, and . . . what's that over there."

"That's his hang glider. He planned to modify it by adding a small jet engine but he didn't get around to it before . . . before he was killed. Climb into the Bobcat and see if you can start it."

Matt turned the key but nothing happened. "It seems like the battery is dead. We'll have to charge it before we can take it out."

"Jack keeps a couple of spare batteries on a trickle charger in the back room. They should be good to go."

Matt disconnected one of them from the charger and hauled it over beside the Bobcat. He grabbed a wrench from the workbench and replaced the dead battery. When he turned the key the engine reluctantly turned over, then roared to life. "Hot dog, we're in business. Let's get back to the house and get a fire going. I'm freezing."

They left their wet shoes in the rear entryway and stood dripping on the kitchen floor. They looked at each other, soaking wet, hair plastered to their faces, and broke out laughing. Matt saw that Lynn was shivering and pulled her to him. They stood there, arms wrapped around each other, trying to generate some warmth to stop the shivering.

"I need to get a fire started in the living room, but I can't go in there dripping water and mud."

"Me neither. Turn your back while I get out of my sweatshirt and jeans so I can get us some towels. You strip to your long johns and get the fire going."

Matt looked at her. "Your not serious?"

"Yes I am. Now turn your back while I undress. When you hear the bedroom door slam you can start stripping."

Matt felt embarrassed, even with Lynn out of the room, but he went ahead and removed all of his outer clothes. He had a good fire going when Lynn came into the room in a robe with towels over her arm – and burst out laughing. With a red face he said "What's so funny?"

"I've been imagining what you would look like in nothing but your long johns, and now I know."

"I must be pretty funny looking to make you laugh so hard."

"No, not at all Matt. But you do look like a Norman Rockwell painting."

That made him blush even more. "Let me have one of those towels so I can dry off. I'm glad you like me in my long underwear, but I can't stay in these. They need to dry out. But I've got nothing else to put on."

"I'll get a set of Jack's flannel pajamas and a robe from the bedroom. Then we can wash our clothes so they'll be clean and dry by morning. Come with me and let's find you some warm pajamas and a robe."

The two of them were sitting side-by-side in front of the fire drinking hot spiced wine. "This stuff is great, Lynn. Where did you learn to make it?"

"From my skiing days. Have you ever skied?"

"I haven't ever lived anywhere near a ski resort."

"The Snowshoe Mountain Ski Resort is about fifty miles south of here. Maybe we can try it out next winter."

After several seconds of silence, Matt replied, "I'd like that."

"How about some supper. What sounds good to you?"

"You choose, Lynn. Something easy."

"Okay. Since I have never tasted an MRE, let's have a couple of those. What flavor is best?"

"I think all of them are made of the same stuff. They figure if they put the right food coloring and scent in it, and label it beef and noodles, or chicken and dumpling, that's what soldiers will taste when they eat it."

"Do they offer a good Italian pasta with marinara sauce and Chianti on the side?"

"There's something close to that, but you'll have to provide the Chianti."

"I wonder if I put red food coloring in water and tell you it's Chianti, will it fool your taste buds?

After their MRE supper they were sitting on the couch with Lynn nestled under Matt's arm. "This is so pleasant, Matt."

"What? Sitting in front of the fire?"

"No, the closeness of sitting here with your arm around me. You aren't really a romantic, are you Matt."

"What man is? If a guy says he's a romantic, I think he's just telling his woman what she wants to hear."

"No, I disagree. I'll accept that it takes awhile being together with a woman he loves, but if he's willing to climb out of the macho box our culture puts him in, I think most men will find their romantic core and enjoy a much deeper relationship."

"One can always hope."

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, each toying with their own thoughts.

Lynn: _I like this guy, even if he is a little John Wayne-ish. I feel comfortable and safe in his arms. . . . Talk about fitting into a cultural box. Here I am enjoying his protective arms around me, willing to trade my independence for the warmth and comfort of his embrace._

Bill: _I'm not sure what she, or any woman, wants from men. God created the roles we're supposed to play in a relationship, but feminism has destroyed that. I keep thinking about a quote I heard from Dr. Laura on the radio – 'A woman doesn't want to hear a man open up and tell her about his feelings. She wants him to empathize with her while_ _she_ _talks about her_ _own_ _feelings.' But whatever, this sure feels good._

Lynn: _I feel romantically drawn to him. If he wants to make love with me tonight, will I give in? I don't know. I think I have let go of the feelings that I'm betraying Jack with this relationship, but if it comes to making love . . ._

Bill: _I feel really drawn to Lynn. When she's this close, my body responds in ways that could be embarrassing. I'm not sure what I would do if she wants to make love tonight. If she still has hang-ups about Jack it could ruin our relationship if we take this step too soon. There's no need to rush it, but damn she turns me on._

They both almost fell asleep, but Lynn had to pee. When she got herself disentangled from Matt he raised his head. "Bedtime, huh."

"Yeah, I was drifting in and out of sleep. We'd better turn in so we can get an early start on clearing the road."

They both stood up and Matt said hesitantly, "May I, um, kiss you goodnight?"

She held out her hand coquettishly and said "You may, sir." He looked a little puzzled by that, but lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.

Lynn laughed. "That's not a kiss, silly. Here's a kiss." She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close to kiss him on the lips. It wasn't a passionate kiss, but it was lingering and left them both with a familiar warmth inside. Matt pulled away and told her "This has been a wonderfully enjoyable day, Lynn. I hope we can share some more."

"Oh, we will. Definitely."

She kissed him lightly one more time and went into the master bedroom. Matt went into the guest room and laid on the bed, enjoying the warm feeling that suffused his body.

Lynn closed the door and reached in the drawer for something to sleep in. She had taken most of her things to the apartment, but there was one nightgown left – a knee-length satin shift in midnight blue with muted ivory lace around the neckline and hem _. I hope he doesn't see me in this. It would probably give him lascivious ideas. But it's all I have._ She slipped it on, climbed under the covers, and was asleep in a few minutes.

Matt lay awake on top of his bed, unable to sleep because of the thoughts going through his head. _I think I'm falling in love with her. . . . No, I know I'm falling in love with her. Does she feel the same way about me? Can this relationship go anywhere with me in Philly and her at The Farm? I could take an early retirement next year, but what would I do in Leesburg? They're not likely to need a detective, and I don't want to drive a squad car._

Lynn was sound asleep at two a.m. when the crack of a gunshot jerked her awake. It took her only a second to reach for her gun on the bedside table, roll off the bed, and slide back into a dark corner of the room. _Zarah must be in the house!_ She held the gun in front of her aiming at the door. She shouted "Matt! . . . Matt! . . . are you okay?"

A few seconds later the door was pushed open and someone stood silhouetted in the frame. Lynn started to squeeze the trigger when she heard Matt's say "Lynn?"

"Thank God it's you. I almost shot you. I heard a gunshot? Did Zarah take a shot at you?"

Matt turned on the light, then walked over and knelt down beside her, taking the gun from her hand. "It was just a crack of lightning outside, Lynn. I think it might have hit a tree up on the hill behind us. No one is going to harm you."

Lynn sat there in the corner shaking. "I thought Zarah was coming for me, Matt. And I wasn't ready for her."

Matt took her hand, stood her up, and wrapped his arms around her in a protective hug. "It's okay. There's nothing to be afraid of. I'm here for you." He held her close until the shaking stopped. Almost at the same time they both noticed what they were wearing. Matt stepped back and looked at her in her nightgown. The words came automatically out of his mouth. "God, you're beautiful."

Lynn felt a warm glow from those words, just before she felt embarrassment set in from him seeing her in such a skimpy nightgown. She pulled loose and reached for her robe. As she tied the belt at the waist she said "I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to see me like this. It's all I had to sleep in."

"There's no need to apologize. That image will stay with me for a long time."

Lynn fidgeted with renewed embarrassment and joked to cover it up. "Well, the glimpse I had of you in oversized plaid flannel pajamas hopefully will fade quickly."

The both smiled at that as Matt left for the guest bedroom.

It took them awhile to get the Bobcat down to the rockslide, but once there it didn't take Lynn long to clear it. They drove back up to the cabin, put the Bobcat away, and headed for The Farm in the truck. They called Rick and Harriet earlier to let them know why they were delayed, but both of them stood anxiously at the door as they arrived.

Rick asked, "Did you have any trouble moving the rockslide?"

"No, Lynn's a wizard with the Bobcat. She had it cleared in twenty minutes."

Harriet shooed them inside. I'll have lunch whipped up for you shortly. Then you can tell us about what you did up there all night. . . . Oh dear. I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

Lynn told her, "That's alright, you're forgiven for having your mind in the gutter."

"Now you've really made me feel bad."

"There's nothing to talk about. We just shared a pleasant evening in front of the fire followed by separate sleeping arrangements."

Rick and Harriet gave each other looks that said "Yeah, right."

After lunch they sat out on the deck enjoying the smell of rain-washed air. Matt noticed the lawn was recently mowed. "It looks like you've been busy mowing grass already. That's one reason I'm glad I live in an apartment. That's a lot of lawn – how long does it take you?"

"I have a small tractor with an eight-foot cutting deck, so it doesn't usually take more than an hour."

"With that thick hedge surrounding the property no one can see what shape your lawn is in, so why mow it?"

Harriet spoke up. "Because I can see it, and I like neat."

"Speaking of seeing in, I saw a vehicle parked outside the fence while I was mowing. They left after I passed them a couple of times."

"Could it be your neighbors?"

We don't have any close by. There's an old dirt road over there, so it might have been someone out for a hike."

Lynn was only half paying attention until her brain registered what she just heard. She asked Rick sharply, "What kind of vehicle was it!"

"I couldn't really tell looking through the hedge, but I think it was a light colored late model SUV."

"It wasn't a black pickup, was it?"

"No, that would have gotten my attention since you told me Zarah drives a black Avalanche."

Lynn relaxed back into her chair. "I hate it having to live looking over my shoulder all the time. I wish I had killed her in that warehouse."

Matt pointed out, "You barely escaped with you life. Be thankful for that."

"You're right. . . but I can't get her off my mind."

Matt looked at her. "Remind me again why she is so driven to kill you?"

Rick and Harriet looked at each other. Lynn had never told them what happened to Alexei, but they thought Lynn probably killed him somehow.

Lynn was silent for a couple of minutes. "Okay, Matt. Since we seem to be headed for a close relationship I'll tell you the truth. It could send me to prison, but I trust you not to act on it. In detective jargon it's off the record and hypothetical, got that?"

"Yes ma'am."

She looked at Rick and Harriet. "Got that?"

"You can trust us with your life, Lynn. We're all family."

"After Jack and Serena were killed, I was driven by anger and a need to make Alexei Brusilov pay for what he did. I searched for properties he owned and found two – the one in Alexandria and another up in Wisconsin's Nicolet National Forest. I figured he would have gone there to hide in case the police were hunting for him.

So I went there to kill him. I sneaked up to his cabin and when he opened the door I knocked him out with my rifle butt. By the time he regained consciousness I had cuffs and leg irons on him. He asked if I was going to shoot him, but told him that was the easy way out for him, so I was going to turn him over to the authorities.

Then I took him outside, put him in the back of his Hummer H3, and hand cuffed him to the rear seat frame. But instead of driving him to the nearest police station, I parked it out in the middle of a small lake near his house. He couldn't see out because he was on the floor, so he asked me why I had stopped. I told him that he and his heavyweight Hummer were about to be sent to the bottom of the lake. Then I got out, lit the fuse on a charge of dynamite beneath the vehicle, and left. As I was driving away on my snowmobile I heard the explosion and the sharp crack of the ice breaking up. I hate to admit it, but damn that felt good."

The others sat in silence for a minute, then Matt spoke up. "So Alexei drowned at the bottom of a remote lake in northern Wisconsin?"

"Maybe. I told him as I shut the car door that, as tightly sealed as HumVees are, I wasn't sure whether he would run out of air or freeze to death first."

"Did you actually see the Hummer go through the ice?"

"No, I was out of sight when I heard the explosion."

"So you don't know for sure if Alexei is really dead, do you."

"I don't see how he could have survived. . . . But I suppose it's possible."

Matt concluded the discussion with his own verdict. "Well, it appears to me that, since you didn't actually witness the car sinking into the lake, we can't say for sure that he's dead. So all we really have here is a missing persons case, and there's no crime in that."

The other three visibly relaxed at Matt's words as the tension left them. Lynn looked at him and said, "I like the way you think, Detective Murdoch. I believe I'll keep you around for awhile."

After an afternoon of laughing and talking, Rick and Harriet got up to prepare supper. Lynn slid over next to Matt and pulled his arm around her. No words were necessary. They had both learned something new about the other that drew them even closer. Lynn looked up and they shared a long kiss. She thought she might have heard Jack say _Way to go, girl._
Chapter 41 – Finale

It was Sunday evening. Matt had to return to work tomorrow and Lynn didn't want him to go. His far away job seemed to be a gulf, interfering with their growing relationship. For the first time she realized she would miss him when he left. _That's what happens when you let someone get too close_ , she thought. _You have a feeling of incompleteness when you're apart_. _Do I want that?_ . . . _Yes! It's a small price to pay for the feelings I have when we're together. We'll work out a way to be together. Even if I have to go back to Philly.. . . I wonder if he feels the same way?_

The four of them were sitting out on the deck, the sound of an owl hooting nearby. A cool front had come through so they were bundled up under warm comforters – Harriet and Rick on the double swing and Lynn and Matt on the bench seat. The moonless sky was black as coal with bright sparkling stars. They were taking in the Lyrid meteor shower which shows up in April. Every minute or two a bright spot streaked across the sky, leaving a trail that ended when the meteor burned out in the atmosphere. Matt pulled an interesting fact out of the basement of his memory. "Did you know that about sixty tons of space dust falls on the earth each day? It comes from meteor trails and particles attracted by the earth's gravity."

"We have our own Matt Nye the Science Guy among us." Lynn said with a smile. "What other amazing scientific facts can you regale us with?"

"That was about it. And I don't even know where I picked it up."

"So how many years will it take the earth to double in size from the falling stardust?" Harriet asked.

"Oh, I would guess a hundred million billion years."

"I take it math wasn't your strong suit in college, huh Matt."

"Math . . . what's that?"

Rick joined the conversation at that point. "I can guarantee that it won't take more than five billion years."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because that's when scientists predict the sun will burn out. I heard it on the Science Channel."

Harriet looked shocked. "You mean I only have five billion shopping years left? I need to go on more buying sprees – lots more. "

They were all laughing about that when a loud explosion ripped through the air. Matt reacted first. "What was that. It sounded like it was in front of the house."

Lynn reacted next. "It's Zarah coming to get me."

Matt grabbed her arm. "Into the house, everyone. Get your hands on some weapons, quick." Lynn ran up to her room to get her Glock pistol, while Harriet and Rick headed for their gun safe. Matt's was up his room, but he pulled one out of his ankle holster immediately.

His next order was "Kill all the lights and lock the doors. Now!"

The house went dark just as they heard vehicles charging up the driveway.

Matt continued to take command. "Everyone get to a window. If you see someone with a gun, shoot 'em. Shout out how many you see."

Rick was the first to respond from his position beside the living room bay window. "I have two moving in on the front door." He got off one shot through the glass before a shotgun blast shredded the front door lock. Lynn was still upstairs so she took a position on the balcony covering the door. Harriet was covering the rear deck door from the kitchen and Matt was surveying the attackers from the study window. He shouted "I have three big pickups out front with six attackers. . . . They're spreading out around the house. Two of them are heading around back. Heads up, Harriet!"

A few seconds later the glass door to the deck was shattered by another shotgun blast. Harriet yelled I'm okay. The door's gone but no one is coming through it."

"Same for the front door. Why are they waiting?"

Matt returned his eyes to the trucks. "Sniper on one of the pick ups. Stay out of sight. . . . It looks like he's got a night vision scope!"

His warning wasn't in time for Rick as a high powered rifle round plunged through his left shoulder. To his credit he didn't scream as he was slammed to the floor.

"Who are they shooting at. Anyone hit. Everyone check in." Matt shouted.

"Lynn here. I'm clear."

"Harriet. I'm good. . . . Rick . . . Rick! . . . Answer me!"

Lynn answered. "Stay there Harriet. I'll go down and check on him." Lynn took the stairs three at a time and slid along the floor to where Rick was. She saw blood pouring from a shoulder wound and spoke into his ear. "Rick? . . ."

"I'm hit, but I can still shoot. Move me so I can cover the front door."

Lynn didn't want the attackers to know they had hit someone so she shouted, "Rick's good. They missed." Then she pulled a cushion from the couch and propped Rick up on it. He raised his pistol. "Come on in, you bastards. I got some lead waiting for you," he shouted.

Lynn scrambled along the floor into the study. "We're outgunned, Matt. They can wait us out until we use all our ammo."

"We're just have to make our shots count. Six of them, three dozen shots between us. We can make it work."

Matt peaked out the window just in time to see one of them with a rocket launcher. "RPG incoming!! Get down!"

Two seconds later the rocket propelled grenade streaked in the front door, went through the dining room, and exploded against the kitchen wall, taking out the refrigerator and stove. It also took out everyone's hearing so they couldn't communicate right away. Lynn tried to tell Matt she was going down to the truck to get more weapons, but he pointed to his ear and shook his head. She made a dash for the kitchen and the door down to the garage, but it was blocked by the remains of the refrigerator. _I can't go outside to get to the truck. Can I move the refrigerator? Maybe, but someone might shoot at me through the deck door. . . . Harriet! Did the RPG explosion get her?_

As she stepped into the kitchen to look around a sniper bullet whizzed past her head. She hit the floor and continued to look. The pantry door creaked open and Harriet gave her a thumbs up.

_Okay. Back to the truck. How can I get to it? . . . Henry!_ Lynn scooted across the floor to the dumb waiter and punched the button to bring it up. When it got to the kitchen she opened the door, crawled inside, and sent it down to the garage.

She went over to the truck, lifted the trunk lid, and surveyed what she had to choose from. She decided on two fully automatic M-16 rifles with extra ammo clips, more ammo for their pistols, four smoke grenades, and an RPG launcher with three rocket rounds. She took Henry to the upstairs hallway and unloaded the weapons. "Rick, are you okay?"

He answered in a strained voice. "Yeah. I'm still here."

"Give me some covering fire – I'm coming down."

Rick fired four shots out the window as Lynn scrambled down the steps, then crawled over to Rick with a smoke grenade and extra ammo. From there she crawled into the study. Matt looked over at her. "Where you been?"

"I got more toys for you. She gave him an M-16, extra ammo, and the RPG system. Then she went to the kitchen to back up Harriet. She found cover behind the overturned refrigerator and slid a smoke grenade and ammo across the floor to Harriet.

When she looked up there were two men coming across the deck, expecting the explosion to take care of anyone inside the blown out door. Lynn let them get almost to the door before she opened up with a 10-second burst from the M-16 that leveled them both. She shouted "Two down back here."

Matt threw a paperweight through the study window to get the sniper's attention. He pulled the shade off a desk lamp and held it up in front of the window as he turned it on. His experience with night vision goggles assured him the sniper was now effectively blind for at least ten seconds, so he grabbed the RPG launcher and sent a round into the front of the pickup he was shooting from. He closed his eyes to protect his night vision, but the satisfying explosion told him he had hit the target. _Hard to miss from fifty feet,_ he thought.

He reloaded twice and took out the other two trucks. He didn't want any of these bastards to escape. He picked up his M-16 and ran out the front door, knowing the explosions would have the attackers confused. He took out two of them with his first sweep and looked around for another. Too late, he saw one at the side of the porch and took a pistol round in his right hand that made him drop the rifle. As the shooter fired his second shot Matt was already diving back inside the front door. He tried to scramble behind the couch but he was too late. The attacker stepped inside the door, laughed, and raised his pistol for the killing shot. . . . It was the hesitation for the laugh that got him killed. Rick's pistol round hit him in the left temple and came out the top of his head.

Matt yelled "Five down, one to go. Anyone in back?"

Harriet answered, "Lynn's out the door with nothing in sight."

"Damn her. That's a stupid thing to do." He grabbed a smoke grenade from Rick, tossed it out the front door, and ran for the deck door to cover Lynn. He burst out onto the deck, looking left and right before he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back inside, which made her drop her M-16 on the deck.

"What are you doing, Matt! There's still one out there."

"If they haven't run yet we're safer in the house. He looked over at Harriet. "Rick's been hit. Lets all go to the living room."

Harriet cried out and ran to Rick. He was laying face down on the floor in a pool of blood. She put her mouth down to his ear. "Rick. . . . Rick! . . . She felt his neck for a pulse and found one, but it wasn't very strong. She looked up at Matt and Lynn. "He's unconscious." She grabbed her cell phone and called 911 for an ambulance and the police, then went to get some towels to slow the blood flow.

Lynn said, "Do you think the last one is gone, Matt?' He turned to answer her and saw a flash of motion up on the balcony. Lynn looked up. "Zarah! . . . How did you get up there?"

"Someone gave me some smoke for cover and Rick over there was already out, so I just walked right in. Now it's time for you to pay." She took aim at Lynn and squeezed the trigger, but Matt jumped in front of her. The bullet caught him square in the chest and he slid to the floor as Lynn rushed to catch him. Zarah looked her in the eye and drew a bead on her. "Beg, and maybe I'll kill you with one shot instead of crippling you first."

Lynn's gun was in her belt holster at her back. In one move she executed a forward roll and came up firing her pistol. The first shot hit Zarah in the forehead, but Lynn kept pulling the trigger until her gun was empty. As Zarah crumpled to the floor Lynn leaned over Matt's face and looked in his eyes. She thought he was dead until he opened one eye and winked at her.

The first ambulance arrived ten minutes later. The emergency response team formed up around Rick and Matt, taking vital signs and assessing the extent of their injuries. One of them reached for his radio. "Get another wagon out here, stat! We have two GSWs, both in critical condition. Have surgery teams scrubbed and ready to operate. It's gonna be close."
Chapter 42 – Angels

Lynn and Harriet were sitting in the kitchen of the farmhouse – what was left of it anyway – consoling each other. Talking about Rick and Matt and how they will miss them. Talking about anything else that would take their minds off the two men. Harriet found a subject. "We need to get busy figuring out how to get the house repaired as soon as possible – to make it livable."

"It's livable now if we eat fast food. We should be able to get a new stove and refrigerator in here pretty quick."

"No, we should wait on that until they repair all the shrapnel holes in the walls and ceiling. It will be quicker for the workmen without those things in the way."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. We'll be staying in a motel for the next few weeks. I'm willing to pay whatever it takes to get a contractor in here who can guarantee the job will be completed in a month or less. Do you know anyone Harriet?"

After the attack the two ambulances rushed the men to the emergency room at Loudoun Hospital outside of Leesburg. Surgeons got the patients stabilized and assessed their condition. They could handle Rick's injuries, but Matt needed surgical expertise beyond their capabilities, so they airlifted him to George Washington University Hospital. When Harriet and Lynn arrived at Loudoun, Matt was already gone. Since Harriet would need her car one of the ER staff offered to drive Lynn to GWH. Lynn took her by surprise with an engulfing hug. With tears in her eyes she said "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you . . . what's your name?"

"Elaine."

"Well thank you Elaine. I'm Lynn, Lynn Preston.'

Elaine grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door. "Times a'wasting Lynn. Come on."

Rick was already in surgery at Loudoun so they directed Harriet to the waiting room. When she got there she saw an electronic board behind the receptionist listing each patient, their status, and the operating surgeon. She saw Rick's name and asked the lady what she knew about his status.

"All I can tell you ma'am is what the board shows. When the doctors know more, one of them will come out and speak with you."

"What about his surgeon . . . this Dr. Burns. Is he any good?"

"I can't answer that either Mrs. Goodman." Then she motioned for Harriet to lean closer. "But I can tell you this. If it were my husband on the operating table, Dr. Burns is the only one I would let touch him." Harriet smiled at the reassurance and thanked her.

Lynn went through the same process at the George Washington Hospital. She saw from the status board that they had already been working on him for over an hour. When she asked the desk clerk about Matt's condition she got the same answer – wait for a doctor to talk with her – but there was a sadness in the woman's face that led Lynn to believe that things weren't going well. She found a chair by herself in the corner of the room and bowed her head to pray.

"Lord, this man has become very special to me. Sometimes I wonder if it was you that brought us together. But I love him! _That's the first time I've used that word about him. I just now realized that I do love him._ Lord, I ask you to watch over him. Guide the surgeon's hands. Strengthen Matt to withstand the operation and bring him through it safely. And strengthen me to get through this." At that point she started to cry. "Please Lord!" Then she felt a hand on her shoulder. . . . She looked up to see a young couple kneeling beside her chair.

"May we pray with you?" the woman asked.

"Oh, yes. Please do."

"Is it your husband in surgery?"

"No, but he's a man that I love, and I want to spend my life with him. His name is Matt."

They reached for her hands and began praying. Not out loud, but with murmurings. Lynn felt comforted and her fear melted away. _God's in charge and I trust Him_ , she thought.

When they were through praying they took seat on either side of her. "We'll wait with you if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind. I'm just so thankful you came and prayed with me. Fear is hard to handle when you're alone. Who are you here waiting for?"

The man answered, "No one. We come here, and to other hospitals, whenever we can and reach out to those who need closeness to God."

Lynn thought, _God sent them . . . in answer to my prayer. I wonder if they're angels? Did Jack send them?_

They waited with her for five and a half hours, until the desk called her name. The doctor will see you in Consulting Room C, Mrs. Preston." She turned to her new friends and thanked them again, then hurried in to see the doctor.

"Mr. Murdock was in extremely serious condition when he was brought in. He suffered major organ damage to his liver, right lung, and stomach, with bullet fragments puncturing the small intestine in several places. Whoever shot him was using fragmenting bullets, which is why the damage is so extensive. We have repaired some of the damage to the liver and lung, and stopped the bleeding for now. If he survives we will repair the rest of the damage with subsequent operations."

Lynn looked at him in shock. "If he survives?? What do you mean?"

"In cases with this much damage to several organs, the body sometimes shuts down, gives up. We can't fix that."

Lynn held her tears back. "Can I see him now? Can I talk to him?"

"He is unconscious now and may be for a few days. When he is able to have visitors someone will call you. You left your number at the front desk?" Lynn nodded.

"Good. That's all we need."

_What do I do now, Lord?_ The words "Trust in Me" ran through her mind.

Harriet didn't have to wait as long to hear how Rick was doing – only three and a half hours. The doctor told her that he had lost so much blood that his circulatory system collapsed, greatly reducing the blood flow to all of his organs, including the brain. They gave him several transfusions just to get him through surgery, and he would need more to keep him alive. The worst news was that he was in a coma, with no certainty that he would ever come out of it. The doctor didn't say anything about brain damage, but clearly that was a possibility. Harriet left her phone number at the desk and went out to her car. She got into the driver's seat and just sat there – not knowing what to do next. After a few minutes she remembered Lynn and called her. She had just heard from the doctor and was getting ready to call a cab, but she didn't know where to go. Harriet told her to wait there for her.

Harriet parked her car at GWH and met Lynn in the waiting room. She could see Lynn had been crying and wondered why she herself hadn't cried. She seldom cried, but something like this should break through her disciplined mind. At times like this she wished she could have the release that tears bring. _Will I cry if Rick dies?_ she wondered.

The two of them went down to the hospital coffee shop, but realized when they got there that they couldn't eat anything. They settled for coffee and began talking about what to do next. They knew they needed to be near the men, but with both of them unresponsive for an unknown period they decided to go back to The Farm – to someplace that would comfort them.

When they finished their conversation about getting in some contractors to fix the place they took a look around the kitchen one last time. "I'll get someone up here this afternoon to get these broken windows boarded up. We don't want water damage to add to the mess."

Lynn answered. "That's the first thing, definitely. While you're doing that I'll line us up a couple of motels."

"Maybe we can both stay somewhere halfway in between the two hospitals. There's an Embassy Suites in Tysons Corner that's pretty nice. It would be less than thirty minutes either way."

The left The Farm around noon and headed for their respective hospitals. They agreed to meet at the Embassy Suites later that afternoon to catch each other up on the latest reports. Harriet left in her Escalade while Lynn chose the Miata instead of Jack's truck. The nimble sports car could make better time in the D.C. traffic. Lynn almost dreaded getting to the hospital, fearing the news would be even worse. _How much worse can you get than almost dead? He's hovering on the edge of eternity._

"Stop it Lynn! Those are terrible thoughts. Don't let your mind go there."

She tried to bring up some pleasant thoughts of their time together and realized there were very few. "Lord, please bring him through it so we can have many more pleasant memories together. If You did bring us together, I have to believe You wouldn't take him away so soon." Lynn held on to that thought the rest of the way to the hospital.

Lynn got back to the hotel shortly after four, beating the worst of the evening traffic. There's not much reason to stay at the hospital when they tell you nothing has changed and no, you can't visit him yet. She found Harriet at a table in the open dining room, sipping on what looked like a margarita. Harriet waved and pulled out a chair for her to sit on.

"Grab yourself the drink of your choice at the bar. Drinks are free until six o'clock. And the good thing is they're so watered down we can't get drunk." Lynn went over and ordered a gin and tonic and returned to the table. They both said, almost at the same time "What did they tell you?" That gave them a laugh at a time when that were hard to come by.

"You first, Harriet."

"The spokesman – it wasn't even a doctor – told me that nothing had changed and I couldn't see him because he was still in a coma. How about Matt?"

"You must have talked to the twin of the spokesperson I got. Same story. I got the impression he didn't want to be bothered. The ole 'don't call me, I'll call you if there's any change' story."

"So what do we do now."

"I'm going up to our room and use every internet resource I can find to learn about medical treatment for patients in Matt's situation. Maybe I'll find a ray of hope."

"I'll join you. I never heard of a collapsed circulatory system before."

By midnight they had found only a few bits and pieces, most of it discouraging. "Maybe my idea wasn't so great, Harriet. I need something to take my mind off Matt, not depress me."

We could go downstairs, get drunk on real booze – the stuff they start serving when the freebies are over – and pick up a couple of successful-looking businessmen."

"And do what? Bring them up here?"

"No, we'll just play with them awhile at the bar, get their hopes up, then go to the ladies room and disappear."

"That could be fun, but I would only go after the ones with wedding rings. They deserve to be played."

They both got another laugh out of that. Lynn followed up with, "Seriously, what could we do to distract ourselves."

"Maybe you could teach me some of your simpler hacking tricks. We could be here for days with lots of time to kill."

"I like that. Then I'll have someone to help me with the Revenge hacking when we get too busy for me to handle it all. Let me get our computers talking to each other so your screen is a copy of mine. I'll go through each procedure a step at a time while you watch, and I'll have your computer record it so you can practice on your own."

Lynn linked the two computer and said, "Lesson one. How to back out of a hack in a millisecond, before they start backtracking to your computer."

Lynn and Harriet continued with the same routine for four days, waiting for the big phone call. Lynn's came first. "Hello, this is Lynn Preston."

"Mrs. Preston, we have some news about Mr. Murdock . . ."

"Well, go ahead. I can take it."

"He has regained consciousness. He's apparently quite a fighter and fought his way back into our world."

Lynn screamed for joy. "Can I visit him? Now. Today?"

"Yes you may, but the visits must be limited to five minutes for now. He tires easily."

Lynn hung up without saying thank you or goodbye. "Harriet! Harriet! Matt's awake! He's awake." Harriet jumped up from her nap and ran to hug Lynn. They were both crying happy tears as they sat on the couch. When Harriet could speak again she asked if he could have visitors.

"Yes. Yes. I'm going right now!" She grabbed her purse and started toward the door. Harriet laughed and said "You forgot something. I'm sure Matt wouldn't mind, but you're still in your pajamas."

She looked down. "Oh . . . yeah. I have to get some nice clothes and make up on. I don't want him to see me like this." As she headed for the bedroom she turned her head and said. "You too, Harriet. Get dressed and come with me!"

Matt was still in intensive care, so they could see him through the glass from the nurses station. "Is he awake now? Can we talk to him?"

The nurse replied "Yes on both counts, but not until the doctor finishes examining him. Have a seat. I'll let you know."

It only took a few minutes but they seemed like the longest minutes in Lynn's life. Harriet sat next to her and held her hand. Finally the nurse nodded at them. "Five minutes only. I'll tap on the glass when your time is up."

Harriet held back as Lynn walked softly to Matt's side. His eyes were closed and Lynn thought he had gone back to sleep. She called softly, "Matt. Matt? It's me . . . Lynn." . . . When his eyes fluttered open a smile broke across his face.

He spoke barely above a whisper. "Lynn. . . . Lynn. Now I know I really am alive. I kept wondering if I was dead and everything was a dream."

"You couldn't have been dead. Dead people don't dream."

That got a grunt from Matt as he tried to laugh past the pain.

"I'm sorry, dear. No more funny things. We only have a couple more minutes. I brought Harriet with me." Lynn motioned her forward into Matt's vision.

Matt waved her close. "How's Rick, Harriet."

"He's still unconscious – in a coma. He lost too much blood. They don't know when he will come out of it."

A tear formed in Matt's left eye. "I'm so sorry for you and Rick. But he'll pull through, just like I did." A knock on the window broke up their conversation. Lynn bent down and kissed him gently on the forehead. "I prayed for you, darling."

"I know."

As the two of them made their way past the waiting room to leave, Lynn stopped. She grabbed Harriet's hand. "Come on, you have to meet these people. This is the couple I told you about, the ones who prayed with me."

When the woman saw Lynn her face brightened as the two of them stood. "Harriet, this is . . . I'm sorry I never asked who you were."

The man said "I'm Michael and this is Angelina."

Lynn was dumfounded for a minute, then she said "Of course you are.

"My friend Matt is awake and talking. I just spoke with him."

"We know. We've been praying for him."

"Thank you, and God, so much. For praying and staying with me when I was crushed."

Angelina turned to Harriet. "You must be Lynn's friend. It's nice that you came along to support her."

Lynn looked at Harriet. "Actually, she and her husband need prayer, badly. He was seriously injured at the same time as Matt and is in the Loudoun Hospital in Leesburg. He's in a coma and may not survive. Can you pray for him?"

"Of course." Angelina and Michael joined hands with Harriet and Lynn as they stood in a circle. No one spoke at first, so Lynn started to pray. "Dear Lord, you have answered my prayers and I thank you and praise you for it. But its Harriet and Rick who now need your healing hand. Please give the doctors the skill they need to bring him back to us. Strengthen his body so it can rebuild itself and heal."

Angelina began her mumbled prayer. It was too soft to make out what she was saying, but Lynn knew God heard it. Michael joined her shortly after that with his quiet mumble. When they were finished Lynn didn't know if Harriet wanted to, or even could, pray, so she remained silent with her head bowed.

Then she heard her crying out to God through her tears. "God, I don't know you as well as I should, but I met Christ when I was twelve years old, and I hear that He will never let me out of His hand. I ask now, in His name, that You heal my husband, that You bring him back to me. I don't care if he's not all there, I just want him back. And thank you for bringing us to these two Godly people Lord. I'm sure you know them much better than you know me, so even if my prayers are having trouble reaching you, I'm certain that you can hear theirs."

Lynn added an Amen and they all looked up smiling, Harriet with tears still streaming down her face. Michael nodded toward the waiting room. "We have others waiting in there. He looked Harriet straight in the eyes and said firmly "Trust God!" before they turned away.
Chapter 43 – Back On The Farm

Rick came out of his coma two days after the angel encounter. Minor brain damage left him with half his face paralyzed, a weak left leg, and a left hand that seemed to have a mind its own, but the doctors told them that with therapy those would improve, maybe to the point of being barely noticeable.

When Rick, then Matt, were released from the hospital they were still bedridden and needed round-the-clock care. Harriet's contractor had come through ahead of time and had the house ready for them. There were hospital beds in the two bedrooms, so they could be beside their women at night. At first a visiting nurse had to come by twice a day to change bandages and put up new drip bags – Rick's to transfuse blood plasma into him and Matt's to drain the continuing flow of fluids from his body.

When the time came physical therapists were brought in to help them get their bodies working again and eventually get them back on their feet and walking. That's where Lynn and Matt were this morning, taking his three laps around the house. At first it took over an hour, but over the weeks he had cut the time in half.

Rick was taking to his walking regimen at a faster pace and by this time was up to ten laps. He told Harriet that he was going to ask the doctor when he could start jogging, but they both knew that wouldn't be anytime soon, if at all. But, on the plus side, he had almost full control over his hand and his face didn't sag so much anymore.

Three months later both Rick and Matt were almost fully operational. Matt worked out daily on a stationary bike and did 30 push ups and sit ups a day. Rick was as close to normal as he was going to get.

At breakfast one day Matt asked Lynn if they could go up to the cabin for a few days. Lynn's face lit up as she asked, "When do we leave?"

Rick added "Maybe we can all go." but when Harriet kicked him in the ankle and gave him 'the look' he retracted his suggestion.

That afternoon the two of them were heading up into the West Virginia hills with the Miata top down and smiles on their faces. She and Matt had been very close since he came out of the hospital – taking walks, snuggling under a blanket on the deck swing, and doing what their generation called 'making out." But it wasn't the same as being alone together. They were really looking forward to some days together; just the two of them.

They had stopped in Mill Creek and bought all the groceries the Miata had room for, mostly frozen meals, They didn't plan on spending a lot of time cooking. It wasn't much, but enough for three or four days.

Lynn popped a couple of chicken pot pies into the oven while Matt poured them a drink, which they took out to the front porch. The blue sky was fading fast, but there was enough left to take in the splendor of the mountain forest and lake. They sat side-by-side quietly, neither wanting to interrupt the moment. Lynn knew there were some things they needed to talk about, but she chose to put them off for a day . . . or two. She knew they might interrupt the closeness between them.

Matt pointed out over the lake. "Look, the fish are jumping. Maybe we can get some fishing in while we're here. What are they, trout?"

"Yes. Jack fished often. He didn't care if he caught anything. He used the time for what he called his heavy duty thinking. He left us a freezer full of fish if you don't want to go to the trouble of catching them."

"I used to fish as a boy, but the thrill of the catch is probably gone at my age."

"I think dinner is about ready. Let's go in and feast on the special of the day." They held hands and laughed as they walked back inside.

After dinner they cuddled and watched some news programs on the satellite TV, just to see if anything had changed in the world. "Same stuff, different day," Matt commented. "I'm about ready to turn in, how about you?"

"This sure feels good, but I guess I'm ready," Lynn replied.

The morning of the fourth day they were sitting together on the porch snuggled together under a blanket. "This time together has been unbelievably enjoyable, Matt. Can we sleep together when we get back to The Farm?"

Matt gave her a pretend shocked look. "Whatever will Harriet and Rick think of us?"

"What they're most likely already thinking, dear."

Matt was silent for a minute. "You know, that bothers me a little – them thinking we're doing more than sleeping together. Do you think you could let Harriet know we're almost there, but have decided to wait? Would that embarrass you?"

"Heavens no. That's how Jack and I played it before we were married, and Harriet knows it."

They sat silently for a few minutes, then Lynn got up the courage to speak. "What do you think our future will be, Matt?"

"Well, I . . . I don't want to be apart from you, but I have to go back to the detective division in Philadelphia."

"Why? You can be an investigator for Revenge, Inc. Then we can live at The Farm full time, even work from the cabin whenever we feel like it."

"I don't know, Lynn. . . . It's like I have to prove I'm back at a hundred per cent – show them that I'm not crippled by my injuries. I had the doctor forward my latest medical results to the department. Before I can return to duty _,_ the department medical staff will have to study them and pronounce me fit for duty."

There was silence between them for a minute or two, then Lynn said solemnly, "Okay. I understand that. . . . I'll look into to moving the business back to the city."

"No, don't do that, Lynn. You love it out at The Farm, and you need Rick and Harriet to help with the business. I'll come back every Friday night and stay 'til early Monday morning. And I'll spend all my holidays and vacation here with you."

After another longer silence Lynn asked, "When do you leave?"

He paused, knowing she wouldn't like the answer. "After the weekend. On Monday morning."

Lynn thought for a bit, then pulled his head down for a long kiss. "It is what it is. I can live with it. I'll take every minute with you I can get."

She saw a smile of relief pass briefly on Matt's face. "Well, we have three more days – and nights. Let's get back to The Farm and start enjoying them."

Lynn got up early Monday morning to see Matt off. "I'll call you tonight, sweetheart, and every night."

"I'll look forward to it."

As Matt's car went down the driveway a single tear formed in her eye.

When Matt pulled into the police parking garage he headed for his assigned spot, but found another car in it – and a new name painted on the wall in front of it. _Well, I guess I couldn't expect them to hold it for that long_ he thought. But he did feel a twinge of disappointment.

As he walked into the detective department, someone looked up from a desk – his desk – and yelled "Murdoch is back!" Everyone stood and clapped as they gathered around him to shake his hand. A couple of his best friends even hugged him – hard to do in a room full of men. Matt felt a lump in his throat as he told one after another, "Yeah. I'm fine. In as good a shape as ever. Ready to get to work." A couple of them looked down when he said this, and he wondered about it until he realized why they were doing that. They couldn't look him in the eye. _What's going on here? I don't understand._

Then the Captain was standing beside him with an arm around his shoulder. "Welcome back, Matt. Come on in my office and let's talk." He opened the door and let Matt go in ahead of him.

"Have a seat. Damn you're looking good! I expected . . . I, uh . . . . Hell, it's good to see you."

The Captain sat behind his desk and pulled out a tan folder. "I have the report from the medical review board here, Matt, and I have good news. They have authorized a medical retirement – with full pay. You won't have to keep working to get your twenty-five years in."

Matt sat there unmoving. Shocked. He couldn't speak.

"Well, don't just sit there. Say something."

"I never expected this, Captain . . . I . . . I thought . . . I planned to . . ."

Then Lynn's words came back to him. _It is what it is. I can live with it._

He looked up and said, "I don't know what to think, Captain Whittaker. This is great."

"Well, you earned every bit of it. You were the best detective we had back in the day."

I'm already history here. I may as well leave gracefully.

"We have a full dress retirement ceremony set up the day after tomorrow, with the band and everything."

"You know me, Captain. I never liked those things – Christmas parties, Friday afternoon beer call, social gatherings. I really don't want a retirement ceremony. I hope you understand."

"I thought you might feel that way. It will be no problem to cancel it." He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a blue case. He opened it and turned it toward Matt. "This is the Philadelphia Police Department Medal for Bravery. If you did the ceremony the mayor would have pinned it on your uniform. But this way all you get is me and a handshake."

As they shook hands Matt said, "I'd rather have it from you any day, Captain."

Matt thought about calling Lynn, but decided to surprise her. On the trip back to The Farm he wrestled with conflicting feelings – disappointed that he was being put out to pasture, but eager to get home and start a new life with Lynn. As he rolled up the driveway and got out of the car Lynn came out the door with a concerned look on her face. "What's wrong?"

Matt pulled her into his arms and answered "Nothing's wrong. Everything's just the way it should be."

THE END

Author's Notes

Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it and haven't read the other two books in this series, The Hermetrius Conspiracy and The Forseti Solution, you can download them as E-books from www.smashwords.com.

Please take a moment to submit a review of Revenge, Inc. at the web site where you purchased it.

Feel free to contact me with comments and questions at

JDGerman.Author@AOL.com

You can keep up with my latest writing projects on my Blog at http://jdgermanauthor.blogspot.com/

About the Author

J. D. German retired from a 40-year career as a scientist to a lake home in south-western Georgia. His career focused on the development of laser and optical devices for the Department of Defense and other Government agencies. Some of these devices have been patented, and show up as the "gadgets" Jack Preston uses in the novels.

_Revenge, Inc._ is Mr. German's third novel. He has also published two non-fiction books titled _Christian Principles – Food for Thought_ , and _Random Thoughts of an A.D.D. Mind_ , which are available as free E-book publications from Smashwords.

