 
FATE OF AN ANGEL

by: Ramsey Austin-Spencer

2012 Copyright by Ramsey Austin-Spencer

Smashwords Edition

CHAPTER ONE

It had been an exasperating day. Nothing in particularly horrible had gone wrong, but nothing had gone right either and there was that lingering sense of a day wasted. Katie left the office a few hours early to go home and unwind. It felt a little bit self-indulgent, but some quiet time alone and a good hot bath was all she needed to forget she had lost Mr. Phillip's meeting notes, hadn't gotten the month end billings out in time and had jammed up the copy machine when it seemed everyone needed to use it. She was irritable and couldn't concentrate, so she had left with Mr. Phillip's blessing and come home. It was something she would normally never do, but she felt some justification because she hadn't taken even one hour off over the last eight months and she deserved these few precious moments of peace from the non-stop pace her life seemed to be running on all the time.

Now that she was home there was a twinge of guilt as she stepped off the elevator onto the fourth floor hallway of her apartment building. Her hand felt empty without the tiny hand of her three-year-old son Alex clinging to it, but she vowed she'd go pick him up from daycare right after she took just these few precious moments to relax. They'd go out for hamburgers tonight, she thought as she smiled to herself. He'd like that and even though he wouldn't even touch the meal and would run off to climb across the brightly colored plastic tubes and ladders in the play area, it would be worth it.

All the way to the end of the dark red carpeted hallway was home – Apartment 4D. Fumbling through her purse for her keys, she produced the necessary silver one and unlocked the door. Immediately upon entering she dropped her jacket and handbag on the floor just inside and locked the world outside, literally pressing her back against the thick wood with a sigh as though she had barely escaped and had now managed to shut the chaos out.

Going straight to the kitchen she began the routine of relaxing. Placing a cup of water in the microwave, she then went to the stereo and tuned into some soft instrumental jazz. Closing her eyes she let the sound seeped into her as she sucked in a deep breath to enjoy the calming effect of it. The shoes were left by the bed and leaning over the tub she adjusted the knobs until the water temperature just right. She'd been longing for this all the way home and quickly dropped her stuffy office clothes to the floor of the bathroom and wrapped herself in her short silk robe before she went and took the cup out of the microwave and prepared a cup of herbal tea to sip at while relaxing in the warm bath. Humming along with the familiar tune playing behind her she placed the steaming cup on the side of the tub and turned off the water, swishing her fingers in it one last time to make sure the temperate was still just right.

Pulling open the sash that kept the pink robe wrapped around her she let it slip off her shoulders, but stopped as an almost imperceptible noise caught her attention. She'd never been afraid to be alone in her apartment, so there was no sense of panic as she pulled her robe back up around her and leaned out of the bathroom to glance out into the living room. Everything was exactly as it had been three minutes ago as the music serenaded her from the little speakers. Shaking her head she laughed lightly at herself. Without Alex here she wasn't sure how to act, she told herself. It had been so long since she'd spent a few moments alone that she wondered if she even knew how to relax any more.

Going back into the bathroom she lit the candle by the side of the tub. That would be the final touch that would make this perfect, she thought, but as she stood up to once again prepare to climb into the warm water she saw him; a shadowy figure in the far corners of the mirror. Before she could turn around he was on her, pulling her back with frightening speed and force until she was immobile against him.

She didn't get a good look at her assailant, but she could tell he was dressed all in white from the distorted image she could still see in the mirror from her peripheral vision. She knew it was a man from the strong, blond hairy arm which wrapped itself across her shoulders just underneath her neck. The other hand held one of the steak knives from her utensil drawer. She recognized the imitation chipped ivory handle and for some reason it scared her even more that the knife pressing into the soft flesh under her chin, making it sting, was hers.

Even if the man wasn't holding firmly onto her, fright had paralyzed her. She wanted to fight, she wanted to scream or cry or something, but she was frozen as the man behind her tilted his head forward slightly over her shoulder, his eyes scanning from her toes up to her face. He let out a soft grunt and she wondered if he was disgusted or if he was approving. Either way it was terrifying. Tipping his head back again he pressed against her so his mouth was right next to her ear.

"Hello, Katherine," he whispered, soft and deep in her ear.

In surprise, she turned her head slightly to try and get a look at him, but he only tightened his grip making it impossible for her to move. "How...," she started, but let the thought drop from her mouth incomplete.

"How did I know your name?" he finished for her with a smile she felt on her cheek. "You have a stack of bills in the basket by the phone, Katherine," he said, still whispering.

The knife ran gently down her neck and snagged at the tender fabric as he reached down and slowly re-secured the sash of her robe around her waist. She didn't move as he brought the knife back up with the same steady, determination as he had used going down. Once again the knife was back up and positioned under her chin. He wasn't pressing it into her like he had done before, but the terror was the same.

Her vision seemed to be narrowing in and she felt light headed with fear to the point where she thought she'd pass out. She tried to close her eyes against it, but the feeling still consumed her. She prayed he wouldn't hurt her, but her thoughts were really on Alex. What would Alex do if no one came to pick him up? What would happen to him if she was never there to pick him up? The thought made tears start to heat the backs of her eyes.

There was a knock on the door and the man adjusted his grip on her, tighter than before. The tears were now completely gone from the surprise of someone coming to her apartment. No one knew she was home, she thought. She shouldn't even be here.

"Go," he whispered the command in a controlled, easy way. "Ask who it is." As he pushed her gently into the kitchen where the front door was, she subconsciously made sure her robe was secure around her. Her trembling hand ran through her hair, though she couldn't say why.

"Who's there?" she called once they got to the front door, knowing her voice was shaking, but unable to stop it.

"It's the police," a voice, which was muffled by the closed door, said. She felt a rock hit her in the stomach and her eyes turned to search her capture for instructions. It was the first chance she'd had to look at him as he moved to the side, his hand still grasping her arm painfully. She stared at the large firm man, whose light brown hair was slicked back from his face. He seemed very unassuming, but the eyes that stared back at her with a dead passion were unbearable to keep contact with and she looked away.

"Open the door just a crack," he whispered. "You're just getting in the tub. You're not decent. He can't come in."

Nodding her head in agreement without realizing it, she turned back to the door. The man grabbed a handful of her hair and pressed the knife gently into the exposed skin at the back of her neck. She gasped for a moment and tried to steady the trembling of her jaw as she opened the door just a crack to the man who was still waiting out in the hallway. Leaning around the edge of the door she only allowed enough space for her to glance out at the young uniformed officer standing outside her apartment door.

"I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am," he said officially. "We're conducting a search of the building for an escaped convict. We have information he may have come in here."

"Oh," Katie offered, trying to keep her voice from cracking and shaking. She wanted to say something more, but couldn't make her mouth work. She tried to think of a signal or a movement that would tell the officer what was happening to her, but she was afraid the man with the knife at her neck would know instantly and plunge the steel blade into her, making any attempt at escape a moot point. A chill ran through her, making her skin prickle.

"Do you mind if I have a look around?"

"Uh..." Katie hesitated, feeling his grip pull tighter against her hair. "I was just getting into the tub," she offered, once again pulling on the robe while she tried to smile at him, but she knew it wasn't coming across quite right. "I'm really not decent right now."

"I understand," the young officer said turning away from the door with a chivalry that made Katie blush slightly. "You should lock your doors and I'll check back a little later." He tipped his hat to her.

The man behind her pushed the door shut and clasped his hand over her mouth, dragging her over to the couch. They sat there together with his hand seeming too severe against her skin while the soft and calming music swam out of the stereo and drifted around them.

"I think he's gone," the man said after what Katie felt was an eternity.

She sat stiffly next to him, afraid to move, even though he wasn't touching her any longer. He looked over at her with the same appraising look he'd had in the bathroom and with what she could only assume was a very small smile, he motioned that she could move to the other side of the couch. She didn't want to seem too anxious, but she shifted herself across the faux suede cushion, still tasting the skin of the man on her lips. She didn't want him to see her wiping the feel of him off of her, so she sat, pushing her hands underneath her to sit on them as though they would scrub at her face without her being able to stop them.

The man got up from the couch and walked the room as though he were interested in renting it from her. She didn't want to stare, but she was afraid to take her eyes off of him. He was very average looking. She'd seen dozens of men who looked just like him. He was about thirty-nine or forty years old and stood five feet ten inches tall. His short hair, which was a light brown-blond, was combed back from a receding hair line. The only discerning difference was that he lacked the slight paunch common on the family men he resembled. In fact, he looked as though he worked regularly on keeping himself fit.

Turning, she realized he was smiling at her appraisal of him and she blushed in embarrassment. He had, what under different circumstances, would have been a sweet smile. He wore a white t-shirt and white pants, which looked like some sort of orderly's uniform. The only thing which really caught her attention was his dead pale blue eyes and she turned away from them.

"You really shouldn't leave your spare key in the fire hose box," he informed her casually, coming back over to stand next to the couch. "You know that's one of the first places people look."

She couldn't respond since her tongue was still frozen with fright, so she just shook and nodded her head at the same time. He gave her a curt nod and walked casually around the small room again, tapping the tip of the knife on various items of furniture as he went. He stopped by the entertainment center and turned off the stereo leaving the room uncomfortably quiet. He picked up a picture of Alex and she felt her whole body tense in fear. She wanted to leap out of her seat and grab it away from him, begging him not to touch her baby.

"Your son?" he asked holding the picture up so she could see the smiling, curly haired boy surrounded by three large blocks with the first three letters of the alphabet. Katie didn't answer him.

"He's a real cute one." The man smiled at the picture. "What's his name?"

Katie was crying now. Uncontrolled tears ran down her cheeks. "What do you want?" she choked out in a small voice.

"Oh," the man cooed sympathetically and returned to the couch to sit down next to her. He wrapped his left arm around her with Alex's picture still in his grasp. His right hand held the knife, which he rested heavily in her lap. The picture loomed in front of her face and he pressed his head next to hers as though they were looking at family vacation pictures together. "I just wanted to know what his name was so we could have a polite conversation about him."

"Alex," she croaked out. "His name is Alex."

The man nodded with deep breath, but he didn't move. His uncomfortable weight against her made her feel as though she would go insane. "Please," she cried, unable to hold back any longer. "Please don't hurt him."

The man turned his head to look at her with surprise in his pastel blue eyes. "He's not here to hurt, is he?" Getting up he put the picture back on the shelf and wandered to the next item. It was a small glass flower. He didn't stop at it or any of the other knick knacks as he spoke. "Alex. That's a fine name. So much better than mine. Do you know what my name is, Katherine?"

Katie shook her head no.

"Carl," he told her. "What do you think about that name?"

"It's fine," she said in a small voice.

Carl shook his head and sighed with a pitied sound as he came back over to sit by her, wrapping his free arm around her again. "Now Katherine," he started and then stopped, pulling back slightly to look at her with his eyebrows creased slightly together. "Do people call you Katherine?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Katie," she offered, not knowing why she should tell him that, but afraid not to tell him the truth.

"Katie," he nodded as though giving his approval of the abbreviated name. "Well, Katie. I think we can be honest with each other, don't you?"

Katie nodded again, feeling like a bobble head doll. She wasn't really agreeing, she was just afraid.

"Good." He smiled and pulled her to her feet with his arm still wrapped around her shoulder. "I think we need to get going, so why don't we go into your bedroom and get dressed."

Katie let herself be led into the bedroom. Carl shut the door behind them and stood guard with the knife held casually in front of him while Katie looked around her room lost. Her mind wouldn't process simple, normal thought and she couldn't remember where her clothes were or even how to get dressed.

"Where's Alex's dad?" Carl asked conversationally.

"What?" Katie mumbled, still trying to think about getting dressed.

"Alex's father," he said slowly. "I don't see any evidence of a husband around here. Where is he?"

"I....uh.....he passed away," she offered, feeling like crying and she still couldn't find anything to put on.

"You don't keep any pictures of him around?"

Socks. She found a pair of socks and quickly put them on. "We kind of had a whirlwind relationship. We didn't get a chance to have many pictures taken," she said, glancing around the room for a pair of pants. She found a pair of jeans lying on the floor and she grabbed them. She glanced up at him, wondering if he noticed she had clothes strewn about the bedroom. She wasn't a messy person, but sometimes when she'd come home, she'd just throw on a pair of jeans and when she went to bed she'd toss them on the floor so they'd be right there for the next night. It was a stupid habit that Alex's father had teased her about for the short time they were together.

"What was his name?"

Katie stopped moving as her mind now seemed be lost on Jack. She'd fallen in love with him instantly and he said he felt the same about her. They'd both been doing a service project through work. It was the type of thing where your employer let you take the day off to work at a food bank, or clean up garbage, or some such thing. Katie and Jack had both been working on a house for an elderly couple that needed the yard cleaned up and a wheelchair ramp built. Jack was a skilled carpenter and even though Katie was nearly useless they had worked side by side and he'd taken her to dinner that night. It was fast food, but that kind of described their relationship. For three months they spent hours talking and laughing and eating and seeing all the sights they had both seen a hundred times before, but that seemed all brand new when you were with someone you cared for. They'd practically moved in together after only two months.

"Jack," she said in a soft, frightened voice as she pulled on the jeans underneath her robe. She turned away from him and buttoned them up. Now she needed to find a shirt. The effort made her want to cry again.

"And how did Jack die?"

"I..., he..." Katie shook her head and hated that she barely remembered him. It'd all happened so fast and then he was gone. "Car accident," she told him. "I have pictures of him in an album," she said weakly, hating that she had to defend herself and her relationship with Jack to this man.

"Was it his fault?"

Katie stopped moving as she stared at the man in shock. "No," she said, feeling angry that he had the nerve to blame Jack. "He stopped by the side of the road to help a car that had a flat tire and a truck ran into the back of them."

"Oh, he was a good Samaritan."

"He was a good man," she said, starting to cry as she sat down, giving up looking for a shirt. She couldn't seem to remember where she kept them and her mind strained with the pressure of the questions and getting dressed with a man standing in her room with a knife.

"It's all right. Let me help you," Carl offered sympathetically. He opened the second drawer of her dresser and pulled out an oversized black sweatshirt with a picture of a cartoon moose on it. He handed it to her and then walked away to the other side of the bed with his back to her. She appreciated him not helping her any further and felt the tears fade back as she concentrated on finishing getting dressed.

"He never knew Alex?"

"No," she said softly. "I only found out I was pregnant three weeks after he died."

"Life is so cruel," he offered and the sincerity in his voice was a cold breeze.

"I have Alex," she told him, once again feeling a need to defend her life choices to this man.

Carl picked up the picture she had on the bed stand and turned back to her. She felt incomplete and unsure, but she withstood his gaze while she waited for what would come next. After holding her there for a moment with his pale eyes, he once again looked at the picture in his hand.

She knew it well; it was one of her favorites, which was why she'd put it next to her bed. Alex was only two in it. She'd gotten a coupon to have it taken at Halloween a year ago and they'd dressed up as angels. She was draped all in white with soft milky wings shooting out behind her and Babies Breath in her hair. Alex stood in front of her with little baby wings of his own. The soft light seemed to just caress them, creating a halo around them as they leaned together, their noses barely touching.

"Two beautiful angels," he said in a dreamy voice that seemed odd for a man of his size holding a knife. He turned to her again and she felt her insides jump. "Do you save people?" he asked.

"What?"

"Isn't that what angels do? They save people."

"Yes," she agreed. "They do."

"And Alex; is he an angel?"

Once again she began to cry. She knew she was nodding. Alex was an angel. Perfect and pure; he was the brightest part of her life. "Yes," she cried. "He was the one who saved me after Jack died. I love him so much." She didn't know why she'd just blurted out something so personal she could barely admit it to herself, but she had.

"And I'm sure you'll return the favor," he said, dropping the picture on the bed as he strode back around and over to her with a long, quick gait. "Let's see what we can find around here," he said leaving the bedroom, snagging onto her arm to tow her with him as he went. She was weeping and falling apart in front of him, yet he seemed to change emotions on a whim and it frightened her.

Abandoning her at the center of the kitchen he started going through the drawers and cupboards. He stopped in the utility room just off the kitchen and leaned back into the doorway to smile at her. "Just what the doctor ordered," he sang softly as he picked up the clothes line sitting on the shelf above the washer and dryer.

Once again grabbing onto her arm, he led her over to the sliding glass door, which he swung open wide to step out onto the little postage stamp sized balcony pulling her with him. Carl raised his head up and sucked in a deep breath of air, spreading his arms wide as though they'd stepped out onto a mountain range rather than a rusting apartment balcony. As his arms flung apart, Katie was pushed back and then pulled forward as his arms collapsed back to his sides. He smiled over at her, but then his forehead creased slightly and his smile faded as he narrowed his gaze in on her.

"Katie," he said her name softly, moving himself closer to her until she could feel his solid arm pressing against her. "Do you fear me?" he whispered to her, leaning in a little closer, like an eye doctor doing an exam.

"Yes," she said, nodding slightly. "You terrify me."

"Look down at them," he said pointing down to the street far off to her right at the main road which ran in front of the apartment building where a group of police cars had congregated. "Do you think they fear me?"

She looked over at the distant figures. She could see the cars, but only occasionally did a person walk by the entrance to the dead end alley. She knew calling to them wouldn't do any good. They couldn't reach her in time. "I don't know," she answered.

"They despise me."

Katie turned and looked up into his cold blue eyes. He was crazy. You could see it there in the baby blue irises. "I think they fear you," she told him.

He smiled an almost loving smile at her as he ran his fingers, still wrapped around the handle of the knife, across her cheek. "They fear what I represent," he told her in a soft, caring voice. "I represent their failure, their madness, and their ability to kill another human being. I'm evil, you know that, but in me they can see the evil that resides in them." He pulled back from her cheek. "If they kill me, will you think they're evil?"

"No."

"But when I kill someone it is."

She felt her stomach lurch at his reference to what she knew he had to have done in his life. She could feel it in him; the coldness of his nature. "Yes."

"And what do you know of evil, Katie?" He laughed lightly as though she'd said something amusing. It confused her. "We're all put here for purpose. Some of us are meant to save and others are meant to test. Which do you think I am?" he asked her, pulling her arm to move her around to stand in front of him.

Katie shook her head, but he wasn't looking at her as though he expected an answer. She assumed they both knew what the answer was.

He held up the clothesline in front of her face, pulling it tight. "I'm going to tie this onto your ankle," he told her and bent down to start the process. "I'm very good at knots. I was a Boy Scout you know. You won't get it off in the amount of time you have, so don't try." After a few moments he stood up and nodded once to her with the other end of the line in his hand. "There - all safe and secure. You see that pipe?" he asked, pointing directly above them. "It connects to the building next to yours. You're going to climb across the pipe to that balcony." He moved his hand down to point at the next building where a balcony, similar to hers, stood with only a single chair and a barbecue on it. "If you try to yell for help, I'll yank on the line and you'll fall to your death. If you get to the other side and try to undo the line and escape, I'll climb over there and kill you. I know the apartment door over there is locked and that no one's home." He leaned in close again as though for intimacy. "I've already tried it." He stood up and squared his shoulders. "You'll have nowhere to run. Do you understand? You'll have nowhere to go and you will never escape."

Katie nodded her understanding, feeling as though all the blood in her body had stopped circulating through her.

"Good." He seemed pleased with her response. "Let's get going."

Katie climbed up onto the balcony rail and reached up to grab hold of the heavy three inch diameter solid steel pipe. It was cold and she wondered if it would hold her. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest as she looked down at Carl.

"You're afraid," he offered. "Don't worry Katie. God favors people like you. I'm sure you'll make it."

Slowly she moved her hands forward until her feet no longer held her body on the balcony railing. She knew not to look down, but her mind taunted her to do it anyway. Going hand over hand it seemed to take forever to cross the fifteen-foot span without any words of encouragement from the man who held her life in his hands at the end of a rope.

Her arms were shaking with the strain and the cold pipe seemed to be getting slippery with the sweat of her palms. With every inch she moved forward she was sure she would slip off and drop to the pavement below. After a lifetime she could reach her foot out and touch the other balcony. Her numb hands were shaking and her grip was slipping. In a panic she tried to get her feet on the inside of the railing to jump onto the balcony. Her hands slipped before she had gotten a good foothold and as her foot skidded off the rim of the railing she felt herself begin to fall. Grabbing wildly at the air she caught the rail with her hand, nearly yanking her shoulder out of its socket as the weight of her body hurled downward and was kept from plummeting to the ground by a single arm.

She tried to gain her composure, but she hung there gasping and heaving, not sure she had the strength to pull herself up. Slowly she reached up and grabbed on with her other hand. Hoisting herself up with every ounce of strength she had left, she dove over the railing onto the balcony headfirst. Unable to move she laid on the hard surface and closed her eyes, letting her body soak in the cold fear which seemed to have adhered itself to her. She was trembling and crying and she could feel her heart shredding her chest like a thresher tearing up her insides. It seemed only seconds before Carl was over and kneeling next to her.

"From here we can climb onto the roof, across the building and down the fire escape on the other side."

"No," she breathed out in fear.

Carl pulled out the knife and brushed it lightly against her cheek. "What are you more afraid of?" he asked conversationally.

Slowly, with his hand under her chin, he brought her to her feet. Without words he once again helped her onto the railing. The line was still tied to her ankle and she reached up to the roof and began pulling herself up with his help this time. He held her foot in his hands and gave her the boost she needed to get up. This was not nearly as bad as the pipe across the two buildings and she was able to quickly scramble up the rough edge of the building, using the trim and outcroppings to get all the way up and roll onto the roof. She lay on her back, breathing harshly, still not recovered from the first thing he'd made her do. This was never going to end, she thought to herself. She couldn't handle it and she wondered how long before her mind and body just stopped trying, but when she heard Carl's voice commanding her, she sat up and tried to focus on what she needed to do to survive this; for Alex.

"Get back away from the edge and count from one to one hundred so I can hear you."

Katie started counting as her fingers played with the knot he'd tied around her ankle.

"Move further back," he instructed. Again, Katie did as she was told, scooting herself back a little further, her desperation to get the knot undone growing inside her.

The amazingly powerful man threw himself onto the roof in one fluid motion and Katie looked over at him in fear as she moved her hands slowly away from the rope that she hadn't been able to make any headway with in the few seconds he'd given her alone.

With a knowing smile, Carl made his way over to her, holding the knife in front of him. He crouched down for a silent moment, the knife moving hypnotically back and forth in front of her eyes and she knew she was whimpering. Tilting his head as though in amusement of her; he dipped the knife down and cut the rope from her ankle.

"Don't you fear me any longer?" he asked. His face was so close to her she could smell the sweet aroma of his breath. It smelt like honeysuckle. It was so odd. His smell, his smile, and his gentlemanly like manners were at war with the cold eyes, the quick mood shifts and the capacity he held for violence. Everything about this man seemed like a contradiction.

She couldn't answer him, she could only stare into the liquid blue eyes, seeing something in them that would explain him, but not being able to put her finger on what it was.

He backed away enough to sit down directly in front of her. "Do you believe in fate?" he asked, but it wasn't asked like a question he wanted her to answer, so she sat silently listening to him.

"I went down that entire hallway," he told her. "I listened at the doors, I looked for hidden keys. Yours was the only one I found. I didn't think anything of at the time, only that it would be a good place to hide out for a while. Once I went inside I could see who you were immediately. Everything in the place smiled. It was clean, but not totally uncluttered. Not vain or pretentious, but livable and warm. There were some of Alex's toys lying around, a few dishes in the sink. I saw your pictures and your name was on a stack of bills by the phone. Then I saw you walk in. I watched you; hidden in the closet. You were so fresh. The way you moved, the way you smiled to yourself while you were in thought. You were like the picture on your nightstand and I knew then that it was fate that I'd walked into your apartment. I've found something I didn't know I was looking for. You're an angel, Katie and you're going to save me."

He glanced over at her and then broke into a light laugh, shaking his head with amusement. She stared at him in confusion wondering if he was teasing her because of the picture he'd seen. She was certainly no angel and she wanted to tell him that, but it didn't seem a wise thing to do. Her eyebrows creased up, pressing together with the effort to understand this man, even though she thought it would be too frightening to truly know him.

Carl reached out his hand and caressed her forehead. "Don't fret," he said, then the faraway look was gone from his eyes and he stood up, taking her hand and bringing her to her feet. "We need to be pressing on," he said, leading her across the roof. When they reached the other side he knelt down and looked over the edge, bringing her down to look with him.

"A very young one," he said softly, as though looking at a fawn. The uniformed officer was standing just in front of his car in a deserted alleyway. "They put him in this alley to keep an eye out in case I double back this way. I don't think they really believe I'll come this way otherwise they'd have put one of their senior officer's here. They like to get the credit for captures," Carl said casually, as though explaining how to cook a pot roast. "Probably about twenty five years old, wouldn't you say? I would say he most likely has a young wife at home, maybe a small child; probably Alex's age."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, feeling the bile rise up in her throat at his emotionless editorial of a man's life.

"We're going to go down and say hi," he said.

He sent her down the fire escape first, but his feet were only one rung away from her hands. "Quietly now," he warned her. "I don't want you to fall."

She knew it was a threat and she moved as carefully as she could. When they reached the end of the ladder they were still about eight feet from the ground. The policeman's back was to them as he scanned the street in front of him.

Katie hung on the last rung to drop the extra three feet to the ground. As she hung there, Carl leapt from his position above her like a panther. He seemed to fly through the air, knocking the policeman to the ground. With amazing speed he had the young man pinned with his knee in his throat, cutting off the man's oxygen supply. The knife rose, aiming for the officer's head.

Katie dropped right after Carl's leap. She realized she was yelling as she ran at Carl to jump on him and keep the knife from finding its mark. He turned just as she reached him, his free hand shooting out, grabbing her by the shirt and throwing her on the ground next to the choking officer. He leaned toward her, his face twisted, looking frightening and out of control, so unlike the usually calm and emotionless features he normally held.

"This was your one chance to escape," he growled at her. "You just wasted your one chance on this pig."

He released the pressure of his knee on the man's neck and the man gasped and coughed, his arms flailing slightly, trying to get to his throat as though that would somehow help push the air into his lungs, but Carl had only moved down slightly until he was on the man's chest, keeping him immobile on the ground. Carl leaned even closer to Katie, his face taking up her entire field of vision.

"You have just sacrificed yourself for a man you don't even know. One who probably cheats on his wife and steals drugs from crime scenes. Do you still want to save him?" Carl's voice sounded angry and rose and fell in odd ways with his seemingly uncommon emotion. "Do you still want him to live?" he barked at her, turning her face harshly to look at the still choking officer. His grip had tightened on her throat and her vision was getting darker and darker. It was hard to concentrate, but she managed to choke out her answer.

"Yes."

The pressure was gone and she reached for her throat, just as the officer had tried to do, but it didn't help get the air in any faster. She sucked in large gulps of air, choking and coughing on them, but still needing more.

"Katie has just given you your life, feeble little man," Carl said, lifting himself off the man, but keeping crouched over him. He raised the knife, spinning it in the air so the handle rather than the blade was now facing down and crashed it into the man's temple, sending his head lulling to one side unconscious. Katie let out a squeak of panic and pain for the man.

Carl quickly pillaged the man's radio, gun and handcuffs. He pulled Katie harshly to her feet. "So there you go, angel. Your first save. How does it feel?"

It didn't feel at all like she wanted it to. Katie tried to be a good person and even though she didn't lie, cheat or steal, she knew she hadn't attained anything greater than the average person. It wasn't that she didn't want to help people, but it always seemed she had a little too much to handle taking care of her own life to worry about anyone else. She wasn't like Jack who was always there looking for people who needed something. He always seemed to know when someone needed groceries or help with their medicines or even just a kind word. She never saw these people and she knew it was because she wasn't looking. That's what kept her from being the person Jack was; the person Jack deserved. Keep your head down and live your own life. That's kind of the way she navigated the world.

Carl said she'd saved that man, but she knew it wasn't true. She'd reacted out of pure instinct and knew if she'd been thinking about it, she probably would have been selfish and run away – leaving the man to die. She hadn't really done anything for him and in the end he was still hurt and she hadn't been able to stop that.

It was just like the service project they'd been on. Jack owned his own company, so he had volunteered and given up his pay as well as paying all the men on his crew without making a dime. Katie had only gone because it was a chance to get out of the office and still get paid. She didn't have what it took to be the person Jack was and she certainly wasn't the person Carl seemed to think she was.

She was glad the man would live, but she didn't want to die. Did that make her a bad person, she wondered, feeling the tears bunching up on the lower rim of her eyes. At a moment when she should have felt a sense of accomplishment at doing the right thing, she felt nothing but fear and confusion. Being the good Samaritan had gotten Jack killed and apparently it would end the same way for her.

With Carl pulling on her, they ran off through the large set of bushes to their left with the alley and the police officer left behind.

CHAPTER TWO

Marcus sat on the edge of the table in the manager's apartment looking over the reports being brought to him every few minutes. His staff was pulling every bit of information they could dig up on Carl Malcolm from crime reports, court transcripts, known associates, and prison records. Marcus wanted to know everything about Carl including his favorite food.

This was Marcus's fourteenth manhunt as a U.S. Marshall, but this was by far the most dangerous criminal he'd gone after. Carl Malcolm was worse than a cold-blooded killer, he was an enigma. Everyone knew he'd killed more people than they would ever know about, or could ever prove. He sometimes killed for money, but he also took his kills personally. He appeared very particular about who he took a contract from, but there was no pattern as to who, or why. He had no signature like most serial killers did. He sometimes killed from a distance, while other times he tortured his victims slowly into death. He rarely took trophies, but he seemed to have some sort of need to kill. Marcus wanted to find him because he knew Carl wouldn't stop killing and if they didn't find him soon, they'd be following a trail of dead bodies.

Glancing around the little office that was crammed with people, he sighed and tossed the court appointed psychiatrist's evaluation onto the table. It wasn't encouraging and it didn't really offer any information Marcus didn't already know - Carl was unpredictable and treacherous. He was starting to think this lead was a dead end, but unfortunately he had nothing else to go on right now, so he'd do his job and carry it through to the end and then move on to see if he could find any other strings to pull on that would help him find the man who couldn't be allowed to roam free.

"What have we got?" he asked Stan, the paunchy bald man to his right who was the liaison for the local police on site. The tired looking man put down the reports he'd been looking over and shrugged.

"We just got a hold of apartment 3G. They've given permission for us to go in. I sent Hayes and Owen.

"How many does that leave?"

"We still haven't been able to get hold of 3F and 1B."

"This is ridiculous," Marcus scowled getting up and pacing around to try and slough off the excess energy that was building inside him, but had nowhere to go. "We have an escaped fugitive and we have to play these silly permission games."

"It's either that or you get 60 separate search warrants," Stan answered.

"I know," Marcus mumbled, pushing his thick brown hair back roughly from his forehead. "Keep trying to reach them, but I think it's a lost cause now. Too much time's passed. He's not still here; if he ever was."

"Harris put a circle around 4D. What do you suppose that means?" Stan asked.

"Why don't you ask him?" The irritation couldn't be kept from his voice.

"Harris," Stan called over the radio. "Where are you?"

"Right here, sir," Harris walked in from the hallway.

"Are you finished with your search?"

"Yes, sir."

"What's this circle around 4D?"

"She was just getting into the tub and wasn't decent, so I couldn't go in and search. I told her I'd come back."

"You talked to her?" Marcus asked with a bad feeling welling up in his stomach.

"Yeah."

"Did you see her?"

"Yeah," the man said with more of a question in it than an answer.

"If you saw her, why couldn't you go in?"

"She was in a robe or something. She didn't come out from behind the door."

"Come with me," Marcus demanded, nearly running for the elevator.

Harris and Stan followed and the three of them rode to the top floor. Marcus ran down the hall until he stood in front of her door and rapped his knuckles harshly against the solid wood. There was no answer. He knocked again even louder. "Police, ma'am," he called. "We need to talk to you."

Nothing.

"It's urgent. I need you to acknowledge or we will forcibly enter the premises."

Silence.

"Where's the manager?" Marcus demanded.

"You don't have a warrant," Stan protested.

"I've got a bad feeling."

"That doesn't hold up in a court of law," Stan informed him.

"So sue me," Marcus said and kicked in the door, hoping he was right on this because if he burst in on a woman in the tub he would pay dearly for his wrong decision.

The door slammed inside the apartment, sending splinters of wood across the kitchen floor. Marcus's gun was drawn as he moved slowly forward. The three men made their way through the two-bedroom apartment which was laid out like all the rest they had searched. Walking into the bathroom he wasn't worried about finding an irate woman. If she'd have been here, she'd have screamed when he kicked the door in. Even though he knew she wouldn't be here the scene in front of him made his throat tighten slightly. The tub sat full, a cup of untouched tea sat on the edge and a candle flickered on the counter. He dipped his finger in the cup and then the tub. Luke warm, both. Telling the officer she was taking a bath hadn't been a lie, but Carl had interrupted it and the only thing that kept Marcus from giving up all hope was the lack of a body.

"Get me forensics to 4D," he said into his radio before turning to the two men. "Search everywhere. If she's here, if he killed her, I want the body. If not, I want to move fast to find him. We're about twenty minutes behind already."

Two more officers arrived and Stan issued the order. Closets were opened, cupboards were searched and every possible hiding spot was looked into, but no blood and no body was found.

Key evidence could have been destroyed, but if she was here, they needed to know. He was grateful she wasn't, but he wasn't sure if that was good or bad. If Carl took her, they may never find her and that was something Marcus didn't want to think about. Twenty minutes too late. "What was the woman's name who lived here?" Marcus asked Stan as they stood in the kitchen looking at the small living space.

Pulling out his list, Stan ran his finger down the paper. "Katherine Thompson," he said.

"Do we have record of her leaving the building?"

Stan checked the other list in his hand and shook his head. "Where are they?" Stan asked rubbing the back of his neck and turning in a circle as though he would find something they had missed and Marcus knew it was rhetorical question.

No bodies, no traces of blood. That was at least some good news. He stopped in the second bedroom. It had a small bed covered by a thick quilt with cartoon dogs on it. A multi colored toy box sat in the corner and a little desk with crayons placed neatly in a box on the middle of it. "Does anyone know if the kid was home?"

He was answered with silent shrugs and shaking heads. "What about the father?" he asked with restrained frustration. He wanted to yell at the people around him to move faster. He needed information if he was going to make any impact on what happened next. He tightened his hands into fists as he impatiently waited for Stan to check his list again.

"No. It just shows the woman and kid live here."

Wandering back into the living room he looked over the furniture and entertainment center. She wasn't well off, but for an apparent single mother, she seemed to be doing all right by herself. A picture of a curly haired boy smiled from one of the shelves. He walked the apartment again, seeing a picture of the woman and her child lying on the bed and it made his stomach hurt. Carl was here, he told himself, not touching the silver frame that held a picture of a beautiful woman and an adorable little boy. He stared at it for a moment longer before returning to the front door as forensics arrived.

He paced around behind the man who immediately began dusting for prints.

"He was here," Matt Kruger, the forensics tech confirmed. "I've got prints in the kitchen, bedroom, living room and on the sliding glass door. My bet is he went out that way." Matt pointed to the sliding glass door.

Marcus stepped outside and looked around. He immediately found Carl's escape route. The pipe connected this building to the building across the alley.

"I want teams to start a block by block search and I want someone up on the roof next door, that's the way they went. From the temperature of the water it looks like we're only maybe a half an hour behind him at most. I want everyone to use caution. He has a hostage now."

Marcus paced the room, going through a mental checklist. "I want a list of her friends and relatives. I want to know everything I can about her and I want to know if the boy was in the apartment." His voice was getting louder and angrier. No one was moving fast enough.

A uniformed officer came running into the room and went directly to Stan, talking quickly and quietly to him. Stan literally pushed the man away when he was done and strode over to Marcus. "I got a problem," he said seriously. "I've got an officer down on 5th and Major. John Walker. He was positioned in the alley just on the other side of the next building."

Marcus ran out of the apartment with Stan bulking along behind him. The two jumped into the waiting car out front and drove the block and a half to where John Walker lay on the pavement with another officer kneeling over him offering words of encouragement.

John was still lying down and looked as though he'd just started gaining consciousness as Marcus and Stan arrived.

"Sir," the other officer greeted Stan.

"What happened here?"

"John didn't answer his radio, so I came to check on him. This is exactly how I found him. His radio, cuffs and gun are missing."

Marcus cringed at the news. Carl was dangerous and now he was armed.

"What happened? Have you talked to him, has he offered anything about who did this?" Marcus asked.

The man shook his head. "It's like he's barely able to breathe. There's bruising all around his neck. I think the guy tried to choke him to death."

The paramedics pulled up and ran immediately to John to begin their work. The three men stood back in silence to watch and see what was going to happen, but Marcus felt like he was going to burst. This was taking too much time and even though he hated pushing aside his compassion for an injured man, he needed information from him before this happened to someone else.

"How is he?" Marcus asked the paramedic after the ambulance arrived and they were loading John onto the stretcher to take him away.

"He's a lucky man," the paramedic told him. "He has a concussion and it appears as though someone nearly crushed his wind pipe. Any more pressure and it probably would have killed him."

"Can I talk to him?"

"I don't think he'll be able to talk, but you can give it a try if he feels up to it."

Marcus and Stan went over to where they were preparing to load John into the ambulance.

"John," Stan said softly. "I don't want to hold you up from getting to the hospital, but it would really help if you could answer some yes or no questions for us before you go. Are you up for that?"

John nodded yes.

"Was it Carl?"

Yes.

"Was there a woman with him?"

Yes.

"Was there a young boy with them?"

No.

"Is the woman okay?"

John shook his head no, but it was more of an uncertainty. Slowly John pulled the oxygen mask from his face. "She saved life," he croaked out in obvious pain. "Jumped him. He didn't kill me for her." John shook his head again and choked slightly before lying back down on the stretcher as though that small amount of conversation had taken everything he had.

"Thank you," Stan patted his shoulder before they loaded him into the ambulance.

"It's him," Officer Harris breathed out in shock holding his radio out in front of him as though it would attack him. "He must be on John's radio."

Marcus grabbed the radio. "Carl," he barked into it.

"To whom do I have the pleasure this time?" Carl asked socially, making Marcus have to hold back a growl.

"This is Marcus Warren, Deputy Marshall."

"Yes. The man in charge." Carl's voice smiled through the static. "Good, I've been waiting to talk to you, Marcus. You're men have been wasting my time and I was about to give up. I need something from you."

"Turn yourself in and we'll talk."

"Oh, no," Carl said with an easy laugh. "We're not negotiating here. You'll do this because it's not for me really; it's for the dear sweet angel I've found. You see, she's worried about her son, Alex. I want you to take care of him for her. We haven't been able to make it over to Tutor Time Daycare to get him and I don't think we'll be able to get over there today. We have so much to do. Would you mind setting her mind at ease and agreeing to go retrieve him?"

"I want to talk to her," Marcus demanded.

"No," Carl snapped, the easy nature in his voice gone in an instant. "Katie is mine. Fate brought her to me and you can't take her away now."

"Carl," Marcus prodded, but received nothing but static. "Carl," he called again, but still nothing.

Marcus tossed the radio back to the man, his jaw so tight it hurt as he mumbled and paced the sidewalk, unable to control the rage. Carl had taken her, the woman in the picture, and he felt helpless to do anything about it.

"What do you want to do?" Stan asked.

"Get a car over to Tutor Time and pick up Alex Thompson. I don't want him left there if that sick animal knows where to find him."

Marcus went back over to Katie's apartment to look for anything that might help lead him to her, but he already knew they'd gotten all the clues they could get. At the beginning all he could think about was getting Carl back into custody, but his taking a hostage had put a new twist on it for Marcus. All he wanted now was to get Katie away from him alive, but he felt like it would take a miracle. He was desperate for that and prayed he could do something, anything, to make that happen.

Rummaging through her purse that was lying just inside the door Marcus felt like he was violating some sacred pact because his mother always taught him to never go through a woman's purse. She had wet wipes and a wallet with Alex's picture in it. She had lip balm, gum and a cell phone.

"Do you have her cell number?" Marcus asked.

"Hang on," Stan told him, rummaging around in the papers he was accumulating about Katherine Thompson. "Yeah, here it is," Stan said handing him a piece of paper.

Marcus dialed it on his phone and the little black phone vibrated and started spouting a high pitched jingle. Marcus let it go to voice mail.

"Hi, Katie here. You know I want to hear from you, so beep - message. You know."

Marcus hung up and wondered at the voice. He knew her face and now he knew her voice. He felt like he knew her, but he reminded himself it was an illusion. He oddly found himself wanting to know her, but wondered if he would ever get that chance. He was afraid for her like he had never been afraid before and it felt as though it was all on him now. He had to do everything right, he had to use all his training and he had to succeed in this because if he failed, he would lose a life. Carl had killed a number of people before, but this life was on Marcus and he couldn't live with himself if he lost it.

Katie was obviously a caring mother. It seemed like Alex was her world and he admired her. The background picture on the phone was Alex and her. Their heads were together and they were laughing. It made him feel something for the warm, tender woman that Katherine Thompson was.

"Marcus," Stan broke his thoughts after nearly twenty-five minutes of staring at the benign apartment. "This is Alex."

Marcus knelt down by the small, confused boy and shook his tiny hand. He was as adorable as his pictures.

Alex smiled shyly at Marcus and clutched firmly onto his blanket as his large brown eyes scanned around behind Marcus into the apartment that was his home. Marcus knew what he was looking for.

"It's nice to meet you, Alex."

"Where's mommy?" Alex asked.

"She had to leave for a little while," Marcus tried telling him, feeling the words choke him up slightly. He didn't want to lie to the child and he hoped it wouldn't be. "We're just here to take care of things until she returns."

Alex nodded, but Marcus could tell he wasn't complete sold on the explanation.

Marcus smiled at him and patted him gently on the thick curly head of hair. He was thinking what a brave kid he was, not to be crying when Marcus could see he was scared and confused.

"Alex just stopped by to pick up some clothes and toys that he wants to take with him, then he's going to go with this nice lady from social services until his aunt gets here," Stan offered.

"Do you want me to help you pick out some clothes for you to take?" the social services lady asked the three year old boy.

"I'm big now," he said in a small voice as he looked up at the woman who stood over him. "I'm too big to be carried, huh?"

"Yes, dear." She smiled down at him and Marcus also couldn't help but feel warmed by the shy, angelic face. The two disappeared into his room for a few minutes. Marcus could hear Alex talking to the social services lady. He was explaining pictures he had and which clothes he liked best. After a few moments they emerged with a back pack that had the same cartoon dogs across it as those that were on the quilt on his bed.

"Bye." He waved to Marcus while hiding his face slightly behind his blanket. The stout social services lady held firmly onto his hand as they left the apartment.

"Cute kid." Stan offered. "I feel bad for him."

Marcus looked over again at the picture of Alex and his mother. This case was getting to him. Going through the apartment, he'd found Katie's attempts at knitting, a folder of poetry she'd written and a photo album, mostly of Alex, but there were also pictures of man who had many of Alex's features. In the closet he found love letters, an obituary and a death certificate.

It didn't seem fair that the boy had lost his father and now there was the possibility he would lose his mother.

He got up and left the apartment. He couldn't face all the "what ifs" the place was throwing at him. Namely, what if Katie never made it back home?

CHAPTER THREE

They walked for miles. Carl kept Katie close to him, his arm wrapped around her. Having him touch her was torture, but she was too tired to really feel the emotion of it any longer. The stress of the last few hours seemed to have sapped all her energy from her. They walked until the sun disappeared behind the buildings before Carl stopped and pulled her down so they were crouching behind the dumpster of a convenience store.

"Are you hungry?" Carl asked her.

Katie shook her head no.

"I'll take care of you," he told her and in her fatigued mind it sounded sincere and almost sweet.

For about a half an hour they sat there. Katie rested her head against the wretched smelling metal of the dumpster and closed her eyes wondering how this had happened to her. She thought maybe she drifted off for a moment, but before she could get any relief, he took her arm and brought her to her feet. She wanted to cry, but from exhaustion, not fear this time.

Carl stood hidden behind the large, scratched and faded green canister, his head looking carefully around it as though he was waiting for something. Turning to Katie, he smiled and nodded. This time his smile seemed cold and cruel and she felt a chill seize her stomach.

Following his gaze she saw a young girl about nineteen who had pulled her car up just to the left of the dumpster they were hiding behind. She got out of the car, talking on her phone as she dug through her purse at the same time. Going over to stand in front of the ATM machine, she leaned over and squinted at it for a moment as though it was difficult to figure out. Her voice was too loud and Katie could hear every word she said as she rambled on about how her boss had been such a jerk and taken her off the schedule at the restaurant tonight. She pushed the buttons on the machine that stood like a sentry at the edge of the building until a twenty dollar bill popped out. Snatching it up, she grabbed her card and the receipt and walked away.

Carl once again took on the animal characteristics she had seen in him before as he crouched with his body tense. Holding onto Katie's wrist with one hand, the other hand held the officer's weapon. "Be ready," he said in a soft voice as though he were fishing and didn't want to scare away the next catch.

She expected him to leap out, but he didn't. He moved slowly like a cat stalking its prey. The woman was oblivious as she stood at the door of her car and finished talking, not having a hand left to open the door.

"I got to run," she finally said with a sigh. "I'll see you tomorrow." Pulling the phone away, she dropped it in her purse and reached for the door handle. Carl released Katie and stuck the stolen gun against the side of the young woman's face. Katie was standing next to him and she stared at the man in shock. She knew what he was, but seeing him threaten the woman seemed to confuse her. She glanced around looking for someone who was witnessing this. There had to be someone who would run over and intervene, but they were alone in the parking lot and only the distant traffic noise could be heard.

"If you run, Katie," he said easily. "I'll drop her right here." He glanced over at her as though he expected an answer. She didn't have one. "Good girl," he whispered reaching out and pulling the girl's purse easily out of her shaking hands.

"Take the money," the girl said, immediately crying. "Just let me go. Take the money."

"Let's take your car," he said stepping back, but keeping the gun pointed at the terrified woman.

Katie felt anger and fear welling up inside her. He played with people and she felt frustrated that she was unable to match him, let alone beat him. He always seemed to have the advantage and she felt stupid. She knew Carl liked people to be afraid of him and looking at the young woman, her body seeming as though it were going to collapse in her panic, Katie knew she was giving Carl exactly what he wanted. Listening to the woman's sobs made Katie's heart push painfully at her chest. It wasn't right to make another human being suffer and she couldn't understand a person who would do that; she didn't want to. "Carl, please," she started to tell him, feeling her own tears pushing forward.

"In front, Katie," he said as though she hadn't spoken.

Katie hesitated for a moment, her mind pulling her this direction and then that. He didn't have the gun pointed at her. She could run and then he'd either kill the poor frightened woman or take her as his hostage, but either way Katie would be free. She'd get to go see her son, but then her mind dragged her away from the thought. She couldn't. She wasn't the angel Carl saw in her, but she couldn't bring herself to willfully abandon someone that way. She always believed she never saw when people needed help, but there was no denying this and so she slowly climbed into the passenger side of the car. Carl gently pushed the young woman in behind the wheel and shut the door before he slid into the back seat of the old Buick Regal.

The woman sobbed uncontrollably. "What do you want? Take my purse, I don't care, but please don't hurt me."

"Drive," Carl told her, seemingly oblivious to her tears.

Katie wasn't oblivious to this woman's fear; she understood it completely. The woman did as she was told, turning when he instructed her to turn and speeding up or slowing down as he commanded, but she still rambled on in a feared frenzy, making pleas and bargains with this crazy man as she drove. "Where are we going? What do you want?" she finally screamed through her tears.

Carl slowly put his hand across her forehead and pulled her head back against the headrest as she drove. The girl struggled to keep the car in line and drive straight as she gasped with deep sobs heaving at her chest. Katie could barely stand listening to this girl's pain any longer.

"Stop it. Please, don't do this to her."

"You see the difference between little girls and women, Katie?" he asked her.

"Carl, please," Katie said trying to sound calm and reasonable, but she was crying herself. "She's just afraid. Stop it."

"You want to know why you're here?" he asked the girl.

She grunted her answer to the affirmative.

"You're here because Katie loves life," he said in a whispered voice. "Pull in here." Releasing his grip on her head, he motioned to a closed shopper's warehouse. The girl pulled the car around back to the alleyway and parked the car between the warehouse and a row of houses that were separated from them by a chain link fence. Katie scanned for anyone who might look out their window and see them, but again, the houses seemed dark and empty and thick shrubs blocked the people from her view.

"You see," he continued speaking to the girl once they had parked. "Katie is going to die with me. I've already decided that, but Katie loves life, so I'm putting her in charge of yours. If she does anything stupid like trying to leave, you'll die. If she stays with me then I'll let you leave alive and Katie will fulfill her destiny to die with me."

Katie was staring at him, her eyes wide with the realization of what he was saying. She tried to look into his sea blue eyes to see if he was just trying to scare her, but he wasn't. He was telling her the truth. "No," she whispered quietly, holding her hand to her mouth to keep her fears from making her scream in frustration. "Why? Why would you want to do that?"

Carl leaned forward, resting his arms on the back of the front seat, the gun hanging uselessly in his hand. "I saw a picture in your apartment," he told her. "Of all things, it was a napkin that you'd framed. I thought that was odd until you told me about Jack. I assume he was the one who wrote on that napkin?"

Crying, Katie nodded.

"The inscription intrigued me. It said 'when every other thing fails you, faith keeps you standing'. What do you think he meant by that?"

Katie shook her head. She couldn't speak now. Carl's promise to kill her and now talking about Jack; it was all too much.

"Was he a church going man, Katie?"

Again Katie shook her head. "I don't..., not really."

"But you said you met him at a service project. You said he died helping a stranger on the side of the road. Did he do charity work? Was he spiritual?"

This time she nodded. Jack was always there for people. They never really talked about it and they'd never gone to church, but she knew he had deep beliefs.

"And do you believe it? Do you see God as the answer?"

Katie shook her head.

"Why?"

She didn't want to tell him. It was too personal. Jack had seemed so inspired and full of life and light. Yet he was dead now and she would never know what had given him such a fire because she couldn't replicate it. She knew he had faith, but in what she'd never found out. She trusted that he was in whatever heaven there was because he was a truly good man.

"You question. That's understandable, but you believe, right? You believe in God."

Katie felt the tears pushing forward as she shook her head in confusion. It was one of those questions that people usually answered quickly without thinking. It was like when someone asked how you were doing and you just automatically told them you were fine. You had to believe – it was expected. Katie did believe there was a God, but it seemed illusive to her.

"Is it because He killed Jack? Is that why you hesitate?"

"Please, stop playing with me," was the only answer she could give him.

"I'm only looking for confirmation of your faith. If everything happens for a reason then God must have a plan for you to be here with me. I see that plan clearer than you can imagine. You're here to die with me because then God will have proven his worth to me. So answer me, Katie. Did He bring you here to test me, or are you here for me to test you?"

Katie just shook her head. She didn't have an answer for him and even if she did, she knew it would frighten her too much to say it out loud.

"Answer me, Katie," he burst out making the woman behind the wheel cry out in fear.

The sound of the woman seemed to remind Carl that she was there and he turned to her, the gun once again coming up and pointing at her. A small whimper shook her body. "What do you think?" he asked. "Are you a God fearing woman?"

The woman shook her head slightly as she gasped between sobs. "I don't know."

"Come now, let's not be wishy-washy. Either you believe or you don't. You have faith or you don't, so tell me: Do. You. Believe?" The words were loud and individually spoken making the woman jump at each one.

"I...." She shook and gasped. "Yes?"

"What about me? Do you think I'm a believer?"

Slowly her eyes moved over to him. "You know nothing about God."

"And do you believe if I pull this trigger that He will somehow save you?"

The woman's eyes widened in fear. "I..." She looked to Katie for something, but Katie had nothing to offer her. "No," the woman cried, her head falling into her hands as she wept uncontrollably.

Carl laughed and turned his attention back to Katie. "Do you see? She believes, but she doesn't trust. It's sad really."

"She's scared," Katie said, wishing she could comfort the woman. "You have no right to put what you're doing on God."

"No? Trust me Katie, I've been to enough worship services and pounded by every preacher who ever set foot in a prison telling me that God is my path to salvation. If I just believe, then everything will be all right." He laughed slightly. "I've done her a huge favor. She tells me believes. Good. Now she can go to some revival church group and tell them she stood up for God with a gun pointed at her. It'll become folk lore of how the truly faithful never turn their back on God and it saves them; literally. I've just helped increase the faith of hundreds of people who will hear this tale and believe that her faith kept her alive, but she's wrong you know. If she lives through this, it wasn't God that stopped the bullet. I've been to enough of those God damned church meetings and because I pay attention where others don't I know that God doesn't save lives – he saves souls. You should know that Katie. From what you've told me, Jack knew it."

"Don't talk about Jack," she said, her voice almost too weak for her own ears to hear. She didn't want Carl to be right, but he was. Jack was dead. God hadn't stopped that, but it had never been about blame for her, it was just life; and death, but this felt like something else. Carl was testing her and she was afraid she'd fail. She knew she'd fail when it came to matters of theology.

Carl turned back to the young woman without the gun this time. "You said I know nothing of God. You're wrong there too. I know God. I always believe you should know your enemy."

Leaning over the seat Carl grabbed the woman's hands. She let out a small cry as she struggled against him, but Katie knew Carl's strength. She moved forward to help the woman, but Carl used one steel rod of an arm and pushed her back roughly before he handcuffed the girl's hands together through the steering wheel. When he was done he turned and looked at Katie as though challenging her to stay sane while he tormented her. She knew her lower lip was trembling, but all she could do was sit there in the car staring at Carl and listening to the girl sob.

"Her life is in your hands, Katie. You're playing god now. Does she live, or does she die?" He smiled cruelly at her. "Does it bother you that she's chained up while you're free?"

"Why are you doing this?" she cried softly, not wanting to look at him, but needing to see him; to see what he was really capable of, but she already knew at it was terrifying.

"I told you. Fate finally brought me an angel. I was meant to die on this trip of ours, that's why I escaped the prison. I felt I deserved a fitting death, not rotting away like the caged rat I was in some jail cell. And after our spirits are released together, you'll guide me straight to heaven."

"If you hate God so much, why do you want to go to heaven," Katie asked him quietly, not sure she really wanted to challenge this man, but hating that he seemed to have everything figured out and she didn't.

"I didn't say I hated Him," Carl told her, leaning forward, his face shining in the eerie light of the full moon. "I'm waiting for God to take away my madness. You have no idea what it's like to be insane, Katie," he whispered to her and she felt her tears pull back so she could listen to him. "It's an animal that tears apart your brain. It can find no satisfaction. I've killed almost twenty people, each of them an experiment for my soul, each one a reach for understanding, but the madness only grew and I had this uncontrollable need to try again and then again. Sitting in that jail cell only increased my madness until it threatened to consume me and leave a rotted shell. I knew I had to escape because I have to die. That will be the only real cure for me, but I won't die like those who choke on their own bile and die alone in some smelly cubicle of a room after years and years of suffering. I'm better than that, so I planned my escape and my death. I want to die the way I lived; violently, but when I saw you I knew there was more to this. I knew I needed someone who could save me. Save my soul."

"That's not me," she told him, her voice pleading. "I'm not religious. Just because Jack was a good man, doesn't have anything to do with me."

"I'm not talking about religion," he told her with a twinge of anger in his voice. "This slut can go to church every Sunday and pretend," he said, throwing his head toward the girl chained to the steering wheel staring at the two of them with complete fear. "I'm talking about the kindness. I'm talking about the selfless love. I'm talking about the love you have as a mother."

"Alex," she gasped the name with her hand going to her mouth. "Please, don't do this. Don't let him grow up without a mother or father."

"I know you'd die for him," Carl said with a sigh in his voice. "But you've given your life for that cop and now I know you'll give your life for her. You owe them nothing, but you did it, just like Jack did and you'll die, just like Jack did."

"No," she cried. "I'm not that person. Please, don't do this."

"Alex'll be proud," he told her with a nod. Carl rested his head on the seat looking at Katie as though he were some love struck teenager. "You're my fate, Katie. When I saw you I knew I shouldn't die alone. You've been chosen to die with me. Chosen by your God, my madness, whatever it is, I don't know, but I know you were chosen. It'll be like when you look up at a cloudy sky and there's that one small hole that the sun shines through and you feel like you could fly straight up and through that hole right into heaven. That's what it'll be like for us, Katie. We'll fly and with such an angel by my side, I'll go on up to heaven and when I meet God he'll take away the suffering I've endured my entire life."

"I can't get you to heaven," she said, more to herself than anyone in the car, the tears rolling slowly down her cheeks.

"Don't be afraid," Carl soothed her, wiping away her tears gently with the tips of his fingers.

"You don't have to do this," she told to him. "I'd never do anything to hurt you if you just let us go. If you let us go, we'll just leave and you could run away or whatever you need to do. You'll be free. You don't have to die."

"Do you really want that? You know what I am. If I live I'll kill again."

"No, you don't have to. You could get help."

Carl laughed and shook his head at her. "Don't you think they've tried? They just didn't understand. They couldn't do what you can do for me," he said. "I'm not doing this out of hate. I worship you. That should be a comfort to you."

It was no use talking to him. He truly was insane. Carl smiled at her as though she could now understand what he was doing. He lay down in the back seat and closed his eyes. The young woman next to Katie began to cry again. Her sobs were the only sound in the car now.

Burying her head in her curled up legs, Katie could feel the exhaustion move through her body. She couldn't cry anymore. Sleep was what she really needed, but she knew she doubted she could even do that now. Thoughts of Alex filled her mind. She wanted to see him, to hold him and let him know how much she cared about him. The thought of never seeing him again was too much to bear.

In the back seat she could hear Carl's steady breathing. It sounded as though he was asleep, but Katie took nothing for granted with him. Next to her, the girl's sobs had subsided into an occasional sniffle.

"Are you alright?" Katie asked quietly.

"You're not going to leave me are you?" she asked in a whisper, but it was too harsh to be quiet. Her crying started again. "Please don't leave me here with him."

Katie scooted over to the woman and wrapped her arms around her. "Don't worry," she whispered comfortingly. "I'm not going to leave you."

The girl rested her head on Katie's shoulder. "Will he kill me?" she asked.

"What's your name?" Katie asked softly.

"Stacy," the woman sniffed.

"I think you'll be just fine, Stacy. If he told you he'd let you go, then I think he will."

Stacy raised her head off Katie's shoulder to look at her curiously. "What is he doing? How do you know him?" she asked.

"I don't," Katie shook her head, turning to stare out the front window to find some answers, but there was nothing out there. "I'm here the same way you are; an unfortunate twist of fate." She nearly laughed at the thought that she was agreeing with Carl, that they were together out of fate, but it did seem to be the truth.

"Why does he want to kill you?"

"I don't know," Katie answered, trying not to think about the questions too much, because she wanted to keep her emotions in control.

"Are you scared?"

"Yes."

"Me, too," Stacy said and rested her head back on Katie's shoulder. Katie wanted to comfort her, but her efforts seemed weak. Once again, she didn't seem to be the type of person who knew what to do to help others and she wished Jack was here, thinking he'd know what to do. He was a doer; never afraid to get in and do the work. It was what she loved about him.

As time wore on the woman twisted slightly, her arms pulling against the restraints as she groaned and tugged at them again, but they didn't have any leeway being handcuffed through steering wheel. The two of them dozed briefly, but real sleep wouldn't come.

In the back seat, Carl seemed to be having no problems sleeping. He was laying on his side with his face to the seat and his back to Stacy and Katie. It was hopeless to try and get any real rest. Dawn was only an hour away, but the night had seemed to drag on forever. Turning and twisting to try and get comfortable for the hundredth time, Katie saw the reflection of the metal keys caught in the distant light from the lamp attached to the back of the building. They were hanging out of his front pocket. She could get them, she thought. She could undo Stacy's cuffs and they could make a run for it. Katie placed her finger over her lips to signal Stacy to be quiet. She pointed in the back seat and whispered into Stacy's ear.

"I think I can get the key," she breathed. "I'm going to try."

Stacy nodded her enthusiastic agreement, her eyes wide in fear and anticipation.

"You'll have to run really fast once your free," Katie warned her.

Once again Stacy nodded. Her eyes seemed too wide for her face as she seemed to shake in anticipation.

Slowly, Katie reached over the seat. Her fingers brushed the cold metal of the keys. She could see where he had clasped the small handcuff key to Stacy's key ring. Wrapping her fingers around the exposed keys so they wouldn't make any noise, she began to pull on them slowly. Her heart pounded in fear, her throat tightened up and turned dry. It seemed as though the sun would come up before she could get the keys pulled from his pocket. Keeping her eyes on him, she watched for a sign he was waking up, but his soft steady breathing remained the same and he didn't move.

Finally the keys were free from his pocket and both women let out a sigh of relief. Still moving slowly, she brought the keys into the front seat and picked carefully through them to select the key to the handcuffs. Glancing to the back seat again, she checked on Carl who was still sleeping peacefully.

Katie inserted the key and released the one handcuff. The cuffs made a scratching noise as they released and Katie sucked in a frightened breath. Looking back again at Carl, he didn't move.

"Hurry," Stacy choked out in a cried whisper as they slowly they moved her hands out of the steering wheel. She held her other hand up to Katie. She was free and the other wrist didn't need to be released, but she could see the claustrophobic look Stacy had on her face with the weight of the handcuff on her, so using the key again, she released the other side, pulling them off and setting them gently on the seat between them.

For a moment they just sat there staring at each other. "Ready?" Katie mouthed. Stacy nodded and Katie gave her an approving nod back as they both turned and leapt for their respective doors. As Katie's hand clasped over the handle, her body was pulled back into the seat, held there by Carl's sturdy arm. The familiar knife pressed itself menacingly against her throat.

"Run," she yelled at Stacy, who in her hurry to get out of the car, had fallen on all fours onto the pavement. She watched as the woman got up and stared back at her. Trapped in the car by a man who wanted to kill her she knew Stacey couldn't save her and there was no point in her staying. Still, she could see the fear and guilt and panic on the woman's face and she knew she was as torn as Katie had been about staying, but there was nothing to gain by Stacy remaining. "Run," she mouthed out to the woman who turned and bolted.

Carl never made a move to stop Stacy from leaving. His eyes never left Katie's face. She wanted to cry out in frustration at her failed attempt to escape, but the knife burned against her throat and she prepared herself for the cold steel to bury itself deep into her neck.

"So you saved another one?" he whispered into her ear. "You could have run. You know that don't you? You could have left her here and just run."

Katie closed her eyes and swallowed hard against the blade. "No, I couldn't have. I'm not an animal like you."

"Do you believe I would have killed her if you would've left?" he whispered so close to her ear she could feel the moist warmth it created.

Katie nodded slightly.

Carl relaxed the knife, but didn't move it. "If you'd have left, I would have killed her. I would have left her body cuffed to her steering wheel and would have come to find you. Do you know why?"

Katie shook her head, no.

"Do you hate me, Katie?" he asked casually, as though his previous question didn't exist.

"No," she choked out quietly, but she knew it wasn't totally honest.

"No?" he asked with slight surprise in his voice. He used the edge of the knife to turn her head to look at him. "Tell me how you feel about me then."

Katie was looking into Carl's eyes, trying to answer his question for him. His pale blue eyes held the entirety of his insanity and told of how he knew his madness and suffered immensely because of it. "I pity you," she answered.

There was silence between them as they sat, curiously gauging each other. Fear most certainly showed in her eyes while calmness showed in his.

"We must be going," Carl said, breaking the contact as though something he'd seen in her eyes had touched him; something he didn't want disturbed and a tremor made him lurch for just a moment.

With the knife at the ready, he kept a grip on her as they simultaneously got out of the car. When he released his hold on her to switch positions, he quickly reached through the gap the open door provided and grabbed onto her again. As they climbed out, Katie realized a slim opportunity. As they both stood on their respective sides of their doors she pushed her weight into his door, collapsing it into him. She turned to run, but the force of the door shutting on him had not been enough and he seemed to have been prepared for her to try something. His hand never released a piece of the sweatshirt she was wearing and it stretched between the two of them. Pulling with a frenzied panic, the fabric finally snapped out of his hand, causing Katie to tumble onto the pavement. She gained her footing and began to run. Carl was on her in a matter of seconds. Throwing his body over her, they both fell to the ground. The palms of her hands scratched painfully along the pavement.

The gun clattered to the ground, falling out of the waistband of Carl's pants as he fell. Carl looked over at the weapon, and slowly got up off of Katie. He stood over her with the knife held down by his side. In the distant glow of the street lamp and the glow from the distant sunrise, he looked like an apparition to her, all dressed in white. Her eyes darted over to the gun and then quickly back to Carl.

"Aren't you going to try for the gun?" he asked easily.

Katie turned to look at the weapon again where it lay heavy on the black pavement and then back to Carl. Slowly she inched herself toward it on her hands and knees, her eyes never leaving Carl. He stood motionless watching her. Finally her hand fell onto the gun and she slowly picked it up, gauging what Carl was going to do with the knife. The gun was cold and weighty in her hand. She secured the handle in her palm and wrapped her finger around the trigger. Carl hadn't moved. Slowly she got to her knees, keeping the gun trained on him as she made it to her feet. Glancing behind her, she searched for an escape route, but found her way blocked by a chain link fence.

"What now, Katie?" Carl asked, taking a step toward her.

Katie steadied the shaking gun with both hands. Carl slowly raised the knife up to his throat. He brought the blade down inside his t-shirt, cutting the top of the thin fabric. The knife clattered to the ground and Carl tore open the shirt, revealing the powerful, worked on chest underneath. He spread his arms fully extended away from him and began slowly walking toward her.

She was gasping in fear and she couldn't make her body stop shaking.

"So you want to be like me, Katie?" he asked easily. "You want to take another persons life? Do you want to see how that feels?"

Katie stepped back away from the slowly approaching man. Just pull the trigger, her mind yelled at her. Just pull the trigger. She had every right. It was self-defense, but she knew she never wanted to know what it felt like to take a life; not even Carl's.

Tears streamed down her cheeks and she backed up until she ran into the chain link fence. It rattled slightly with a tinkling sort of sound and Katie sucked in a surprised and frightened breath.

"Please," she cried at him in a small voice.

"Please what, Katie? Please stop breathing, please die, please don't make you kill someone, please don't make you turn into me?" With his arms still spread wide and his chest exposed, he walked to her until the barrel of the gun pressed against his chest. "You're revealing everything about yourself to me, Katie," he said. "You sacrificed yourself for two complete strangers and now you stand here with another choice. It's the choice of two sacrifices. Do you become like me, or do you sacrifice yourself again."

She was shaking. She wanted to pull the trigger, but at the same time the thought of it sickened her and made her finger freeze on the unforgiving metal, unable to depress it any further and she knew she wasn't capable of killing him, even if it meant her death.

"Katie," he spoke her name softly. To her it sounded like he could have been a million miles away. She could feel his hands wrap themselves around hers.

"I don't want to die," she cried, unable to stop the flow of tears.

Carl placed his finger over top of hers and her eyes looked up at him, wide with realization. He put pressure on her finger, which was wrapped around the trigger. The pressure between his finger and the resistance of the gun pinched her and she cried out.

"No," she called out before the resistance ended and the trigger snapped back with a dull click.

"Oh, my God," Katie gasped and the empty gun fell to the pavement.

Carl held the shaking, crying woman, holding her head against his chest, gently caressing her hair. Her knees gave way and he sunk with her to the hard, cold pavement, rocking her gently as the sun broke free of the eastern sky.

"I had to know," he told her so softly it was like a lover's voice in her head. "I had to know for sure you were the one to save me. So pure, so sweet. If you'd have pulled that trigger, I would have had to kill you and I didn't want that. Not yet."

He held her as she cried and it was odd to have him comfort her in this way, but she was strangely grateful. She hated him, but needed him right now.

"We must go," he told her and held onto her while he gathered up the gun, the knife, the cuffs, the radio and the keys. He led her off through the quiet morning streets, far away from where Stacy would bring the police any moment now. They walked along the near empty streets as the sun started its great climb into the sky. Carl walked with her for four blocks, without so much as a glance from passersby. He led them to an old office building and took them to the basement where he shut them inside the boiler room.

"Now what?" Katie asked.

"Now we wait."

CHAPTER FOUR

"It was your man," Stan told Marcus as he walked into the police station. Stan led him back to the small conference room where a thin woman with blood shot eyes and streaked make-up sat staring down into a Styrofoam cup. He looked at her through the glass, not sure he was ready for this.

Grabbing an identical cup and filling it with coffee from the small pot sitting on the table just outside the door he gathered his thoughts. He was grateful this woman had escaped, but Katie was still missing and he needed a moment to compose himself before he heard what was happening to her. His insides were jumping at the thought this could be very bad news. Was she all right? Was she hurt? Was she even still alive? The questions bounced around in his head until he couldn't take it any longer and went into the room, sitting across the table from the exhausted looking woman.

"Stacy," Stan said gently. "This is Deputy Marcus Warren with the U.S. Marshall's office. He's here to help us capture Carl Malcolm."

Stacy nodded and sniffed. Marcus knew she'd been over her story with Stan and he could read the report, but he needed to hear it firsthand. He had to know all the little nuances of what was happening. Before even starting, Marcus could see her start to cry again. Her body shook and he felt bad making her relive it all again, but it was necessary. She went through the events in a squeaky little voice until she told Marcus how she had run off with Katie still in the car while Carl held a knife to her throat.

"So you don't know if he actually cut her or not?" Marcus asked after she had finished.

Stacy shook her head. "I should have stayed and helped her," she sobbed. "She could have left me any time and run away, but she stayed so he wouldn't kill me."

"I'm sure she wanted you to be safe," Marcus said, looking down at his notes. There was something he was missing and it was bothering him. He had gone over everything in Carl's file, but nothing he was doing now seemed to fit the profile. Carl was a killer – that's what he did, but when he'd talked to Carl earlier the man seemed genuinely concerned for Katie. Was it a trick; was he setting them up somehow?

Stan leaned into Marcus. "We have officers at the scene right now. They report the car empty and no blood evidence."

Marcus shook his head in confusion as he stood up and paced to the corner of the room. "What do you think he's doing?"

"He's keeping her as a hostage."

"Why her and not Stacy?"

"Stacy escaped. Are you trying to say he let her go?"

"Why leave the keys where Katie could get at them? Why not try to go after Stacy to keep her from leaving?"

"What are you thinking?"

"I mean he could have taken the car without taking Stacy hostage. Why take her?"

"Two hostages are better than one?" Stan offered.

"Fine, but instead of cuffing both of them to the steering wheel, he leaves one unrestrained and tell her if she leaves, he'll kill the other woman. Then he leaves the keys hanging out of his pocket and just happens to fall asleep so the keys are easily accessible. Do you really think Carl is that careless?" Marcus paced to the other corner, feeling the room wasn't big enough. Turning back to Stan, he hoped the man would help him make some sense of what Carl was doing. He hoped Stan would be able to provide him with anything that would help him get Katie back. "It's like he's playing some sort of game with her - testing her. Your life or theirs."

"He's going to kill her," Stacy broke in. "He said he wants her to die with him. He said something about dying some grand death and that fate brought them together so he wouldn't have to die alone and she'd help him get to heaven." Stacy stared at Marcus, their eyes locked.

"Did he say where or when this was going to happen?"

Stacy shook her head and began crying again. "He's crazy you know. He knows it. He said so himself. I knew he'd have killed me if it hadn't been for her. I'm so sorry I ran away."

Stan went to the woman to comfort her as the conference room door opened and a small thin woman in civilian clothes stuck her head in. "Marcus," she said softly. "He's on the radio again. He's asking for you."

The words slowly sunk in and Marcus ran from the room over to the radio. "Carl," he said immediately upon grabbing the hand held unit.

"Marcus," Carl greeted politely. "I assume you've already talked to Stacy. She wasn't a very worthy challenger." Carl sighed into the radio. "I could have killed her easily, but Katie saved her. She keeps doing that for people. The officer; did he make it?"

"Yes, he did," Marcus said.

"That's nice," Carl said, but Marcus didn't think it was sincere. "That'll make Katie happy."

"Now how about you do the same for Katie. Let her go."

"No. You know what I am."

"But you let Stacy escape."

"So you understand?"

"No. I don't understand. Why Katie? Tell me what you plan on doing with her."

"Weren't you listening? I'm sure even as simple as Stacy is that she told you that."

"She told me you plan on dying. Fine, I can take care of that for you, but you don't need Katie for that."

"If you knew her, if you could see the life that shines inside her, you'd understand."

"I'd like that chance," Marcus said, feeling his chest tighten at the words. He did want that chance. He wanted to know that he was able to bring Alex his mother back. The child's innocent smile had haunted him since he'd met him.

"You can't save her."

Marcus closed his eyes at the words that hurt him more than a bullet would have. "Why are you contacting me then?"

"My Katie needs something from you."

"Your Katie?"

There was silence for a moment and Marcus worried he'd scared him off. "She was chosen by fate for me. I think that makes her mine."

"No, you chose her and you had no right," Marcus told him, not wanting to agitate the man, but unable to listen to this man's delusional ranting.

"You don't know," Carl said and Marcus could hear the anger in his voice. He regretted saying anything. He couldn't upset Carl because he couldn't risk Katie.

"What I know is that Katie shouldn't have to pay for your sins," Marcus told him in as calm a voice as he could push out of him.

"And who will pay for yours, Marcus? Do you feel comfortable that when it's all over and you stand in judgment that you'll come out clean?"

Marcus didn't respond. He'd had his trials, but now wasn't the time to try and do a rundown of his transgressions. He wouldn't get into that debate with Carl.

"I used to worry about what would happen to me when I died, but Katie's my ticket to salvation," Carl said. "She's sweet and pure and good. Do you believe she could carry me up to heaven with her when she goes?"

"Killing Katie will not get you into heaven, Carl. Letting her go and turning yourself in would be a better start."

Carl gave him a short silence. "Are you going to do something for Katie or not?"

"I need to talk to her. I need to hear it from her, so I know it's something she really needs. I need to know she's all right."

After a few moments of silence, Katie's weak and tired voice came over the radio. "Hello?" she said.

"Katie," Marcus breathed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," she said. Her voice was shaking and didn't sound anything like the carefree woman he had heard on her voice mail. That fact tore Marcus apart. He was losing this race and it was one he refused to come in last in.

"Tell me what you need," he said, feeling oddly like crying. He'd never been an emotional man, but he felt riddled with feelings he could barely control right now.

"I need to know if Alex is okay. Is my sweet baby boy alright?" she cried softly.

"Your sister flew in from Wichita about three hours ago. She's with Alex now. I saw him about an hour ago."

"You saw him?"

"He's a brave, wonderful, boy. I took him a coloring book and when I left he was coloring you a picture," he informed her, remembering the enthusiastic child trying so hard to keep in the lines of the cat he was coloring. He talked the entire time, telling Marcus how he liked dogs, but how his mom liked cats, which was why he had picked that picture to color.

"Thank you," Katie sighed over the radio. "Thank you so much."

Carl's voice came back. "Alex is going to need a good family when Katie's gone," he told the small group huddled around the radio. "It's up to you, Marcus. You need to make sure he's well taken care of. I suggest you start raising money for a trust fund for him. Katie needs to know Alex is going to be taken care of financially after she's gone."

In the background the silent room he could hear Katie crying. Marcus closed his eyes as he listened to the two of them. "Please, Carl, don't do this," she pleaded.

"Carl," Marcus said as gently as possible. "Tell me where Katie is. You leave now and I'll come get her. No one has to get hurt."

"Are you going to raise the money?" Carl asked, impatience rising in his voice.

Marcus gritted his teeth in anger at this cold unfeeling man. "Any money I raise will not replace his mother," Marcus nearly growled at him.

"Please Carl don't do this," Katie's voice could be heard distantly over the radio again. Marcus could hear her crying and he felt his resolve crumble. He was shaking in his head in frustration and fear for her.

"I've given you what you wanted," Carl was saying, but it wasn't into the radio. "If you have any last words, now's the time."

"Please tell Alex I love him and that...," her voice broke and all Marcus could hear was the tears that clogged her throat. There was silence for a moment and Marcus waited, desperate to hear her voice again. "Tell him I love him," she finally managed.

"Katie, don't give up," Marcus told the radio harshly. "I'll do whatever it takes to get you out of this. Don't give up. I'll find you."

The radio turned to static and there was no more. Marcus slammed the radio down, his hands balled up in fists and his eyes were shut tight as he swore to track Carl down before he hurt her.

"Where are you going?" Stan asked as Marcus turned to leave.

"I'm going to go through Carl's file and find the psychiatrist that profiled him and helped lead to his capture. Maybe he can help figure out what kind of game he's playing."

CHAPTER FIVE

They sat in the room listening to the machinery hum steadily around them.

"It's almost over," Carl told her.

"Good," she said, feeling numb. She knew that when it was over she'd be dead, but she was tired of worrying about it. Dying didn't seem to bother her anymore. Jack was waiting on the other side for her. It was what he'd believed and that was good enough for her right now. There really wasn't a choice, so she accepted it.

"So tell me," Carl said. "Jack's death – how did you take that? From what you said you didn't have much time with him."

Katie shook her head and sighed. "No, but Jack was an amazing man. He had this energy and after he died it almost felt like he knew he had to cram an entire life time into twenty-four years."

"No, what's amazing is how people try to make peace with death."

"You're an expert at that, I'm sure," she said sarcastically, but then shook her head in regret. "I'm sorry."

Carl laughed. "That's why I picked you, Katie," he said softly in an almost dreamy voice. "Whatever Jack had, he had nothing on you, but I can see why he wanted you. It's your kindness. You don't want anyone to be in pain, you don't want to see any suffering and that is exactly why you were sent to me. You're my alter ego, the yin to my yang, the angel to my devil, my other half."

"And what if I'm not?" she asked bitterly. "What if I'm like everyone else in the world, just trying to get by. What if I'm not special at all and I'm struggling every day just to try and be decent."

Carl tilted his head at her as though giving her questions serious thought, but then he smiled warmly at her. "What was it that Jack wrote on that napkin? When every other thing fails you, faith is what keeps you standing. Why did he write that? Why did you frame it?"

Katie shook her head and sucked in a deep breath at the memory. "It was the first thing he ever gave me. We went out to dinner the first night we met. It was a fast food restaurant and we were talking about the service project. I said I'd never done anything like that and how I admired him for all the charity work he'd done. He wrote that on the napkin and handed it to me. I don't know why. I thought it was sweet."

"I think he meant faith in you, Katie. I think he knew exactly the kind of strength you had and I think more than anything else that's why he was with you. It's the same reason I'm here. You can't see it, but I can feel the power you have. You didn't pull that trigger, you didn't run away and in the end you'll die with a dignity I'll never have. God I envy you, but that's why you're here. You're going to give me some of that on the way out."

"And that's supposed to be a comfort to me?" she asked, not letting him see how the reference of her death scared her.

"Yes. You want to talk about faith? Faith comes when you trust that the battle you're waging won't last forever. When you suffer all the pain and all the fear and all the doubt, and you can honestly believe that after all that you'll still be standing, whether it be on this side or the next – that's faith. That's what Jack meant. You're strong and you're still standing Katie and Alex will be as strong as you are and it will never die."

Staring at him as tears pushing at the rims of her eyes, she had no idea what she was feeling right now. Scared, confused, appreciative. His words that Alex would be strong were a comfort, yet also a source of pain for her. Completely at odds with each other, she wondered if Carl actually understood Jack better than she ever had.

Carl stood up and towered over her.

"Where are we going?" Katie asked as Carl helped her off the floor of the boiler room, her tears quickly disappearing in the anxiety that they were moving again.

"We're going to see a man," Carl told her.

"Why?"

Carl rubbed his hand across his face slowly before he turned to look at her. "You can't save this man," he told her. "It's always been my plan to rid my mind of this man's relentless probing."

"I don't understand."

"Matthew Hansen," Carl said the name with a small choke in his voice. "Knower of knows, minder of minds. Occasionally he profiles criminals for the police. I don't like him very much."

"What are you going to do?" Katie asked fearfully as Carl cuffed his left hand to her right one.

"Take you with me," he said and there was finality in his voice, which terrified her. This was it.

She looked down numbly at her cuffed hand, holding it up as though it were a foreign object. She felt panic well up inside her at the thought of now being cuffed to this mad man.

"I may be insane," he told her as they walked. "But I don't like the good doctor crawling around inside my head like that." Carl swatted at his head as though it were full of bugs he was trying to get out. "It makes me crazy the way he analyzes everything about me. The way he thinks he knows me so well. He's wrong, dead wrong and I'm going to make sure that's the last thing he knows before he dies."

In shock, Katie stood and watched him transform from his controlled, emotionless self into the mad man he had already confessed to being. With a hard, determined look on his face he pushed the clip up into the base of the gun. His jerking movements pulled at Katie's wrist. "Let him try and compile police profiles from the grave. Tell them all my secrets, tell them I'm insane and need to be shut up in that little tiny cell for the rest of my life to rot away at their leisure. He'll pay."

Carl looked up and seemed surprised to see Katie standing there next to him as they stood waiting for the elevator. He pushed the safety off and smiled at her. "Shall we go?"

They rode the elevator up to the ninth floor of the building they had been held up in. They were dirty and tattered, Carl's shirt still hung torn from chest. He held the gun casually by his side as they went.

Two doors down off the elevator they stopped at an office labeled 'Dr. Hansen and Dr. Goodwin'. The waiting room held three people; two women and one man. The receptionist looked up at the pair with her professional gaze, which quickly disappeared when she saw Carl standing there handcuffed to Katie with his gun resting easily on her desk. The billing clerk behind her turned around when she heard the receptionist gasp. The file she was working on fell to the floor.

"Would you please come around here and join the others," he told the clerk. Both women got up.

"Not you," he told the young receptionist with a smile. "You need to announce us to Dr. Hansen. Please make sure everyone is out of the back rooms. I don't want to have to come back there and clear it out myself."

The billing clerk came out front and sat with the others who had huddled together in the far corner of the room. Two people came out from the back and joined the shivering group. Slowly Dr. Goodwin came forward. He moved over in front of Carl with his hands up as though to surrender to him, but Katie could see Carl wasn't going to tolerate any interference. He raised the gun up, his eyes hard and Dr. Goodwin moved past him over to the clump of people and began trying to sooth them.

"Tell Dr. Hansen that Katie and Carl are here to see him and it's not polite to keep us waiting," he yelled into the back. The receptionist slowly came around her desk and he stared at her, pointing the gun at her head. Carl waited for a few moments and then fired the gun into the reception area just above the girl's head. "Do you always keep your patients waiting?" he yelled over the screams of the group.

Dr. Hansen slowly emerged from his office

"Come on out here." Carl smiled, his composure still slipping in and out. "We can have group therapy."

"Carl," Dr. Hansen greeted the man respectfully. "Tell me who we have here?" he motioned to Katie who stood trying to keep as far away from Carl as she could while being cuffed to him.

"That's none of your concern. Your concern right now is your patients. If you have any final analysis for them, now would be the time to impart those pearls of wisdom."

"Why don't we take this back into my office?"

"No," Carl shook his head. "But you know my mind so well," he said tapping his temple harshly with the barrel of the gun. "You should have known my answer. In fact, you know me so well, why don't you tell me if I would have any difficulties killing all these people."

"No," Dr. Hansen said evenly. "No, you wouldn't."

"Carl," Katie said softly. "Let them go. It wasn't them you wanted."

"Still trying to save everybody?" Carl asked with a cruelty in his voice that scared her. "You can't save everybody."

Katie didn't answer. She didn't think she could save anybody. She knew she wouldn't be able to save herself.

"Don't worry, you'll still save me, Katie," he said, softening slightly and touching his cuffed hand to hers. "That's your job when this is all over."

The door opened and a man in a slightly crumpled charcoal gray suit stood staring at the scene. He moved slowly, his hand going to the weapon secured in a holster under his arm.

Carl didn't seem surprised at all as he turned the weapon on the new arrival. "Marcus, I assume?" Carl spat. "You're too early." In one fluid motion Carl turned and fired at Dr. Hansen. Katie screamed as the man seemed to fly backwards with the force of the bullet entering him. "Now I'm ready," he said coldly as he pulled Katie around in front of him, their cuffed hands held in front of her. Marcus had his gun out and leveled at Carl, but Katie could see his frustration that he couldn't do anything with her blocking the shot.

Grateful that she wasn't able to see the dead man behind them, she just looked into the deep blue eyes of the man she'd heard on the radio. He'd told her he was coming to get her and she felt warm knowing he'd kept his word, even though he wouldn't be able to save her. It was just good that he was here.

Maneuvering around so no one was behind him, Carl held onto Katie with such force it was painful. Still, the pain was nothing to the fear she felt. He pressed his head next to hers, his skin seeming so cold. She could hear him breathing and he was humming slightly. "Look there, Katie; Marcus has come to try and save you this time."

Marcus kept his gun level at the pair as he moved slowly inside, pushing the door open with his foot until it stayed open. "I want everybody to calmly leave the room," he said, motioning them to go behind him so they didn't get in his line of fire.

Carl said nothing as the frightened group shuffled quickly from the room. When everyone was gone, Marcus shut the door closed behind them and the three stood alone in the room.

"Are you ready to kill me, Marcus?" Carl asked, once again regaining his cool composure.

"If I have too."

"That's why you're here," Carl said and there was an almost imperceptible sadness in his voice. "After I send my angel on ahead, it's always been your job to send me after her."

Marcus stood silent, his eyes cold steel, and his gun unmoving.

Carl moved so he stood directly behind Katie, head and all. "Would you be willing to send your bullet piercing her heart to get at me, Marcus?" Carl said in a dreamy voice. "If we could go together; that would be even better." He stroked her hair briefly as best he could while holding the gun. His other hand held hers where they were cuffed together in front of her. He moved the gun around and pressed it firmly against her forehead.

"Do you think this weapon is powerful enough to go through both skulls?" he asked. "If not and I have any strength left I'll use any bullets remaining in this gun to kill you, so you'd better be ready to make sure I'm dead."

He pressed his face against the back of her head to be in line for the bullet. Katie kept her eyes focused on Marcus, tears streaming down her face as she waited for the impact of the bullet Carl had threatened her with.

Marcus' eyes seemed to widen and dart around them. Katie tried to see what he was looking for, but it seemed to take her too long to realize that with Carl behind her, he couldn't see Marcus and it was his opportunity to make a move. Within seconds Marcus moved to his left and kicked the rolling magazine table, catapulting it forward like a battering ram that struck Katie and Carl in the legs. As they fell the gun exploded, grazing past Katie's ear before they hit the floor.

As they fell to the floor Carl's hand never let loose from the gun and as soon as he hit the floor he was positioning himself for another try, but Marcus was already standing over him with his finger pulling the trigger on his weapon again and again. Three quick bullets pumped into Carl's chest and his weapon fell from his hand just before his head sagged back onto the floor.

Katie could see him staring up at the ceiling. He blinked harshly as though trying to see something up there.

"Katie," he choked out. "I'm not sorry I didn't kill you. I never did really believe you could get me into heaven. I always knew I'd go to hell. It was a nice thought though, wasn't it?" He coughed spasmodically and then a smile pressed itself into his lips. "This is everything I wanted," he whispered. His soul died from his eyes and it almost seemed the pale blue washed away into white.

Marcus moved in and kicked Carl's gun away, dropping down to one knee next to Katie. She was staring in fear at Carl and jumped when Marcus touched her. She turned to Marcus and saw a man who was truly grateful she was all right.

"Oh my God," she cried and fell into his arms.

He held her and comforted her as the room filled with police officers. They uncuffed her from Carl and she tried to stand up, but the table had broken her leg.

"I'm so sorry," Marcus offered and she could feel the sincerity.

She laughed in a way that you do at funerals. Too much emotion to define. "No, you did exactly what you said you'd do. You said you'd find me and you did. You saved my life."

"I'll get you to the ambulance," he said.

"No," she pulled on his arm to keep him from leaving. "Please don't leave me."

"I won't leave," he agreed smiling at her with the most amazing blue eyes. They were nothing like Carl's. Marcus' eyes were a deep, warm blue like a summer sky. She wanted to look at them forever, but she knew she needed him to do one more thing for her.

"Take me to my son."

Marcus picked her up and did as she asked.

CHAPTER SIX

Katie woke up in a sweat. She sat up and looked at the clock. Four o'clock in the morning. She lay back down on her pillow, but could only stare at the ceiling. Slowly she climbed out of bed and stole into Alex's room. He lay crossways on his bed, one arm lying about his head and his heart shaped lips were parted slightly. He looked so beautiful, so peaceful. She felt herself smile as she placed him back onto his pillow and pulled his blankets back over him. She kissed his forehead and climbed slowly back into her bed.

"Are you okay?" Marcus asked in a sleepy voice.

"I'll be fine," she said and cuddled up next to him.

"Another bad dream?" he asked wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close to him.

"Yes," she said softly and held onto his arm that embraced her so lovingly.

"I wish I could help make them go away," he offered.

"You do," she whispered and closed her eyes feeling safe and secure.

She had come through the pain and the fear and she was grateful for her life now as she felt Marcus' warm body next to her.

"You know that Carl kept saying I was an angel," she said softly.

"You are," Marcus told her in the dark.

"Did you know that one of the last things he said to me when you walked in the door was that you were there to save me? I think that makes you the angel."

Marcus laughed lightly. "The man was crazy, but at least he got that right. I'm glad I was there to save you. I'm glad you're here now to save me." He leaned in and kissed her.
