Revenge, Part II

by Margaret Davis and BeeDrew

Oily, black smoke billowed from the wreckage tosully the afternoon sky. Intense heat from the blaze scorched thenearby trees and plants as the yellow flame gathered itself andblossomed into a fireball. Shards of metal flew in everydirection.

A patrol car slid to a stop and a tall manjumped from the vehicle. Deputy Sheriff Dugan lifted a hand to shieldhis face from the heat of the flames as he surveyed the wreck. Heknew that nothing could live in that inferno. As he reached insidethe car to radio for the fire department, he wondered if there wouldbe anything left for the coroner to examine.

The metal pinged as it cooled, an almostmusical sound. Fireman Andy Shelton drew on heavy asbestos-linedgloves and nodded to his partner. The doors and other pieces of thevehicle had been blown off by the force of the explosion and litteredthe area. Andy felt the bile rise in his throat when the first whiffof that never-to-be-forgotten odor reached him--the smell of burnthuman flesh.

A glance into the interior of the blackenedshell confirmed what Andy already knew. The driver had perished. Ihope you died on impact, he thought. He wondered if the driver hadbeen drunk or high, as was often the case in the more grislyaccidents.

Greg Hughes sipped his second cup of coffee forthe morning and grimaced at the taste. No wonder half of us haveulcers.... Further grousing was cut short by his ringingtelephone.

"Hughes."

He listened in silence to the caller, thendemanded, "No positive identification? What do you mean, the dentalcharts don't help? Oh. Okay, what's the name of the rental agent? Gotit, we'll check on our end. I'll be back in touch. And, thanks!" Hebroke the connection then dialed Joe Maxwell's officenumber.

"Joe, Greg Hughes. They've found Bass. Nope,dead. His car went over an embankment and burned."

He listened for moment, then continued. "Thecoroner says the dental records are inconclusive because of extensivedamage to the body. They'll do some tissue samples but that takes awhile. The car was rented by Steven Bass last week--they were able toID the license plate." He paused again to listen.

"I agree, but I think we'll all sleep a littleeasier tonight. I'll let you know when the final results come in. Seeyou later, Joe."

Catherine glanced up as the sound of Joe'sfootsteps preceded him around the corner. He gave her a "come here"wave and disappeared back toward his office.

"Close the door, Radcliffe," he instructed whenshe paused in the doorway, "we have news about Bass." As he watchedthe color drained from her face as she tilted sideways thumpingagainst the door frame.

"Cathy!" he leaped to his feet. Reaching herside he took her arm and guided her into his office, closing the doorbehind them. Her hands were like ice as he took them in his own warmgrip, and nudged her into a chair. He knelt in front of her and triedto make her meet his eyes.

"It's okay, Cathy. Greg Hughes just called andhe's dead. Do you hear me? He's dead, you're safe now." He wasn'tsure if she heard him until the sobbing began and she sagged againsthim. Hesitantly he put both arms around her and held her as shecried.

Catherine daubed at her face, but the tearscontinued to roll down her cheeks no matter how she struggled forcontrol. She was relieved, saddened, and just plain exhausted nowthat the tension of the last few weeks was suddenly relieved. Eventhough the trail had lead to Europe, she’d found herselfglancing up every time a door opened or closed half expecting to seeSteven advancing on her to extract his revenge. He’d stalked herin her dreams so often it had nearly become routine for Vincent topace her balcony ready to comfort her when the horror jerked her fromsleep. Two months had not lessened her fear.

"He died in a car accident. The body was badlyburned, so they won't be absolutely sure until the tissue samples aretested, but Greg Hughes is satisfied that the driver was Steven Bass.The car was rented to him last Thursday, and the road leads to aritzy section of New Rochelle where he owned a house. There was onlyone body."

Catherine struggled to feel some emotion otherthan overwhelming relief. "What a horrible end," she whispered. Anylingering sympathy she might have felt for Steven had beenextinguished by the terror of her dreams and the fear that she wouldnever feel at peace again.

"You’re safe now, " he told her. He triedfor a light tone and was surprised when it succeeded. The danger toCathy had played havoc with his ability to treat her as a friend. Ithad certainly not been the time for declarations, and yet he hadfound himself wanting to tell her he loved her and would protect herwith his life. Over the past weeks he’d cautioned himself:Get a grip, Maxwell.

"Greg said they'll have a search warrant in anhour and they're going out to the house. Take a long lunch,Radcliffe, the details can wait. Give yourself a treat."

In the tunnels beneath the brownstone thatbelonged to a Evelyn, a Helper, Vincent and Catherine stood locked ina fierce embrace. The agony of past weeks had been lifted, the onlysound heard was his whispering of her name. Catherine had no tearsleft, but she curved her arms around his waist and squeezed as thoughshe would never let go.

"Catherine, tell me. Your note said only thatSteven was dead and that you would meet me here. What hashappened?"

Time flew by as she shared the few details sheknew. It was such a relief to move on to speak of ordinary thingssuch as a concert by the children scheduled for the weekend. Theywere startled when the trap door above opened and Evelyn's voicefloated down.

"Vincent? Catherine? It's lunchtime. Here'ssome sandwiches and tea."

"Thank you, Evelyn," Vincent said as he rose totake the tray from her hands.

"My pleasure." Evelyn let the trapdoor close,restoring their privacy.

Catherine jumped suddenly. "My pager," sheexplained, looking at the display. It’s Joe, reminding me wehave a deposition at 3:00 this afternoon."

"Must you go back to work today?" Vincent askedas he handed her a mug of the sweet, hot tea.

"’We have an important deposition for theGallatin case," she answered. "You remember, the one about theabduction of that little girl?" At his nod, she continued, "I’veestablished a rapport with Arabella, it’s vital that I bethere." The regret in her tone told him where she would rather be,but duty called. I'll meet you here when we’re finished. Isthere a pipe I can use to signal?"

After they had finished their meal, Vincentpulled her to her feet and led her a few feet down the tunnel. Heshowed her where the pipes were, but he knew she would not have needof the information. He intended to see Father, teach his literatureclass, and return long before she finished her errands.

"I'll be as quick as I can," shepromised.

"Until then, Catherine." Vincent embraced herone last time and watched as she ascended the ladder to Evelyn'sbasement.

Greg Hughes studied the Bass house as he andthree of his men, plus two more from the Sheriff's Department, droveup the sloping driveway. The mansion was closed and shuttered.Although the lawn had been trimmed recently, the place had theabandoned feel of a long-vacant home.

Greg motioned the men to spread out and checkthe sides and the rear as he approached the front door. The realestate agent had supplied the key, and the door swung inwardsilently. He peered around the doorway and then slid into the room,gun drawn.

The men combed each floor carefully, but therewere no signs of recent occupancy. After they had gone through everyroom, they spread out to check the grounds.

Hughes squinted in the bright sunlight. Hishead throbbed and pounded with every beat of his heart. Men don'tget migraines, he told himself and doggedly pushed on to the boathouse. There was no lock, and he pushed the door open and glancedaround. Tools, sacks of lawn fertilizer, and other odds and endsfilled the shelves and much of the floor space. Later, he wouldremember the blinding pain of his headache and know it had caused himto miss the trapdoor in one corner and the shiny, new latch on theinside of the shed door.

A week had passed, and Catherine was once againimmersed in her work. She had slept all of last night withoutdreaming of Steven.

"Cathy, this came for you by messenger." Ritaproffered the thick manila envelope with a smile.

"Thanks," Catherine said, glancing down at thedelivery. The address was a prestigious law firm uptown. One of thepartners had been in her class at law school. Shows you what oldmoney and studying hard will get you, she thought as she slit theenvelope open.

Inside there was a cover letter, and a secondenvelope. The letter read:

Dear Miss Chandler:

Steven Bass was one of our clients. He left this

letter for you to be opened in the event of his

death. His Will names you as his executrix and heir.

Please contact our office at your convenience to

discuss the terms of the Will.

Yours very truly;

Douglas Perry

Catherine dropped the papers on her desk andstared at them in horror. It was as if Steven had reached out fromthe grave and touched her. Almost without thought, she stood and tooka step back from the desk. She shrieked when she felt a hand on hershoulder and whirled around to find Joe standing behindher.

"Cathy! What's wrong?" Her face had the samehorrified look it had worn after Dr. Richards' ill-fatedvisit.

"Oh, Joe... it's a note from Steven's attorneyabout his Will and a letter he wrote me!" Catherine looked back atthe papers, feeling her hands go damp and clammy. No one couldever love you like I love you....

"What did he write?" Joe demanded.

"I don't know, I couldn't bear to look," shefollowed him as he stepped over to her desk. "You open it,please."

Joe glanced around and realized the entireoffice was trying to see what was happening. Some looked away,embarrassed to be caught staring, but others continued to watchopenly. He grabbed the offending set of papers from the desk and tookCathy's elbow in his other hand.

"Come on, let's look at this in private."Behind the closed door of his office, Catherine made a visible effortto calm herself, but her nervousness showed in the white knuckles ofboth hands tightly clasped in her lap.

"You want me to read it?" Joe inquired and ather nod, pulled it from the envelope.

 

My dearest Cathy,

If you are reading this, then I am dead and we

are parted for a time. Our love will last for

eternity and I will wait for you until we are

together again.

Did I get to tell you how much I loved you before

I died? No one will ever love you as much as

I love you. Never forget that, Cathy.

I'm leaving everything to you and I will be

happy knowing I provided for you and that

you will live in the house where we would

have been so happy.

Stay away from him or I'll have to come back

and fix things again.

Love,

Steven

Catherine shuddered at the thought of eversetting foot in that house again. The idea that Steven was sodelusional that he had thought he could return from death was a signof how disturbed he had been.

"Who's this `him' Bass refers to, Cathy?" Joelooked up from a second, silent reading of the letter.

"Any him I guess. I really have noidea," she said. She hoped her face didn't show the lie for what itwas.

"They insist that an on-site inspection must bemade and that I have to be there. I can't very well tell them why Idon't want to be in that house! I'll be perfectly safe." Catherinetried to convince herself as much as she tried to reassure Vincent."Joe is going with me and my attorney, as well. There's no danger.Please, don't worry," she begged and took his hands inhers.

"I still dream of him. A weakness overtakes meand I am powerless to save you." The agony of the remembered imagesroughened his voice. "There must be another way."

"Believe me, I've tried. I have to go there,but I promise you, Joe will be at my side the entiretime."

Vincent dropped his head and let his mane swingforward to hide his face. If Catherine saw his expression, she wouldread his determination to be there also, in the daylight and exposedto the world, if necessary.

"When?" he asked.

"Tomorrow morning." Catherine knew her wordswere inadequate to comfort him, but they were all she had to offer."I'll be fine, Vincent."

The message on the recorder was brief. "She'sgoing tomorrow morning with her boss and that fancy lawyer of hers."An electronic beep deleted the message, and the phone was returned toits cradle. The recipient smiled and walked away.

Once before Vincent had made this journey,compelled by the knowledge that his love was in danger. Now he leftthe safety of his world again, bound to protect her at all costs. Itwas still dark when he moved carefully toward the house. Faint lightsilluminated the driveway and front door. Vincent stood at the edge ofthe trees and gazed at the blank windows of the house, trying topierce the shadows with his keen vision. He needed to becloser.

He sensed the presence and heard a poppingnoise at the same time. A stinging in his back was woefully familiaras he staggered a few steps and then toppled forward,unconscious.

Three cars pulled into the driveway anddisgorged passengers. Already the summer heat and humidity made theair seem thick and made breathing difficult.

Catherine wished for a quick end to theinspection. The lawyers--hers and Steven's--had insisted she bepresent when the house was opened and an inventory made inpreparation for putting the house up for sale. She had not sleptwell, awakening from a heart-pounding nightmare sometime before dawn.Now she felt lightheaded and queasy, and diagnosed her symptoms asanxiety. Get it over with, guys, so I can get away from here,she commanded silently.

"Miss Chandler, are you certain you want tosell this property? The investment potential is enormous. The marketis headed for an upturn in real estate prices--even a few monthscould result in a substantially higher profit margin." Steven'slawyer kept pace at her elbow, still fretting over her decision todispose of her inheritance with all possible speed.

"Have I not made myself clear, Mr. Perry? Iwant no part of this house or its furnishings. I want the clothesdonated to the Shelter for Battered Women, New Beginnings. Thepersonal pictures are to be sent to my attorney, and everything elsesold."

"Perhaps if we discussed this at a later date?"Donald Perry rarely lost in the courtroom, and a simple `No' wascertainly not enough to turn him from what he perceived as the rightcourse of action for a client.

"Mr. Perry, what part of `sell it' don't youunderstand?" Catherine knew she had stepped over the edge of goodmanners, but nothing would sway her from her goal to divest herselfof this house at the earliest opportunity.

Donald Perry inclined his head in silentacquiescence to her decision. His fee would be substantial regardlessof the sale date, and she certainly did seem to bedetermined.

It looked like modeling clay or Play-doh thathad lost its color. It felt cool against his fingers. He'd found itridiculously easy to buy the stuff--all that was needed was a supplyof cash and a word in the right place, and it was his in threehours.

Lovingly he molded and shaped it around thewiring of the detonator before slipping the whole thing into azip-lock bag. The wires protruded from a corner of the closure. Heturned and moved toward his prone, imposingly largeprisoner.

His hands trembled as he taped his creationhigh in the middle of the creature's back, between the shoulderblades where it would be difficult to reach. He used strapping tapethreaded with filaments designed to keep the tape from splittingunder pressure. And, considering how hairy the thing was, the tapewasn't likely to peel off even if moistened.

With the utmost care he attached a detonatordevice to the wires that protruded from the plastique. With a smileof satisfaction and relief, he slipped the remote control for thedetonator into his pocket. There, that's finished. Time to givehim another dose...

The creature never moved as the needle wasrammed into his upper arm. He was bare from the waist up, arms boundawkwardly behind his back. He lay on the floor in the large pantryadjacent to the kitchen. It had taken some doing--the creature wasunbelievably heavy--but he'd hidden it beneath the boathouse untileveryone had gone. Then he'd dragged it inside, which had beenrelatively easy since he hadn't tried to minimize the scrapes andbruises it collected.

He crouched beside it, studying its face withpuzzled interest. The bestial muzzle and nose were half hidden by aspill of blonde hair, but you could see it was ugly any way youlooked at it. The thing must have put some kind of spell on Cathy.That was the only explanation for the change in her. She had alwaysbeen compliant and eager to please until now. Once she was releasedfrom whatever hold it had on her, she would be grateful and theirlove would be free to blossom again. It wouldn't be long now, just afew more hours.

Catherine parked her car in the garage underher building and heaved a sigh of relief. The strain of returning toSteven's house had grated on her nerves until her whole body hurt.She leaned back against the headrest for a few minutes beforesummoning enough energy to get out of the car. The vague uneasinessthat had troubled her all morning had not lessened now that she wasback in the city. In fact, she the waves of anxiety had onlyintensified during the drive back.

Something must be wrong Below. Tired as shewas, she headed for the sub-basement and the entrance to the Tunnelworld, knowing she would have no rest until she knew what the troublewas. Once in the tunnels she pounded out a message to Vincent, andwaited impatiently, pacing back and forth. Her unease grew with everystep when he did not appear. Then she heard the sound of runningfootsteps.

"Catherine!" Mouse appeared from around ajunction in the tunnels and slid to a halt.

She looked at him in alarm. "Where isVincent?"

"Gone. Left last night, never cameback."

"Did he go to visit Narcissa?" As soon as sheuttered the words she knew the idea was ridiculous. Vincent had beengreatly concerned about her return to Steven's house. That dear,stubborn man must have gone to New Rochelle to watch over her, andwas now trapped there until after dark, when it was safe toreturn.

"Father said left a note... backtonight."

Catherine gave a sigh. "Thanks for coming,Mouse. I'm going home to clean up and I'll come backlater."

Being reasonably certain of Vincent's locationhad not relieved Catherine's fears. She still felt that somethingmust be terribly wrong. She ascended to her apartment quickly,weariness forgotten as ideas and courses of action tumbled in herhead.

I could rent a van, drive back to NewRochelle and look for him, but what if I can't find him or he's backhere looking for me? He'll worry about me being at Steven's housealone. Perhaps I should just sit tight until afterdark....

When Catherine opened her door, she sighed withpleasure. Home. It was so good to have her apartment livable again,although some of the furniture was still at the upholstery shop. Shetossed her jacket and purse on the one chair in the living room andwent to check her messages.

Beep. "Hi, Cathy, it's Jenny. Areyou free for supper? I thought we could order in a pizza witheverything and catch up with each other. Give me a call."

Beep. A receiver slammeddown.

Beep. "Cathy, it's Joe. Justwondered how you were doing, kiddo. If you want to talk, I'll behome. Just remember though, it's over and you don't have to go backthere again. Talk to you later, bye."

Beep. "We're waiting foryou."

Catherine froze in horror as Steven Bass' voiceoozed out of the speaker. It can't be, it can't be, he's dead,he's dead, her mind chanted, almost as if she could ward him offwith an incantation. But the voice went on.

"He's asleep just now, but I'm going to sendhim off to eternity in hell... in a million pieces. Plastique doesthat, you know. A million pieces. You really must come, Cathy. If youcome tonight, I'll wait to do it until you're here. Don't bringanyone else. I have a remote detonator and if I see anyone but you...poof! We're waiting for--" Beep.

For several seconds after the machine cut shortSteven's taunting voice, Catherine stood utterly still, hardlybreathing. Steven's vision of the world was warped and twisted by hisdelusions, but he told the truth as he saw it. There was no doubt inher mind that he had Vincent. What awful things had he done tooverpower one so much stronger than himself? He'd mentionedplastique, a remote detonator.... Her mind whirled over thepossibilities as she automatically stifled her risingpanic.

Swiftly she moved to the bedroom and snatchedher duffel bag from the closet. Gone was indecision and in its placeone thought: Rescue Vincent by whatever means necessary. Shefolded a lightweight blanket into the bottom of the bag, added somesmall towels, gauze bandages, tape, hydrogen peroxide, and a smallpair of scissors. From the nightstand came a small pistol which sheslipped into the pocket of her bomber jacket.

Catherine closed and locked her door and ran tothe elevator. Less than five minutes had passed since she hadlistened to Steven's message, but she had no idea how long it hadbeen since he called. She stowed her bag in the trunk of her car andhurried toward the entrance to Below, glancing around with automaticcaution to be sure she was unobserved.

"Catherine, you must take someone with you!"Father's tone was sharp and insistent.

"Steven is not a rational man. He's threatenedto kill Vincent immediately if he sees anyone but me, and I won'trisk that. He has Vincent wired with... plastiqueexplosives."

Sheer force of will kept her upright, and shebit her lower lip savagely to still its trembling. The sickeninglurch of pain in Father's face was almost more than she could bear towitness. "He bragged of a remote detonator...I'll have to get it awayfrom him somehow."

"What do you mean, somehow? Catherine, ifyou're contemplating what I think you are--"

"Mouse help! Make a gizmo! Disruptor. Press it,no bang. Okay good, okay fine!"

They swung toward the study door, spying Mousehovering just inside.

"What do you mean, Mouse? And why are youeavesdropping?" Father's heart wasn't in the reprimand; it was moreforce of habit that anything.

"Make a thing, carry in her pocket. Makesinvisible noise, stops detonator gizmo." Mouse waved his handsvaguely as he tried to illustrate his idea.

"How do you know about this `disruptor,' Mouse?Do you have the parts? How long will it take you?" Catherinedemanded, sudden hope flaring.

"Read it, in a soldier magazine. Tells how tomake. Found little box Up Top, no problem. Fix it now." Mouse whirledand dashed away, ignoring Father's instruction to stop.

"Do you think he can do it?" Catherineasked.

""Who knows? The boy is brilliant, butsometimes lacks common sense. His mind doesn't follow the proscribedlogic to resolve problems. I've seen some remarkable successes andmore than a few failures."

"It's something. It may be all I've got,"Catherine replied. Inside her jacket pocket, her fingers curledsilently around the snub-nosed little gun. "I'll do anything to savehim!"

Father heard the determination in Catherine'svoice and knew that `anything' covered a lot of territory. He startedto warn her of the risk, then thought the better of it and shut hismouth. She, better than anyone, knew the danger posed by StevenBass.

"Well, let's go see what Mouse needs," heoffered and gestured her to proceed ahead of him.

Catherine drove down the expressway atprecisely six miles over the speed limit. She concentrated fiercelyon the simple mechanics of driving and tried to clamp down on heremotions. She had no idea of Vincent's condition and was determinednot to make it worse by allowing her fear to penetrate their bond.Mentally she rehearsed ways to dissuade Steven from his intendedcourse of action.

Every verbal feint or conciliatory phrase she'dever used as a lawyer marched with military precision through hermind, and she weighed them against what she knew of Steven and hismotives. But at the back of her mind, separate and apart from all thethings she might say to delay or prevent him, was the irrefutablefact that she would kill Steven to protect Vincent.

If there were options, she'd choose another.Given none, she would not hesitate. Father had tried to stop her whenshe went into the Catacombs to find Vincent--was it only three monthsago? His life had been worth any risk then, and now was nodifferent.

Mouse's gizmo lay beneath the lace ofher bra. He had cobbled it together using a castoff TV remote fromAbove, and it had only one button that worked, the on/off switch. Shehad tried it in the car and it had reduced the radio reception tostatic, but she had no idea how close she had to be to the detonatorfor the gizmo to be effective. Her gun was a reassuring weightin her pocket. Steven would find it if he searched her, but she wascounting on her ability to distract him.

The sound of wheels on the gravel driveway drewhim to the window. She was here at last! She stepped from the car andgazed at the house with her hand over her heart.... She was as deeplyaffected by the reunion as he. My darling Cathy....

The sight of the house was frightening enough;but knowing Vincent was inside, at Steven's mercy, made her skincreep. She sent a bolt of love winging through the bond, and itseemed she felt a tendril of response, faint and faltering. Shestepped from the car and laid her hand over the plastic case toreassure herself that the button was in the onposition.

The corners of her mouth lifted in a glassysmile as she began to walk toward the house. He's watching, lethim see my eagerness. I am happy to see him again. The door swungopen at her approach.

"Cathy."

He was dressed in casual, country chic with asweater flung over his shoulders, its arms tied in the front. He hadgrown thin, and there were new, deep creases running from his nose tothe corners of his mouth. To the casual observer nothing was amiss,but his eyes told a different story. They darted here and there,searching, pausing to light on her face before twitchingaway.

"I've missed you so. He kept you away, Iknow it. Well, he won't bother you anymore. I'll protectyou."

"He's here, then?" she asked, affecting polite,conversational interest.

"Come on." He grabbed her hand and dragged herinto the living room, his facade of the genial host slipping a bit."I'll show you."

Good, she thought, I need to seeVincent and know he's okay before I do anything. Aloud she said,"This is such a lovely house. I just couldn't bear to keep it, withyou gone."

Steven slowed his pace and turned to her. "Iunderstand," he said, his eyes caressing her face. "We'll findanother one we like and decorate it just the way you wantit."

It was an effort beyond imagining to look athim and smile as though she were pleased at his announcement. "You'retoo good to me, Steven," she murmured.

The peach and lavender of sunset painted thewindows in the kitchen. Red sky at night, sailor's delight....The inane childhood verse floated through her mind and she almostgiggled at the absurdity of it. She promised herself ten minutes ofquiet hysterics after this was all over.

Steven stopped in front of the pantry door."He's in here. Don't worry, I won't let him hurt you. He'll neverhurt anyone again."

The door swung outward as Steven touched theknob. Lying on the floor, his face obscured by his hair, was Vincent.He was naked to the waist, the bomb attached to his back like somehuge insect. His hands were bound securely, but he didn't look asthough he'd put up much of a struggle. The swollen, purple injectionsites on his upper arm told their tale.

Catherine dug her nails into her palms to keepfrom crying out. He was so still. Her eyes hunted feverishly for therise and fall of his breathing. He was alive! She drew a deep breathand fought to keep her face expressionless, knowing that Stevenwatched her closely.

"He doesn't look dangerous," she commented, andstrolled a few steps away as though Vincent were of only passinginterest. Under pretext of examining the kitchen, she cast her eyesaround to check escape routes. The back door was just steps away andthere were sliding glass doors that led from the breakfast nook tothe patio.

She darted a look at Steven, and felt a chillrace up her spine at the fulminating look of hate he wore. He kickedVincent, eliciting no response. Catherine doubted he realized it whenhe began to speak aloud, spitting his words at Vincent's limpbody.

"Wake up, you. Freak. Wake up! I want youconscious for this. I want you to know what I'm going to do, and why.How dare you, how dare you touch her!"

He kicked the prone form again, and she felttears of rage prick her eyelids.

"You have to suffer like you made me suffer.Too bad I can't put you in a cage like they did me. Stuff you full ofdrugs that'll make you sick, surround you with loonies anddo-gooders. And then we'd toss in some doctors to call you names...obsessive, paranoid, schizophrenic...."

For several long moments, a wired silencestretched between them as Steven fought for control, his faceworking. Finally he turned from his prisoner and smiled a ghastlysmile at Catherine. "Can I offer you something to drink, darling?Soda, wine, juice?"

Catherine wet lips gone dry with terror, andknew she could no longer keep the fear out of her eyes. She hoped hewas too far gone to notice. "Orange juice would be nice."

As Steven moved to the cabinet for glasses,Catherine darted a glance at Vincent. His hands had begun to twitch,and she realized he was coming out of his drugged sleep. Not now,Vincent, she begged him silently. Don't draw his attention.Don't provoke him.

She pivoted and walked to the table in thebreakfast nook. She wanted Steven's attention anywhere besides thepantry. "This is a nice view from here," she said. Inwardly shewhispered, Stay still. Please, please, stay still. She had noidea whether Vincent could read her thoughts, her urgency, but shedearly hoped so.

"Yes, you can see the water over there," Stevenreplied. He approached the table with the juice in one hand and whatshe realized was a detonator in the other. With a wrench she tore hereyes from the box clutched in a hand that trembled slightly, andfeigned interest in the view.

Voices. Inside his head. It was the darknessrising to consume them all. "No, no! Not again!" he groaned faintly.He couldn't move, he was alone in the dark....

Steven jerked his head toward the whisperyvoice from the pantry. He hurried across the kitchen. "It's wearingoff, finally. Cathy, come over here, will you?"

Catherine felt her stomach roll at the way hiseyes lit up, like a mad little boy's at Halloween. She affected ashiver as she stood up, and slipped her hands into her pockets asthough to warm them. The blunt shape of the gun offeredcomfort.

She continued her silent reassurances toVincent as she moved forward. Vincent, it's Catherine. I'm safe.Don't move, please, don't move. Even if he couldn't discern herwords, she knew he could feel the outpouring of love that flowedstrong from her heart to his.

There were restraints on his wrists, likebefore. But he was not in his chamber; there was no sound of pipes orchildren's voices, no smell of earth and stone. The evil dream-figurewas there, taunting him, baiting him with foul words and thoughts.His nightmare, or Catherine's? Vincent struggled to open his eyes,but they were so heavy....

Steven curved an arm around Catherine andpressed her close as she drew near. She could feel his trembling,feel the heat pouring off him, and knew she'd been foolish to thinkshe could control him with what they had once been together. Heroptions were dwindling.

"You were so sweet and lovely," Steven breathedagainst her ear. "Was he around from the beginning when you sent meaway? How could you let that thing be near you? Have you no sense ofshame? How could you?"

With each question he gave her a shake, like anaughty child. Catherine found herself caught in the wildness in hiseyes, like an animal backed into a trap, and longed to tear herselfaway from him. But she knew that the closer she was to the detonator,the better the chance that Mouse's gizmo would work.

"Well, I'm going to fix it for you, Cathy. Whowill know what was in here? The flames will clean it all up just likebefore.... "

He must be speaking of the body found in hisrental car. Catherine could not repress a shudder, but Steven didn'tseem to notice. As abruptly as his tirade had started, it ended. Hepulled her away from the pantry.

"Come, darling, let's get out ofhere."

Behind her, Catherine heard Vincent's raspingprotest.

"Catherine, no!"

She did not falter, but let Steven lead herforward, as though docile to his wishes. Just inside the door was abackpack he picked up as they left the house and headed toward hercar. Steven tossed the pack onto the hood and turned to look at thehouse, forcing Catherine to do the same.

Catherine's restraint snapped. "Run, Vincent!Run, before he kills you! Get out of--"

She choked as Stephen clamped his bony handover her mouth and, with his other hand, pointed the remote at thehouse and mashed the button. She braced herself for the explosion,but there was no sound other than her own harsh breathing. Stevenpunched the button again and again. Nothing!

With an inarticulate scream of rage, Steventhrew her away from him. She hit the ground hard, knocking the airfrom lungs. She struggled to breathe. in gasps that sounded likesobs.

Stephen sprinted toward the house, andCatherine scrambled to her feet to follow him. The disruptor, I haveto be close or it doesn't work!

Someone caught her from behind just as shereached the threshold.

"Catherine, no!"

Vincent swung Catherine up in his arms andsprinted away from the house toward the trees.

Inside, Steven staggered toward the kitchen,screaming obscenities and threats. The door to the pantry hung ajar,and he grabbed the knob. "You're supposed to die! Die, youfreak...."

He reeled back at the sight of his homemadebomb lying on the floor, trailing long bands of tape that stillgripped tufts of red-gold hair.

It's loose! Where? He whirled around,eyes darting fearfully into every corner. His eyes caught movementbehind him.

Everything went to soft, grey slow motion. Hishead turned first, then his shoulders. His arms felt miles long as hewatched the back door, propelled by a stiff breeze, slam shut. Hisfingers, slick with sweat, lost their grip on the detonator and itslipped from his hand. It turned three times on the way to the floorand bounced once before it finally fell, button-side down.

The force of the explosion broke against hisears and he reeled with it, even though he had run too far to feelthe waves of hot air rolling from the inferno. Vincent slumped downagainst a tree, still cradling Catherine.

"It's all right, it's all right, you're safenow," she whispered endlessly. Her breath was warm against him, onehand curved around his neck and the other pressed just above hisheart. Vincent suddenly realized they were skin to skin, that she wasseeing him without a stitch of clothes above the waist. He felt asurge of humiliating redness scorch his face.

Catherine pulled back slightly to look at him,and he darted a glance at her. Her lips twitched, just slightly, andshe moved the hand that lay on his chest, tracing the firm musclesshe found.... Vincent caught her hand to stay her, and felt somethingangular pressed between her breasts.

"What is that?" he asked, puzzled.

She smiled. "Vincent, what an ungentlemanlyquestion." She wiggled her fingers, trying to free them.

He stood abruptly needing to move. WithCatherine in his arms, stillness and heat were entirely toodangerous. He began to walk deeper into the woods, following the pathhe'd taken only a day before.

For a few sweet, stolen moments, Catherine lethim carry her, luxuriating in the feel of his iron arms around herand the scent of him as she pressed her nose against his shoulder."Um, Vincent?"

"Yes, Catherine." He strode firmly on, feelingthe clean night air scour the last of the drugged stupor from hismind.

"Don't you think it would be easier if we droveback to New York in my car?" .

He stopped, then, with a thump, he let her dropfrom his arms to her feet, and frowned at her. "You did that onpurpose," he accused.

"You're darn right I did," she grinned, andthrew an arm around his waist before he could dodge away. "If wehurry we'll beat the fire department. We'll take the back road aroundthe lake. The long way. We can have a word or two about stubborn menwho refuse to stay home when asked nicely to do so...."

She knew the full impact of what had takenplace had yet to sink in, for either of them.. For now, the primarytask was to be gone from this place before anyone arrived to askquestions.

The house smoldered and water arched over thewalls to the interior. The roof had caved in and only two walls wereleft. Greg Hughes carried several items in a cardboard box that hadbeen found in the room under the trap door in the boat house: openedcans of food, a roll of wire and a plastic bag with gray smudges inone corner. Someone had been hiding down there for some time. Hewondered who was under all the debris in the house... the maker ofthe bomb or the victim?