Dear readers: The following story contains over 70,000 words, so be forewarned of its length. There is no sex in this story, but there are some scenes involving some brutal violence.

While a work of fiction, major factual international and domestic events that took place during 1990 are intricately woven into the storyline. In some cases, names of the people involved in a particular incident were changed to protect the innocent, but otherwise, the events are described as they actually occurred.

"1990" is a prequel of sorts. It details the backstory of select characters who have been featured in multiple stories within the Brandt Universe, explains their relationship to major characters in those stories, and how they came to be associated with them. It is not necessary to read any of the Brandt Universe stories first, but hopefully reading this story will motivate you if you haven't read them already.

The Brandt Universe (in order): "His Daddy's Car", "Change", "Searching", "Elements"

Satellite Stories (in order): "Heavy Traffic", "Betting on the Aces", "Little Differences"

Wednesday, January 03, 1990

"Damn, damn, damn," Suzy groaned to herself after closing the front door.

What a way to start the day. How in the hell did they track her down? She had been so careful to use only cash and rented the furnished cottage from Mrs. Gomez, the widow who owned it, under an alias. She avoided contact with anyone who knew her since she had left Missouri. Even her lawyer didn't know her exact location.

Suzy walked into the small kitchen, took a seat at the eat-in counter where her cup of coffee waited, and stared at the envelope that the process server had handed her. She stared at it for several minutes. Suzy didn't have to open it. She was pretty certain that she knew what it contained. The only mystery would be the date that she would be required to appear before the Barton County Probate Court.

From where she sat in the kitchen, Suzy could look through the living room to gaze upon the framed picture on the far wall of her and Chet on the evening of their senior prom. She often thought back to when she had first seen the tall, athletic-looking boy standing in the yard of the house next door to hers. Suzy had initially been confused because she and her parents had returned from a two-week vacation the night before and she had slept in later than normal that morning. Staring out the kitchen window, she had just noticed that the for-sale sign which had been in the yard of the house next to theirs was no longer in place, and there were an unfamiliar car and pickup truck in the driveway of the house. Her attention had returned to the boy gazing up and down the street.

Realizing that the vacant home had new residents, and the boy that she was watching was likely one of them, Suzy found herself suddenly feeling bolder than she ever had. Slipping into her sandals, she bravely exited through her front door and walked purposefully out to the sidewalk and towards the house next door. She saw the boy turn his head and watch her as she approached.

"What are you looking for?" she asked with a smile.

His smile made her weak in the knees, but she steeled herself as she stopped beside him on the grass. He said, "I was just wondering which direction my new school would be and if it was walking distance from here. We finally finished enough of the unpacking that my mom says that I am free to do some exploring. I'm Chet, by the way. Chet Diego"

"I'm Suzy," she replied, trying to size him up without being too obvious about it. His height and rugged handsomeness made him appear several years older than her own age of thirteen. She made a decision, pointed to the north, and added, "Lamar High School is four blocks that way."

"Is that where you go?" Chet had asked.

Blushing, Suzy said, "No, I start at Lamar Middle School this year. It's five blocks in the opposite direction."

Chet looked up the street in the direction that Suzy had indicated and asked, "Would you mind showing me the way?"

Realizing that her guess about the age of her new neighbor might have been off a bit, Suzy asked, "What grade are you going into?"

"It looks like you and I may be classmates," Chet had replied. "I'm going into seventh grade too."

When Suzy gasped, Chet chuckled and then explained, "I know. I have been on a bit of a growth spurt this summer." He pulled up the bottom of his t-shirt to show her the elastic waistband of the board shorts that he wore. Suzy's eyes were so focused on his tight, tanned stomach that she hardly heard his next comment, "My mom says that I have to wear things like this until right before school starts because I have outgrown all my regular clothes this summer."

Suzy wasn't about to complain about this boy being big for his age. She too had experienced a surge in height over the summer, along with other physical developments, which had made her a little apprehensive about her return to school. She hadn't had much contact with other classmates over the summer, so hearing from her new neighbor that her changes weren't unique gave her the first encouragement that she wouldn't stand out at school by being taller, or worse, wearing a bra.

It wasn't until Chet had lowered his shirt that Suzy was able to return her gaze to his eyes. "Let me run in to tell my mom, then I'll show you the way to school."

"Cool," Chet enthusiastically replied. "I'll go tell my mom too, and meet you in front of your house in a minute."

So many components of their relationship had evolved without comment, discussion, or even conscious thought by either. By the time they reached the middle school on that first morning, they had been walking hand in hand. They had shared their first kiss that evening after roasting marshmallows in the fire pit behind her house. Their commitment to one another and solidarity as a couple required no words and left no doubt in anyone else's mind. Chet saw the person inside of her that no one else saw, while Suzy dedicated herself to reading every chapter of Chet's soul. Chet believed that Suzy's whisper could bring the sunrise. She believed that Chet's kiss could stop the rain.

Although Suzy was popular in school, and most often selected by her classmates to be their "princess" or "queen" for the various football games, proms, or other dances, she was never asked out by other boys, and few would even flirt with her. While the knowledge that he and Suzy were a devoted couple, committed entirely to each other was respected by boys, girls were inclined to at least try their luck wooing Chet away. Chet had to learn how to politely dissuade several girls and a few women who periodically threw themselves, and sometimes even their underwear at him.

In a twisted set of horrible coincidences, while rendering aid to a stranded motorist, Suzy's father was struck and killed by a drunk driver, who then careened into a head-on collision with the car carrying Chet's parents. Within a matter of seconds, her father, both of Chet's parents, and the drunk driver were all killed. That fateful evening, occurring shortly before their graduation from high school, became the first night that Suzy and Chet slept together in her bedroom. Chet moved in with Suzy and her mother until he left for basic training later that summer.

Suzy had started college but only took a minimal course load so that she could more readily travel to be with Chet when he was granted leave. As soon as he was allowed to live off base, they moved in together.

On "Black Friday", the day after Thanksgiving in 1988, Suzy's mother, Joleen, and stepfather, John Capshaw, were both shot during a home invasion robbery. The perpetrator or perpetrators were never apprehended. Suzy and Chet had planned on spending that Thanksgiving holiday weekend with her parents but had instead celebrated the holiday as a couple at their small apartment in Southern Pines, North Carolina, near Fort Bragg. A decision that might have spared their lives.

Since she and Chet were not legally married, the Army didn't view the death of a soldier's girlfriend's parents as justification for a hardship leave. It was through Suzy's impassioned pleas to one of the base chaplains that finally garnered the support of Chet's chain of command and won him the leave that allowed him to accompany her back to Lamar to make the final arrangements for her parents. Chet had been her rock of love and support then, as he had always been, and always would be.

It was upon Chet's return to duty after the funerals that they learned of his future "out-of-country" assignment. Knowing that Suzy would need to spend some additional time in Lamar dealing with her deceased parent's affairs, they agreed that she would return there to live, while Chet was on his assignment, and they would get married as soon as he returned.

Having to deal with the Probate Court now was bogus. Suzy's mother had established a revocable living trust that was exempt from probate proceedings. Her stepfather had died before reaching the hospital, and her mother succumbed to her injuries the next day. They both had wills with an identical "Titanic" clause which designated Suzy's mother as the surviving spouse should they both die within thirty days of each other.

Due largely to the way that her stepchildren, Grant and Carrie Capshaw, had treated Joleen and their father since she had married him, Suzy's mother's will had stipulated that nothing from her estate should go to either stepchild. Her mother knew that their father's will designated his children as secondary beneficiaries if Suzy's mother wasn't alive to inherit the entire estate. As a result, the survivor clause effectively cut Suzy's stepsiblings out of both their father's and her mother's estates, with everything going to Suzy. "Everything" in this case was a combined trust in excess of seven million dollars after the life insurance death benefits for both were added in.

At the lawyer's office when the terms of Suzy's mother's will were being explained to the three surviving children, Grant and Carrie had both experienced a behavioral "meltdown". Their screams of profanity escalated into breaking lamps and other furnishings in the lawyer's office and culminated in the police being called to escort the two out of the building. Suzy tried to calm them when she eventually left the building, but even her offer to sign their father's car dealerships, Capshaw Motor Group, over to them wouldn't placate either step-sibling. They insisted that they deserved everything that Suzy's mother had inherited from their father as well as half of what was in the estate of Suzy's mother.

When their belligerence continued over the next several months, turning to threats against Suzy and her infant daughter, Lily, Suzy had snuck away in the dead of night and headed west. With no specific destination in mind, she eventually stopped in Las Cruces, New Mexico.

Chet Diego had painted a wonderfully detailed mental picture of Las Cruces, a place that he remembered from his elementary school days before his family had relocated to Missouri. Suzy felt at home there because of all the details that Chet had shared with her over the years. She also thought that it would please Chet when he finished his latest assignment and was able to join her there. She had been the only thing holding him in Missouri since his parents had passed away, so they were both free to either remain in Las Cruces or choose someplace else to live.

The sound of Lily beginning to stir in her playpen brought Suzy's attention to her daughter. Lily loved to take her naps in her playpen set up in the small living room, which Suzy appreciated because it allowed her to monitor the sleeping little angel from almost anywhere Suzy was in the small cottage. After quickly changing Lily's diaper, Suzy turned the television on. Lily seldom paid attention to the images on the screen, but Suzy believed that the sounds of other people's voices were stimulating for Lily and would help her develop her language skills much faster. Suzy sat on the sofa with the envelope in her hand and listened to the news story currently being aired.

For the last two weeks, the invasion of Panama by the United States had been front and center on every news broadcast. This latest report indicated that General Manuel Noriega had finally exited the Vatican diplomatic mission in Panama City and surrendered to U.S. forces. Suzy had been wondering since the invasion began on December 20^th if Chet was playing some role in Panama. If so, maybe Noriega's surrender would allow him to finally come home for a while.

Chet couldn't share with Suzy exactly what he did. Of course, she knew that he had joined the Army directly out of high school. She also knew that he had nearly killed himself in his efforts to become a Green Beret. She didn't know why he frequently let his hair and beard grow against Army regulations, or why he left his uniforms at home now, when he left for wherever he was being sent. What Chet didn't know was that he had a seven-month-old daughter.

Communications between Suzy and Chet had been one-sided since he had left last in February of 1989. He would write to her, but there was never any return address that she could use to reply. Chet could never tell her where he was or what he was doing, and Suzy understood that the primary purpose of his letters was simply to let her know that he was alive and well, wherever he might be, and to remind her of his love for her.

His last communication had been in September when he had sent her a birthday card. There was a phone number that she could call to leave a message for him, but she had only called that Washington, D.C. number once when she had felt that she should let Chet know her new address in Las Cruces so that he could find her when the time came. They were supposed to get married when his current assignment was over, and that would be better facilitated if the groom was able to find his bride.

Straightening the clasp prongs on the envelope allowed Suzy to finally open the flap. A large paperclip held the multiple papers together, so Suzy extracted the entire set at one time. The first page was a typed letter from the clerk of the Barton County Probate Court that essentially provided an inventory of the documents included in the set. Suzy focused her attention on the second page, which was the court summons requiring her presence in the Probate Court on Friday, January 12^th. That was only nine days away!

Returning her attention to the first page, Suzy verified that her attorney was listed as having been sent copies of all the documents. She picked up the cordless phone handset that she kept next to the sofa, glanced at Lily and saw that she was happily occupied sucking on her toes, and then placed the call.

"Truman, Carter, and Finch," the receptionist at the law firm answered.

"May I speak with Mr. Finch, please? This is Suzanne Ferguson, and I am one of his clients."

"One moment, please. I'll transfer you to Mr. Finch's personal assistant."

The sound of "hold" music was so brief that Suzy wouldn't have been able to "Name That Tune" if she had been a contestant on the syndicated game show. Fiona Clark, an old friend of Suzy's mother came on the phone too quickly.

"Suzy? Where are you?" Fiona exclaimed.

"Lily and I are in Las Cruces, New Mexico. I was just served a summons to appear in the Probate Court there and I need to speak with Mr. Finch about it. Is he available?"

"He's in a meeting with the other partners, but I know he'll want to speak with you. Give me a minute to interrupt them."

The music on hold this time brought a smile to Suzy's face. It was the Bette Midler version of "Wind beneath my Wings". It had been a top ten hit in the months preceding the birth of her child, and the words had spoken to Suzy as a future mother; the bond already forming with the fetus inside her, and her conviction that everything that she would accomplish in life could be attributed to the strength that her child would provide her.

Fiona came back onto the phone and said, "Mr. Finch will be with you shortly. He asked me to get your mailing address and telephone number while we're waiting for him."

Suzy provided the requested information and then heard Fiona say, "I'll transfer you to Mr. Finch now."

Without preamble, Mr. Finch was asking, "Suzy, what's this I hear about you receiving a summons from the Probate Court?"

That question surprised Suzy. She answered, "Didn't you receive a copy of the paperwork? The letter I received from the court clerk lists you as being copied on everything."

"Hold on one second," Mr. Finch said. He must have placed a hand over the mouthpiece of his phone, but Suzy could still hear him shouting for Fiona to get the Probate Court clerk on the phone.

He then returned his attention to Suzy and said, "I'll get a copy of everything over here this afternoon..."

Suzy interrupted him, "Grant and Carrie are claiming that my mother and their father were not legally married and that the trust that my mother established was never filed with the state. The main reason I am calling you though is that the summons says that I am supposed to appear at the court on January 12^th. I can't get there that fast traveling with a seven-month-old infant. Can you try to get an extension on the court date?"

"The fact that the court hasn't provided me with copies of the case documents should be justification for an extension," Finch assured her. "Let me get the case documents in hand and review them. That will allow me to better position my reasoning when I file for the extension. Now, let me ask you something else..."

"What?"

"How long have you been residing in New Mexico?"

"Since around the first of October. Why?"

"If you've been living there exclusively for more than ninety days, the probate court might consider you a resident of that state now. I'll need to do some research along with reviewing the claims now being made by Grant and Carrie."

"I don't understand how my residency would affect the estates of ..."

This time Finch interrupted her, "The court will have to review the status of John Capshaw's estate being inherited by your mother, your mother's estate subsequently being inherited by you, and finally, your own estate. If you are no longer a resident of the State of Missouri, the Probate Court here may not have jurisdiction where your estate is concerned, which in turn could impact its jurisdiction where the other estates are concerned. As I said, I need to do some research. If the claims being made by Grant and Carrie are in the petition they have filed, I will need to get a certified copy of the marriage license. They were married down in Joplin, weren't they?"

"That's right."

"Okay," Finch said, "We'll get someone down there to obtain a certified copy for us. Where the trust is concerned, we have a copy of the original filing here in our office. It will have the seal from the Secretary of State's office with the filing number on it. How soon could you get here? It might help me in requesting an extension to be able to provide an alternative date."

Suzy considered his question and said, "I would really like to postpone things until March at the earliest if possible. The weather between now and then is too unpredictable and I would hate to get stranded someplace in a blizzard with Lily."

"I think that's a reasonable request," Finch said. "I'll push things out as far as I can. Do you know any attorneys out there?"

"No, I haven't needed to speak to one so far. Why?"

"It goes back to residency and who has jurisdiction. Your current will and revocable living trust were drafted here, based on the probate laws of Missouri. We should try to find you an estate attorney familiar with the probate laws in New Mexico so that you can get new estate documents created and filed there. I'll reach out to some other attorneys and see if I can get a recommendation for you."

"Thank you," Suzy said.

Her mother and father had always claimed that their Suzy was an "old soul". From a young age, she exhibited maturity and took responsibilities far beyond anyone's expectations. Suzy excelled at math and was often found reviewing work that her CPA mother had brought home, frequently identifying mistakes that had been missed by others. The estate planning practices learned from her parents' examples had not been lost on Suzy. Within weeks of learning of her pregnancy, she had met with Mr. Finch to draft the will and trust documents that would protect her wealth for her child. She would follow Mr. Finch's advice and review her estate planning with an attorney familiar with New Mexico probate law.

"How soon can I expect to know whether I can get an extension on the court date?" Suzy asked.

Finch didn't hesitate, "I'll review the petition as soon as I receive it this afternoon and draft an extension filing to present to Judge Cronk tomorrow morning."

"Who's Judge Cronk?" Suzy asked. "I thought the Probate Court was run by Judge Helline."

"Old man Helline had to retire last November due to his health," Finch explained.

"You're not talking about Preston Cronk, the lawyer down in Joplin, are you?"

"That's right. Do you know him?"

Suzy sighed, and said, "John Capshaw divorced his wife, the mother of Grant and Carrie, for having a three-year affair with her boss, Preston Cronk. The lawsuit that my stepfather filed against his law firm resulted in Preston losing his partnership and having to start out on his own. Isn't there some conflict of interest or anything for him to be presiding over a case involving the kids of his ex-lover, if they are 'ex'? Maybe they're still carrying on."

"Jesus," Finch said. "I'll get the investigator we use to look into this possible relationship issue. I better get started on things if we hope to get an extension filed in the morning."

"Please keep me posted," Suzy said before disconnecting the call.

Lily had crawled to the side of her playpen and sat smiling at her mother. Suzy smiled back and then went to retrieve her daughter. Returning to the sofa, Suzy leaned back and bounced Lily on her knee while she studied her features. She had done this hundreds of times since Lily's birth, noticing subtle changes, such as Lily's hair color getting lighter and her smile growing wider.

Suzy had tried attributing different features on Lily to the person that she felt it was shared with. Lily's gradually lightening hair was on a path to be very close to the medium brown color of her own, while her large brown eyes were shared with Chet. As she studied her daughter, Suzy pondered whether her own mother and father had ever done likewise with her when she was an infant.

She knew that she had always been shown more love, adoration, and attention than any other child that she had known while growing up. Both of her parents had made it a point to be as involved with Suzy's school and social activities as they possibly could. She had never questioned their love and devotion to each other or her, and she wanted Lily to have the same experience.

Her father had been a police detective who worked almost exclusively on robbery, burglary, and auto theft cases, which is how he had met and become friends with John Capshaw through his various auto dealerships. It was this friendship that had morphed into a relationship with her mother after her father's death and once John's divorce from his unfaithful wife was final.

As much as her mother had loved her father, Suzy wasn't shocked or surprised when two years after his death, her mother started dating John Capshaw. She knew that the feelings between her mother and John Capshaw were nowhere near as strong as they had been between her and her father. There was never the same twinkle in her mother's eyes when she looked at John that was always there with her father. They didn't display as much affection towards each other, but there was a peaceful comfort and contentment that her mother and John enjoyed together. They had been happy and looking forward to growing old together.

The ringing of the phone startled Suzy, but Lily took it in stride. Continuing to bounce her daughter on her knee, Suzy used the remote to mute the television, and then picked up the handset and answered, "Hello?"

"Good morning, I'm Xavier Longo," a man said. "I got this number off of a flyer posted on the bulletin board at Super D. Are you the person who does bookkeeping and tax work?"

With the money that she had taken with her from the trust account, Suzy didn't need to work, but she had become bored just sitting in the cottage with Lily. With the first of the year at hand, she thought that she might pick up a few clients that could use her accounting skills. She hadn't obtained her certified public accountant license yet, so she would have to stick with jobs that didn't require a CPA's skills, such as an audit, so she had purposely tried to target individuals and small businesses by placing flyers at the grocery store, the laundromat, and similar locations.

"Yes," Suzy said. "My name is Suzanne Ferguson and I placed the flyer at Super D. How can I help you, Mr. Longo?"

"Please call me Xavi. I own the Las Cruces Bowl on East Amador Avenue. Do you know of it?"

"Near South Solano Drive?" Suzy asked.

"Exactly. My former bookkeeper resigned last month when her husband's job transferred him to Albuquerque and I need to get my year-end income and expense records straightened out for taxes. Would you be interested in some part-time work?"

Suzy didn't hesitate to respond, "I would be happy to discuss it with you, Xavi. When you say 'get your year-end records straightened out', are you talking the full year straightened out, or just since your bookkeeper quit?"

"I'm confident that the records are sound up until December," Longo replied. "I've never seen any issue with them, but reviewing them for the full year while compiling the year-end summary might indicate that some 'I' didn't get dotted or some 'T' didn't get crossed. It happens all the time in business."

"Yes, I know," Suzy agreed. "When would you like for me to come by to meet with you?"

"My manager is off on Thursdays, so I'll be too busy tomorrow," Longo said. "Are you available any time on Friday, the 5^th?"

"What time were you thinking of?"

Longo paused before saying, "I typically arrive around 7:30 in the morning, but we don't open for business until 9. Could you stop by around 8 am?"

"As long as you don't mind if I bring my seven-month-old daughter with me. She's a really great baby and will not be a distraction for us at all."

Longo laughed and said, "Bring her. I love kids. In fact, I opened a daycare center here so that parents could bring their kids when they bowl."

"That sounds wonderful," Suzy said. "Should I just knock on the front door? I assume it will be locked if you're still closed for business."

"Park around the back of the building," Xavi directed. "The back door to the kitchen is unlocked for deliveries and you can come in through there."

"I'll do that, Xavi. Thanks, and I'll see you Friday at 8."

"I look forward to meeting you and your daughter. Goodbye."

Glancing at the clock, Suzy smiled down at Lily and asked, "Is my little Angel ready for some lunch?"

Lily gurgled back, which Suzy took as an affirmative response. She carried Lily into the small kitchen and got her situated in her highchair with one of her chew toys. Lily had been teething for the last couple of months and so far, she had handled the process like a trooper. As long as she had something firm, yet soft to bite down on, she seldom complained.

Suzy knew that she had also been blessed with a baby who was developing faster than normal and not a finicky eater. Lily had her favorites, such as almost any fruit, but didn't turn her nose up at anything that Suzy had presented her to eat. Suzy quickly prepared a small plastic bowl with cheddar cheese cubes, sliced grapes, and small crackers. Lily's own little meat-free charcuterie board. All things that Lily enjoyed because she could feed herself while her mother watched over her.

Although Lily's motor skills had developed earlier than was typical for an infant her age, allowing her to feed small pieces to herself, Suzy never ventured more than a few feet from Lily while she was eating, fearful that she might choke. Lily had never so much as gagged while feeding herself, but Suzy would take no chances. Lily did tend to knock her bottle off the highchair tray when she was eating, so Suzy sat in front of her, holding the bottle to present to Lily when she indicated that she wanted to take a drink, although she was usually content to wait until after eating to want her bottle.

While waiting for Lily to finish her lunch, Suzy considered once more when Chet may be done with his assignment and able to return home to them. Of course, he didn't know that he was returning home to "them". Suzy couldn't bring herself to tell him about her pregnancy or Lily through a message delivered to him by someone that she didn't even know. She also hadn't wanted him to feel compelled to worry about her. She wanted him to focus on whatever his mission was and return safely to her.

Not knowing when that might be was her biggest concern. What if he returned, received the message that she had moved, and then came here to find her gone during the time when she was required to appear at the Probate Court back in Missouri? She gave this scenario some thought as she cleaned Lily up after her lunch and put her back into her playpen.

With Lily settled once more, Suzy found the card with the strange number in her purse and dialed the phone. "Good afternoon, General Scowcroft's office."

Suzy checked the clock and then remembered there was a two-hour time difference. That would make it afternoon where she was calling to. "Good afternoon. I was informed that I could leave a message for Chet Diego at this number."

"Identifier number please..."

Suzy read the sequence of numbers from the card and waited for a response. There was silence for several seconds before the man on the other end asked, "What is your message?"

Suzy hoped that the man's pause was due to him verifying that Chet was still alive and able to receive messages. Why accept a message for a dead man? "Please tell Chet that Suzy has left a key for him, along with his name, with the woman who lives in the house in front of hers. If he comes home and Suzy is not there, he should let himself in and wait for her to return."

The man read the message back to Suzy. When she confirmed that her message was correct, he abruptly disconnected the call. Suzy picked Lily up out of her playpen and carried her into the kitchen where she retrieved her spare house key. "Come on, Sweety, let's go visit with Mrs. Gomez for a few minutes."

Monday, January 15, 1990

Chet Diego studied the streets from the backseat of the taxi as they drove them. It was after dusk, and it had been more than nine years since he had walked and played on these streets, but he still recognized a few familiar sights, such as the Little League baseball field.

He reflected on how much had happened in his life since he and his parents had lived in this neighborhood. For most twelve-year-old boys, being forced to relocate to a strange new town would have been challenging, but not for Chet. And, it had been Suzy Ferguson who had made his relocation so much easier. Suzy had once confessed that as soon as she had seen him in the front yard of his new house, which was next door to hers, he had claimed her heart and she had staked a claim on his.

His arrival at Lamar Middle School while holding the hand of the most popular seventh-grade girl there had paved the way for his immediate acceptance by most of the other students. His subsequent athletic achievements in almost every sport played by first the middle school, and later the high school made Chet a hometown hero in his own right.

Suzy. His best friend since the age of twelve, his lover since the age of eighteen, and his soulmate for the rest of his life. He pictured her on the first day they had met. Her sparkling blue eyes were large and welcoming. Her lips were full, with just a hint of an upturn at the corners that gave her the appearance of a constant impish grin. Her medium brown hair flowed casually in a ponytail past her shoulders, with loose strands framing her face in an easy, relaxed manner that bespoke of someone who didn't spend hours primping. Together, it was an image of someone friendly, kind, and at ease with the effect they had on the opposite sex. As a stunningly beautiful twelve-year-old, developing girl, Suzy was already someone who didn't feel the need to pursue compliments and didn't choose to use her looks as a way to impress others.

He had noticed immediately that Suzy didn't even need her mouth to smile. The expression in her eyes seemed to radiate happiness and joy. She had this way of making the world seem a better place; just one simple little kiss and suddenly all was well with the universe. It was her gift to Chet, and from their first encounter in his new front yard, she always gave it generously to him alone.

Why had she decided to move from Missouri to New Mexico? Chet remembered how entranced she always appeared to be when he had shared stories about his growing up in Las Cruces, but he had always assumed that her interest had been in him sharing what he had done as a kid or experiences of others that he related to her. He never thought that his descriptions of the area itself would be an enticement for her to come here.

Chet checked his watch. It had been a long day of travel, made more challenging after learning from Suzy's message that he would have to cancel his previous flight reservations into Joplin and figure out flights that would get him to El Paso instead. There were several times during his travels when he wondered how much more cooperation he would have received from the various airline employees if he had been wearing his uniform. Military personnel in uniform were typically shown significantly more deference by the airlines since many of their employees were former military themselves. The direct flight time from Miami to El Paso was typically just under four hours. Unfortunately, having to take two connecting flights with more than five hours of combined layover between them, Chet had spent over twelve hours on this trip.

He wouldn't complain, though. The trip had been only a minor inconvenience when compared to the prospect of being with Suzy again. He wanted to spend the next three weeks making up for the months that they had been apart. Hopefully, Suzy would agree with his plan for them to go to Las Vegas to get married next weekend so that the remaining time before he was due to report back to Fort Bragg could be used for their honeymoon.

~~~

Before answering the knock on her door at 7:35 pm, Suzy lifted the blinds on the front living room window and looked outside. She couldn't see the porch, but she did see a taxi cab backing out of the driveway. Walking over to the front door, she raised her voice and asked, "Who is it?"

"Suzy, it's Chet."

She was so excited that she fumbled with the deadbolt latch twice before hearing it disengage. Finally pulling the door open, she smiled up at the handsome man smiling back at her, "God, it's good to see you. Come in, come in."

Suzy was glad that Chet had announced himself to her because she wasn't certain that she would have recognized him. His skin was so tanned. That, combined with his long hair, made him look like a person from deep in Latin America. He still looked as strong and physically imposing as she remembered, but somehow more sculpted; more toned. At six-foot-three inches, Chet looked like a bigger, stronger, and more rugged version of the actor, Andy Garcia.

Chet followed her in and closed the door. He dropped the duffel bag he was carrying and swooped Suzy into his arms, "I've missed you so much."

Raining kisses all over his clean-shaven face, Suzy finally paused long enough to ask, "Why didn't you call to let me know you were coming?"

"Have you tried using the phone today?" he asked.

When Suzy shook her head, he said, "Long-distance calls have been down most of the day. Apparently, AT&T had some software problem or something. I tried calling you from the airport in Saint Louis, and again from El Paso. Once I was close enough to Las Cruces for it to be a local call, I was practically already here. Did you know that I used to live just two blocks from here?"

Suzy took his hand and led him to the sofa, but he remained standing. She asked, "Would you like anything to eat or drink?"

"No thanks. I had something at the airport in El Paso before catching a cab."

Noticing the playpen folded up in a corner, he asked, "Are you babysitting for someone?"

Suzy beamed and said, "Yes, for you. Would you like to meet your daughter?"

Not waiting for a response, Suzy hurried into the bedroom to get Lily from her crib. She had been placed there just minutes before Chet had knocked on the door, so Suzy knew that the baby wouldn't be asleep yet.

Lily was awake and alert when Suzy carried her in to meet her father. Chet was speechless as he watched them approach but eagerly accepted Lily into his arms when Suzy offered her to him.

Finally finding his voice, Chet spoke softly to Lily, "Hello beautiful. What's your name?"

Lily smiled up at him and gurgled as her little hands stretched up for his face and she placed one on each of his cheeks.

"I named her Lily," Suzy informed him. "Lily Kristine Diego. She was born last August but I didn't know how to let you know about her."

"She's so precious," Chet said, practically in a whisper. "What a wonderful welcome home present! She must have been born around the same time that I got my secondary zone promotion to sergeant."

Suzy beamed at Chet and said, "I didn't know that you had been promoted! Congratulations."

Lilly yawned and laid her head against Chet's chest. Suzy noticed and said, "It's past her bedtime. Why don't I put her back into her crib so you and I can talk? I wouldn't want her to start getting cranky the first night that she spends with her daddy."

Chet started exploring the cottage while Suzy put Lily back into her crib. He walked into the small kitchen area and smiled at how almost hygienically clean it appeared to be. Suzy had always been neat and tidy, but she had also always had what bordered on an obsession where the cleanliness of her kitchen was concerned. It was one of her traits that he found endearing, and he never teased her about it, though sometimes he had been tempted.

His thoughts were interrupted by Suzy's question, "Can you tell me where you've been?"

"South," was Chet's one-word answer.

Putting her arms around his waist and looking up at him, she asked, "Can you tell me how long you'll be able to stay?"

She had changed into a robe made of some satiny material. Chet put his arms around her and could tell that she had nothing else on beneath it. Suzy had always been a very attractive girl and then woman. She had a girl next door quality that, to him, made her incredibly beautiful. She still had her long, straight, medium-brown hair. With one look, Chet could still fall into her clear blue eyes. Suzy had flawless skin, legs that seemed to go up forever, and the cutest dimples he had ever seen on a woman. Even after having a baby, she had a figure any model would kill for.

He said, "I'll need to return to Fort Bragg in a few weeks to complete my Army discharge processing, but I've been told that until my tan fades, there isn't any assignment in my foreseeable future."

"Why would you get an assignment if you aren't going to be in the Army any longer?"

Suzy saw Chet struggle with trying to answer her question without revealing something that he couldn't. He finally said, "For all practical purposes, I haven't been in the actual Army for over a year. There are other government agencies that I have been representing, and they have me on a sort of 'reserve' status right now. When they identify an assignment that they believe suits me, they will call me up."

Due to his fluency in the Spanish language and demonstrated skills in covert military operations, Chet had been seconded to the Special Operations Group within the Special Activities Division of the CIA. The agency was heavily involved in several Central American countries, either trying to shore up the existing governments or assisting those groups that were trying to topple them. Chet couldn't become an employee of the CIA while still an active member of the military, but they were heavily recruiting him to join and were the ones pushing for his early discharge.

"So, you'll never know when you might get told to go somewhere? How can they expect you to maintain a family of any sort with an arrangement like that?"

"Suze," Chet said, using the name that only he called her, "You need to remember that no one in the Army or anywhere else knows that I have a family. As far as they know, I am an unencumbered single man. I need to change that, and I will."

Chet had been vacillating on the offer to join the CIA. He had joined the Army to eventually receive the benefits which would allow him to pay for a college education, and Suzy had been supportive of that goal. She was supposed to be completing her college education during his four-year commitment, but he assumed that her pregnancy had delayed that completion.

In the brief moments when he held Suzy, and then his daughter in his arms, Chet had realized that his place now was with the two of them. He asked, "Why did you move here?"

It took Suzy several minutes to explain the situation with Grant and Carrie Capshaw related to her mother's estate. She then retrieved the summons from the probate court and handed the bundle of documents to Chet for him to read.

"Mr. Finch got the court date extended until March 15^th," she concluded.

"That's almost sixty days away," Chet calculated. "I should be able to get back here in plenty of time for us to go back to Lamar together, only this time, I want us to go back as husband and wife. Are you still up for marrying me?"

"Of course," Suzy happily exclaimed. "On one condition, though..."

Chet smiled and asked, "What condition is that?"

She stood and untied the belt on her robe, allowing it to fall open as she said, "We start our honeymoon tonight."

In response, Chet merely stood and pulled his polo shirt out from the waistband of his jeans and then over his head in one fluid motion. "Don't we have to be careful not to wake up Lily?" he asked.

Suzy took his hand and began leading him to the living room as she explained, "She's a pretty sound sleeper, but we'll use the couch just in case. I'll turn the TV on so if she does wake, it will be to sounds that she is familiar with rather than just her mother's moans."

"My daughter's mother moans?" Chet teasingly asked.

Suzy was unbuckling his belt as she said, "Oh yes, and so will her father."

~~~

"So, we can head to Las Vegas on Thursday afternoon after your class?" Chet asked as Suzy used the remote to turn off the TV.

They were still snuggled under the bedspread that Suzy had brought for them to use on the couch while they rediscovered their desires for one another. Suzy had been explaining how she had completed her bachelor's degree and was currently working on her MBA through online courses at the University of Phoenix. Chet listened intently, considering how he might be able to do similar online courses himself. When Suzy had mentioned that he might also be awarded college credits for life experiences, Chet had to stifle a laugh. Even if the university would accept his experiences for possible college credit, he would never be able to provide the details of those experiences that would allow them to do so.

"Can we leave Friday morning instead?" Suzy asked. She then explained, "I usually do the books for Las Cruces Bowl on Saturday morning, but if I do them on Friday morning instead this week, Xavi, he's the owner, shouldn't have an issue. How long will it take to drive to Las Vegas?"

"It would take about ten hours in total, but we could break it up by spending the night somewhere near Phoenix. You want to drive rather than fly?"

Nodding, Suzy said, "Yes, because it would be easier with Lily if we drove. Plus, I want her to get used to being in a moving car for an extended period. She fussed quite a bit when I drove us out here, but I think now that she's older, and I've taken her with me in the car when I run errands and stuff here, she'll be much better if we drive to and from Las Vegas."

Chet smiled and said, "And, we'll have the advantage on this road trip of both of us being with her. One of us can drive while the other one pays more attention to her."

Suzy considered this for a second and then smacked Chet's arm playfully, "You want me to do most of the driving so that you get to pay attention to Lily. Isn't that your scheme?"

Winking, Chet said, "Ingenious, isn't it?"

They both laughed and snuggled even closer. Their love for each other seemed to envelop their bodies even more than the bedspread did. The animalistic fervor that accentuated their earlier coupling had temporarily satisfied their primal need to ravage each other. It had been quick, uncomplicated, and wanton debauchery between a man and his woman and a woman and her man. Now their desires focused entirely on reacquainting themselves with the intimacies of their shared love. Slow kisses, teasing caresses, gradually built arousal, and tender symmetry of their two bodies lasted over an hour before they were completely satisfied.

"We don't have to sleep out here, do we?" Chet asked.

Suzy had been listening to Chet's breathing as her head lay on his chest. She could tell from the slowing of his chest movements that he was getting tired enough to soon fall asleep, but she was too comfortable to want to move before now. She raised her head and said, "No. As long as you give my body a chance to rest, we can move into the bedroom and sleep in there."

After more than a year of celibacy, Suzy was experiencing the wonderful muscle aches that their lovemaking had caused. She wasn't too sore to complain, and if Chet hinted at wanting to do more, she would never deny him, but she hoped that her body would have an opportunity to recover a bit before their next session.

She rose off Chet and held her hand out to him. "Come on, lover boy, let's get into our bed. I have a spare terry cloth robe if you want it. You can unpack tomorrow."

Chet took her hand and allowed her to help him rise off the couch. "Can I at least get my toothbrush?"

"You will always have a toothbrush waiting for you next to mine," Suzy assured him. "Yours is the blue one in the holder next to the sink. All of your toiletries from Missouri are waiting for you in our bathroom."

"I wasn't aware that I had any toiletries left in Missouri."

Suzy led him to the bathroom door and said, "Of course you did. I always wanted there to be everything that you might need whenever you returned from a deployment, and I am familiar enough with the things that you like to keep our bathroom stocked for you. I'm going to take care of business while you brush your teeth unless you need to go first..."

"I can wait," he assured her. "You go while I brush my teeth."

Stepping up to the sink, Chet watched Suzy position herself on the toilet before smiling over at him. "I didn't miss the double vanity sinks until just now. I guess we need to discuss whether we want to remain in Las Cruces, return to Missouri, or if maybe there is someplace else that we want to live."

Putting toothpaste onto his brush, Chet said, "We have a lot of things to discuss between now and the time I have to report back to Fort Bragg. I can tell you that having Lily makes me look at our future with a whole new perspective..."

Suzy laughed and said, "Don't I know it."

"I'm sorry that you had to go through so much by yourself," Chet lamented. "I also feel like I missed out on a lot. You need to bring me up to speed fast so that I can start doing my share in caring for our daughter."

Suzy flushed after rising and came to stand behind Chet. Looking past his shoulder at his reflection in the mirror, she said, "I wouldn't trade the experience of being pregnant with your child for anything. The knowledge that he, or she, would be a part of our love gave me all the strength I needed to go through the pregnancy and delivery without you beside me. Not that I wouldn't have loved to share the experience with you, and I fully intend to give us that chance at least one or two more times."

Suzy and Chet had both been an only child, and they had discussed early on in their relationship their mutual desire to have at least two children, hopefully, close to the same age. They wanted the siblings to have the opportunity to grow up with someone who would always be there for them as only brothers and sisters could be for one another.

After rinsing his mouth, Chet stepped away from the sink to allow Suzy access. He said, "I'm pretty sure that I have made one decision tonight about our future."

"What's that?"

"Once I am discharged in a few weeks, I'm done with the military and any other government service that takes me away from my family. I think we need to wait until after this probate court thing is resolved before making many other decisions in case you do end up having to share some of your inheritance with Grant and Carrie."

Suzy nodded in response since her mouth was full of toothpaste foam. After rinsing her mouth, she said, "I understand, but according to Mr. Finch, once he was able to force Judge Cronk to recuse himself from the case, the Capshaws stand no chance of overturning either of the wills or the associated trusts. Mr. Finch feels the hearing at this point is just a formality. By the way, I had a new will drafted for myself here in New Mexico and we should get one for you as well once you're discharged. There's been no change to the trust and you are still listed as the co-trustee."

Chet stepped over to the toilet and said, "You probably should have waited until after we get married..."

"Mr. Finch thought that it would be best if I had the new will in place before the probate hearing because it would take partial jurisdiction away from the Barton County Probate Court. I can always get a codicil drafted after we're married to amend the will as necessary."

"I suppose." Chet flushed the toilet and turned to face Suzy. "Does Lily have any Godparents?"

Taking his hand and leading the way to the queen-sized bed, Suzy answered, "I was going to ask you if you had any ideas in that regard. I couldn't think of anyone that I would consider responsible enough. Neither of us has any extended family or anything, so I struggled with the issue each time the attorney wanted names for the will. Right now, she just has you and me."

Chet glanced over at Lily sleeping in her crib and thought, "Hopefully, we'll be all that she ever needs." He waited for Suzy to get into bed and then joined her.

"You are so beautiful; I owe you so much," Chet told her, climbing between her legs and leaning over her.

"How's that?" Suzy asked curiously.

Chet's eyes scanned up and down her body as he answered, "I don't know what was wrong with me. I just took you for granted. You are so incredibly beautiful, and yet I didn't even notice for years and years how others must see you. I look at your body now and can imagine how guys, and probably a few women, probably lust after you, and yet, each day you have been here for me, and giving yourself to me completely. I don't deserve you." Chet placed his lips on hers and kissed her lightly.

"None of us deserves anything as overwhelming as love," Suzy said with tears in her eyes. "It's an incredible gift. I don't deserve yours."

"You are too good to me," Chet told her, moving his lips to the nape of her neck.

"Maybe, but I like the rewards," she moaned as she settled her head into the pillow, and accepted his increased attention.

Wednesday, February 07, 1990

"I think we should consider renting a car for the drive out there," Chet said.

He and Suzy had been talking over the phone for almost an hour after he had called to let her know that he had arrived at Fort Bragg. He shuddered at the thought of how much this long-distance call was going to be, but Suzy had insisted that he call her collect any time he wanted and not to worry about how long their calls were. After having virtually no contact with Chet for over a year, Suzy was adamant that she didn't want to go more than a couple of days between them at least talking to each other on the phone, regardless of the costs.

"I see your point," Suzy said. "Having the truck for the trip back would be nice, but I would want you to offload the camper someplace once we get back here. Maybe there's a storage facility where we can keep it until we want to use it again. I can start checking around if you want."

Chet had inherited his father's 1985 GMC Sierra pickup truck, which was still parked at Suzy's house in Lamar. The three-quarter-ton pickup had an extended cab, four-wheel drive, and all the options available for that model year. It also held a luxurious cab-over camper. Both Suzy and Chet had fond memories of nights that the two of them had spent together in the camper while the truck was parked almost anywhere around their hometown.

Suzy had been embarrassed when Chet's father had affixed a bumper sticker on the back of the truck that read "If this truck's a-rockin, don't bother knockin", but laughed about it when she heard Chet's mother tell her husband that he had seen the last of that truck "rockin" until he removed the bumper sticker.

"It might be a good idea to find a secure place to leave it when we're not using it," Chet agreed. "But I do want to take you and Lily camping at a few spots I know of near Sierra Blanca Peak. When she gets older, Lily will love this children's camp in that area named 'Camp Hackenspit'."

Suzy laughed and said, "That's not really the name of the place, is it?"

"It most certainly is," Chet assured her. "It is run by, I believe the third generation of the Austrian family that founded it, but Lily can't go until she is at least ten years old."

"Where is this camp, and why would I want my daughter to go there? It sounds like the kids who go there would come away with some pretty bad habits just by the name of the place."

It was Chet's turn to laugh, "The place is magical. That's all you need to know right now. It's at the base of Sierra Blanco Peak, just west of Ruidoso."

"Well," Suzy said, "We have more than nine years to consider whether we want to send Lily there."

"Probably not that long," Chet said. "When I went there it was after being on their waiting list for two years. It's probably closer to a five-year waiting list now."

"Fine, but we still don't need to decide right now. Can I ask you something, and if you can't answer me, I will understand?"

"Sure. What do you want to know?"

Suzy considered how she could pose the question so that Chet would be able to answer it without violating any military rules. Finally, she asked, "Will the events being reported on the news today affect your discharge in any way?"

Chet didn't need any clarification of Suzy's question to understand what events she was referring to. As soon as he had arrived on base, the news from the Soviet Union had been on the lips of every person he had spoken with. The communist country had been disintegrating over the past several months, with multiple autonomous regions claiming independence, protesting communist rule, or flat out rebelling against the leadership in Moscow. The news this morning was that the Communist Party of the Soviet Union had voted to end its monopoly of power, clearing the way for multiparty elections.

"My discharge won't be affected," Chet assured her. "I'm not a strategist who could contribute anything to trying to figure out what impact these changes will have on the Soviet Union's military or its nuclear arsenals, and it will be months before the possible scenarios are available for any assessment of risks that would influence the possible deployment of personnel from Fort Bragg, so they won't hold on to me while things play out in Europe."

"Good," Suzy said, "I've been doing some research, but I want to ask you another question that's kind of related..."

"What's that?"

"I'm thinking that we should create new trust accounts in Belize. I do not doubt that Lichtenstein and Switzerland will remain safe havens, but I have no interest in visiting Europe until things stabilize there. What are your thoughts on the stability of Belize versus someplace like the Cayman Islands?"

"Let me put It this way," Chet told her. "I would have no qualms about taking my wife and daughter to live in Belize, it is that safe. You're the financial expert so I'll agree to whatever makes the most sense to you. If taking the accounts out of the country causes more challenges for the Capshaw's attempts to get control, so much the better."

"My thoughts exactly," Suzy said. "I'll make the arrangements tomorrow through an attorney in Belize City that was recommended to me. I trust Mr. Finch but I'll feel better with the trust out of the reach of anyone but you and me regardless of what the probate court decides."

Saturday, February 10, 1990

"It's not going to change my mind about getting out, but it sure would have been nice to have the perks of being a married sergeant long before now."

Chet was explaining the increase in his pay and housing allowance, both of which he wouldn't need in a few weeks, as well as his access now to all the NCO facilities on the base. Since he had been promoted while working for the CIA in Central America, he had to wait until he had returned to discover all the additional benefits associated with his promotion seven months prior.

Suzy was sounding rushed as she said, "That's great, Sweetie, but I need to finish getting Lily ready for Mrs. Gomez's arrival. She is so considerate to agree to watch Lily here for me so that I don't have to lug the playpen and everything up to her house. She'll be here any minute and I if I don't have everything with Lily done by then, Mrs. Gomez will insist on doing it, and I don't want to impose on her any more than I already am."

Chet knew that Suzy would be leaving by 8:30 am to get to the Las Cruces Bowl so that she could get started on the bookkeeping for the week before the place opened and got too noisy. That was why he had called her at 7:30 am, 9:30 am for him, so that he could tell her good morning and that he loved her before she left.

"I understand," Chet told her. "I need to head out for PT soon myself. What time do you expect to be home?"

"I'll be done at the bowling alley by 10:00," Suzy explained. "Mrs. Gomez asked me to do some shopping for her while I am out, so depending upon what is on her list, I'll likely be gone until around noon. That's why one of the things I need to get done before Mrs. Gomez gets here is to have lunch ready for her to feed Lily if I'm not back in time."

"Okay," Chet conceded. "Try calling me here in my room sometime this evening. I love you, and have a good day."

"I love you too. I won't wait until the evening, though. I'll call you after I put Lily down for her afternoon nap. I want to continue our discussion about moving from here to a house of our own."

Chet did some quick time calculations. He remembered that Suzy had tried to be consistent in the times when Lily ate her meals, got her bath, and took her naps. If he remembered right, Lily's afternoon nap time would be from 1:30 pm until 2:30 pm. Suzy didn't want Lily to sleep more than an hour in the afternoon so that she would be more likely to sleep through the night. That meant that he would need to be back in his room between 3:30 pm and 4:30 pm to take Suzy's call. That worked out perfectly and would allow him to dine this evening with a few buddies in the NCO club.

"I'll be here," Chet said. "Goodbye until then."

~~~

Suzy walked through the back door into the Las Cruces Bowl kitchen just after 8:00 am and waved to the cook, Edna Hogan. She continued into the closed and silent bowling alley and headed directly to the office. Melissa Grant, the bowling alley manager, was in her office, along with her 12-year-old daughter Karen and Karen's 13-year-old friend Beth. The two girls worked on the weekends supervising the daycare center to earn spending money.

"Hi, Melissa," Suzy said upon entering. She then turned to the girls and greeted them both by name before taking a seat at the desk that Xavi used when he was in the office. As Suzy was positioning the ledger book to allow her to verify the entries for the week, she noticed movement and glanced up. Karen and Beth were standing there looking at her.

Suzy smiled and raised an eyebrow in a questioning gesture. Karen asked, "When are you going to bring Lily with you so that Beth and I can watch her for you while you're working?"

The girls had met Lily when Suzy had come by the first time to interview with Xavi, and Suzy had to admit, she had been impressed when Lily had needed a diaper change during the discussions with Xavi, and Karen had wasted no time volunteering to take care of the change. Watching the two girls fussing over Lily had been a brief distraction for Suzy during the meeting, but Lily had taken it in stride and wore a perfectly fitted diaper after the change had occurred.

"It will probably be a few more months," Suzy informed the girls. "I am trying to provide Lily with more consistency in who cares for her right now."

Seeing the disappointed expressions cross their faces, Suzy offered a compromise, "I'll tell you what. If it's okay with your parents, I'll consider letting you both babysit for me at my place sometime. That way, Lily will have a chance to get to know both of you in a place that she is familiar with. What do you think?"

The girls never got a chance to reply as the office door burst open. One man pushed a terrified-looking Edna Hogan into the office, causing her to stumble and fall to the floor. A second man followed the first and they both pulled handguns from their jacket pockets before closing the door and gazing around the room. When their eyes fell on Suzy, the taller of the two men asked, "Are you, Suzanne Ferguson?"

There was a familiarity that Suzy couldn't put her finger on with both men. If she had met them before today, why would they be asking who she was? And why did they have guns? If this was a robbery, why would they be focused so intently upon her? Melissa was the manager and the person who could open the safe.

"Everyone get down on the floor," the shorter man yelled as the taller man approached the desk where Suzy was trying to comply with the order.

As soon as Suzy was face down on the floor, she tilted her head back to look up at the scene in the room. There was some commotion as the two gunmen turned at the sound of the office door opening. Suzy watched as Stan Turner, the mechanic for the bowling alley entered the office with his two-year-old daughter Vicky in his arms. He must have been planning to leave his daughter with Karen and Beth, Suzy thought.

That was her last thought.

~~~

Chet had played almost every sport available for a high school athlete to play, but he wasn't much of a sports fan. As he used the remote to flip through the limited number of channels available in base accommodations, he would settle for almost any sporting event broadcast just to have something other than the farm report or PBS programs to watch. Eventually finding the channel for CNN, he paused and decide to see what the top-of-the-hour news stories were.

It was only minutes before 5:00 pm, and he had been sitting in his room waiting for the promised call from Suzy that should have happened sometime within the last ninety minutes. He was supposed to meet up with two other sergeants in the NCO club at 5:00, but he didn't want to miss Suzy's call. He doubted that Suzy would have forgotten, but finally accepted that this might be the case. He decided to call her instead. Turning off the TV, he reached for the phone in his room.

He dialed the sequence of numbers that would route his call through a live operator so that he could reverse the charges to place them on Suzy's account. He listened as the call was processed in the telephone system and waited. "Operator. How may I help you?"

"This is a collect call from Chet."

"One moment, please," the operator replied. Chet waited patiently.

The operator came back and informed him, "Sir, your call has been declined."

"What the hell?" Chet thought. There was no way that Suzy would decline his call. Maybe she wasn't home yet and Mrs. Gomez didn't know that she would approve of her accepting Chet's call. He would try one other approach.

"Operator, can you please make the call person-to-person collect to Suzy Ferguson?"

"One moment please."

This way, he would at least learn if Suzy or someone else was answering the phone.

Once more, the operator came back on the line and informed Chet that the person he wished to speak with was not there to accept the charges. Chet hung up and decided to go ahead and head to the NCO club. He would try calling Suzy again after dinner and a couple of beers.

Walking the short distance from his quarters to the NCO club, Chet wondered if there was an actual class at West Point that taught future second lieutenants to frequent the most common paths to the NCO clubs so that they could receive enough salutes to salve their egos. Finally making it into the club without getting tendonitis in his right elbow, Chet looked around for the guys he was expecting to meet. Not seeing them yet, he took a seat at the bar to order a beer and wait for them. Only one other guy was sitting at the bar, and Chet didn't know him, so he sat several stools away from him.

He had missed the top-of-the-hour news on CNN when he had been trying to call Suzy, so after his beer was served, he turned his attention to the TV above the bar and began reading the closed-caption news reports. The weather for the entire country was being displayed, so Chet knew from experience that the bottom-of-the-hour news would be up after the next commercial. He requested a dinner menu so he could review it while waiting for his friends to arrive.

"What kind of sick bastards shoot kids like that?"

Chet looked up and glanced over to the other guy at the bar to see if his question had been directed at him. He saw the guy staring up at the TV and shaking his head. Chet focused his attention on the TV as well and began reading the captioning.

"Seven people were shot, four fatally at a bowling alley in Las Cruces, New Mexico this morning in what the authorities are calling a robbery. The names of the victims have not been released, but our reporters have learned that they include two adults and two children. Two additional children and two adults are reported to be in critical condition at a local hospital. Multiple law enforcement agencies have established roadblocks around the city, but so far, the suspects have eluded capture..."

"GET ME SOME CHANGE!" Chet screamed as he started pulling bills out of his wallet

The bartender sauntered over and said, "Calm down Sarge. What kind of change do you need?"

Chet was shaking so bad the bills began falling onto the bar as they slipped out of his hands. He glanced down at them and croaked out, "Payphone. Lots of change for the payphone."

The bartender picked up one of the bills and looked at it before asking, "Would a roll of quarters be enough? This ten spot will cover that, so you can put the rest of your money away."

Chet didn't recall walking the short distance to the vestibule that led to the restrooms, where a single pay phone hung on the wall between the doors. It took him several attempts to peel enough of the paper coin wrapper off to allow the quarters contained within it to start falling onto the metal shelf beneath the phone. He took more care than usual dialing Suzy's number. He needed to make certain that his call reached the correct destination. He heard the automated voice instructing him to enter the money required to cover the first three minutes of conversation.

He heard the tone of the phone ringing on the other end. It was answered after the second ring, "Ellow?"

"Mrs. Gomez?"

"Si. Who is this?" Chet heard a quavering voice and the tone alone raised his level of apprehension ten-fold.

"Mrs. Gomez, this is Chet Diego, Suzy's husband."

The sobs were unmistakable across the phone. It took Mrs. Gomez several seconds before she could continue, "Mr. Suzy's husband, something terrible has happened..."

Chet interrupted her, "Was Suzy at the bowling alley this morning when the robbery occurred?"

"Si, she was there working." More intense sobbing could be heard.

"Mrs. Gomez, is Suzy okay? Have you spoken with her?"

There was silence long enough that Chet was required to put more coins into the pay phone to avoid the call being disconnected.

"Mrs. Gomez," he prodded.

Mrs. Gomez screeched her answer through her tears, "They killed your beautiful Suzy!"

Chet's world instantly turned bleak. Without warning, he was plunged into a darkness he'd never experienced before. He was numb; he couldn't feel his hands. They were lifeless. The telephone receiver dropped from fingers no longer strong enough to hold it. His surroundings blurred as unshed tears watered his eyes.

He couldn't think. Nothing would process. Disoriented, he could see only the payphone directly in front of him. He was on automatic pilot, able to feel only the cramping tightness in his chest. He picked the receiver back up and spoke into it, "Mrs. Gomez, I'm on my way. I'll be there as quickly as possible. Can you care for Lily until I get there?"

"Si, I will guard her with my life..."

Tuesday, February 13, 1990

Chet had felt a level of helplessness and frustration all weekend that he would not have wished upon anyone. Suzy hadn't updated her driver's license or her social security card, and all the vital records that Chet could have presented to demonstrate to the Las Cruces authorities that he was both Suzanne Ferguson's husband and Lily Diego's father were somewhere in the records that Suzy had kept in the cottage.

The photocopy of their marriage license had been acceptable for updating his military status to show that he had dependents, but the certified copies being requested before anyone would recognize his role in making decisions for his dead wife and their daughter had been beyond his reach. The Red Cross had offered their assistance, but the fact remained that he needed to get back to Las Cruces, back to Lily, and try to make some sense of what had happened in that bowling alley last Saturday morning.

His commanders had been more than sympathetic. They had given Chet the option of taking an immediate 30-day emergency leave, which would delay his out-processing and discharge, or for him to let them have Monday to push through his discharge completely, even sweetening the offer by promising him a seat on a military flight directly from Fort Bragg in North Carolina to Fort Bliss, outside of El Paso, where a car driven by a base chaplain would be waiting to take him to Las Cruces and his infant daughter. After being assured by Mrs. Gomez that she could remain in the cottage caring for Lily until his return, Chet chose to end his Army career before returning to Las Cruces to care for his daughter.

After a brief prayer with Chet upon his arrival, the chaplain silently drove them from Biggs Army Airfield to Las Cruces. When the car pulled into the driveway, Chet was surprised to see Mrs. Gomez trying to sweep the front porch of the cottage with only one hand. He noticed that her right hand was heavily wrapped in what looked like an Ace bandage. Hearing the car approaching, she stopped and stared, trying to discern the occupants. Finally recognizing Chet in the passenger seat of the car, she leaned the broom against one of the porch pillars and stepped down off the porch, and waited for him to come to her.

Chet exited the car but the chaplain remained behind the wheel, just observing. When Chet got close enough, Mrs. Gomez grabbed him and pulled him into a tearful embrace, burying her face against his chest and crying, "Oh, Mr. Suzy's husband, I am so sorry..."

Chet put his arms around the petite but surprisingly strong old woman and said, "I know, Mrs. Gomez. I know."

He felt her sobbing against his chest and held her tighter. He asked, "Is Lily taking her nap?"

Her sobbing intensified, which caused the hair on the back of Chet's neck to stick out. He forcibly broke away from Mrs. Gomez and started to enter the front door of the cottage. That is when he noticed that it had been glass that Mrs. Gomez had been sweeping off the porch. The window next to the front door was broken.

Chet quickly opened the front door and hurried inside. Lily's playpen sat in its customary spot between the couch and the television, but she was not in it. He dashed for the bedroom only to find her crib was also empty. Returning to the living room, he found Mrs. Gomez standing there with a sad, pleading expression on her face.

"Where's Lily?" Chet demanded.

She held up her right arm, putting the wrapped wrist in front of her face as she wailed, "I couldn't stop them!"

"Stop who?" Chet implored, the desperation in his voice hard to disguise. "Who took her?"

Staring at her feet, Mrs. Gomez spoke in a jagged voice in between her sobs, "They say that they are Miss Suzy's brother and sister. I don't want them to take Lily. I tell them that her father is coming to get her, but they don't listen. When I try to stop them, the lady, she shoves me and I fall through the window, it breaks and I am on the ground outside behind the bushes. By the time I get up, they are gone. Gone with Lily," she wails.

Chet was more furious than he had ever been, but he also knew that he had to maintain some semblance of control over his emotions or he would be worthless to Lily. He softened his voice and asked Mrs. Gomez, "How bad is your wrist?"

She looked at her arm and said, "Only sprained. It will heal."

"Good. Can we sit for a minute so that you can explain to me exactly what happened?"

Mrs. Gomez walked into the kitchen and sat in one of the chairs at the table. Chet took the chair across from her, but before he could speak, he heard the sound of a knock at the front door. He quickly rose and went to answer the door. The chaplain stood there with Chet's duffle bag in his hand.

"I wanted to bring this in for you and ask if there was anything further that I could do for you before heading back to Fort Bliss."

Chet took the duffle bag and tossed it onto the floor of the living room before addressing the chaplain, "Thank you, Major. If you wouldn't mind, could you give me about five minutes and then drop me at the police station downtown on your way back to the interstate?"

"Of course. Take your time. I'll be waiting in the car."

Before returning to the kitchen, Chet went into the bedroom again. He opened the drawer on the nightstand next to the side of the bed that he had slept on. This is the drawer where he had watched Suzy place their marriage license when they had returned from Las Vegas, explaining that the drawer on her side of the bed was too full of her stuff to hold anything else, so she kept all her important paperwork in the other nightstand. Chet understood "her stuff" consisted of her jewelry and other things that she wanted to keep away from Lily, even though she was still too young to attempt to get at most things.

After verifying that the certified copy of their marriage license was inside the top folder, Chet picked up all the rest of the folders and carried them with him to the kitchen. Mrs. Gomez was still sitting in the same chair, and her crying had abated significantly. Chet took this as a good sign that he would be able to get answers to a few important questions.

"Mrs. Gomez, did these people who took Lily tell you their names?"

Shaking her head, she replied, "No, they just say that they were Suzy's brother and sister and they had come to take Lily back to her family. They were not nice people. I could see it in their eyes."

"When did they come to take Lily?" Chet asked. "This morning?"

Mrs. Gomez seemed surprised at the question but recovered quickly enough to answer, "No, they came yesterday. It was after Lily's lunch and I was just going to put her down for her nap. Lily was in a good mood but she began to cry when the lady picked her up."

Something didn't add up in Chet's mind. According to Mrs. Gomez, two people, whom he had to assume were Grant and Carrie Capshaw traveled from Missouri to Las Cruces to take custody of Lily the Monday after the robbery; barely forty-eight hours after her mother had been killed. The trip would have taken over thirteen hours of driving for them to cover the more than nine-hundred-mile distance. Chet needed to find out when the authorities had contacted the Capshaws to inform them of Suzy's death.

On second thought, he needed to find out why the authorities would have contacted the Capshaws at all. Suzy was trying to hide from them. There is no way that they would have been listed anywhere as her emergency contacts. He was her emergency contact, and she had been his. They had discussed those arrangements before he had returned to Fort Bragg. The fact that the Red Cross had been asked to inform him of Suzy's death last Sunday morning proved that the procedures that he and Suzy had decided on had been followed.

Chet sorted through the folders until he found the one with Suzy's latest bank statements. One of the first things that they had done the day after he had arrived in Las Cruces was to go to the bank and get Chet added to both the savings and checking accounts. He was going to make arrangements to transfer all of his back pay and savings from his base account to the joint account with Suzy once his discharge was complete, but it hadn't been done yet. Between all the accounts, Chet saw that he had just over $520,000 in liquid assets. There were millions more in the trust account, but Chet didn't foresee needing to tap into that for the immediate future.

Taking out his wallet, Chet pulled out three one-hundred-dollar bills and slid them across the table to Mrs. Gomez. He said, "Please let me know if you need more money to get the window repaired. I need to go to the police station now, but I'll be back later this afternoon and we can talk some more. Okay?"

Mrs. Gomez clutched the money in her hand and said, "Gracias. I will call for the glass company as soon as I get to my house."

Chet stood, collected all the folders, and glanced around the cottage as he approached the front door. He turned to Mrs. Gomez and asked, "All the furniture is yours, correct?"

"Si, it is rented furnished for Miss Suzy. Only furniture for Lily is not mine."

Chet simply nodded and walked out the door. He saw the chaplain leaning against the hood of his car and approached him. "Thanks for waiting. If you can drop me off at the police station, you can catch the onramp for I-25 off Lohman Avenue."

The chaplain placed a hand on Chet's shoulder and said, "I'm in no hurry, Son. Let's get you squared away completely here before I head back."

Chet nodded and silently walked around to the passenger side and got in. During the five-minute drive to the police station, he formulated the main questions that he needed answers to. Supplemental questions were sure to come to him as he learned more of the details about the robbery and Suzy's death, but he would not leave until he knew everything that the police knew.

As they drove past a little Belgian coffee shop on Picacho Avenue, the chaplain saw that it was only a block from their destination. He suggested, "How about if I hang out at that little coffee shop while you meet with the police? You can come over when you're done, and remember, there is no rush. I'm here for you as long as you need me to be."

"Thanks, Major."

The car pulled to a stop at the curb across the street from the police station, and Chet got out. He waited for the chaplain to hang a U-turn before crossing the street and heading for the public access entrance of the building. He was dressed in business casual attire, consisting of dark grey slacks, a white, button-down Oxford shirt, and a light grey sports coat. The only thing that might indicate to someone that he was former military would be the spit-shine of his shoes. A person could see the finest detail in their reflection on his black shoes.

He approached the service counter and spoke to the officer stationed there, "Good morning. I would like to speak to whoever is in charge of the investigation related to the events at the bowling alley last Saturday."

The officer barely glanced up from whatever he was writing and asked, "Are you with the press?"

"No, my wife was one of the victims. I just got into town ..."

The officer jerked his head up and interrupted with, "What did you say your name was?"

"My name is Chet Diego. My wife was Suzanne Diego, but your department probably knows her as Suzanne Ferguson. That was her maiden name and she hadn't changed any of her identification yet."

Picking up the phone in front of him, the officer said, "Hang tight a minute over in those chairs and I'll see who is available to speak with you."

Chet walked over to the indicated seating area but didn't take a seat. After only a couple of minutes, a door beside the service counter opened and a beefy Hispanic woman stepped into the lobby. She looked at the officer at the counter who merely pointed at Chet. Approaching him quickly, she asked, "May I see some identification, please?"

Pulling out his wallet, Chet opened it to display his Missouri driver's license behind the clear plastic window. The woman examined it and then said, "You are claiming to be the spouse of one of the victims from last Saturday's incident. Do you have any proof of that?"

Placing his wallet back into his pocket, Chet then opened one of the folders and extracted the certified copy of their marriage license, and showed it to the woman.

As she was examining it, Chet also pulled out Lily's birth certificate, which showed Suzy's maiden name as the mother, and Chet's name as the father. "I was deployed out of the country during Suzy's pregnancy. We weren't able to get married until I returned last month." For some reason, Chet felt that it was important for this woman to know the circumstances behind Lily being born out of wedlock.

The woman handed the documents back to Chet and asked, "Are you in the military?"

"I received my DD-256 yesterday," Chet informed her.

The woman nodded and said, "Okay, come with me. I'll take you to Detective Sergeant Delgado. He'll want to talk to you."

She led him through a different door than she had come from, down a long hall, and then out another door into a parking lot. When he paused and looked at her questioningly, she said, "The first of the autopsies are being conducted by the coroner. The investigative team is there observing. Delgado asked me to verify who you were, and if I was satisfied that you weren't just a sneaky reporter or something, to bring you to him. Here's my car. Hop in."

Chet climbed into the passenger seat of an unmarked Ford Crown Victoria and barely had time to fasten his seatbelt before the car rocketed out of the parking lot.

Remembering the chaplain, he quickly asked, "Can we stop so that I can run into that coffee shop and let my ride know that I'll be gone for a while?"

Without saying a word, she swung the car to the curb. As Chet was getting out, she said, "Make it quick. Delgado is not known for his patience."

Chet quickly found the chaplain at the small counter, watching the news and discussing it with other patrons. The announcement related to the unification of East and West Germany that was released that morning was of great interest to the regular customers of this coffee shop, which made some sense to Chet due to the proximity of Belgium to Germany. He interrupted long enough to update the chaplain, and then hurried back to the waiting car.

The car shot away from the curb as soon as his door was closed. The woman said, "By the way, my name is Ann Marie Reynolds. I'm a detective with the burglary detail but it's currently all hands on deck running down leads on the bowling alley robbery and shootings."

"Are you any closer to at least identifying who the shooters were?" Chet asked her.

"I better let Delgado fill you in on what he wants you to know. I can tell you that these are some truly deranged and dangerous guys."

"How are the survivors doing?" Chet asked.

"The bowling alley manager, her daughter, and the cook are all still in critical condition but expected to survive their injuries. They were far enough from the fire that they didn't receive any additional injuries from that..."

"What fire?" Chet asked. "The representative from the Red Cross didn't mention anything to me about a fire."

Realizing that she may have spoken out of turn, Detective Reynolds said, "Please don't mention that I told you about the fire. We're keeping that under wraps for the time being. But, since I've already slipped, the robbers used papers in the office to start a fire in an attempt to cover up the robbery. Passersby saw the smoke and called 9-1-1 at about the same time that the twelve-year-old was able to use the office phone to call 9-1-1 to report the robbery and shootings. That brave little thing was shot five times and still toughed it out in order to get help."

Chet sat quietly thinking for the rest of the trip. At best, the police had three possible witnesses that could help them identify the guys who had committed this heinous act. He wondered how much information the investigators had already obtained, and had to accept the fact that depending upon the severity of the victims' injuries, doctors might not have allowed the police to even interview them yet. He hadn't noticed that they had stopped at their destination until Detective Reynolds turned the car off.

"Follow me," she instructed. "They're waiting for us in the conference room."

When they reached the door, Chet watched Detective Reynolds hold her badge up to a small camera and then heard the audible "snick" of the door's lock releasing. She pulled the door open and led the way into the building. The smell of disinfectant was evident, but not as strong as Chet had always assumed it would be in a morgue. Maybe it got stronger closer to the areas where they conducted the actual autopsies.

Upon entering the conference room, they encountered two plain-clothes detectives and a woman in surgical scrubs, whom Chet assumed was the medical examiner, seated on one side of the table. Detective Reynolds walked around the table to take the remaining seat on that side, leaving Chet with a choice of four chairs across from the group.

Chet remained standing, staring at the group with a neutral expression on his face. Finally, the older of the two male detectives stood and extended his hand, saying, "I'm Julio Delgado. I'm leading the investigation into the incident at the bowling alley this past Saturday."

Shaking the offered hand, Chet replied, "Chet Diego." He then pulled out the chair across from Delgado and took a seat. Delgado also sat, and then continued the introductions, "This is detective Esteban Gomez, and chief medical examiner, Dr. Kimberly Menninger. You've already met detective Reynolds. I believe that I am speaking for all of us when I extend our deepest and most sincere condolences for the loss of your wife. If there is anything that we can do to make this time easier for you, please don't hesitate to ask."

Nodding, Chet said, "I'm sure you can understand that I have a lot of questions. I also understand that you may not be able at this time to provide answers to all of my questions, but I ask that you all put yourself in my shoes when you make decisions about what you can and can't share with me. I hope that you realize that I would never reveal anything that would compromise your investigation. I want the guys who did this brought to justice more than anyone."

Chet didn't feel the need to mention that "justice" for these guys would have a totally different meaning if he was able to find them before the police did.

Delgado studied Chet for several seconds, staring directly into his eyes as if trying to read his deepest and darkest thoughts. The Army, and the CIA in particular had taught Chet how to disguise his feelings and emotions through any of the typical expressions or body language clues that these local law enforcement professionals might have been trained to observe.

Delgado and Gomez shared a brief look at each other, silently communicating some message before Delgado turned his attention back to Chet and said, "First, we would like to ask you a few questions."

With a simple nod from Chet, Detective Gomez asked, "We understand that you were at Fort Bragg last Saturday morning. Are you in the Army?"

Focusing his gaze on Gomez, Chet answered, "I returned to Fort Bragg on February 7^th to begin processing out of the Army. As of yesterday, I am now a civilian, but on Saturday, I was still an active-duty member of the United States Army, yes."

"Were you a Ranger?" Gomez asked.

"No, the Rangers are based out of Fort Benning in Georgia," Chet explained.

Gomez and Delgado exchanged another glance before the questioning by Gomez continued, "Then what was your MOS?"

"My Military Occupation Specialty Code was 18F," Chet replied. He doubted that these detectives would understand what that designated, so he explained it to them, "I was an assistant operations and intelligence sergeant. I was trained in advanced special operations techniques, including intelligence collection and processing, and target analysis."

He waited for the next question as both Delgado and Gomez made copious notes on the tablets in front of them.

Delgado looked up from his writing and asked, "You were with the Special Forces Command, like the Green Berets?"

Chet merely nodded in reply.

Gomez began his questioning again, "Tell us about your relationship with Suzanne Ferguson. How you met her, how long you knew her, everything."

Chet sighed and began relating how he and Suzy had met when he had moved next door to her and her family back in Missouri. He told their story all the way through to their plans to get married when he had returned from his last deployment, discovering that Suzy had given him a daughter, their recent marriage in Las Vegas, and their partial plans for when his discharge from the Army was final. Chet pulled out his DD-256 form and slid it across the table for the two detectives to examine.

Gomez only glanced at the document before asking, "Tell us about the financial situation between you and Miss Ferguson."

Chet bit the side of his mouth as a means to temper his response. He said, "While Suzy had not yet changed her identification documents, as our marriage license shows, as of January 21^st of this year, she was Suzanne Diego, and I would appreciate you referring to her by her legal name."

Gomez bristled at the rebuke, but changed his question accordingly, "Fine, tell us about the financial situation between you and Suzanne Diego."

"I'm not clear on what situation you might be referring to," Chet replied. "When I left for my last deployment, we had joint savings and checking accounts with a regional bank out of North Carolina with branches in Missouri. Suzy closed these accounts when she relocated here because the bank didn't serve this area of the country. She opened new accounts but since I was out of the country, she wasn't able to add me to the accounts until I returned last month. I have an account at Fort Bragg where my back pay was deposited, but I have already submitted the paperwork to have the money in the account transferred to the joint account, which will then close the base account. What else would you like to know?"

"I notice that you didn't mention the millions of dollars in the trust account," Gomez said.

"Because even though I am designated as a co-trustee, along with Suzy, I don't consider that my money. Suzy and I had several discussions about the trust and both felt that it would be held for the benefit of our children. We might have used some of the money in it to buy a house, but neither of us were into material possessions or anything. We viewed the trust as a safety net that we could fall back on if necessary, but primarily as a means to pay for college for our kids and that sort of thing."

Chet paused as he considered how much about the contentious probate case he wanted to share with these detectives. He didn't see any relevance to their investigation, so he decided not to bring it up unless asked about it.

Gomez didn't bring it up, but he did continue his questioning, "Do you know if Suzy Diego had any life insurance?"

Chet was getting annoyed at this detective's referring to Suzy as everything but his wife. He decided to make his annoyance clear. Emphasizing the keywords, Chet answered, "Yes, my WIFE and I both have one-million-dollar term life policies, each naming the trust as the beneficiary." He extracted copies of the policies from one of the folders and slid them across to the detectives.

He maintained his neutral expression, but inside, Chet felt like his very being was disintegrating. His everything, his Suzy had been taken from him. No one who knew either he or Suzy ever doubted the absolute and total devotion that existed between them, yet now these strangers were sullying the beauty that once was, by insinuating that their relationship was less than it was, which had been perfect.

While the detectives studied the policies, Chet said, "Detectives, I understand why you feel the need to ask these types of questions, and I have nothing to hide. However, it is a waste of time, and frankly extremely insensitive to even remotely suspect that, one, I had anything to do with Suzy's death, or two, that financial gain would be a motive. Suzy and I have shared everything in our lives since we were twelve-year-olds. When I opened my first bank account at the age of sixteen, Suzy's name was on it as well. Every cent that I earned at the various part-time jobs that I had gone into an account that we shared equally. I wasn't in the office of the attorney who created the original trust for us but I have heard of Suzy's insistence that I have the same rights to the contents of the trust as she did, even though we were not married at the time. The attorney's name is Daniel Finch and his office is in Lamar, Missouri if you want to verify what I am telling you."

"That won't be necessary," Delgado said as he slid all of the documents back across the table to Chet. "Thanks for making things clearer for us. Now, let me tell you what we know about the events of last Saturday..."

Taking a deep breath as he reorganized the documents into the appropriate folders, Chet steeled himself to hear the details of Suzy's death. He folded his hands on the table in front of him to prevent him from being able to make the fists of fury that he knew were likely to result from the tale.

Delgado began, "I need to advise you that what we know so far is limited due to the inability of the survivors being able to endure prolonged questioning, but we have been able to piece together what we feel is a pretty accurate series of events from that morning. Would you like some water or anything?"

When Chet just shook his head in reply, Delgado continued, "Last Saturday morning, Melissa Grant, the bowling alley's manager, was in her office preparing to open the business She was in the company of her 12-year-old daughter Karen Grant and Karen's 13-year-old friend Beth Hunter. The girls were planning to supervise the alley's daycare center. Shortly after 8 am, Suzy Fer... Diego entered through the unlocked back door to the kitchen. Edna Hogan, the bowling alley's cook was in the kitchen and acknowledge your wife walking through. Approximately five minutes later, two men entered through the same unlocked door. One pulled a .22 caliber pistol on Hogan and ordered her into the bowling alley's office, where Melissa Grant, Karen, Beth, and your wife were."

Delgado watched for any reaction from Chet but saw just the same neutral expression. He said, "The gunmen ordered the women and children to lie down on the floor of the office. Soon after, Stan Turner, the alley's pin mechanic, entered. Since Turner had been unable to find a babysitter for his daughter, two-year-old Vicky Turner, he intended to drop her off at the alley's daycare. When he didn't see anyone in the alley, Turner entered the office and stumbled onto the crime scene. Starting with your wife, the gunmen then shot all seven victims multiple times at point-blank range. They then set the office on fire by igniting some papers before leaving the office, taking approximately $4,000 to $5,000 from the bowling alley's safe."

Delgado studied Chet once more before finishing, "The fire was reported at 8:33 am. Officers responding to the call discovered that Suzy Diego, Beth Hunter, and Stan Turner had died at the scene. Vicky Turner was rushed to a hospital but declared dead on arrival. Karen, despite being shot five times, called 9-1-1 on the office phone, allowing emergency services to respond immediately and saving her life along with her mother's and Edna Hogan's. Ten roadblocks were established surrounding Las Cruces within an hour of the shooting, and we carefully screened anyone leaving the city. Either they got past our perimeter before we were able to get in position, or they're still in the area."

Chet recognized that Delgado was finished, so he started asking his questions, "Do you have descriptions of the two gunmen?"

Delgado glanced at Gomez and nodded, indicating that he wanted the other detective to answer Chet's question, "Two Caucasian males in their late twenties to early thirties. Both are slender, with one slightly over six feet in height and the other about five-foot-six or seven. Both had shaved heads and wore soiled clothing consisting of blue jeans, white t-shirts under black leather jackets, and dark leather boots."

"Sounds like they might have been bikers," Chet observed. "Did anyone notice if there were any patches on their jackets or if they had any tattoos?"

Chet watched as Gomez glanced at Delgado and raised an eyebrow. Delgado said, "Good guess. Both men had a tattoo visible on the left side of their necks. It was described as the letter 'z' inside a circle. We have sent a request to the FBI to see if they can identify it for us."

Chet didn't need the FBI to identify the tattoo that Delgado described. He had seen it dozens of times around south-central Missouri. Things were starting to fall into place for him, if not the detectives. Things that Chet didn't like.

Turning to the medical examiner, Chet asked, "Can you tell me about my wife's injuries? Did she suffer much?"

Dr. Menninger didn't wait for approval from the detectives before speaking, "I can assure you with absolute and complete certainty that your wife never felt a thing."

She went on to bluntly explain, "The first bullet entered the back of your wife's neck at point-blank range just below the cerebellum, penetrating the pons section of the brainstem. She was deceased before the next four bullets destroyed what was left of her brain. Even if the subsequent burns to her body weren't as disfiguring as they are, an open casket funeral would not be advised."

Chet wondered if Dr. Menninger was always this direct. She reminded him of some of the no-nonsense Army doctors that served with the Special Forces Operations Group. The picture they painted wasn't always the prettiest, but it left no illusions either.

"Are you prepared to release her body?" Chet asked. Since the doctor had mentioned funeral arrangements, it sounded like he might need to get started on those.

This time, Dr. Menninger did glance at the detectives before answering. With a nod from Delgado, she turned back to Chet and said, "Yes, your wife's was the first autopsy performed so I can sign off on releasing her to the funeral home of your choice."

"Thank you," Chet said. "I'll try to get things arranged later today or tomorrow."

Addressing the detectives again, Chet asked, "Let's talk about the guns used. You mentioned that one of them held a .22 caliber pistol. What about the other guy?"

"They both used .22 caliber pistols," Gomez replied. "All the bullets recovered confirm that."

"Semi-automatics or revolvers?" Chet asked. "Were shell casings found at the scene?"

"The surviving witnesses couldn't confirm during questioning," Delgado explained. "We plan to go back to them with pictures of different types of .22 caliber pistols to see if that helps them recognize the ones used. We do suspect revolvers though because no shell casings were found."

"But they didn't mention seeing the gunmen reloading or anything?" Chet inquired.

Delgado shook his head, and said, "They mentioned that there was never much of a pause in the shooting once it started. Of course, that could mean that one guy was reloading while his partner continued shooting. You have to remember that all the victims were face down on the floor at the time, so their field of vision was very limited."

These detectives weren't the only ones in the conference room skilled at reading the expressions and body language of others. Chet didn't think that Delgado or Gomez had been deceitful, but he sensed that they were holding something back from him. They might be willing to share the information if asked, but at this point, Chet didn't know what questions to ask that would pry it out of them. Instead, he asked, "Do you know where my wife's car is?"

"It's still parked behind the bowling alley," Delgado said. "That's private property and the car is not part of the crime scene, so it still sits where she parked it on Saturday morning."

"What about my wife's personal property?"

"I can have that brought to you right now if you'd like," Dr. Menninger said. She picked up the phone on the conference table and made the request without waiting for Chet's reply.

Detective Reynolds asked, "Would you like a ride to the bowling alley?"

Chet shook his head and said, "No thanks. I should get back to the coffee shop where the chaplain from Fort Bliss is waiting for me. I'll have him drive me to the bowling alley on his way out of town."

Detective Delgado slid one of his business cards across the table to Chet just as a morgue technician carried a large brown paper bag that contained Suzy's purse and a clear plastic bag holding the jewelry she had worn at the time of her death. He placed the bag on the table in front of Chet and presented him with a property release form to sign, which he did.

Delgado spoke, "Feel free to call me any time you want an update on the investigation. Again, we're sorry for the loss of your wife, and promise that we won't rest until this case is closed successfully."

Chet stood and shook the hands of Delgado, Gomez, and Dr. Menninger. He then followed Detective Reynolds back out to her car.

On their trip to the morgue, Reynolds had been quick to start the car and accelerate out of the parking lot, but now, she just started the car and stared out the windshield.

"Is everything okay?" Chet asked.

"I don't fucking believe it," Reynolds said, staring straight ahead.

"You don't believe what?"

Turning to face Chet, she said, "They didn't ask you the question." Seeing the confusion on Chet's face, she tried to explain, "They didn't ask you if you knew of anyone who would want to harm your wife. Anyone who wanted to see her dead."

Still seeing the confused expression remaining on Chet's face, Reynolds said, "The surviving witnesses both stated that when the gunmen first entered the room, they looked at your wife and asked if she was Suzy Ferguson. So, I'll ask the question that they didn't, do you know of anyone who would want to harm your wife?"

Chet turned and stared out the front windshield as he said, "No."

Reynolds didn't push the answer any further and simply drove silently back to the coffee shop a block from the police station. "Thanks for the ride," Chet said as he collected the folders and Suzy's personal belongings before he opened the door.

Reynolds reached over and touched Chet's arm before he got out of her car. She said, "Sorry again for your loss. We'll get these guys though. Count on it."

With a grunt that Reynolds could take anyway that she wanted, Chet rose out of the car and closed the door. He walked quickly into the coffee shop and found a seat at an empty table. The chaplain saw Chet enter and came to join him.

He asked, "How are you doing? Did you learn anything from the police?"

Chet opened the paper bag and stared at the clear plastic bag with Suzy's jewelry. There was the locket she had worn since the day that he had given it to her on her sixteenth birthday. It had always held a picture of him on one side and a picture of her mother on the other side, although Chet now suspected that the picture within it would be of him and Lily. He couldn't resist the urge to verify his suspicion. Opening the bag and removing the locket, he studied the gold, heart-shaped object as his eyes filled with tears. The chaplain remained silent, allowing Chet this personal time to grieve.

Everything was so damned hard now. Chet's world had been blown apart. He was lost; adrift in a sea of misery, rage, and pain. The English language does not contain enough words to even come close to describing the tsunami of pain, anger, and torturous loss that comes with the knowledge that the woman that you loved with all your being no longer exists in this mortal world. Opening the locket caused the tidal wave to crash upon Chet's beach, and left his soul desolate. He felt so hollow; like something had been ripped from his chest.

He had been right. The left panel of the locket still contained a photo of him, although much more up-to-date than the old high school yearbook photo that Suzy had originally had there. The right panel had a photo of Lily, but she was being held in Suzy's arms so that both of their smiling faces were visible. Recognizing his hair was once again cut to Army regulation length, Chet realized that it must have been taken at the El Paso airport soon after they had dropped him off for his flight to Fayetteville, North Carolina, which meant that it was less than a week old.

Chet handed the locket to the chaplain, and asked, "Do you want to see a picture of my two girls?"

The chaplain took the offered locket and smiled at the pictures inside. Few people appreciate the value of memories such as the photo of the mother and daughter held for someone, especially at a time of loss, such as now. He was glad that Chet had this, and knew that their daughter would be just as thankful in the years to come. He handed the locket back to Chet, watched, and waited.

Chet had removed Suzy's wedding band from the bag and was examining it with a sense of purpose. He placed it on the tip of his left pinky finger and quickly recognized that the ring was too small for even his narrowest finger. With a sigh, Chet slid the ring into his pants pocket and the locket into the pocket of his coat. He folded the empty plastic bag and placed his hands on top of it on the table.

Casting his teary eyes at the major, Chet said, "I need to be in two places at the same time right now, and I don't know what I should do. I need to be here to make arrangements for Suzy, but I also need to go find my daughter and make certain that she is all right."

The chaplain nodded and asked, "Do you know where your daughter is?"

Chet shared his discussion with Mrs. Gomez and his belief that the couple that had taken custody of Lily must have been Grant and Carrie Capshaw, and they would likely be on their way back to Lamar, Missouri at this moment.

"Do you feel that your daughter is in any danger being with these people?" the chaplain asked.

Chet considered the question and said, "I think that their objective is to somehow leverage them having custody of Lily to gain control of Suzy's estate and the trust fund that goes along with that. They obviously don't know, or don't care that Suzy and I had gotten married, and that I am named as Lily's father on her birth certificate. I can't imagine a scenario where they would be awarded legal custody of Lily over me."

The chaplain looked at Chet with sympathy and said, "Unfortunately, our legal system, especially in matters of child custody can do the unimaginable. You said that you believe they are headed back to Lamar, Missouri. How far is that from Fort Leonard Wood?"

Chet considered the question and reviewed his knowledge of the two locations before responding, "They're about three hours apart, depending on the route. Why?"

"My brother is one of the chaplains at Fort Leonard Wood. He is also married to the current Provost Marshall for the base. I'm sure that I can get them to find you someone to investigate and keep an eye on the situation in Lamar while you deal with the arrangements for your wife here."

The chaplain turned and spotted the payphone in the back of the coffee shop. He stood and said, "Come on, let's give my brother a call and get the ball rolling."

Checking his pockets, Chet said, "I don't have any change, but I can go break a twenty to get some."

"No need," the chaplain said. "I have an Army-issued calling card. You may have been discharged already, but I am still on active duty and assigned to you. This call is on Uncle Sam."

Monday, February 19, 1990

Leaning against the trunk of Suzy's car, Chet placed the heel of his right foot onto the trailer hitch that Suzy had the U-Haul dealer install before she had fled Lamar.

Chet grinned at the memory of Suzy describing how the technician had nearly cried when his supervisor had instructed him to do the requested installation of the trailer hitch. The technician made no secret of the fact that he thought desecrating a car such as this 1985 Pontiac Firebird Trans Am by using it to tow anything was an abomination. Chet couldn't argue with that thought, but the trailer hitch did make a good footrest for how he was standing at the moment.

After retrieving Suzy's car from the parking area behind the bowling alley, Chet returned to the cottage with his sole purpose being to use the Yellow Pages to identify a funeral home to handle Suzy's final arrangements. Once he had selected one and spoken with them to get the cost for cremation and provide details on where to claim Suzy's body, he then drove to the bank where Suzy had the joint accounts. He withdrew all the money, having all but what he would need for the funeral home converted to American Express Travelers' Cheques. The teller advised Chet to sign all of the travelers' cheques before leaving the bank, but that would have defeated his purpose for getting them. While she was going through the process of closing the accounts, he signed one of the cheques in her presence to appease her.

No spouse, husband or wife, should ever be required to retrieve the cremated remains of their soulmate on Valentine's Day, but that is exactly what Chet had to endure if he was to leave Las Cruces for his mission to retrieve Lily as soon as possible. For eight years, Chet had thought about Suzy with every breath that he took. The thoughts had always been pleasant, inspirational, motivating, and safely cocooned within his love for her. Now, thoughts of Suzy haunted him, bringing nothing but grief, emptiness, and despair.

The chaplain from Fort Bliss had been able to immediately get in contact with his brother, but it had taken fifteen minutes for the brother in Missouri to track down his wife, explain the situation to her, and then get a number where Chet would be able to reach her. Chet had known that the Major at Fort Leonard Wood couldn't utilize military personnel to assist with the private concerns of a now-former Army sergeant, but that didn't prevent her from calling in favors from the numerous retired Army CID and military police personnel in the vicinity of the base, many currently working in law enforcement in one capacity or another. All were honored to be asked to assist in keeping an eye on Lily and her abductors until Chet could come to retrieve his daughter.

Chet didn't yet know the details of what he needed to do to accomplish his mission, but his training told him that he wanted to leave an untraceable trail in doing so. If his suspicions were proven true, involvement by the legal system would need to be avoided. As he had been told by others, there were no guarantees of justice or fair treatment for a single father in the courts. The legal system couldn't be counted on for the justice that Suzy deserved, and Chet would make certain that she received that.

It had taken him three days to make what would normally be only a thirteen-hour drive, but he had made several stops along the way to gather the information that he felt was critical. He had spent almost five hours at a public library in Amarillo, searching newspapers from small cities around the country until he found a news story that met his agenda. He had spent only two hours at a public library in Oklahoma City following the trail from the first library stop. The trail would now lead him to Kennewick, Washington, but he needed to make a change in Joplin first.

As he now waited outside the gates to the storage facility where he had parked his pickup with the camper attached, he mentally chastised himself for not verifying that this business wouldn't be closed today, Presidents Day. The storage operation wasn't government-run, so Chet assumed that they would be maintaining their normal business hours and open the gates at 7 AM. Seeing other cars and trucks starting to fall in line behind the Firebird reassured Chet that his assumption was likely correct.

Chet had always kept the camper primed and prepared for immediate use. His father had taught him that nothing put a drag onto a spur-of-the-moment opportunity to go camping or fishing than having to spend time getting their camper ready for the trip. As an employee of the storage facility unlocked the gate, Chet calculated that he would be driving back out of it in the camper within five minutes or less, with the Firebird holding its spot in the storage yard. He should be able to make his 8 AM meeting with time to spare.

The team that Major Ellington, the provost marshal at Fort Leonard Wood had assembled for Chet was being coordinated by retired CID warrant officer, Shawna Hollister. Hollister had her own consulting business providing criminal and insurance investigative services for various lawyers in the Joplin and southcentral Missouri areas. She had maintained contacts with other former military law enforcement personnel in the area and frequently subcontracted investigative jobs to them. She had taken a personal role in Chet's case, investigating the individuals suspected of involvement and leaving the rest of her team to maintain constant surveillance on whoever had Lily at any given time.

Hollister had reported to Chet when he had called her from Oklahoma City, that Preston Cronk and Charlene Capshaw had relocated Grant and Carrie Capshaw into the Pronk estate, along with Lily. Conversations overheard by Hollister team members indicated that the Capshaws and Cronk believed that Chet was still on active duty and they were unaware that he and Suzy had gotten married. Chet expected to get a more detailed update when he met with Hollister this morning.

~~~

Chet took another drink from his iced tea as he watched Daniel Finch reviewing the documents that he had requested Chet to bring to this meeting; which were the original copies of his and Suzy's marriage license, Lily's birth certificate, his form DD-256, and the will that Suzy had drafted by the attorney in Las Cruces, and bearing the filing number with the Doña Ana County Probate Court.

"Are you gentlemen ready to order yet?" Their waitress was asking. Her voice was soft but also kind of raspy. It almost sounded like she whispered everything that she said.

Daniel Finch looked up from the documents and addressed the waitress, "Why don't you bring us some garlic bread? By the time that's ready, we should know what we want to order for lunch."

The young woman nodded and left to place their order for garlic bread. Finch returned to studying Suzy's will and said, "There are a few things that I would have phrased differently, but the only significant omission that I see is the absence of a named guardian for Lily if both you and Suzy were out of the picture. This is the basis for the Capshaw's argument for them being named legal guardians for Lily and administrators for the trust. Unfortunately for them, they are operating off Suzy's previous will and the copy of the trust that were on file at the probate court in Barton County."

"Will that be an issue with me getting custody?" Chet asked.

"It shouldn't be a consideration since you are Lily's biological father and were married to Suzy at the time of her death," Finch stated, tapping first Suzy's New Mexico will, their marriage license, and then Lily's birth certificate. "It will be hard for any family court judge to ignore your legal standing in that regard."

"Could Grant and Carrie claim that I am unfit to care for Lily?"

Finch shrugged his shoulders and said, "Anyone can claim anything they want. They'll need to back those claims up with proof. Unless they manufacture something, what could they possibly use as proof? We know that they can no longer use your military commitment against you since you've been discharged, honorably, I might add. You are currently unemployed, so we may want to be prepared to address that. You have no criminal record, you are financially stable, and even though it has been brief, you are the only male figure that had been in Lily's life until the Capshaws took her."

Chet nodded and asked, "How soon can we get before a judge?" He needed Finch to believe that he was committed to a legal solution where Lily was concerned.

"Probably not for a few weeks at the earliest," Finch explained. "Even if there was an immediate opening in the family court's docket for an emergency hearing, the judge is going to want to see a report from family and children services before scheduling a hearing. I also need some time for you to get with the lawyer in Las Cruces to finalize Suzy's estate out there. You'll need that to be able to handle things such as getting Suzy's car title switched to the trust since you aren't currently on it."

Chet didn't care about any of the estate details, but he would deal with them as time and circumstances allowed. He also didn't care how long it took to get a hearing in the Barton County Family Court because he would be retrieving Lily that afternoon. Once he had her safely away from the Capshaws, they and the courts could do whatever they wanted.

The waitress returned with their garlic bread and a pitcher to refill their iced tea cups. She filled Finch's cup first, splashing a small amount on the table, and then moved over to refill Chet's. As Finch was using his napkin to wipe off the few drops from the table, the waitress slid a note under Chet's napkin. "I'll be right back to take your orders," she told them.

Glancing down at the note while raising his napkin, Chet quickly read the message, "I'll be waiting near the chapel entrance at one."

Chet had not chosen the Italian restaurant near the Precious Moments attractions on a whim. When he had met with Hollister that morning, she had updated him on the surveillance of Lily and the Capshaws, and they had reviewed his plans to retrieve Lily that afternoon. Chet didn't elaborate on his plans after he had Lily, but he did discuss the challenges that caring for Lily would present for him while he tended to other tasks.

Hollister had apparently been considering Chet's potential need for childcare assistance prior to their meeting because she had been prepared with a possible short-term solution. Hollister had an eighteen-year-old niece who was scheduled to start basic training for cadets at the Air Force Academy in June. She had graduated high school in Texas early. She was spending the months before starting the academy with Hollister and was working to save up some spending money for college. If Chet was interested in providing room and board for the girl, in addition to paying her more than she was making as a waitress, Hollister felt that her niece would make an excellent au pair for Lily.

Intending to use the camper as the residence for himself and Lily for the foreseeable future, Chet didn't initially consider Hollister's solution as workable for him. Once he remembered that he had the financial resources that would allow him to rent an apartment or house anywhere he wanted, Chet began formulating a plan where Hollister's niece would have a safe, stable home where she could care for Lily while he took care of whatever the future brought him.

"Are you both ready to order?"

The return of the waitress refocused Chet. He studied the young woman as she deliberately seemed to avoid meeting his eyes, staring at the order pad in her hands as she spoke. She was tall, slender but athletic, with light brown hair tied in a ponytail that reached below her shoulders. She wasn't stunningly beautiful, but definitely on the high end of "girl next door pretty".

"How long for baked ziti?" Finch asked.

Chet understood why the question had been asked. Unlike lasagna, which was typically prepared and baked to provide for multiple individual servings, other baked pasta selections, such as baked ziti, were often prepared as individual dishes, which meant that it would take longer than something already staged in the kitchen, such as spaghetti or fettuccini Alfredo. He checked the time. 12:28 PM.

"At lunchtime, baked ziti would probably take about twenty minutes," their waitress replied.

"Then I'll have lasagna," Finch said, handing the menu to the waitress.

"I'll just have a Caesar salad," Chet said. He saw the waitress glance at him and frown. She asked, "Would you like to wait for your salad until your friend's meal is served?"

Chet handed his menu to her and said, "That would be great. Thanks."

After their waitress walked away, Finch asked, "You are still planning to return to Las Cruces today?"

Chet nodded and said, "Yep. As soon as we're done with lunch, I'll hit the road. I don't see any point in hanging around either Joplin or Lamar until you can make arrangements for me to at least see Lily."

Finch had explained his strategy of keeping the Capshaws unaware of Chet's discharge, his marriage to Suzy, and his being named as Lily's father on her birth certificate. As he had done with the Capshaws' challenge to the wills of their father and stepmother, Finch preferred to present his case directly to the court; surprising his opponents with knowledge and information that they had no time or opportunity to refute before the judge rendered a ruling in Finch's client's favor.

"Be patient," Finch implored. "Just focus on getting Suzy's estate closed out over the next week or so. Oh, and get your own estate planning started. You're young and healthy, but so was Suzy. You're still technically a resident of Missouri, so I suggest that you consider changing that status first."

"Why?" Chet asked.

"Missouri hasn't adopted the Uniform Probate Code, at least not in its entirety," Finch explained tapping the copy of Suzy's will. "New Mexico has adopted it. It provides for clearer direction and less discretion by probate courts. Let me give you an example; if you were not currently in the picture, Lily would not have a legal guardian since none is stipulated in Suzy's will..."

"Suzy didn't stipulate me either," Chet argued.

Finch nodded, and said, "She didn't have to. All states acknowledge that a child's parents are its guardians. As her father, which we can prove in this case, you don't have to be stipulated as a guardian in Suzy's will because it is an accepted point of law. As Lily's only remaining parent, you will need to make certain that your choice for guardianship of Lily, should anything happen to you, is made very clear. You can also specifically exclude someone from being appointed as her guardian, such as the Capshaws."

Chet nodded his understanding, and said, "I'll give it some thought on the drive back to Las Cruces."

Their food arrived and Chet noticed that it was served by a different waitress. Before he could ask where their previous waitress was, the new one said, "Hi, I'm Frieda. Wendy had to close out her shift, so I'll be taking care of you gentlemen for the remainder of your meal. Is there anything more that I can get for you?"

Each man verified that they had been served the dish that they had ordered, followed by a shake of their head in response. The waitress scurried away to a different table as Chet checked the time. 12:48 PM. Conversation waned as the two men focused on their respective lunches. Chet was surprised that Finch was able to attack his lasagna with so much gusto considering the steam billowing off of it. His salad was cold, so he had no issue with diving right into it, but Finch must be presenting the roof of his mouth and his tongue a serious threat of some burning.

His appetite had been nonexistent since he had first heard of Suzy's death, but Chet forced himself to eat something at least once a day. This salad would easily meet that objective for this day, even if he didn't finish it. He picked at the salad until he recognized Finch finishing his meal, and then set his fork down as well.

Finch was glancing around, searching for their new waitress as he said, "I can write this off as a business meeting with a client, so if you want to go ahead and take off, I'll handle the bill."

Rising from his chair, Chet said, "I appreciate that, thanks."

Finch stood to shake Chet's hand and said, "Please check in with my office at least every other day in case there is something that I need to ask you or inform you about."

Chet merely nodded and left Finch at the table to settle their tab. It was 1:03 PM.

He had to walk past his truck parked in the Precious Moments parking lot on his way to the chapel, so he paused at the rear to unlock the back door entrance to the camper. He found his waitress standing under the archway entrance to the chapel, trying to remain visible while avoiding the tourists coming and going from the attraction. If he hadn't known that today was the Presidents Day holiday, Chet would have suspected that it was another holiday due to a large number of school-aged children present at the Precious Moments attractions today.

Chet avoided the appearance of speaking directly to the young woman as he instructed, "If you walk over to the white camper on that blue pickup truck, you'll find the back door unlocked."

Without responding, the young woman turned and surreptitiously began walking through the parking lot with no obvious destination in mind. Chet watched out of the corner of his eye as her aimless wandering eventually led her to his camper. He didn't wait for her to climb into the camper before heading back to the cab of the truck himself. After unlocking the door and climbing behind the wheel, he turned to look through the back window boot that allowed open access between the cab of the truck and the camper behind it. His passenger was just on the other side of the boot, sitting on the couch that folded out to make a double bed. Their eyes met in the rearview mirror.

"Your name is Wendy, right?" Chet asked.

"Yes, sir."

"What did your aunt tell you about me and my situation?"

"She told me to meet with you privately, not to ask any questions of you, and that if I did as you instructed, you would pay me twenty thousand dollars before I leave for cadet basic training in June. She told me that I could trust you with my life."

"Well, I have to say that so far, you have done a great job. I had a basic description of you but wasn't positive who you were among all the employees at the restaurant until you slipped me that note. You can ask me anything that you want, but you need to respect it if I decline to answer something."

Chet's praise brought a smile to Wendy's face, but she remained silent and allowed Chet to continue. "Tell me a little about yourself," he said.

"Well, my name is Wendy Lewis, I turned eighteen last December, and have been accepted at the Air Force Academy for the upcoming term..."

Chet raised a hand to interrupt her, "That much I know. Tell me about you, where you grew up, what you want to be, your experience caring for children..."

Wendy stared at her hands and thought for a few seconds before replying, "I grew up in San Antonio, Texas. My dad is an E-6 stationed at Lackland Air Force Base and my mom is a pharmacist at Wilford Hall Medical Center."

Chet scoured his memory for the rank equivalents between the Army and the Air Force before asking, "Your dad is a Technical Sergeant then? What is his specialty?"

"He is a Fitness Programme Manager. He is responsible for the physical assessments of the officers on the base and the military training instructors."

That helped to explain the athletic appearance of his daughter, Chet thought, but he didn't speak. He allowed Wendy to continue.

"My mom is a civilian employee at Wilford Hall Medical Center at Lackland. She used to take me with her on non-school days and I would volunteer to help with the kids in the childcare center at the hospital. I got experience with newborn infants all the way up to adolescents." She smirked and said, "I like the infants much better."

"My daughter is eight-months-old," Chet offered.

Wendy met his eyes in the mirror again, and said, "Perfect".

"Good," Chet said as he started the truck. "Do you have a driver's license?"

Wendy nodded and said, "Yes, from Texas. Is that okay?"

"That is totally okay," Chet assured her. "I am going to take us to the storage facility where my wife's car is currently. I want you to drive that to your aunt and uncle's house so that you can pack up all your clothes and personal belongings while I go and pick up my daughter. You should try to get a few hours of sleep because we might be driving through the night."

"I'm sorry about your wife," Wendy said. "I recently lost my younger brother, and while I'm sure that doesn't compare with losing a spouse, I do understand the pain of loss. I wanted to distance myself from the grief of my parents, so that's why I decided to come and live with my Aunt Shawna and Uncle Forrest until I start at the academy."

"I'm sorry about your brother," Chet replied, and then let the subject drop. While driving to the storage facility, he provided Wendy with more detailed instructions on where to meet him, when to be there, and what their trip would entail. As he pulled alongside the Firebird, he checked the time. It was 2:13 PM.

"Wow!" Wendy said upon seeing the Firebird. "Nice car."

Chet handed her the keys to the car through the boot and said, "My daughter's car seat is already in it, and the tank is full of gas." He handed her five one-hundred-dollar traveler cheques and asked, "Do you know how traveler cheques work?"

"Not really."

Chet explained, "You need to sign your name on the top line where it says, 'Sign here immediately'. I left these blank so that you could use them as your own. Make sure that you sign them before you try to cash them since the clerk or bank teller will watch to verify that your countersignature, on the bottom line, matches. If you take these to your bank to cash them, you will have five hundred dollars in spending cash."

"What should I call you?" Wendy asked after slipping the cheques into her purse.

"Let's start with something simple, like 'Hey, you'. Now, please excuse me for not being a gentleman and opening the door for you..."

Wendy giggled but recognized her dismissal. Her aunt and Chet had explained that the fewer times that she and Chet were seen together, especially in Missouri, the less of an association would be perceived by people. She grabbed her purse, stepped out of the camper, and quickly walked to the driver's door of the Firebird. Using the key to unlock the door, Wendy hurried to take a seat behind the wheel. She started the engine and effortlessly adjusted the seat position and the mirrors before flashing a "thumbs-up" signal to Chet in the truck.

Chet watched the Firebird as Wendy carefully navigated it past the other vehicles stored here and through the front gate of the facility. While Wendy Lewis looked nothing like Suzy, Chet couldn't help the tears starting to form in his eyes as he watched her ponytail being blown by the wind through the side window and remembered that Suzy's hair had done the same. He waited five minutes before leaving the storage facility for the final time.

The forty-five-minute drive to Lamar was uneventful and allowed Chet to review in his mind the details that Hollister's team had gathered on Grant and Carrie Capshaw. He knew their daily routines and those of their mother and her lover. Since they were all sharing the same house, finding a time when they would all be gone, leaving just the hired babysitter with Lily was his objective.

Learning that the Presidents Day sales promotion at the Capshaw auto dealerships would keep Grant and Carrie busy longer today than usual was a positive happenstance. Assuming that the holiday would result in Preston Cronk not having any court sessions made his and Charlene's routines a bit more problematic. Chet would adapt his plans as necessary, but he was not leaving Lamar without his daughter.

Chet parked the truck a few blocks away from the Cronk house on a gravel service road and then followed a worn path through a strand of trees to a point where he could clearly see the house. Preston Cronk owned a large house on a cul-de-sac that backed up to Lake Lamar. There were currently two cars parked in the driveway of the house, and they fit the descriptions provided of the babysitter's car and the sedan owned by Cronk.

The layout of the house was exactly as it had been described to Chet. He followed the tree line around to the rear of the house. There was a large, plate glass sliding door leading from the house out to the patio. The blinds on the door were closed, as Chet had been told to expect. He trotted quickly towards the house and stopped beside a set of stairs that he knew led down to the basement. Gloves now in place, he slowly turned the knob and felt the satisfaction of experiencing no resistance to the door being opened.

Since the lights were already on in the basement, Chet didn't need the pocket Maglite that he had brought. Scanning around the open room, Chet saw that it appeared to be used primarily for storage, with shelves of food and emergency supplies in the event it had to be used as a shelter from a tornado. There was a closed door on the far wall that he suspected led to the utility room, so he headed for it. He wanted to locate the HVAC system for the house.

Opening the door revealed that it was the room he sought. The interior HVAC components hummed softly on one side of the room and the hot water heater occupied the opposite wall with the electrical breaker box positioned on the wall between them. He examined the ductwork to identify which was the air return from the upstairs rooms and placed his right ear against the cool sheet metal.

He could hear the voices as clearly as if he was in the room with them, but he couldn't determine which room that might be. He listened to the conversation between two people that he assumed were Preston Cronk and Charlene Capshaw, and deduced from their openness and free-speaking attitudes that they must be alone in a room together, probably their bedroom.

He heard Charlene say, "I told you that I would be ready in five minutes. Quit bugging me about it every half hour. Did you get the money?"

"Yes, but it wasn't easy," Cronk replied in an annoyed tone of voice. "Gathering ten thousand dollars in a way that makes it untraceable isn't as easy as a person would think. I mean, I couldn't just withdraw that much from my bank account and hope that no one figures out that I'm the one that gave it to Spencer and Callendar. I still don't trust those two."

"I know how difficult it is. Remember that I had to find the money for the contract on John and Joleen. Just like then, they'll never know that the money came from us," Charlene countered. "That's why we are using Gino as the go-between. What I don't appreciate is them wanting more money for the next job. They kept the money from the bowling alley and no one ever challenged them on that little bonus that they took for themselves."

Cronk snorted and said, "I told you that twenty thousand was too much to pay them for that first job. We knew that they would get thousands of dollars in cash and jewelry during the home invasion and should have counted that as part of their payment. Ten thousand more for their daughter was also too much. Hell, we had to practically hold their hands and draw them a fucking picture of where they could find her and explain to them when she would be there. We'll probably have to do the same thing with Diego. If we don't know where he is, those two dimwits sure as hell won't know."

"Then we won't pay them anything more until we know that they can do the job," Charlene reasoned. "Plus, if you can get us before Houseman with the petition for legal guardianship before Diego tries to challenge it, we won't have to pay to have him eliminated. He'll be a non-issue for us."

"I am close to having the leverage on Houseman that we need to have him rule in our favor," Cronk stated. "I need him locked down tight enough that no matter what Finch counters the petition with, Houseman will be able to justify ruling in our favor."

Chet heard the two voices begin to move around some from the fixed positions they had been in. The volume of the conversation varied as the couple moved from the bedroom, down a hallway, and to other areas of the house. He heard them stop and begin speaking to someone else.

It was Charlene's voice that said, "Tracy, Mr. Cronk, and I will be leaving now. Grant or Carrie should be home tonight by eight at the latest."

"My parents are expecting me home by 5:30," came the voice of the babysitter. "I have a school project due tomorrow that I need to finish."

"Then take the kid with you," Cronk replied. "Just leave a note telling Grant and Carrie that you have her with you and they'll come over to your house and pick her up when they get home."

Chet didn't listen to the continued complaints from the babysitter as he heard the front door open and close. He left the utility room and closed the door. Since the last conversation had apparently taken place in the foyer, Chet felt confident that he could ascend the basement stairs to the main house quietly enough that the babysitter wouldn't hear him.

The basement stairs from the house started off of the kitchen. When Chet quietly opened the door at the top of the stairs, he heard the sound of a television coming from one direction and a young girl's voice in the opposite direction. He headed towards the sound of the TV.

Lily was asleep in a playpen that was different from the one that Chet had taken from Suzy's place. This one had mesh sides like the other one, but it also had a mesh top zippered around it. As quickly and quietly as possible, Chet unzipped the top just enough for him to be able to carefully extract his sleeping daughter. Once he had her body cradled in his arms, he zipped the top back up and returned to the basement stairs.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Chet felt a momentary pang of regret for the position that he was leaving the young babysitter. She would undoubtedly be terrified to discover Lily missing without an explanation, and would likely face a slew of accusations and insinuations related to the careless discharge of her responsibilities.

While exiting the basement to the backyard and jogging to the tree line, Chet placed Lily under the front of his jacket, more to keep her warm in the cool February air than to hide her. He wondered how long it would take for the babysitter to check in on Lily, and whom she would call first once she discovered her missing.

He was back at the truck within only a couple of minutes, reasonably certain that he had been seen by no one. Climbing up into the camper in the back, he laid Lily into the crib that he had secured to the floor of the camper and placed pillows all around her body to cushion her in the event he had to stop suddenly or make any other movements that could cause her to shift. He wasn't sure how long Lily would remain asleep, but it would take him at least an hour to reach the rendezvous location where he hoped Wendy was waiting.

Chet listened for the slightest sound from Lilly as he drove, with his mind mulling over the conversation that he had overheard through the ductwork. Ever since Detective Reynolds had asked him if he knew anyone who would have wanted Suzy dead, he had been considering that question in relation to Grant and Carrie showing up to take Lily within hours of Suzy's murder. Preston Cronk and Charlene Capshaw obviously had some involvement, but to what extent were Grant and Carrie involved? Chet suspected that they were in it up to their eyebrows.

He couldn't imagine two children going along with their mother's plan to have their father killed in a home invasion robbery that she and her lover had arranged. The temptation of wealth must be strong with that entire family if they would callously scheme to have their father, stepmother, and now stepsister all killed by a couple of guys named Spencer and Callendar. Spencer and Callendar. Now Chet had names to go with the minimal descriptions of Suzy's killers. They were his first intended targets.

Sunday, February 25, 1990

"She's done with her breakfast and needs a diaper change," Wendy informed Chet as he entered the back of the camper. "She seems to have adapted to the formula completely. No diarrhea this morning."

Transitioning Lily from her mother's breast milk to canned formula had been a concern for Chet and Wendy, but the pediatrician that Suzy had been taking Lily to assured them that her digestive system was mature enough for solid foods, so other than the possibility of diarrhea for a few days, Lily should do just fine. At his request, the doctor also provided Chet with Lily's complete vaccination history so that he would know when she was due for her next boosters.

They were sitting in the back of the camper which was parked in a spot at the KOA on Weinrich Road, on the western outskirts of Las Cruces. The KOA had been serving as their base camp where Wendy could care for Lily while Chet dealt with legal matters downtown.

Chet started latching cabinet doors and securing the camper for the next leg of their journey. "Since all the legal issues keeping us here are resolved, we should probably head out this morning."

Wendy was shaking her head but grinning profusely as she said, "I still can't believe that you didn't tell me that you were kidnapping your daughter."

Chet shrugged and said, "I didn't tell you because that's not what I did. I knew that I was Lily's legal guardian and could prove it. I just had to get her to a jurisdiction where I could safely establish that fact in a court of law. Barton County and the State of Missouri can bitch and moan all they want, but they can't trump the ruling of a judge in New Mexico who recognizes me as her sole guardian. The judge told the Barton County district attorney and the deputy on Friday that they cannot charge me with a crime that never happened. If they can prove that I illegally entered the house to get Lily, then the best they can do is charge me with trespassing, which would be a misdemeanor."

"Good. I don't think being charged as an accessory to kidnapping would sit well with the Air Force Academy." Wendy said while handing Lily to her father.

"Not to worry," Chet assured her. "Your name never came up. No one suspects that there was anyone else involved in retrieving Lily other than me."

Chet kissed Lily on the forehead and said, "If you want to load your stuff into the Firebird, we can get on the road. I'll change Lily and then get her situated in her car seat. How's the battery on yours."

Wendy knew that Chet was referring to the battery level on her walkie-talkie. When they had rendezvoused at the Flying J truck stop near the I-44/I-49 interchange last Monday, he had handed her one of a pair of long-range walkie-talkies that would allow them to remain in communication on the road as long as they were within a few miles of each other.

"It's fully charged," Wendy assured him. "Same plan as last time? I go in front with Lily in her car seat and you follow, giving me directions?"

"Yes, but we're going to be going through more mountains this time, so watch your speed. This truck won't be able to match the speed of the Firebird, especially with the wind drag on the camper through some of the passes. Just be sure to keep me visible in your rearview mirror, okay?"

Wendy saluted and said, "Yes, sir."

She scooted out the back of the camper and left Chet alone to change Lily's diaper. Wendy really had been a Godsend for Chet and Lily. While Lily had always displayed a social temperament, accepting the attention of total strangers without fussing, she had been especially welcoming to Wendy. Chet knew that a lot of that was simply Lily responding to the warm, positive affection that Wendy exhibited toward her, and it was obvious from the first interactions that Wendy loved children. Lily recognized that fact and had responded in kind.

After changing her diaper, Chet held Lily in his arms as he stowed her diaper bag. The cupboards within the camper had been stocked with everything that they would need to provide for the feeding and care of Lily while on the road. The food, diapers, and even baby shampoo had all been brought by Chet in the Firebird from the cottage in Las Cruces before he transferred it to the camper. Familiar scents and feelings were the best that he could do at the moment to bring some continuity to his daughter's life. He just wished that he could be a larger part of that continuity, but he knew that would have to wait.

Wendy was loading the last of her bags into the trunk of the Firebird as Chet got Lily secured into her car seat. "Do you remember the way to get back to I-10?" he asked.

"Sure," Wendy said. "Are we going to be heading east or west once we get there?"

"East. We'll take it back towards downtown and jump on I-25 heading north. I'll fill you in on our destination and my plans once we get onto I-25."

Chet held the driver's side door for Wendy. She smiled at him and said, "See, I knew there was a gentleman in there somewhere."

Wendy paused the Firebird at the exit from the KOA, waiting for Chet to tend to their check-out at the office. As soon as she saw him settle behind the wheel again, she turned on the radio and headed for the interstate, taking the occasional glimpse in her mirror to ensure that the truck was behind her somewhere. She knew that there would often be other vehicles between them, but unless it was a semi-truck, she could usually see at least the top of the camper behind her.

Chet realized that their traveling in two vehicles like this wasn't ideal, especially for Lily, but it was the safest and most convenient way in their current situation. The Firebird was familiar to Lily, and while she might be more comfortable in her playpen set up in the camper, it wasn't safe for her to travel unsecured. They needed to stop more frequently to feed and change Lily, but it wasn't like they were in a hurry or had a deadline to meet.

"Hey you," came Wendy's voice over the walkie-talkie. "You have a weird girl here."

They were just transitioning from Interstate 10 to Interstate 25, heading north. Chet picked up his walkie-talkie and asked, "Weird in what way?"

"She gets all fussy if there is music on the radio, but she calms right down for the news or talk radio," Wendy explained.

Chet laughed, and said, "That's probably due to her mother always having the television on the news while I was deployed. It's familiar noise for Lily. Maybe you can try playing some music while she is asleep to see if she can get used to it that way?"

"I hope so," Wendy said. "I would hate to spend hours driving while listening to election results from Nicaragua. I mean, who really cares?"

Chet didn't want to explain how many people, especially in the American government cared about the election results in that Central American country. The U.S. had dedicated a lot of money and resources to influence the election. That made him ask, "So who won the election?"

"Some woman. They're making a big deal out of the fact that she is the first woman elected president of any country in the Americas. I guess she wasn't expected to win, and that's news too."

"Violeta Chamorro," thought Chet. By God, she had done it! He would never know how his actions, and those of other American operatives, had influenced the vote, but he did know that his preventing her assassination four months ago certainly helped her odds of being elected.

He turned his focus back to Wendy and asked, "So, are you curious about where we are headed?"

"Not enough to worry about it," she said. "I trust that you have a plan, and it's my job to care for Lily while you execute that plan."

"Some plan," Chet thought. What he was doing today was securing Lily and Wendy so that he could start to formulate a plan. As had happened too frequently since Suzy's murder, he could feel the rage beginning to build within him and he tried to control it. Placing the walkie-talkie onto the seat beside him, Chet's mental efforts forced the anger inward. Gradually, he was able to make the fiery rage subside; slightly cooler. The surges of fury that always appeared so suddenly became fewer and less intense. He focused his eyes on the distant horizon and sat back in the driver's seat. His hands rested on the steering wheel. He deliberately relaxed his fingers and then worked on all the other muscles in his body. After a long while, his churning stomach calmed. He could think again.

Picking up the walkie-talkie, he pressed the button and said, "Our destination today is Colorado Springs. I contacted a realtor and had them start searching for apartments for us. They located a furnished three-bedroom townhouse, that from the description, will be perfect for you and Lily to stay in until you have to report to the academy."

"That sounds great," Wendy replied. "Lily and I will have a chance to explore the area before I start basic cadet training. Will you be staying with us?"

"Off and on. Once I have the two of you settled, I need to travel around a bit making arrangements for Lily's and my future. I'll pop in every few days to spend time with Lily and take care of anything that comes up in my absence."

Wendy made certain that her fingers were off the transmit button when she sighed, "Thank God!" She thought that she had done a respectable job of hiding her attraction to Lily's father. She knew that he was off-limits for several reasons; not the least of which was the fact that he was her boss, and he was obviously still in mourning over the death of his wife. But damn, the few times that she had seen it, Wendy recognized that Lily's father had a smile that could melt the panties off a nun.

Wendy had never had a steady boyfriend, preferring to date different guys. She hadn't felt that it was her obligation to cure every hard-on in the neighborhood, but she had explored sex a few times with different boys. The temptation for her to sample what a man like Lily's father could teach her would be hard for her to resist if they spend too much time together someplace where certain opportunities might present themselves.

As they passed interstate 40, she keyed the walkie-talkie and asked, "Hey you, how long will it take us to get to Colorado Springs?"

Chet replied, "How's Lily doing?"

"She's doing fine, but you're going to have to put up with me reciting basketball scores to you soon. My brain is being turned to mush. How many freaking college basketball teams are there?"

Chuckling, Chet asked, "Do you think she'll hold out for another hour or so I thought we might stop in Santa Fe for lunch."

Wendy ignored the tingle in her nether regions in response to the sound of his laugh, and said, "If we could pull over somewhere really quick so that I could give her a bottle of juice, I think that she would easily last another hour without fussing."

"Okay. Keep an eye out for a convenient exit and I'll follow you. We could probably both use a bio break as well."

Wendy knew that the image of the "biological break" that she was trying to force from her mind was not the type that Chet was referring to. She began watching for a very public place for them to pull off to.

Saturday, March 03, 1990

"Hello?"

"Hi, Wendy, it's me."

"Hey, you! Hang on one second so I can turn down the volume on the TV."

Chet heard Wendy set the phone receiver down and soon heard the background sound of the television diminish considerably. One of the first things he had done the Monday after settling them into the townhouse in Colorado Springs was to arrange for telephone service in Wendy's name. He delayed leaving for two days as he waited to ensure that Wendy and Lily would have telephone service before he left them alone.

Chet had also insisted on putting the lease and all other utilities into Wendy's name. He convinced her that while he would be paying the bills, having the lease and multiple utilities in her name would be an excellent way for her to start establishing a credit history while at the academy. Wendy saw the logic in that and agreed.

"Okay, I'm back," Wendy said as she returned to their telephone conversation.

"What were you watching?"

"The Miss USA pageant, but it just ended. Miss Michigan won the title. She is the first African-American to be crowned Miss USA."

"I'm sure she is beautiful," Chet said. "How are you and Lily doing? Do you need anything?"

"Have I told you that you have a weird daughter?" Wendy asked with a laugh. "Remember, I told you about the physical qualifying requirements for basic cadet training?"

Chet hesitated and said, "I remember. Push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups, plus a timed run, right?"

"Right. Well, I take Lily with me to the fitness center here in the complex and she sits quietly in her playpen while I am on the treadmill, but then she starts laughing hysterically as soon as I start doing sit-ups, push-ups, or pull-ups..."

"Maybe it's your technique," Chet replied with a laugh.

"There's nothing wrong with my technique," Wendy said in an offended tone. "My father taught me exactly how the Air Force expects them all to be done. But seriously, sometimes I have to pause to make certain that Lily isn't hyperventilating from her laughter."

"When I get back, I'll watch you myself to try and figure out what she finds so humorous," Chet teased. "I called to let you know that I will be arriving there sometime after midnight. I didn't want to frighten you when you hear me come in."

Wendy looked down at her clothes at the moment. She was wearing a tank top that came only to her midriff and a pair of panties. Attire which was fine for when it was just her and Lily in the townhouse, but not something that she should be wearing with Lily's father home. There was no way that she would want him to think that she was trying to entice him, even if that is exactly what she wanted to do.

"Thanks for the heads-up," she said. "How long will you be staying?"

Chet thought about the question before answering, "I have a little more research to do tonight, and that will determine when I have to leave next. Did you have any plans for tomorrow?"

Wendy decided to do a little teasing of her own, "Lily and I had a spa day planned, but the scheduling is flexible."

Chet ignored her and said, "I know that Lily is too young to appreciate it as much as she will when she gets older, but how would you like it if I gave you a day to yourself while I took Lily to the Denver Zoo?"

"I see two problems with that idea," Wendy said. "First, you wouldn't want to take Lily in the truck, and if you took the Firebird, I would be stuck here by myself without transportation. I'm not driving that tank..."

"What's the other reason?"

"I would really love to see the zoo!" Wendy squealed.

Chuckling, Chet said, "And we would love to have you join us."

"Uh oh," Wendy said. "Hang on a second."

Chet heard the volume of the television increase slightly for a few seconds before it lowered again. Wendy spoke, "There's a chance of a blizzard reaching us tonight or tomorrow morning. It's coming down from the northwest, so a trip to the zoo tomorrow might not work out."

"If not tomorrow, then some other time soon," Chet said. "It would be just as happy spending the day with you and Lily safe and warm at home. You better go get some sleep and I'll try not to wake you when I come in."

"Good night, Hey, you. Oh, and don't worry about waking me. I'm sure that you'll want to come in and kiss Lily when you get home, so feel free to come in."

"Good night," Chet said immediately before disconnecting the call. He pulled the cable from the back of the phone, plugged it into the computer modem, turned Suzy's computer on, and waited for it to boot.

He had originally begun his research at libraries to provide a degree of anonymity to his queries. When he realized that the computer that Suzy had been using had the same Prodigy access that the libraries did, he simply had to figure out a way to connect to a telephone line without it being traced back to him. The solution turned out to be for him to install a standard telephone jack into one of the cabinets in the camper that was on the interior wall of one of the exterior storage bays. The fifty feet of telephone cable in the exterior storage bay could be connected to the telephone demarcation box of a house or business, allowing Chet to tap into that phone line.

The initial challenge was to identify a way to not have the pirated connection detected, which meant that it had to be done at a time when no one else would want to use the same telephone line. Pirating the telephone line of a closed business seemed the most logical solution, but a truck with a camper attached to it being parked beside a closed business would likely draw the attention of someone like the police. Identifying a business where a parked camper would not raise any suspicions came to Chet rather quickly. He would target auto repair shops, body shops, and similar businesses that always had vehicles waiting for work parked around them.

Tonight, he was parked beside the B.F. Goodrich tire store in Colorado Springs, only a few miles from the townhouse. When the computer had finished booting, he logged onto Suzy's Prodigy account using the local dial-up number for Lenexa, Kansas that he always used. It would show up as a long-distance call from this location, alerting the company that their phone line had been used if they noticed it on their bill from the phone company, but there was no way to trace the activity back to Chet. He didn't know what capabilities Prodigy or the authorities might have related to tracking users, but Chet didn't want to take unnecessary risks.

Once the home screen for his session opened, he went directly to Suzy's e-mail. He had been visiting multiple message board rooms over the past week, seeking information on the location of a couple of former pen pals from the Ozark Correctional Center, last names, Spencer and Callendar.

When Detective Delgado had described the tattoos on the necks of the two men from the bowling alley robbery, Chet had immediately recognized the letter 'z' within a circle as being the moniker of someone who had spent time at Ozark. Chet was trying to get information on where these men that Cronk and Charlene Capshaw had mentioned might be located.

He, or as others saw it, Suzy, had received three e-mails from men who claimed that they had been in Ozark, but only one knew of two other inmates with those last names. This man wanted to meet with Suzy in person to share what he knew of their whereabouts. Chet composed a response, claiming that due to her late-stage cervical cancer, she was unable to travel, but she would appreciate the chance to say her goodbyes to these two men who had been so supportive of her struggles to beat this disease. Chet would have to wait and see if he had tugged on the guy's heartstrings strongly enough.

Seeing no other reason to remain connected, Chet shut down the Prodigy session, which automatically disconnected the modem to end the phone call. Pulling one of the black-out shades on the camper's windows aside slightly, Chet checked the area to verify that he was still unnoticed. He turned off the lights inside the camper before stepping out of the camper. He closed and locked the door before quickly disconnecting his phone tap and stowing the cable back into the storage bay from where he had taken it.

It was only a five-mile drive from the tire store to the Mailboxes, Etc. postal store where Chet had rented a private post office box. Although the store itself was closed at this hour, the lobby with the post boxes was accessible to customers with the key provided with their rental. Chet quickly entered the lobby and searched for the box number that had been assigned to him. This was his first visit to the box since renting it, and it took him a few seconds to locate it. Opening the door with a different key, he withdrew the single envelope within the box, then closed and relocked the door.

He didn't bother opening the envelope right then. The return address for the Benton County, Washington county clerk's office told him that the certified copy of the birth certificate that he had requested had arrived. He had walked into the clerk's office last Wednesday and explained that all of his vital records had been destroyed in a house fire. He filled out the required forms, providing the answers to the security questions that he had gleaned from reading the man's obituary in "The Oklahoman", the largest daily newspaper in Oklahoma.

After reviewing his application, the assistant clerk informed him that she could provide a photocopy of his birth certificate, but a certified copy would have to be mailed to him because the County Clerk was in a meeting with the county supervisors until after lunch. He provided his mailing address, which was the street address for the Mail Stop store, with his box number as the apartment number. He wasn't in that big of a hurry, but he would need the copy of the birth certificate to be certified for it to be of any value to his plan.

The twenty-five-year-old man had been born in Kennewick, Washington, but had died, along with his wife and infant daughter on a lonely stretch of highway in northwestern Oklahoma two months ago. While some agencies in larger cities and counties had started sharing vital records data with other agencies, Chet had been fairly confident that the death certificate issued in Guymon County, Oklahoma would be invisible to the county clerk in Benton County, Washington, and he had been right. He would be taking a bigger chance going after the birth certificate for the then eight-month-old daughter, since she was born in Tulsa, Oklahoma, but the sooner he made the request, the better the likelihood that his application for his daughter's birth certificate would be processed before word of the death got recorded in a database that the Tulsa County Clerk could use to crosscheck the request against death records.

The man's birth certificate would not by itself be adequate to prove his identity. Chet would need to use that document to apply for a replacement driver's license, which could only be obtained through a personal visit to a State of Oklahoma Department of Motor Vehicles office. For that, he wanted to visit an office as far away from the Tulsa area as possible. Maybe one closest to the border with Texas?

The trip tonight was quick, owing to the almost non-existent traffic for almost midnight on a Saturday evening. Light snow was falling, but the roadways were clear. The townhouse had a single-car garage which they used for the Firebird. Chet backed the truck onto the driveway in front of the garage so that the back door of the camper was inches from the closed garage door. Chet had his duffle bag on the passenger side floorboard so he wouldn't need anything from the back of the camper that night. Tomorrow, he would be able to open the roll-up garage door from the inside and unload what he wanted from the camper with minimal exposure to any inclement weather.

Entering the townhouse's front door as quietly as possible, Chet set his duffle bag on the floor and removed his coat. While hanging it on a hook he noticed that Wendy had placed a half-sized baking sheet underneath the wall-mounted coat rack. He smiled at the way that Wendy's sneakers appeared so tiny sitting on the 13" by 18" pan. There was a slight trace of water around the edges of the sneakers, which Chet assumed was from melted snow. He quickly removed his boots and set them on the baking sheet. He wore a size twelve boot, but they looked enormous alongside Wendy's sneakers.

Melancholy suddenly replaced the anxious anticipation he had felt seconds before. He still wanted to go and see his daughter, to assure himself that she was fine, and to kiss her good night. But he would now be doing so under the cloud of a memory. The memory of the times, after they had made love when he and Suzy would spend time together in their bed.

Suzy would comment on how much she treasured the differences between their physical attributes. While teasing that the difference in their intimate physical parts is what brought her the most pleasure, she would also occasionally place her palms against his, or the bottom of her bare feet against his and comment on how his being bigger than her made her feel so safe and protected.

Chet hadn't been there to protect her when she needed him to be, but he would protect their memories, protect their daughter, and protect the justice that Suzy deserved.

"Hey, you. Welcome home."

"Sorry if I woke you," Chet apologized. He was surprised that a smile was working its way onto his face at the appearance of his au pair. Her hair was in pigtails and she stood before him wearing plaid flannel footed pajamas. She looked like an oversized toddler in all of her innocence.

"You didn't wake me. I stayed up reading until you got home. Are you hungry?"

Chet nodded and said, "I will make myself some soup after I check in on Lily. You should try to get some sleep. One of us will need to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when Lily wants up in the morning."

Wendy waved him off dismissively, and said, "I took a nap with Lily this afternoon, so I'm good. Why don't you go say good night to Lily while I fix you something?"

"Nothing too heavy, okay," Chet said as he watched Wendy walk towards the kitchen. A full smile came to his face when he noticed that the button flap on the back of her pajamas had one of the buttons undone, leaving the flap on that side to fold over and expose a good portion of her left butt cheek. He would figure out a way to explain the clothing miscue to her after he visited with Lily.

Chet had installed locking wheels onto the legs of Lily's crib so that it could easily be moved between the bedrooms in the townhouse. Although Wendy was being paid to care for Lily, Chet usually insisted that Lily stayed in his room when he was home. Even though the crib would be rolled and positioned next to his bed, Chet found himself placing Lily in the bed beside him when he kept her in his room. Needing more sleep tonight than Wendy said that she would, he would leave Lily where she was and focus on spending more time with her while she was awake the next day. He placed his hand gently onto Lily's back to feel her heartbeat and her slow steady breaths before leaning down and kissing her on the cheek. Chet whispered, "Sweet dreams. Daddy loves you." He left the room, pulling the door almost completely closed, but not enough for the knob to latch.

Chet walked into the kitchen and took a seat at the counter. Wendy was on the other side, facing away from him as she rinsed something in the sink. Inspecting the falling flap closer, Chet saw that the button wasn't merely undone, it was missing.

"I have a sewing kit in the camper," he said. "I'll get it for you in the morning."

With a confused glance over her shoulder, Wendy asked, "Why, does Lily need something mended?"

Chet's only response was to point a finger at her backside. Wendy first tried looking over her shoulder and around her sides for the spot he was indicating. When that didn't reveal anything, she reached back with her right hand and after patting around, she finally felt her exposed bare skin and then the falling flap. Spinning quickly to face Chet, her bright red face showed a combination of embarrassment and anger.

She lunged across the kitchen to grab an apron that hung on a hook on the pantry door. Tying the apron around her waist backward so that the lacy fabric hung over her exposed derriere, she looked sheepishly at Chet and said, "I'm sorry. I know that button was there when I put my pajamas on. I'll have to search for it tomorrow when it's light."

"It's not a problem as far as I'm concerned," Chet assured her. He then teased. "There's another girl with one a bit smaller sleeping in your room I've seen hers several times."

Trying to look angry but failing, Wendy asked, "Are you saying that I have a big butt?"

Laughing, Chet replied, "Why yes I am, and you should appreciate the fact that your butt is recognized as being bigger than a nine-month-old's."

Serving him the bowl of soup, Wendy said, "There has to be some compromise or middle ground between having a big butt and one the size of a nine-month-old."

After tasting the soup, Chet said, "Rest assured, you have a perfectly acceptable eighteen-year-old butt. Let's just try to keep it under wraps. What do you say?"

She huffed and said, "Well since it's merely just an 'acceptable' butt, I wouldn't want to torture people by letting them see it..."

Chet chuckled and said, "Thanks for heating up the soup. You should take your perfectly acceptable butt to bed now. It's almost one in the morning. I'll be crashing myself as soon as I finish the soup."

"Okay, just leave the bowl in the sink and I'll take care of it in the morning. Good night."

"Sweet dreams, Wendy."

"Sweet dreams, Hey, you."

Tuesday, March 13, 1990

Once the contacts from the Prodigy message boards and e-mail had identified Todd Callendar and Ray Spencer as the pen pals from the Ozark Correctional Center, the next challenge for Chet was locating them. He didn't want to ask Hollister or anyone else to assist in the search, because he didn't want his interest in the two men to be known to another living soul. Instead, he returned to the library and began searching telephone and reverse look-up directories for every telephone exchange in Missouri and the surrounding states.

It had been a long and arduous task, but he knew that he only had to find one of them. That would lead him to the other one soon enough. When Chet had called a listing for a "T. Callendar" in Devil's Elbow, Missouri, he got connected with a woman who claimed to be the ex-wife of "that deadbeat", Todd Callendar. She was more than happy to provide every lead that she could think of to help the debt collector that Chet represented himself to be, find her ex-husband.

It had been easy to follow the drunken man that others had pointed out to be Todd Callendar as he left the bowling alley in Waynesboro. Chet thought it cosmically just for a bowling alley to be one of Todd Callendar's last memories. The diminutive size of Callendar when compared to the strength of Chet made abducting him a breeze. Chet had simply grabbed Callendar's left arm as he exited the side door of the bowling alley and swung him around until his face met the brick wall. Frog marching the dazed and inebriated man to the back of the camper where he was quickly secured and silenced took only seconds.

That had all occurred last night, which had left Chet with ample time to drive from Waynesboro to a deserted farm outside of Redfield, Missouri. Chet awoke in the cab of the truck at sunrise and spent the next five hours coercing the confession and other information out of Callendar. Chet had obtained not only Callendar's confession related to Suzy's murder but also confirmation that he and Ray Spencer had been paid by the Capshaws and Preston Cronk to commit that crime as well as the murders of John and Joleen Capshaw.

He had to make two stops on their subsequent journey that brought them to this quarry, once for Chet to eat something, and once to purchase the bottles of bourbon. Chet had expected to arrive near the quarry while it was still active, so he had planned on parking in a secluded location until he could see signs that all the workers had left for the day. However, the tornado threats in the area had been taken seriously enough that the management of the quarry had shut down operations in the middle of the day, and Chet found it completely abandoned upon his arrival.

The Horizontal Shaft Impactor, or HSI, was located at the bottom of the quarry, next to the large diesel generator that powered it. He found it strange that there were no fences or gates around the quarry, and he found no obstacle to his driving his truck down the winding paths that led to the bottom.

He had reviewed the operating instructions for this model of HSI at the library in Denver last week, so he was confident in his ability to operate it. The diesel generator was another matter. He needn't have been concerned, though, because instructions for running the generator were posted and easy to follow. The sun had just set under the upper rim of the quarry when Chet flipped the switch to start the generator. He waited until the dials on the generator indicated that it was outputting the correct power for the HSI before pulling down the ladder from the top of his camper.

Opening the 14-foot a-frame ladder and positioning it in front of the HSI, Chet quickly scampered up to peer into the cavernous bin. He was pleased to see that some large boulders were already inside the bin, filling it to a third of its capacity. He climbed down the ladder and followed the instructions to select the particle size desired, which in his case was the size of pea gravel. He then flipped the switch to turn the machine on. He was rewarded with the sound of a battle between metal and rock; a battle that the rock lost every time.

The sound of the tornado sirens and the drive assembly of the HSI would easily drown out any screams. The screams of pain wouldn't bother Chet anyway. He was more concerned about getting on the road in a northwesterly direction as quickly as possible.

The duct tape over the mouth of Todd Callendar prevented him from speaking, but that was okay. With a blood-alcohol level that was likely off the charts by this point, Callendar was in no condition to resist Chet pulling him out of the camper, lifting him into a fireman's hold, and heading for the ladder. Reaching the front of the bin, Chet balanced Callendar on the lip and quickly removed the duct tape from over his mouth. A simple push on Callendar's chest sent him tumbling on top of the few uncrushed boulders remaining.

A cry of pain from landing on the jagged boulders was all that Chet heard as he quickly closed the ladder and resecured it to the top of the camper. Closing and locking the camper door was his last task before climbing into the cab and navigating his exit from the quarry.

By the time he had reached the top of the quarry, the rain had started. Looking southwest, the sky was a mixture of green, gray, and purple, with thunderheads reaching thousands of feet into the heavens. There were no clouds directly over him, so Chet knew that the rain was being blown towards him from the upper altitudes, which foretold the unstable nature of the atmosphere. The sky was clear to the north, and only wispy high clouds floated on the western horizon.

He headed for Highway 56. When he reached that junction, he would have to choose whether to turn east towards Council Grove or to turn west towards Herington. Eastward would take him in the general direction that the storm was heading, and it would be unlikely that he would be able to outrun it with the camper-ladened truck on rural farm roads. West could potentially find him heading into the storm, but once he reached Herington, he would be able to maintain decent speeds on U.S. Highway 77. That would take him to Interstate 70 just south of Junction City, and that freeway would be the fastest and safest route on his way back to Colorado Springs. He even knew which rest areas along that interstate he could pull over and use to catch a few hours of sleep along the way.

Sunday, March 18, 1990

Though he was at least five inches taller than Todd Callendar, Ray Spencer felt to Chet like he weighed at least ten pounds less. Men as drunk as these two had been were still dead weight, but Chet didn't have to carry Spencer far.

Chet's bigger challenge was not letting the rope that he held in his left hand get twisted or fall loose before he had a chance to tie the free end to one of the railing posts on the bridge. The other end was already wrapped a half-dozen times around Spencer's ankles, that task was completed while his body was still in the back of the camper.

Chet bent and lowered Spencer's unconscious body onto the bridge directly over the tracks below. He could hear the faint sound of the Union-Pacific engine's horn as it blew at one of the unprotected at-grade crossings miles south of this bridge. On this Class 5 track, with no other at-grade crossings from that one until Kansas City, the engineer would soon be increasing the speed of the train so that it would be close to 80 MPH when it passed under this bridge. Perfect.

Finding the end of the spool of rope, Chet figured that he had used approximately six feet of the other end with the multiple wraps around Spencer's legs. That meant that he needed to tie the remaining twenty-five feet to the railing post so that Spencer would be at the desired height from the ground once he was lowered. Hanging Spencer off the south end of the bridge with a freight train traveling north at close to 80 MPH should have the desired effect.

Measuring off the amount of rope to tie to the railing post, he made quick work of tying it off. All Chet needed to do now is revive Spencer enough for him to realize his fate. The light of the approaching train was now visible in the silent Kansas night. Chet waved the smelling salts under Spencer's nose several times to bring him aware, if not fully conscious. The adrenaline that would soon flood his body should sober him up enough for the reality of his situation to be clear.

As soon as Chet saw the slightest bit of sentient presence in Spencer's eyes, he hoisted him over the railing and let him drop. The scream of pain as the rope reached its limit, resulting in the likely dislocation of Spencer's hips and possibly hyperextension of his knee joints, echoed through the rural farmlands, with only the unsympathetic ears of a murdered woman's soulmate to hear it.

Chet stood at the railing for a few minutes, watching Spencer slowly spinning at the end of the rope, his head mere feet above the gravel bed of the railroad tracks. Once he heard the cries of panic indicating that Spencer realized what his true situation was, Chet walked off the bridge and returned to his truck.

It was a clear, quiet night, with a sky full of stars. The air temperature was still a little too chilly to drive with the driver's window down, or Chet was certain that by the time he had turned south onto U.S. Highway 400, he would have heard the screeching of the train's brakes. It was possible that the engineer never realized that the train had struck anything, or that he knew that he had hit something, but wrote it off as a deer or other animal.

The impact of a train locomotive traveling at close to 80 MPH would do enough damage to a human body, but Chet imagined that there would be little left but the rope after Spencer's crushed body had been swung up into the bottom of the overpass by the impact and then bounced down onto every subsequent rail car that passed underneath the bridge. That was no longer Chet's concern. The two men who admitted to the murder of Suzy had met the fate that they deserved, and if no one else ever knew they were dead, at least Chet knew, and that was enough justice for him.

He turned on the radio thinking that he might as well listen to some music, but all he could pick up in this rural area of Kansas was a staticky weather report. The reception improved as the highway crossed back over the border of Missouri. The signal was strong and steady by the time Chet transitioned onto Interstate 44. Unfortunately, the strongest radio signal was that of a popular Oklahoma City-based country-western station. Too many of the contemporary country music songs had been favorites of Suzy's, and Chet couldn't yet listen to songs that his soulmate used to sing along to without feeling morose and gloomy.

Finally locating an all-news station, Chet settled back in the driver's seat and waited for the top-of-the-hour news. He had not heard or read any news stories about what had happened at the rock quarry in Kansas and hadn't expected to. There might have been pieces of Callendar large enough for some sort of testing, or blood samples suitable for analysis, but even if they could identify his remains, the existing evidence would make it difficult for the authorities to determine the circumstances of how or why the man got into the HSI.

Certainly, if Callendar was identified from his fingerprints on the bourbon bottles that had been left at the quarry, his criminal record would come to light, and that might lead the authorities to suspect that something in his past had contributed to the circumstances related to his death. But, lacking any other hard facts or evidence, valuable law enforcement resources were not going to be dedicated to the case for long. Unless...

Spencer's case would be different. Once the rope was found tied to the bridge railing, it would become clear that this had been an intentional act. If the authorities were able to find relevant pieces of Spencer's body to show that his hands had been tied behind his back, suicide would quickly be discarded as the probable cause, which would leave homicide as the remaining theory.

Since both incidents had occurred in the same state, and would both be viewed as particularly gruesome, they might wind up being reviewed by the Kansas Bureau of Investigations, or at least see their lab getting involved. Chet had considered this, and he had chosen the execution methods for both men in locations and by means that left no evidence of his involvement.

Unless the two men could be tied to the bowling alley murders in New Mexico, the only possible way for Chet to be associated in any fashion with Spencer and Callendar would be if Cronk or the Capshaws admitted their complicity in the plot to murder Suzy and get custody of her daughter to gain control of the trust. Chet doubted that any links could be drawn between Spencer, Callendar, and the Capshaws quickly, if ever, and his plans would make the long-term possibility of a link being established a moot point.

Retribution against Preston Cronk and the Capshaws would expose Chet the most because of their continued efforts to wrestle control of the trust away from him and Lily. Executing the plan that he had for them without revealing his involvement would be challenging, and present a higher level of unpredictability than Chet would typically accept on a mission. This is why he needed to have his alternate identity firmly in place before he could move ahead with his plan.

Turning his attention to the radio, Chet found it interesting, that in a time when countries around the world were either breaking apart or reunifying on almost a daily basis, the top story on the news that day was the ending of the baseball lockout by the owners. Spring training would be starting soon the news announced, which reminded Chet of the hope that he and Suzy had to one day visit Florida during spring training to watch the Royals play.

Chet had gotten his driver's license just before the 1985 World Series between the Royals and the St. Louis Cardinals. He and Suzy had spent the Sunday when the seventh and deciding game was to be played driving everywhere around Lamar that they had always treasured as a couple. Finally ending up on the shore of Lamar Lake, they watched the sunset and listened to the game on the radio while sitting, and sometimes laying together on a blanket beside the car.

Yawning, and feeling a pang of hunger at the same time, Chet decided to stop for a few hours at the Vinita service center, which was less than an hour from his current location on the Will Rogers Turnpike. Although you weren't supposed to sleep in a vehicle while parked at the service center, if he climbed in the back of the camper, no one would bother him for a few hours. The brief stop wouldn't delay his arrival home beyond what he had told Wendy to expect.

Wendy. She had been caring for Lily for about a month, and it saddened Chet to watch his daughter beginning to accept this former stranger and bond with her in the role that rightfully belonged to Suzy. He didn't envision a scenario for his and Lily's future where his daughter would ever have another consistent relationship with a mother figure. He knew that his one chance at a life-long love had died with Suzy.

Chet couldn't discount the possibility that he might someday care for another woman, but he held no illusions that his heart would ever find room for someone capable of replacing what he had with Suzy, and simply settling for less would not be something that he could do. He deserved what he and Suzy had shared and it would be disrespectful to her and the memory of what they had together for him to accept anything less.

Friday, April 06, 1990

"How'd you do?"

"Nine minutes flat," Wendy beamed as she hung her sweatshirt onto a hook in the foyer.

Chet applauded her, being careful not to jostle a sleeping Lily who was snuggled against his chest. "Nice."

Joining Chet on the opposite side of the couch, Wendy pulled her shoes off and then folded her legs under herself so that she could turn to face Chet and Lily. "It took me longer to reach my goal due to the altitude."

"You were already running the mile and a half in under the fourteen-minute, twenty-nine-second requirement," Chet reminded her.

Wendy snorted and said, "Yeah, like my dad would accept anything less than my receiving a Warhawk award at the end of basic. Are you sure that you don't mind him staying with us when he comes to take me to the academy?"

Chet nodded and said, "Just as long as you keep your promise to help me finish unpacking and sorting through the rest of the boxes from the storage unit. The sooner that we get that done, the sooner we can get that room prepared for a guest. Are you happy with your scores on the rest of the requirements?"

"Yeah, I have all of them beat by at least ten percent." Patting her abdomen, she proudly said, "I did seventy-two sit-ups yesterday in a minute. That's better than the male requirement for Warhawk."

Chet appraised Wendy's athletic physique and had to admit, she made woman-kind proud. She was "buff", yet she still retained an obvious softness and sensuality about her. Chet imagined that she would be able to more than hold her own against most guys.

He said, "You never told me why your mom wasn't coming, and it would be just your dad. Couldn't she get the time off from work?"

Wendy hesitated to respond as she watched Lily stirring in her father's arms. The infant opened her eyes and smiled at Wendy as Chet set her down on the couch between them. Lily quickly crawled over to Wendy and up into her lap.

"Hello, Angel," Wendy softly said as she kissed Lily's forehead. "If I put you on the floor, will you stay out of trouble?"

Chet chuckled. Wendy had so thoroughly child-proofed the townhouse that Lily often expressed her frustration at not having access to a particular area or item that had drawn her attention, and it seemed like everything drew her attention.

Wendy set Lily on the floor so that her feet were on the floor as her tiny hands gripped the front of the couch. She then rose and walked over to Lily's playpen and picked up a couple of Lily's favorite toys and brought them back to her, setting them on the floor at Lily's feet. Lily immediately released her grip on the couch cushion and plopped her diaper-padded butt on the floor. She ignored the toys and went directly for Wendy's discarded shoes.

Wendy picked up her shoes and resumed her same spot on the couch. Her face revealed her saddening mood as she said, "My parents have separated. I'm not sure if it's a permanent thing or just a way for them to put some distance between themselves and their shared pain over losing my brother."

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?" Chet inquired. He had never pressed Hollister or Wendy on the circumstances surrounding the death of Wendy's younger brother.

"Cody was an 'Oops' baby. There were almost ten years between him and me. My mom was convinced that she couldn't have any more babies when she found out that she was pregnant, and with a boy no less. The son that she had always wanted to give to my father. Anyway, Cody was the apple of all of our eyes. I doubt that any child was ever loved more than we all loved him, but we probably spoiled him too much at the same time. He always had my mom, my dad, or me to watch over him, so he lacked the self-reliance that would have allowed him to stand up for himself more, especially around boys his own age..."

"He was bullied?" Chet asked.

Wendy nodded and said, "Mercilessly. That's what eventually led to his death. One day last December, right before the holiday break, Cody was walking home from school when three other boys started chasing him. Cody cut between two houses and wound up in an alley. There was a discarded refrigerator that Cody apparently thought he could hide in. We don't know what happened to cause the refrigerator to fall onto its front, whether the other boys pushed it over or Cody's weight caused it to shift its balance, but the end result was that my brother was trapped inside and suffocated to death. It was after dark before those searching for him discovered his dead body in the refrigerator."

"I can understand a tragedy like that tearing at a family," Chet said with sincere sympathy in his voice.

Nodding, Wendy said, "Between my mom's grieving and my father's anger and rage, I knew that I had to get away from them before everything consumed me. My Aunt Shawna provided me with an escape, and then you came along with Lily to further help me cope with the loss. I can't thank you enough. Do you feel comfortable enough with me to share what happened with Lily's mom?"

Chet sat silent for almost a minute before answering, "She was murdered."

He paused before continuing, "I've known people who have had loved ones die of cancer or some other disease, and I never realized how blessed they were, and I doubt any of them would consider themselves blessed, but they definitely were. They had the opportunity to prepare; to spend time with their loved one, express their love, and share memories at the end. They had no doubts. I lost both of my parents suddenly in a traffic accident. I'll never know if they truly knew how much I loved them, how much I respected them, and how much I would miss them. I wasn't given the opportunity to tell them or say goodbye. With Suzy, I don't doubt that she knew how strongly I loved her, but I still have other doubts. When you lose someone without warning, you will always wonder about what was left unsaid that shouldn't have been. I will always wonder with Suzy."

Tears were streaming down Wendy's face. She used the sleeve of her t-shirt to wipe them away as Lily used Wendy's leg to pull herself to a standing position and stuttered, "Da-da".

Softly touching the top of Lily's head, Wendy smiled and said, "We've been working on that for a couple of days. I don't think she associates it with you alone, but eventually, she will. Right now, she associates it with getting my attention, which means that she either needs to be changed or she wants something to eat. Would you mind taking care of her while I go get cleaned up?"

Chet reached over and picked Lily up and held her so that he could check her diaper. He teased, "She's clean, so the rank odor in here must be you. Why don't you take a shower and I'll get our angel something to gnaw on? After you get done, I will need to take off for a while to check my mail and run a few errands. Want me to pick up Chinese food for dinner?"

Wendy stuck her tongue out at him as she rose and headed for the hallway, saying, "I'll be quick, and Chinese sounds good. Thanks."

Chet unmuted the television before rising to carry Lily with him into the kitchen. She continued to make gurgling noises in an attempt to communicate as he poured some apple juice into a bottle for her. Chet didn't have a lot of experience with infants, but the research he had been doing while at various libraries indicated to him that Lily was developing at least a month or two ahead of most children at this stage of their lives. Her motor skills in particular were months ahead of the norm.

Returning to the living room, he placed Lily into her playpen, which occupied its place of honor in front of the television. He handed her the bottle, which she greedily began sucking on. When he held his hand out, exposing the three little goldfish crackers in his palm, Lily deftly snatched them in her own. She sat staring up at him, appearing to contemplate whether she wanted to continue drinking the juice or stop to eat one of the crackers.

Chet suppressed a laugh as he watched her struggling with her dilemma for several seconds before tossing the bottle aside and starting on the crackers. Although the nipple on the bottle would not allow much of the juice within to leak out, Chet reached over the edge of the playpen and set it upright. His attention then turned to what he had just heard on the TV; the name, John Poindexter.

While not concerned that the witch hunt related to the Iran-Contra affair would ever trickle down to someone at his level of involvement in the events, Chet had played a small role in some of the arms trading that had taken place and knew, at least by name, most of the key players. He had even met Colonel Oliver North once while working with the CIA in Central America. Politicians could criticize the methods used, but few of them were willing to criticize the results. Most Central American countries were at peace for the first time in decades, or soon would be. Several now had governments aligned with America's interests rather than our enemies.

Soon bored with the uninformed analysis and commentary of the guests on the news program, Chet changed to the Weather Channel. If Lily hadn't been awake at that moment, he would have muted the sound and tried to do his own weather forecasting from the millibar charts and other graphical information provided. His meteorological skills were developing slower than he had hoped. He had a lot to learn in a short period of time. He also needed to spend more time in the Prodigy message forums frequented by 'storm chasers' to establish relationships that could be beneficial to his mission.

Wendy came back into the living room wearing the plaid flannel footed pajamas that she had replaced the button on. To emphasize that point, she turned her back to Chet and wiggled her butt at him.

"Your butt is still perfectly adequate," Chet said with a laugh. "Kinda early to get ready for bed, isn't it?"

Wendy shrugged and took a seat on the couch. She said, "I have no reason to go out again before bedtime, so why not go ahead and get comfortable?"

Chet stood, leaned over the edge of the playpen to plant a kiss on Lily's cheek, and then headed for the foyer, speaking over his shoulder as he went, "I'll only be gone for a couple of hours. Do you need me to pick up anything while I am out?"

Wendy jumped up and said, "Let me check."

Walking quickly down the hallway to the closet that they used to store linens and necessities for Lily, she did a quick inventory before returning to the living room and saying, "Lily has enough diapers to last a few more days, but we're getting dangerously low on condoms."

Wendy had expected to surprise Chet with her comment, but she didn't mean to make him choke and cough for over a minute as he tried to recover. Finally, he wiped the tears from his eyes, pointed at her, and said, "Evil child. Just evil."

Wendy laughed on and off for five minutes after Chet had left. Lily watched her, frequently giggling along with Wendy.

Chet checked his box in the Mailboxes Etc. store farthest from the townhouse. This is where mail addressed to him would be directed, and where he found the title to the Firebird that transferred ownership of the vehicle to Wendy Lewis. He frowned again at the bureaucratic obstacles that the transaction had entailed.

The Colorado DMV would not accept the Letters of Administration from the probate court that gave Chet the right to transfer the title in Suzy's name because it was a New Mexico title. This meant that he had to travel to the nearest New Mexico DMV to first have the title transferred into his name, paying the registration fees, before he could then take that title to the Colorado DMV and transfer the title from himself to Wendy, once again paying registration fees.

The only other mail of any significance was a copy of the contract that Chet had agreed to with a realtor in Lamar to handle the clean-out and then the listing of his parents' former house and the house that Suzy had inherited from her parents. He slid the documents into his coat pocket and headed back to his truck. The Mailboxes Etc. location had been chosen by Chet because it was the one in the area farthest from the townhouse. He didn't think there was any risk yet, but at some time in the future, if someone staked out his postal facility in an attempt to locate him, he wanted plenty of time to spot them and shake any tail before returning to the townhouse.

The man sitting in the passenger seat of Chet's truck did not attempt to hide his presence and actually waved at Chet once he knew that he had been noticed. Not immediately recognizing the stranger in his truck, Chet approached cautiously from the driver's side until he could more clearly see the man's features. When recognition eventually came to Chet, he didn't hesitate to open the driver's door and settle behind the wheel.

"Peters," Chet said in greeting. "To what do I owe this pleasure."

Akeem Peters smiled a big toothy smile that Chet had seen hundreds of times. The contrast of his brilliant white teeth compared to his dark, almost ebony skin always made Peters' smile seem larger than life. He extended his hand to Chet and said, "Buenos Dios, Amigo. It's good to see you, man."

Akeem Peters' exact role with the CIA had never been explained to Chet, but he quickly learned to trust the influence that Peters had within the agency where field operations were concerned. No one had ever questioned Peters when he had made split-second changes to an operational strategy or even canceled a mission entirely because he saw something that others had overlooked.

"It's good to see you too," Chet said as he shook the proffered hand. "I assume that this isn't a social visit."

Sighing, Peters said, "That is exactly what it is. I wanted to check on you to see how you were holding up and express to you my condolences for the loss of your wife. I've been out of the country and only heard about the incident last week. I know it's been a couple of months, but is there anything that I can do for you? I understand that you have an infant daughter."

"Yes, Lily, and thank you for your offer. She's nine months old now and I have hired an au pair to help care for her while I tend to the matters related to my wife's death." Chet explained about the bowling alley robbery and how Suzy was one of the victims.

"And the police have no clues about who these guys are?" Peters asked.

Chet shook his head and glanced out of the side window of the truck as he answered, "That's what they tell me. I keep hoping that one of the survivors of the robbery will recall some tidbit of information that will allow the police to identify these guys, but so far, nothing has been revealed to me that indicates progress like that."

Peters nodded and asked, "How are you fixed financially? I know that you banked most of your salary while in the Army. Is that holding you for now?"

"Yes. Those savings plus what I got from Suzy's estate is more than enough to take care of our daily needs for a while. I'll eventually need to get a job, if for no other reason than I will need something to do with my days. That will have to wait though until Lily gets a little older and can be placed into daycare or something."

"I understand. Full-time au pairs can get expensive after a while."

Chet shook his head and said, "The expense isn't the issue. The girl I hired will be entering the Air Force Academy in June. I could probably find someone to replace her, but I'm concerned right now about introducing too many female roles into Lily's life. I will try to care for her myself for a few months and then decide if I need help. So, West didn't send you, huh?"

Dillon West was the Director within the Special Activities Division of the CIA who had been trying to recruit Chet to join the Special Operations Group once he had left the Army. Peters was aware of these efforts since Chet had shared his thoughts on the opportunities that West had presented to him.

"No," Peters assured him. "Why, has he been bugging you?

Chet shrugged and said, "I haven't heard from him since I returned to Bragg, but I have been mostly off the grid since then."

Nodding, Peters said, "Well if you do hear from West, it won't be to recruit you to join the agency. He left the agency to start his own private company. A couple of guys told me that he is becoming desperate to get people to join him because he has already made some commitments that he is having trouble keeping. I wouldn't worry about it though, you being a single father with a dependent won't make you too attractive to either the agency or West."

Chet and Peters both knew that individuals who had dependents were not typically considered for the types of field assignments that the Special Operations Group undertook. Even if they were not directly responsible for the care of their dependents, concern over them could distract an operative while in the field, and that could get people killed.

Peters thought for a moment, and then asked, "Have you heard from Vinnell or MPRI? They are both looking for people like you, and unlike West, they would probably have some U.S.-based assignments that would fit your single-father lifestyle."

Chet of course recognized the names of the two private military contractors. Shaking his head, Chet said, "No, but as I said, I have been mostly off the grid the last few months. I'm not ready to consider my future career at this time. There are still a few things related to Suzy's estate that I need to get resolved first."

"What's the problem? As her spouse, didn't everything she had just transfer to you?"

Chet briefly explained the legal challenges that Suzy's step-siblings were throwing at the courts, adding, "They're completely groundless and every claim gets shot down by my lawyer as soon as he gets before a judge, but they keep trying." He then briefed Peters on how the Capshaws had taken Lily immediately after Suzy's death in an attempt to get custody of her and access to the trust.

"Man, what greedy fuckheads," Peters said. "I'm glad that you got her back without any major problems. If anything like that happens again, call on me, brother."

"I appreciate that. Do you have a place to stay? You're welcome to hang out at my place."

Peters shook his head as he opened the passenger door and said, "Maybe next time. I am catching the red-eye out of Denver tonight. I have to report in at Langley tomorrow by noon."

Chet got out of his truck and met Peters at the front. They shook hands and shared a brotherly embrace before Peters walked over to a non-descript sedan and climbed in. Chet watched him drive away towards Interstate 25 before returning to the cab of his truck and starting it. As he drove to the Mail Stop postal center across town, he pondered the realization that he couldn't be completely off the grid if Peters was able to find him.

The postal box at this mail location was registered in his alias so that there would be a separation of his two identities. He was pleased to see that among the various pieces of junk mail, there was the replacement social security card that he had requested under his alias. His documentation for that identity, for both himself and Lily, was almost complete. He still needed to obtain a passport for himself. Lily wouldn't require one yet.

Chet still hoped that he wouldn't need to assume the new identity, but he was prepared if it became necessary to do so.

Friday, May 04, 1990

Until Chet had overheard the conversation between the two lawyers in the hallway while he waited to sign the closing documents on the house he had inherited from his parents, he had only intended to do some reconnaissance on Cronk and the Capshaws while he was in Lamar. Upon hearing the lawyers discussing Preston Cronk's plans for the evening, a different idea began to form in Chet's mind.

Chet would have to drive the rental car an hour and a half and put more than 90 miles onto the odometer each way. The time wasn't an issue but the mileage could be. The trip would add significantly more miles to the rental than simply driving from the airport in Joplin to Lamar and then back again. Would he be able to explain the miles if he ever needed to?

He had dozens of friends still in Lamar that he could probably borrow a vehicle from for a few hours, but there was no way that he would consider getting anyone else involved in his plan. While he would prefer not to introduce his alternate identity so soon, he didn't really see where he had other options if he was to take advantage of the opportunity presented to him. Before the closing was completed, Chet had the basic details of a plan established in his head. As soon as the cashier's check for the purchase of the house was handed to him, he was ready to begin implementation.

His flight back to Denver wouldn't leave until late tomorrow morning so he had reserved his hotel room in Joplin for two nights. He could have stayed closer to the airport but chose instead to stay at a midrange hotel chain closer to Interstate 49 to make the trip to and from Lamar more convenient. He hadn't considered how convenient it would be for other reasons until his plan needed him to.

Parking the rental sedan in the hotel parking lot where it could be seen from the lobby and front desk, Chet retrieved his briefcase and glanced a half mile down the access road at the signs he remembered seeing earlier before heading to his room. He would change his clothes and call Wendy to check in before taking a leisurely walk to one of the local fast-food restaurants to get his lunch.

~~~

Suzy used to tease Chet about his fascination with history and historical places, but she was always thrilled to accompany him on one of their treks to check out local sites that he had heard held some historical significance and to learn about them alongside him. Sitting in the dark cab of the U-Haul truck examining the Pythian Castle, Chet could almost sense Suzy's presence beside him as she had been when they had visited the structure years before.

Constructed in 1914 by the Knights of Pythias, its intended purpose as a retirement home for members of the fraternal organization only lasted a few decades. During World War Two, the U.S. government commandeered the facility for use in housing and providing medical treatment to German and Italian prisoners of war. The now demolished O'Reilly General Hospital once sat on an adjacent property and it was a remnant of that operation that interested Chet tonight.

Driving the truck around the back of the castle, Chet navigated between the power plant for the castle and the laundry building. Just past these buildings, he saw his destination. Though this industrial incinerator was no longer in use, Chet saw that the gas meter was still attached. He left the truck idling as he opened the glove box and retrieved the wrench he had purchased after renting the truck. Leaving the truck running so that the headlights would remain on, Chet opened the door and jumped down to the pavement.

He verified that the gas shut-off was in the "off" position and quickly used the wrench to align it to open the flow of gas to the incinerator. He could hear the slight hissing as long unused valves inside the incinerator started receiving gas once again. Chet then walked around to the side of the unit where the controls were located and familiarized himself with the various gauges and levers. Once satisfied that he could get the incinerator to ignite, he went to the rear of the U-Haul and raised the back door.

As the door slid up the rails along the roof of the truck, the cardboard grandfather clock box strapped to the hand truck came into view from the bottom to the top. Chet slid the ramp out from the bed of the truck and positioned it in place. He then quickly jogged up the ramp and untied the box and hand truck from the tie-downs in the side of the truck. These had kept the items upright during the short trip from the Holiday Inn where he had captured Preston Cronk as he had returned to his car.

During the closing for his parents' house, Chet had overheard a couple of other lawyers discussing the humor that they saw in Preston Cronk rushing out this evening to attend a celebration of the Latvian declaration of independence which had been announced that morning. The celebration at the Holiday Inn would have been an excellent opportunity for Cronk to shake a few hands and seek donations for his planned campaign to be elected a state circuit court judge. At least it would have been an excellent opportunity if it wasn't for the fact that the participants at the celebration would be almost entirely Latvian expatriates. By retaining their citizenship of Latvia, they weren't eligible to vote in the Missouri elections.

Rolling the box down the ramp and to the front of the incinerator, Chet considered whether the furnace had been used for its intended purpose since the end of World War Two. The U.S. Government felt that cremating POWs who died while in captivity made more sense than burying them and having to possibly exhume them at some point after the war ended. If their families back in Germany or Italy wanted the remains, it was much easier to send them a box of ashes than a decomposing body. Chet supposed that the hospital might have had some use for the incinerator for the short time that it was open after the war.

The latches securing the door to the cremation chamber were rusted, and it took Chet some back-and-forth wiggling to break them loose enough to release on both sides. Surprisingly, the hinges of the big steel doors functioned as designed and the wide double doors swung open with little effort once he got it moving. He unstrapped the box from the hand truck and separated the two so that the box stood alone at the opening of the chamber.

Chet wasn't concerned about following any rules or regulations that may exist for the proper way to perform a cremation, but he did see the benefit of having the body contained within a coffin or other combustible container, which is why he had purchased the grandfather clock box to place Cronk in. He tipped the top of the box until the side of the box rested against the lower edge of the chamber. Bending at the knees, Chet then squatted down and lifted the bottom of the box as he slid it into the chamber. Sliding the box around so that it was situated across almost the entire chamber, Chet made certain that the flap he had cut into the box faced outward.

He lifted the flap and looked in at the terrified eyes of Preston Cronk. The duct tape remained firmly across his mouth and had obviously held around his wrists and ankles since he hadn't been able to do any damage to the box while he was in it. Chet held the flap open as he spoke to ensure that his words would be heard, "You and your co-conspirators have made mine and my daughter's lives hell. The least I can do is to repay you in kind."

He pushed the flap closed before closing both doors to the incinerator and securing the latches. He walked around to the side with the controls and began the ignition process. Chet had purposely decided to wait until after Cronk was in the cremation chamber before starting the incinerator so that his victim would experience the maximum fear and anguish that his death would entail. Rotating the metal cover aside, Chet glanced through the viewing glass to see burners igniting around the chamber.

Within only a few more seconds, they would all be fully lit. A few minutes later and the internal temperature in the chamber would be climbing to its target temperature of over 1,600 degrees Fahrenheit. The time required for cremation varies from body to body, with the average for someone Cronk's size being approximately 90 minutes. Chet would be returning the rental truck by then.

There was no doubt that someone would eventually discover the ashen remains of a body in the cremator, and that would certainly lead to an investigation. Chet had chosen this location because it was virtually abandoned, with only caretaker personnel visiting on defined schedules. There was the possibility that someone would notice smoke coming from the incinerator as the body was burning, but it was a dark cloudy night with no wind and no one living nearby. Chet even knew that the insulation built into the incinerator would minimize the possibility of someone detecting it was still burning, days, weeks, or months from now.

Preston Cronk would be reported missing in the next couple of days and his car would be found still in the back parking lot of the Springfield Holiday Inn. His disappearance would remain as much a mystery as who the robbers were that had murdered Suzy. The Capshaws were living on borrowed time, but they didn't know it.

Saturday, June 02, 1990

"Finally, a chance!" Chet thought as he tracked the weather system through the comments of multiple "spotters" who had posted their observations and forecasts. He could see that he wasn't the only person interested in this system as more and more professed storm chasers dropped offline in order to prepare to validate their suspicions.

Predicting the weather was difficult enough. Predicting when and where a tornado was likely to occur took skills that Chet readily admitted he didn't possess. For his plan for the Capshaws to work out the way that he wanted it to, he had been forced to rely upon the knowledge and skills of others with far greater experience with positioning themselves in proximity to where the likelihood of a tornado occurring existed.

Lamar, Missouri sat within the legendary "Tornado Alley" across middle America, so it made sense to Chet that he could remain close to his targets while waiting for the circumstances to appear that made his plan viable. With the second house remaining on the market, Chet had a legitimate reason for remaining in Lamar that couldn't be questioned if anyone was even interested in trying. After all, he wasn't a threat to anyone, especially a family such as the Capshaws, who probably didn't even remember who he was or could recognize him if they saw him.

Timing would be critical for his plan, which is why an accurate prediction was important to Chet. The excitement that the message board members had been expressing gave him confidence that if he could get his targets staged near the southern tips of Illinois and Indiana, the severe storm activity forecast for that region tonight would create the "perfect storm" for the Capshaws. He didn't want to get there too early or he risked being in the path of any potential storms, but he had to get there soon enough after any storms to make his scenario believable.

Charlene Capshaw and her two children had moved into Preston Cronk's house along the shores of Lake Lamar but since his unexplained disappearance last month, they had relocated to their original home within the city of Lamar proper. It wasn't much of a sacrifice in lifestyle or comfort, since it was the stately manor that their father had bought for his family with the income from his multiple car dealerships. He had left the house to Charlene in their divorce. It wasn't on the shores of a lake, but it was still an opulent home that sat far back off the road on East 9^th Street. Chet knew exactly where he could sit and watch the house without being noticed, even with the auto transport trailer being towed behind his camper.

Most people would have cursed the rain that began falling almost the instant that Chet had stopped at his selected observation spot, but he saw it as beneficial to his plan. Rain on a Saturday morning would tend to keep people inside their homes rather than working in their yards or some other outdoor activity. That would lessen the already small risk of him being seen on his route out of Lamar.

Through the raindrop-splattered windshield, Chet had no difficulty identifying the two cars in the driveway of the Capshaw house that he knew belonged to Grant and Carrie. The garage door was closed, so he couldn't verify that Charlene's car was parked inside it. However, where else would she be this early on a Saturday morning? He pulled the hood of his parka over his head, grabbed three pairs of latex gloves from the box on the seat next to him, and three of the foil packets with the large ".05" printed on them from the metal container on the passenger side floorboard. The gloves went into the left pocket of the parka and the foil packets went into the right.

He didn't know if they were packaged specifically for use by the Special Operations Group but Chet knew that the item contained in the foil packets had proved invaluable to his team on several occasions. The plastic and fabric masks, infused on the fabric side with five percent of a halothane-derived inhaled anesthesia provided a higher induction dose than most medical procedures would require, but they were not used during special operations for any medical purpose. Their sole purpose was to sedate a person into unconsciousness as quickly and quietly as possible, typically in under ten seconds, with no physical injuries.

This halothane derivative worked much faster than chloroform and was less volatile than ether. The person administering the anesthesia needed to remove the mask as soon as the person was sedated, but brief reapplications of the mask would serve to provide maintenance doses of the inhaled mixture for several hours if necessary. Chet placed the paint respirator that he had purchased for this mission around his neck, but didn't position it for use yet.

The door to the cellar of the Capshaw house was along the back, but accessing it would make a person visible through the large sliding glass doors that led from the house to the covered patio area. Chet also didn't know where the stairs from the cellar would deposit him inside the house, so he decided on an alternate entry point. The side of the garage had a normal household entry door that Chet would use to gain access to the garage.

After the loss of Lily from Cronk's house, and the disappearance of Cronk himself, Chet thought that the Capshaws would be exhibiting slightly more paranoia. Finding the outer door to the garage unlocked, followed by the interior door between the garage and the mudroom, he changed his opinion. Slowly and quietly positioning the paint respirator over his nose and mouth while standing in the mudroom, he listened for several minutes to acquaint himself with the noises in the house.

During his missions with the Special Operations Group, he had conducted several solo "snatch-and-grab" assignments, but those had all been single individuals. Here, he was going to have to locate three people, and then have to take them one at a time without the others becoming aware. Their locations and his timing would be critical to his success.

Checking the time, Chet saw that it was just after ten-thirty in the morning. That would likely mean that the noises he was hearing from just outside the mudroom would be someone cleaning up after breakfast rather than preparing for lunch. Chancing a quick peak around the door between the kitchen and the mudroom, Chet recognized Charlene Capshaw standing at the kitchen sink with her back to him. He quickly slipped on a pair of latex gloves and then tore open one of the packets but left it in the pocket of the parka. He didn't want the smell of the halothane derivative to reach her before he did.

Four long strides, a quick sweep of his left arm around her waist at the same time that his right hand placed the anesthesia-infused mask across her nose and mouth. All actions were performed dozens of times before and were still successful today. He slowly and quietly laid Charlene's sedated body onto the floor and headed for the next closest sounds, sliding the mask back into his pocket to once more attempt to mute the scent.

He caught Grant Capshaw facing the silenced television on the far wall of the family room as he spoke to someone on a cordless phone. The phone flew from his hand as Chet's hand hit it on its way to apply the mask to Grant's face. It sounded like fireworks going off as the phone bounced several times on the hardwood floor before finally coming to rest. Chet let Grant's body fall unsupported to the floor as he quickly retrieved the phone and turned it off. He considered removing the battery but decided against that and simply placed the phone on a table next to the sofa.

He was concerned that the noise of the phone falling might have been heard by Carrie, so he stood perfectly still for several seconds listening. Finally determining that the undistinguishable sound he was hearing was coming from upstairs, Chet located the remote control, turned off the television, and headed for the stairs, following where his ears were leading him.

As he got closer, the sounds became clearer and Chet frowned upon realizing what he was hearing. A shower. If Carrie was in the shower, he would have to make a decision. Did he wait for her to get out, dried off, and then dressed, or should he not hesitate to get all three of the Capshaws sedated, even if it meant that he would have to deal with dressing an unconscious woman? He continued his stealthy trek toward the sound.

"Grant, you promised to come and wash my back," Carrie hollered from the bathroom.

That announcement made the decision for Chet. If Carrie was expecting Grant to join her in the shower and he didn't meet her expectation, she might go looking for him. Chet stepped beyond the door to Carrie's bedroom and waited to see what she would do.

He listened and watched through the crack in the door as a naked Carrie Capshaw vacillated for a few minutes in her bedroom before stepping out into the hall and yelling, "Grant, I'm waiting for you and the water won't stay..."

Her words were cut off by the mask being placed over her face by Chet. He supported her limp body as she succumbed to the anesthesia, allowing her to fold into his waiting arms. He carried her into the room and laid her naked body on the bed.

Chet didn't dwell on the incestuous implications of Carrie's shouted words to Grant. He removed the open foil packet, slid the mask back inside, and then resealed the opening. He glanced around the bedroom as he lowered the respirator mask from his face. Stepping into the bathroom to turn off the shower, he noticed some women's undergarments laid out on the counter. Assuming these were what Carrie had intended to put on after her shower, Chet carried them back into the bedroom.

Gazing down upon the unconscious form on the bed, Chet performed an almost clinical examination of Carrie's body. Other than pictures in magazines, he had only seen one woman in the nude, and that had been Suzy. Comparing those memories with what lay before him now, Chet appreciated what he had with Suzy and felt the grief over her loss begin to rise within him once more. She had been the only lover that he had ever had, and Chet knew in his heart that Suzy would be the only lover that he would ever have.

From carrying her to the bed, Chet thought that Carrie probably didn't weigh more than Suzy had, and they were about the same height. Although, where Suzy had possessed a firm and fit body, even after having Lily, Carrie was not at all impressive to him. Her breasts were not large; maybe 'C' cups, but they sagged to the sides of her body as she lay flat on the bed. There was also a paunch that Carrie would need a girdle to hide when dressed. Suzy had possessed a beautiful, shapely figure but Carrie was almost devoid of even a slight curve at her waist. She was just straight from shoulders to hips.

Chet had never dressed a woman, but he didn't think it would be that much harder than dressing a wiggling infant. He placed Carrie's feet through the appropriate holes in her cotton panties and pulled them up her legs. He slid his left hand under her back and lifted her slightly as he used his right hand to pull the panties up and position them properly.

Glancing at the matching bra and then back to Carrie's breasts, Chet decided not to bother with that article of clothing. Since Charlene and Grant were both wearing what he considered to be workout clothes, Chet would try to dress Carrie similarly. He started opening drawers in the dresser in his search for the right items. He finally found what he was looking for hanging in her closet. There was a satiny-looking ensemble consisting of long stretch pants and a long-sleeve zip-up jacket. He decided that a woman would probably not wear the jacket without a shirt of some sort under it, so he returned to the dresser and selected a gray tank top shirt.

Once he had Carrie dressed, he then located a pair of tennis shoes in her closet and decided to put them on her without socks. That's the way that Suzy wore her tennis shoes so it should be fine for Carrie too, at least in his opinion. With Carrie fully dressed, he left her laying on the bed and returned downstairs.

On the table in the entry foyer of the house, Chet located two purses. He guessed right the first time and verified that he had Charlene's. Chet withdrew the set of keys from an outside pocket of Charlene's purse and carried both purses with him to the garage. He assumed that the doors to the 1972 Cadillac El Dorado convertible would be unlocked, but he had the keys with him if they weren't. He placed both purses onto the passenger side floorboard, pocketed the keys, and then went out the side door of the garage heading back to his truck.

Within three minutes, Chet was backing the auto transport trailer up the Capshaw's driveway. He halted with the trailer approximately six feet from the garage door. That would provide him with adequate space for any alignment required to back the car onto the trailer. He exited the cab of the truck and went to the camper door. He didn't have to enter the camper to retrieve the commercial restaurant-sized package of clear plastic wrap, which he carried back into the house.

He started with Charlene. Raising her into a sitting position, Chet positioned her arms at her side and began to pull the roll of plastic wrap around her upper torso. After ten or twelve trips around Charlene, the thickness of the plastic wrap would be more than adequate to hinder any use of her arms or hands without leaving marks anywhere on her body. Once Chet was satisfied with the job of securing Charlene, he carried her out and placed her inside the back of the camper, laying her on the over-cab bed and pushing her all the way in. He wanted to leave room for Carrie to be placed beside her.

Grant and Carrie were similarly secured with plastic wrap before being moved to the camper. With his prisoners out of the way for the moment, Chet returned to the house for a quick walkthrough. He wanted to make certain that he had everything that the Capshaws would take with them on a typical day of driving. He found Charlene's digital pager sitting beside her bed, but that was the only additional item that he felt would be necessary. Unlike the residents of the house, Chet went around to make certain that all the doors were locked.

After locking and closing the door between the mudroom and the garage, Chet pressed the button on the wall that would activate the garage door opener. As the light from the outside began filtering in, he walked across the garage and locked the exterior side door. He returned the plastic wrap to the back of the camper before turning and examining the alignment of the Cadillac to the trailer. He smiled when he saw that the rear tires on the car were perfectly positioned to roll right up the ramps.

Charlene Capshaw was only five-foot-five inches tall. Chet recognized when he opened the driver-side door that he would have to adjust the front seat if he had any hope of sitting behind the wheel. He used one of the keys on the ring to make a scratch in the bottom of the door frame that would provide him with a reference point to allow him to return the seat to its original position. He then pressed the button on the side of the front seat that activated the motor which would slide the seat back. Once Chet saw that the seat was far enough back for him to climb behind the wheel, he stopped pressing the button, took a seat, and started the car.

The big V8 motor roared to life. Chet let the motor idle for a few minutes before slowly backing the car out of the garage and up the ramps to the trailer. As the rain began falling onto the convertible top, Chet tried to recall the few times while he was living in Lamar that he had ever seen this car with the top up. This fire-engine-red classic convertible had been Charlene Capshaw's pride and joy. She would offer to drive it in every parade held in Lamar and would frequently be seen simply driving it around town with the top down showing off both herself and her car. Remembering the car had been the inspiration behind Chet's recently modified mission plans.

Satisfied with the position of the car on the trailer, Chet set the parking brake, and turned the car off but left the keys in the ignition. He pressed the garage door opener remote on the visor, and then got out and set about attaching the safety chains to the undercarriage of the car before raising and securing the ramps.

Climbing into the cab of the truck, Chet watched in the side mirrors as he pressed the brake pedal and was satisfied to see the reflection of the trailer's lights illuminated on the closed garage door. Using the garage door to verify the turn signals worked too, he removed the latex gloves and took one last check of the time. It was just after noon. No wonder he was hungry.

~~~

Chet had to turn down the volume on the CB radio to be sure that he was hearing the whispers from the camper. He couldn't make out the words through the boot between the cab and the camper, but after listening for a few minutes, he recognized three distinct voices whispering among themselves. Good, the Capshaws were starting to recover from the halothane derivative. He would allow them to remain conscious until the time came to remove the plastic wrap from around each of them.

"Who are you and where are you taking us?"

The female voice asking the question sounded older. "Is that you, Charlene?" Chet asked in response. He wanted them to know that they were not strangers to him and this was not some random event that they were caught up in.

"Yes, damn it. Who are you? Why have you kidnapped us?"

Chet ignored the questions and turned the volume back up on the CB radio. They were entering southern Illinois and the storm chaser chatter had been increasing. Reports of hook echoes being detected in the supercell storms popping up in Kentucky were getting the storm chasers in southern Illinois and Indiana excited. Looking up to scan the skies, Chet saw them growing darker by the minute. He started watching out for the onramp for Interstate 57. There should be a truck stop along that route where he could safely spend a few hours tracking the storms.

His guests eventually gave up their attempts to get Chet to answer them, but they continued to talk among themselves. Even though they were no longer whispering, Chet only picked up on the occasional word or two. With the sound of the rain on the metal camper, combined with the noise from the wet road surfaces and the chatter on the CB radio, he only heard a few words from the camper, such as "psychopath", "ransom", and "torture".

Chet stopped at the large truck center just south of Benton, Illinois. He heard only silence from the back of the camper when he had parked and turned off the engine. He had selected a spot as far from the truck center operations as possible in one of the spaces designated for trucks or vehicles towing trailers. Turning to speak through the boot he said, "I'm going to run inside and pay for our gas. Feel free to scream and holler all that you want while I am gone. We're far enough away from any other travelers that you will never be heard over the weather outside."

"I need to go to the bathroom," said a small voice from the camper.

Recognizing the voice, Chet said, "Go ahead, Carrie. There are plastic covers on all the surfaces that you three are lying on. I'll just clean up after you later."

Having the three of them wearing soiled clothes when the time came for him to move them wouldn't be Chet's preference, but he didn't have any acceptable options available that would allow for them to relieve themselves in a more dignified fashion. Plus, their bladders and bowels would likely release their contents after their deaths anyway.

Chet pulled the hood of his parka over his head before exiting the truck. He verified that the door to the camper was still locked as he headed for the restrooms within the travel center. He didn't need gas as he had told his guests because he had topped off both the main as well as the auxiliary tanks shortly before leaving Missouri while they had all still been under the influence of the anesthesia. He did have to relieve himself and he also wanted to pick up a map of the area so he wouldn't have to rely solely upon his memory.

There was a television mounted on a wall of the travel center showing the latest weather situation. Chet could see that the storm was heading in a direction that would take it north of this area. The densest part of the storm, where supercell development was already being witnessed was almost directly over the Interstate 57 and 64 interchange. Tornado watches were being issued for all counties in Illinois south of Effingham. It looked like they would be out of the range of the heaviest part of the storm if they remained at the travel center until it passed.

After relieving himself and buying a map and a cup of coffee, Chet headed back to the truck. He climbed behind the wheel and addressed the passengers in the camper, "The weather is pretty nasty north of here, so we'll wait it out here for a bit."

"Why are you doing this?" Charlene asked again. "What did we ever do to you?"

Chet considered the question for a few seconds before answering, "Do the names Ray Spencer and Todd Callendar ring a bell with any of you?"

Charlene answered for the group, "They're a couple of drifters that my fiancé hires from time to time. What have they got to do with us?"

"What about you, Carrie?" Chet asked. "Ray and Todd told me that they each had a chance to get to know you really well. And you, Grant, weren't you part of the escapades between Ray, Todd, and your sister?"

Grant said. "If all you want is to get a piece from Carrie, just ask. Hell, Mom would probably do you too if it will get you to stop with this bullshit. Are you that hard up to get laid?"

Charlene angrily replied to her son, "That's quite enough, Grant. You and your sister are adults and can do whatever you want, either together or with anyone else. Don't you dare to try pimping me out like some whore in your stable."

Chet was chuckling at the family dynamic playing out in the camper. He said, "Don't worry, Charlene. I have no intention of touching any of you for any reason other than your deaths."

He heard three gasps from the camper, followed by several minutes of silence. Finally, he heard Carrie's small voice say, "I would do it; you know. I will let you do anything sexual to me for as long as you want if you promise to let us all go."

"No thanks. I've seen you naked and wasn't impressed. Who do you think dressed you?"

Carrie persisted, "You may not have been impressed with my body but boys are always impressed with what I can do with my body to please them..."

Chet's voice was laced with sadness as he said, "I had the perfect lover's body all to myself until the three of you got greedy. We are here to avenge my loss, not to desecrate my love for her through immoral acts with you."

Carrie didn't reply, but Chet could hear Charlene say "Oh, my God!" and then lower her voice to a whisper as she tried to talk privately with her children. She appeared to be trying to take control of the conversation and keep Carrie and Grant quiet.

"Chet?" Charlene said, "We were as saddened as anyone by the death of Suzy. Carrie and Grant rushed out to help care for Lily as soon as we heard about the tragedy. Surely you can't blame..."

Chet interrupted her with barely contained anger, "I heard you, Charlene. The day that I came to retrieve my daughter. I heard you and Cronk admitting to paying for Suzy's murder and your plans to have Spencer and Callendar come after me next. I also have the confessions of Spencer, Callendar, and Cronk. Each was given willingly even though they suspected that they were going to die regardless."

Another gasp, followed by Charlene asking, "Preston is dead?"

Chet debated how much he wanted to tell them and then decided that they deserved to know and understand what their actions had driven him to. They would also understand their own fates much better when they knew.

"Suzy was brutally murdered for no reason other than your greed. Callendar, Spencer, and Cronk were brutally killed for no reason other than to avenge Suzy. Let me describe how each died..."

Chet took his time, listing every detail of the torture, the resulting confessions, and the horrendous deaths of the three men. The sound of fearful sobs was all that he heard in response. He then proceeded to explain his plans for them.

"It was during the elimination of Callendar that I first got an idea of how I could dispose of the three of you in a manner that looked like an accident."

Chet described the urgency that he had felt in the rock quarry due to the tornado warnings that had been issued for the area. He then explained, "My initial plan had me beating each of you to death with a two-by-four, injuries that would be expected on someone caught outside during a tornado and being pummeled by debris in the high winds."

Chet didn't mention that while he had killed several times, he had always used weapons or other devices to accomplish the task. While he knew that he could have carried out his initial plan for the Capshaws, an aversion to the very personal involvement required to do so was what made him open to alternative methods of accomplishing his objective. Hence the plan he was implementing tonight.

The whimpering and sobbing continued. Chet didn't take any joy from their fear, but he wasn't going to take any steps to lessen it either. For example, he wouldn't tell them that he would have to sedate them all again right before their deaths. He couldn't leave them capable of freeing themselves once he had removed the plastic wrap from around each of them.

"Is there any chance that you can forgive us?" Carrie asked.

"I might be able to," Chet teased, "but Suzy's daughter is a vengeful bitch. It really is better that you let me handle your executions rather than waiting for her to do it."

~~~

Since that evening in the rock quarry, Chet had spent countless hours learning more about tornados, their formation, their behavior, and especially how to best predict them. Tonight would prove whether his studying had paid off.

Spending so much of his youth in an area of the country prone to tornados, Chet had naturally learned the basics about them in school. He knew that a tornado was a violently rotating column of air in contact with the ground, either as a pendant from a cumuliform cloud or underneath a cumuliform cloud. Tornados were often, but not always, visible as a funnel cloud. To be classified as a tornado, the vortex must be in contact with both the ground and the cloud base. The most extreme tornadoes can attain wind speeds of more than 300 mph, are more than 2 miles wide, and stay on the ground for more than a dozen miles.

The storm chasers that Chet had been monitoring all afternoon had painted a picture of tornado activity stretching from Minnesota to Arkansas. Iowa, South Dakota, and Kentucky also had sightings of confirmed tornados. Chet's problem was that he wasn't in any of those states. He needed a tornado to occur within a couple of hours of his current location behind a dilapidated barn in Jasper County, Illinois, and the recent tornado warning on the radio gave him confidence that his need would be fulfilled. He switched his CB radio to channel 9 and began monitoring emergency communications.

Deciding that he should begin preparing his guests for the next part of this mission, Chet turned up the volume of the CB radio and donned the paint respirator before stepping out of the truck. The rain had stopped here, but to the north, frequent lightning flashes illuminated the sky, allowing the fury of the storm to be witnessed from miles away.

He unlocked the door to the camper and quickly climbed inside, closing the door behind him. Three sets of terrified eyes stared at him in the dimly lit camper as he slipped on a new pair of latex gloves.

"Please," Charlene cried. "You don't have to do this. We'll all confess our part in Suzy's murder to the authorities and plead guilty when charged. Suzy will be avenged by us suffering the rest of our lives in prisons. Please!"

"You didn't give Suzy a choice with your actions," Chet stated. His voice was distorted by the respirator over his mouth, but his message was clear. "You didn't give me a choice when you took my soulmate from me, and you didn't give Lily a choice when you took her mother from her."

Grant became hysterical when Chet grabbed him by his short hair and pulled him to a sitting position on the bench where he had been laying. Chet ignored the panting sobs and cries of anguish, pushing Grant over on the bench to position him on the far end of it.

Charlene started screaming and flailing when Chet picked her up, but all that she accomplished was to bang her shin painfully against the table as she was placed on the bench next to her son. In contrast to Grant and her mother, Carrie appeared almost catatonic as she was being moved to the bench. Chet just watched the three as he removed a fresh mask from its foil package.

Holding the mask up for them all to see, he said, "If you all relax, you'll be asleep soon and won't feel or remember a thing until you don't wake up."

Thinking that Grant was starting to hyperventilate, Chet began with him. Placing the mask over Grant's nose and mouth for only a few seconds resulted in induced sedation that should last for at least two hours. Charlene's eyes grew wide as the mask was moved to her face, and Chet could tell that she was trying to hold her breath. He held the mask in place and waited patiently as her face started turning red and her body's survival instincts eventually kicked in, forcing her to take a deep breath. She was sedated seconds later. Surprisingly, Carrie's slow, swallow breathing resulted in her taking the longest for an induction dose to be effective, but she finally succumbed to the anesthesia.

Returning the mask to the foil package, Chet's attention was drawn to the CB radio. Numerous law enforcement and volunteer fire departments were responding to reports of a tornado being on the ground just outside of Aden. Chet hurriedly removed the respirator and tossed it into one of the cabinets over the sink. He then left the camper and returned to the cab of the truck where he could check his map.

He continued to monitor channel 9 while he used the map to track the direction of the storm as confirmed sightings of the tornado or damage reports came in. From what Chet was hearing, it sounded like this was a massive wedge tornado, nearly a mile wide and it was moving rapidly north by northeast. Good, that was away from where he was at the moment.

Studying the map and noting the locations where emergency crews were responding, Chet identified an area near where the tornado was first reported. It was a rural farming area with few buildings that would have been damaged by the tornado as it passed, and someplace that first responders would ignore unless notified of an emergency of some type. He planned out a route to the area and started the truck.

~~~

He had seldom seen darkness as complete as this. Chet didn't know if it was always this dark out here on Farm Road 1000, or if the electricity to the area had been affected by the tornado. Either way, he embraced the darkness for what it meant to his mission. He would have to be careful that his headlights and flashlight were used as little as possible because they would stick out brighter than a lighthouse beacon tonight.

The two-lane bridge had a sign at both ends indicating that it crossed over Auxier Creek Drain. It was essentially a flat bridge that had a concrete-lined irrigation trough passing about six feet beneath it. There was a low wooden guard rail along both sides of the bridge. Chet had stopped the truck and trailer directly in the center of the bridge, from end to end and from side to side.

His first step was to drive the Cadillac off of the trailer. Once the car was off, he opened the metal storage container along the front of the trailer and removed the item that he had placed there earlier. He carried this single articulation ramp and set it beside the car before raising the metal ramps onto the trailer and heading to the truck.

In the back of the camper, Chet made quick work of cutting the plastic wrap from each of the Capshaws. He then carried them, one at a time and placed each into a seat of the car, and secured them with their seatbelt. Charlene would be moved from the front passenger seat to behind the wheel when the time was right. Their positions in the car when it was discovered would be important.

Returning to the truck, Chet drove it off the bridge and pulled onto the right shoulder of the road. He quickly unhooked the trailer from the back and then made a U-turn and drove the truck back onto the bridge. Stepping out of the truck, he stood in the middle of the bridge and turned a full 360 degrees, listening and looking for any signs of life that might take notice of the events on the bridge. Seeing and hearing nothing, Chet climbed behind the wheel of the El Dorado.

The car was backed up and then moved slowly forward until it was centered in the right lane, directly over the irrigation channel below. Chet left the engine idling as he jumped out and positioned the articulation ramp in front of the front left tire. There were two of the articulation ramps that the friend who had lent him the trailer used when showing his monster truck, but Chet only needed one of them to get the El Dorado in the position that he wanted. He returned to the car and slowly inched it up the ramp, feeling the left side of the car rising more than 24 inches higher than the right side.

With the car at this precarious angle, it was a struggle to pull Charlene up into the driver's seat and buckle her seatbelt, especially with gravity trying to close the driver-side door on him, but Chet finally accomplished it. He then used his previous scratch mark on the door frame to return the front seat to its original position. Lastly, he turned the car off but then returned the key to the "On" position and shifted the transmission into "Drive".

Standing on the road once more, Chet saw that he wouldn't have as much space on the bridge to maneuver the truck as he would have liked, but he was still confident that he could make it work. He paused at the front of his truck to examine the large varnished wooden bumper that his dad had installed years ago. There wasn't a mark on it, and Chet hoped that it would remain that way.

Chet climbed behind the wheel and put the truck into low gear. He turned the wheel as far to the left as it would go and slowly aimed the wooden bumper at a spot on the Cadillac where it would contact the exposed undercarriage rather than the side. Once in position, he had to push slowly, hoping that the road surface was not wet enough to let the two right tires slide instead of holding firm. He was rewarded with the sight of the huge car tipping slowly but gradually onto its right side.

He quickly backed the truck away and jumped out. The Cadillac was still rocking slightly as he approached since the side panels didn't provide a flat footing for the car. Chet looked first at the position of the car, sitting on its right side about nine inches away from the wooden guard rail. He then glanced down at the irrigation trough and wondered for the first time why it didn't have any water in it. He reasoned that it must be dammed off until the fields that it served required water.

Shrugging his shoulders at the mystery, Chet peered through the windshield to verify that the seatbelts were holding each of the Capshaws in a sitting position and that none had fallen over to the side. He then walked back around to the underside of the Cadillac and placed his hand on one of the steel frame bars. Pressing slightly, he felt the car move easily. A slightly stronger push sent the car tumbling over the edge where it landed top-first in the irrigation trough.

Chet risked turning his flashlight on to shine down at the car. The canvas convertible top and its support struts had been crushed beneath the weight of the car. With no headrests or roll bar to prevent it, each of the Capshaws' heads and upper torsos would have also been crushed under the weight of the car. Just before Chet turned off his flashlight, he saw the first rivulets of blood flowing from under the car.

Picking up the articulation ramp and returning it to the trailer, Chet felt at peace. He realized that he could now think of Suzy without feeling something clamping down on his heart. For the first time in months, the barely contained rage no longer festered just below the surface of his being.

~~~

"You sound tired," Wendy said.

Chet sighed and answered, "I am, but I'll be stopping to get some rest pretty soon. I just wanted to check in with you before you headed out for your daily run."

He had made certain to head south out of Illinois as quickly as he could to put some distance between himself and the storms that continued to ravage the lower Ohio valley. He hadn't turned west until he had reached U.S. Highway 60 near Paducah, Kentucky. He was now preparing to get some breakfast at a truck center outside of Springfield, Missouri where he decided to use the pay phone to check in with Wendy.

Wendy said, "I may pass on the run today. Lily was very anxious about something last night and didn't want to go to sleep until sometime after midnight. I'm going to give her a chance to sleep later this morning."

"Did you figure out what had her so anxious?" Chet asked with concern in his voice. "Does she have a fever or anything?"

"No, she feels fine," Wendy assured him. "She just wouldn't settle down last night. Either in her crib or her playpen, as soon as I laid her down, she would pop up and stand with her hands on the railing, just bouncing. I was tempted to put some music on to see if she would dance to the beat. This went on for most of the afternoon and into the evening, well past her bedtime. Then, shortly after midnight, she zonked out. If I didn't know better, I would say that she was on some sort of sugar high but I know what she ate yesterday and that doesn't explain it."

"Maybe she just misses her daddy," Chet offered. "Tell her that I'll be home on Tuesday."

"Her and I will both be glad to see you. Is there still no offer on the house?"

"No, and I've decided to take it off the market for the time being," Chet said. "Summer is supposed to be the best time to sell a house, but now I'm thinking that renting it out for a couple of years might be better. I have an old high school friend who does property management so if we can come to terms on it, I'll leave it in her trusty hands."

"I understand," Wendy said. "Let me ask you something. You remember that my dad will be arriving on Thursday so that we can spend some time together before he takes me to the Academy on Monday. Would the insurance on the Firebird cover him driving it while he is here?"

"It would, but I thought that he was going to be driving there from Texas..."

"He decided that he didn't want to put that many miles onto his car," Wendy explained. "He'll be flying instead."

Chet said, "Well, the Firebird is registered in your name and the insurance is also in your name, with me listed as an occasional driver. Since he is your father, he is a family member of yours which provides him with the same coverage as you when driving the car. Nothing to worry about there."

"I didn't think that it would be a problem but I wanted to check. Will you call me later?"

"Yes, I'll call around dinner time so that I can speak to Lily too. If I can get my stuff packed this afternoon, I'll probably start heading home this evening."

"Okay, but make sure that you're well rested and don't push yourself to get here. As long as you're back by a week from tomorrow, there's no reason to kill yourself."

"Count on it," Chet replied. "I'll go eat now and then get some rest. Goodbye, Wendy."

"Goodbye, Hey you."

Chet laughed as he hung up the phone. He always forgot that Wendy still didn't know his name, and she had never mentioned it again after their first meeting in the camper. She seemed to revel in the mystery of living with a man who she couldn't even call by his first name.

He walked into the small diner area of the truck service center and took a seat at the counter. A weary-looking waitress asked, "Coffee?"

"Yes, please. Black." Chet replied as he picked up a menu from the rack along the edge of the counter. "And some ice water, please."

When the waitress returned with his drinks, Chet ordered a short stack of pancakes with bacon. After the waitress departed to place his order, he sipped his coffee and turned his attention to the news broadcast on the television. He hadn't expected to hear anything about the discovery of the Capshaws yet, but he was interested in the details of the tornado.

He was transfixed by the information being relayed in the broadcast. Preliminary estimates from the damage evaluated so far had the storm being classified as an F4 on the Fujita scale, which meant that it was categorized as a "violent" tornado with winds between 207 and 260 miles per hour that had so far, claimed eleven lives.

Winds that strong would have been more than enough to flip a car, which is what Chet wanted the authorities to conclude is what happened to the Capshaws. Another interesting detail about this tornado was that it had traveled on the ground for over one hundred miles, from where it touched down near Aden, Illinois to well into the center of Indiana. Additional tornados were being forecast for today, farther east into Ohio, as the storm system continued its deadly trek.

When his pancakes were served, Chet asked, "Excuse me, what types of syrups do you have?"

The waitress paused and said, "We have every kind that you can imagine but they all taste like maple."

Chet grinned. He appreciated a person who looked as tired as this woman did but still maintained a healthy sense of humor. He said, "I'll just stick with the butter then. Thanks."

He didn't consider himself a picky eater. Hell, he'd eaten things in the field that most people would rather starve than eat, but when he had a choice of foods, he was going to eat what he knew he enjoyed. He had enough adventure in other areas of his life, so exploring adventures in his cuisine didn't interest him. Suzy had understood Chet's reluctance to experiment with new foods, but she was always willing to share her new discoveries with him if he expressed an interest. Otherwise, she only fixed him things that she knew he liked.

The news broadcast continued to show the extent of the damage from last night's tornados, and Chet thought that he saw a brief image of an overturned car in an irrigation trough but it passed too fast for him to be certain that it was the El Dorado. Thinking of Charlene's car reminded him that with the Capshaws deceased, he would have to make arrangements to sell all of the car dealerships that John Capshaw had owned, and which were part of Suzy's estate.

She had been willing to let Grant and Carrie run them, and Chet had agreed. Now though, they would be rudderless and he certainly didn't want to be involved with them. He would have to discuss the options with Mr. Finch once the word of the Capshaws perishing in the tornado was announced. He wondered if any of the Capshaws had wills.

After his breakfast, Chet filled both gas tanks on the truck and then parked it as far from the Interstate and the operations of the service center as possible. He would try to get at least four hours of sleep in the camper before heading to Lamar to return the trailer and retrieve the few items he had left there.

~~~

Sleep was just what Chet had needed. Four solid hours of restful slumber had him feeling like a new man. He was confident that once he got onto Interstate 70 heading west, he would be fine until after he had crossed the border into Colorado. Another stop to eat and rest for a few hours would allow him to arrive in Denver by mid-morning on Monday. That would give him the full day to locate and buy a new vehicle.

He would have preferred to keep the truck and camper, but it wasn't practical transportation with an infant, and it had been involved in too many recent activities to risk maintaining a close association with it. He had several options for disposing of the truck and camper, but he was leaning heavily towards donating it to a Boy Scout troop in the Denver area.

Chet suddenly chided himself for neglecting to call Wendy before leaving Lamar. He had been so anxious to get on the road that his promise to call her had slipped his mind. He had to acknowledge that even though he enjoyed speaking to Wendy, his primary motivation to call home was so that he could speak to Lily.

Of course, she couldn't speak back to him, but he felt that hearing his voice was the least that he could do to try and maintain a bond with his daughter while he was away. He had tried just a few days ago to count the number of hours that he had spent with Lily since Suzy's death in February. He had determined that other than when she was sleeping in his room with him, the two of them had been together less than one hundred hours in total.

Their separation had been unavoidable. Chet had hired Wendy to care for Lily specifically because he knew that he couldn't take care of her and do the things that he needed to do. He believed in his heart that Suzy's daughter would have gladly sacrificed time with him in exchange for receiving justice against those who had taken her mother from her.

His last act of vengeance hadn't happened too soon. With Wendy scheduled to start at the Air Force Academy within a week, if he hadn't dealt with the Capshaws when he had, he would have had to wait until he could find someone else to watch her, which he was reluctant to do. Lily was soon going to be fully his responsibility alone.

The thought of his daughter being entirely dependent upon him excited Chet. Being responsible for molding the development of Lily into the woman that Suzy would have wanted her to become would be an honor that Chet would embrace with every fiber of his existence. The love that had been shared between him and Suzy would never be lost with Lily.

Thursday, August 02, 1990

Chet tried to recall if he had carried this much gear during those long marches in boot camp. Of course, he didn't consider Lily, bouncing happily in the papoose sling draped over his chest as "gear", but the backpack containing everything that she might possibly need for their outing at the zoo definitely constituted "gear".

Lily had been more interested in the other people around them, the smaller children in particular than she was in the animals. Her lack of any significant social interaction with anyone other than himself and Wendy since Suzy's death was the motivation behind spending her first birthday at the zoo and other public locations rather than celebrating at home. They would be picking up an ice cream cake on the way home for the two of them to share later today.

Exiting the zoo and walking to where he had parked, Chet maintained his running narrative to Lily about how proud he was of her and what their plans were for the rest of the day. He knew that she likely understood very little of what he was telling her, but she always seemed happiest when she was listening to someone talking. This must have been a result of Suzy's habit of placing Lily in front of the television so that she could hear the different voices.

Chet had discovered that Wendy had been wrong when she had thought that Lily didn't like music. It just had to be the right music, and preferably something that he knew the lyrics to and sang along with. There were several songs that Chet recognized as favorites of Suzy's that Lily would babble along to with a smile on her face and try to clap her hands to the rhythm. He could imagine Suzy holding Lily on her lap while the song played, singing it back to her and using her hands to get Lily's clapping along with her own. That's just the kind of mother-daughter interaction that Suzy would have enjoyed. He knew that he enjoyed it as a father-daughter activity.

He used the remote to unlock the Plymouth Grand Voyager that he bought in Denver using his alias identity. It was far from sporty or glamorous, but it was top of the line for the popular model of minivan and fit his transportation needs perfectly. The rear seat configurations were versatile, and with all but the one rear bucket seat for Lily's car seat removed, he had a lot of cargo space. He and Lily could sleep in the back if it ever became necessary.

Lily seemed to enjoy the fact that while seated in her car seat, she could see out the windows of the minivan. Chet didn't think that would matter to her much this afternoon since she was practically falling asleep as he finished buckling her into the seat. Good. The drive time back to Colorado Springs would allow her to get a good nap before they arrived at their house.

When Wendy's father came to take her to her first day of basic training, he had additional items on his agenda at the Air Force Academy. He had a meeting scheduled with the Commandant of Cadets to discuss transferring from Lackland Air Force Base to the Air Force Academy. The separation between Wendy's father and mother had progressed to the point where they were divorcing, so he welcomed the opportunity to place some distance between them yet still remain close to Wendy for as long as possible. Chet had no issue with letting her father take over paying the lease of the townhouse. He rented a house in an older section of Colorado Springs under his alias and set up a home for himself and Lily.

Renting the house using his alias would have allowed Chet to close the postal box at the Mail Stop postal center but he felt better having all mail go to someplace else than the house where he and Lily were living. He had also kept the Mailboxes Etc. store where mail addressed to his real name was still being sent. It was still located a good distance from where he resided but it did happen to be on the way home for them this afternoon, so he decided to take the opportunity to see if there was anything new in his box.

Parking directly in front of the glass double entry doors, Chet left the minivan running with Lily still sleeping peacefully in her car seat. He used the spare remote that he always carried to lock the doors after exiting. He strode quickly into the store, avoiding the line of people at the counter and going directly to his box. He paused to look out the large plate glass windows to check on Lily before using his key to open the door.

The box was empty, which wasn't surprising. Since he had begun the gradual use of his alias, his focus had been on establishing accounts and credit under that name and using his own name only when necessary. His only regular mail was the bank statement that was mailed to him each month. Chet still had over twenty-five thousand dollars in traveler's cheques so the bank statements showed dwindling balances as he slowly and carefully withdrew the remaining money and moved it to a separate account at a different bank belonging to his alternate identity.

Leaving the lobby of the store, Chet took note of the non-descript sedan parked along the curb on the side street directly across from the store's parking lot. The two men in it were paying too much attention to the comings and goings at the Mailboxes Etc. store. Chet watched as the passenger pointed in the direction of the store, or at him personally. Whichever, the car bolted away from the curb and headed for where his car was parked.

Chet glanced through the windshield to check on Lily and saw that she was still sleeping soundly. He left the doors on the minivan locked as he watched the sedan pull to a stop behind it. The man in the passenger seat studied Chet as he slowly unfastened his seatbelt. Chet watched both men in the car as he took two side steps into the empty parking space beside the one his car was parked in. He wanted some maneuvering room in case it became necessary.

Seeing Chet move as he did made the passenger smile. He slowly opened his door and held his hands in clear view of Chet as he stepped out of the car.

"Take it easy Diego, I am only here to talk to you," the man said. "If you had answered any of my letters to you, I wouldn't have had to track you down like this."

The man didn't look familiar to Chet. What letters was he referring to? "What letters?" He asked.

The man stepped forward and extended his right hand, "I'm Dillon West. I've been sending you letters for the past four months trying to arrange a meeting with you to discuss you joining my team."

Chet shook the offered hand and said, "I never received any letters from you, Mr. West, but even if I had, I probably wouldn't have responded to them. Things in my life have changed since the Army. I have an infant daughter that takes priority now..."

West interrupted and asked, "Have you heard the news out of the Middle East today?"

Shaking his head, Chet said, "No, today is my daughter's birthday and we spent the morning at the Denver Zoo."

"Iraq invaded Kuwait today," West explained. "A lot of people are going to have to re-evaluate their priorities, and you are one of them."

"Why is that?" Chet asked. "I received an honorable discharge under hardship conditions. That exempts me from even reserve status. I owe the government no more of my time."

"I'm no longer with the government," West replied.

"I heard. That makes me even less obligated to you and your company."

West smirked and said, "You know, when I first started searching for you, I headed to that little town in Missouri that was listed in the CIA file on you. It turned out to be a dead end initially, but it wasn't a wasted trip for me. I had the opportunity to have dinner with an old college buddy. Imagine my surprise when I mentioned that I was in the area looking for someone who used to live there, and when I tell him your name, he knew who you were from a custody issue a few months back."

He didn't have to ask who this person was. It had to be that detective from the Barton County Sherriff's office who had come to Las Cruces trying to charge him with abducting Lily. Between the deputy and the prosecuting attorney from Barton County, Chet had wondered if either of them had graduated ninth grade before they had married their sisters. The guy had been royally pissed when the judge in New Mexico invalidated the warrant. Chet shrugged his shoulders and waited for West to continue.

Maintaining the smirk that was starting to annoy Chet, West said, "Our conversation progressed nicely from there. I learned all about the custody challenges from your wife's family. I also learned that 'once a detective, always a detective' holds true in the civilian world. When a respected judge that this detective knew personally just disappeared, he started looking into things like where you were at the time."

Chet merely shrugged his shoulders once more. Understanding that the detective could have gotten his mailing address from one of the closing attorneys on his real estate transactions helped explain why West was staking out the location where mail addressed to him was delivered. Anyone investigating him would know that he had iron-clad proof that he had been in the Lamar area for justifiable business reasons during the time that Preston Cronk had disappeared. Besides, Cronk had been last seen in Springfield, and there was no indication that Chet had traveled there from his hotel in Joplin. The rental truck had been rented under his alias, so unless someone witnessed him abducting Cronk from the parking lot of the Springfield Holiday Inn, there was no way to associate him with Cronk's disappearance, and he knew without question that no one had seen him.

As far as Chet knew from monitoring news sources in the Springfield and Lamar areas, Cronk's body, or rather the ashen remains of his body, had not yet been discovered. When the remains are discovered, it would be possible to identify them as Cronk's through dental records, but once again, there was nothing to tie his death to Chet other than court cases which Cronk was recused from. Who would find a motive for murder based upon such thin an association?

His association with the Capshaws was marginally stronger, but establishing a motive would be a challenge even for the most imaginative investigator. They would have to be aware of the relationship between the Capshaws and the Las Cruces bowling alley robbers.

"Then," West continued, "when the other three members of this family died in a car accident during a tornado, again while you were in the area, he got even more curious. I heard all about the things that he would do if he was in charge of either investigation, and you know what? He would start with questioning you and verifying everything you said."

"I have nothing to hide," Chet calmly said.

"Sure you do," West said. "You want to hide the fact that an induction dose of halothane only gets metabolized twenty to thirty percent by the liver. The halothane derivative used by the Special Operations Group in the field gets metabolized significantly higher, but it is unlikely that the coroner in some backwoods Illinois county would be aware of that unless someone was to tell him or her. My friend got a copy of the autopsies for three people from that tornado car accident and showed it to me. He didn't understand the significance of the toxicology report, but I did."

Chet stood there calmly and let West continue, "I want you on my team, Diego. Join me and what I suspect happened to those people remains with me. I know that it will create a hardship where your little girl is concerned, but that's your problem, not mine. Consider this, do you think she'll fare better with her father sitting on death row?"

West handed Chet a business card and said, "You have until the end of the month to get back to me and be prepared to go where I send you. I own you, Diego. Get used to it."

Chet simply smiled and asked, "Are we done, because I need to get my daughter her birthday cake?"

"The end of the month," West said.

He wasn't about to explain the flaws in West's theory. Chet remained in place, watching West return to his car and thinking, "I wonder how long he's had these suicidal tendencies?"

He would make certain that no one was following them on the way home.

~~~

"Dada pease!" Lily sternly commanded.

Chet laughed as he scooped another small bite of the ice cream cake onto her spoon and handed it to his daughter. They were sharing a piece of the cake, and that idea had been met with displeasure by Lily. He knew that she would want her own piece but the ice cream would melt too fast if he had let Lily feed it to herself. Unfortunately, she wouldn't consider that a problem even if she understood it. Chet did let Lily feed it to herself, but she got frustrated having to wait for him to fill her spoon each time.

For a one-year-old, her coordination was exceptional. Lily had been bringing her hands to her mouth to feed herself for months, and even using a utensil such as a spoon proved to be no challenge for her. Her face never showed signs of whatever she was eating and she seldom dropped anything that was targeted for her mouth.

Lily's joy from eating her cake had erased Chet's melancholy mood. The realization that he would be the only person sharing Lily's first birthday had been nagging him for weeks. Framed photos of Suzy adorned almost every surface of their small house, and he felt grateful every time that Lily would stare at one and say "Hi, momma." Chet didn't know how strong an infant's memory of a lost parent was, or how long it might last, but he was committed to Lily recognizing who her mother had been and never letting her forget the love that had once been hers alone.

From the time he was twelve years old, life with Suzy had made him exponentially stronger. She had been a partner that he could trust and share things with and a cheerleader to encourage him. More importantly, he had somebody willing to face life's challenges with him. He had plenty of emotional rewards raising Lily, but It is lonely being a single parent. Her unqualified love provided a focus to his own life, however, he ached to share Lily's experiences with the only other person who had loved her as much as he did.

If a person took the time to listen to Lily, they would recognize that her vocabulary was expanding on a daily basis. She wasn't always easy to understand, and she often mispronounced words, such as saying "pease" when she meant to say, "please", but being in her presence twenty-four hours a day had allowed Chet to remain fluent in his daughter's developing language.

Lily kept her eyes on the cake in front of her father. She would accept him taking a bite after he had given her one, but when he tried to take one additional bite, she would object with a defiant, "No!" Chet had to settle for taking larger bites and enduring the occasional "brain freeze" episode to appease her. Lily showed her appreciation for Chet saving the last two bites for her when she had finished. When he lifted her out of her high chair, she threw her tiny arms around his neck and kissed his face all over with cold, sticky lips.

"Good birthday cake?" Chet asked her.

Lily smacked her lips and said, "Umm, good."

"I'm glad you liked it," Chet chuckled. "We can have some more tomorrow. Now it's time for your bath."

Lily snuggled her head against his neck and said, "baff".

"Bubbles?" Chet asked her as they headed for the bathroom. He felt her affirmative nod against his shoulder.

Chet knew that emotionally, biology had nothing to do with how much a parent could love their child or children. This had been proven millions of times throughout history with adopted kids, stepkids, and even children conceived through infidelity. As he ran Lily's bath and got her undressed, he recognized once again that the biological influence of Suzy on Lily's appearance would always play a major role in his love for his daughter. He saw his wife so clearly in Lily and expected that to only increase as she grew older.

People seldom realized the challenges a grown man faces when raising an infant or toddler daughter on his own. A mother would almost be expected to take her young son into the women's restroom with her, but if a father did so with his daughter, he would often be viewed with suspicion. Just that morning, while they had been at the zoo, Lily needed her diaper changed. They had been met by zoo security as he exited the men's bathroom. Once they saw that he had the papoose and backpack full of diapers and other baby necessities, they apologized.

Both Suzy, and then later, Wendy, had made it a regular habit of taking a bath with Lily. They didn't have to wait until Lily was asleep to grab a quick shower like Chet now had to do. Lily still tried to insist that he take a bath with her, and she didn't understand his refusal. As innocent as it would be, Chet just didn't feel it would be appropriate and harbored concerns about what some future teacher or other adult would report if Lily ever mentioned taking a bath with her father when she got older. It wasn't fair that a single father had to be so guarded where all physical contact with his daughter was concerned, but society paints with a broad brush sometimes.

Chet used a clip to secure her ponytail to the top of her head, got Lily situated in the tub, and then reached up to close the HVAC vent. The water wouldn't stay warm for as long as Lily liked to play in the water, so he didn't want her to get chilled by the air conditioner. He smiled as he sat on the edge of the tub and watched his daughter play with the bubbles. It had been a "clean" day for Lily so this bath's purpose was more to help her relax before her bedtime than it was for any hygienic reasons.

Lily was patting the bubbles and gazing up at Chet expectantly. He smiled, knowing what she was waiting for but he wanted her to verbalize it. Her impatience with her father was growing more evident as she squinted her eyes and pouted her lips. Finally, she said, "Dada, sawn!"

Chuckling at her, Chet reached over and clicked on the cassette player that he kept on the counter in the bathroom for Lily's bath time. He had discovered that Suzy only recorded one song on the sixty-minute tape, but she had recorded it fifteen times. He could still picture his wife singing along with Dolly Parton as her version of "But you know I love you" played over and over again for Lily.

Chet had witnessed Suzy playing the tape and singing along while she was bathing Lily, and Wendy said that she played it also. Lily had come to expect her father to follow suit, but she always shook her head at him if he began singing along. Apparently, his deeper voice detracted from her enjoyment of the song.

Lily was content to babble along to the repeated playing of the song and try to make shapes out of the bubbles. Chet moved over to sit on the closed toilet to watch her with less risk of getting splashed by her playing.

Letting his mind drift to his earlier encounter with Dillon West, Chet again marveled at the audacity of the man for threatening him with blackmail to force him to join West's organization. If West was using similar tactics to recruit others - people with backgrounds in special operations and the skills that West was looking for, it wouldn't be unexpected for one of them simply to eliminate the threat that West presented to them. Chet decided that he would reach out to Akeem Peters after Lily was asleep.

"Dada, out!" Lily said with authority, shaking Chet from his musings about West. She was becoming a bossy little thing. Chet reached into the tub to feel the water and saw that it had cooled considerably. How long had he been daydreaming? He then stood and looked down at her, trying to keep a stern look on his face but failing.

"Ask nice," he told his daughter.

Lily smiled up at her father, wrapping him tighter around her little finger, she raised her arms towards him, and said, "Dada, pease."

"Can you let the water out?" Chet asked her in a teasing tone.

Lily's eyes grew wide in fear as she scooted as far from the bathtub drain as possible. Chet chuckled and said, "Okay, I'll do it after we get you out of the tub and dried off."

He didn't know for certain whether it had been Suzy or Wendy that had made Lily afraid that if she was still in the tub when the water started going down the drain, she might end up going down the drain with the water. He suspected that it had been Wendy, though. He couldn't imagine Suzy doing anything to provoke any type of fear in Lily.

With her towel draped over his shoulder, Chet leaned over and picked Lily up out of the bathtub, cradling her against the towel with one hand as he deftly wrapped it around her dripping body with the other. Clutching her towel-swathed body tightly against his chest to assure her that she was securely in his arms, he then reached into the bathtub and pulled the plug to the drain.

Lily snuggled against her father and said, "cole".

"Let's get you dried off, your teeth brushed, and then into your pajamas," Chet replied. "That will warm you up. Do you want Tinker Bell or Unicorn tonight?"

"Bowf," Lily happily replied.

Chet chuckled and said, "I hope your fashion sense improves as you get older, young lady."

Lily giggled.

After Lily had her diaper on and was dressed in her mix-matched pajamas, Chet had her sit between his legs on the bed as he brushed out her hair. Her hair was the same color as Suzy's had been, but thinner and finer in its texture. Just the slightest breeze, even something as gentle as her father's breath would cause strands of Lily's hair to float away from her head. Wendy once told him that Lily's hair would become thicker as she grew and he wasn't certain that this would be welcomed by him. He loved her baby-fine hair.

Chet listened to Lily humming the song from her bath time as she patiently endured getting her hair brushed. She endured most things that Chet and she did together and was seldom cranky or argumentative unless she was tired. Like Suzy had done, Chet always tried to give his daughter as much independence in making her own decisions and allowing her to develop at her own pace as her maturity would safely allow. If he didn't agree with her actions or decisions, he would explain to her why and steer her accordingly. Even though he knew that many times Lily didn't understand his reasoning, she never challenged him. He prayed that this was a part of her personality that would still be present in her teen years.

He set the brush onto the nightstand just as the cordless phone lying there rang. He glanced at the clock as he picked up the handset and answered, "Hi, Wendy."

"Hey, you. How is our little birthday girl? Is she still awake?"

Chet watched Lily turn around on the bed to face him. He could tell that she was alert at the moment, but that she would likely be fading fast. He said into the phone, "There's time for you to wish her a happy birthday. Hang on and I'll put the phone on speaker for you."

He held the phone between him and Lily and said, "Okay, we're set."

Wendy sang the traditional happy birthday song to Lilly, and then asked, "Did you and your dad have a good day?"

"Winny!" Lily shouted excitedly as she recognized the voice now that it was speaking rather than singing.

Lily and Chet hadn't seen Wendy since the day that her father had taken her to begin her basic training at the Air Force Academy, and she had been able to call them only a few times due to her schedule and academy regulations for cadets in training. Chet was impressed that Wendy had been able to call on Lily's birthday.

Almost as if reading Chet's mind through the telephone lines, Wendy said, "I can't talk long. I am using the phone in my dad's office but I'll need to get back to my dorm pretty quick. I just couldn't miss talking to my best girl on her first birthday. What did you guys do today?"

Chet looked at Lily and asked, "Do you want to tell Wendy about the zoo?"

Lily nodded enthusiastically and started babbling words that Chet understood were names of the various animals that they had seen but he doubted that Wendy would understand. He translated each one as Lily said it, "That was elephant, that was giraffe, that was penguin..."

Wendy was oohing and aahing with every animal Lily tried to say, verbally sharing the excitement of a one-year-old. Chet didn't need to translate Lily's pronouncement of, "cake".

"Did you save me a piece of cake?" Wendy teasingly asked.

Chet laughed at Lily vigorously shaking her head as if Wendy could see her do it. He said, "It is just a small ice cream cake since it was just the two of us. There's enough left for her to have more tomorrow and maybe the next day, but that's about it. If we can hook up with you and your dad over Thanksgiving break, I'll get a duplicate of it for us all to share. I'm sure that Lily wouldn't mind celebrating her birthday again."

"I'll check with my dad," Wendy said. "He's been hinting that things between him and my mom are improving. If they get back together, that might influence their plans for Thanksgiving."

"I hope things work out for them," Chet said. "But, even if they make other plans, you will always be welcome to spend the holiday break with us."

"Oh, I definitely want to spend the Thanksgiving break with you and Lily," Wendy insisted. "My parents can spend it together if they want, or my dad can join the three of us at your place. Will you be able to accommodate me?"

"So, you would want to stay here rather than in the townhome with your dad?"

"Of course. Is that a problem?" Wendy asked.

Chet considered the current sleeping situation at their house. They had rented it furnished and there were three bedrooms, but he and Lily had only been using one of them to sleep in. Her bedroom held bunk beds, and a crib for her, along with all of her toys and clothes, but she had slept in the same queen-size bed with her father since Wendy had left for school. Maybe he should start weaning Lily back into sleeping in her crib. He would move it into his room for now and see how she adjusted before separating them completely at night.

The third bedroom had a standard double bed, but since there hadn't been any need to use it, Chet had never taken the time to buy linens that would fit it. Thanksgiving was more than three months away, so he would have plenty of time to pick things up to make the room habitable for a guest. Then, Chet had another idea, and asked, "When is your last class on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving?"

"We learned during orientation that we will be released Wednesday morning before Thanksgiving," Wendy said. "That allows people to travel home for the holiday."

"Then figure out where you want me and Lily to pick you up. We'll swing by Target on the way here and let you pick out the sheets and pillows that you want for your room."

"My room?" Wendy asked with a laugh. "I already have a room at the townhome."

"Kiddo, you will always have a room in mine and Lily's home," Chet assured her.

How could she tell him that the sheets and pillows on his bed were the ones that she wanted? She settled for, "Okay, I'll let you know as the date gets closer. Kiss Lily for me."

"I will," Chet said. "You take care of yourself."

"Count on it. Good night."

Chet disconnected the call and wished that they could have talked longer. Wendy's presence had always been like a pharmacy full of happy pills.

Lily was almost asleep with her head on his lap. After replacing the phone on the bedside table, he picked his daughter up in his arms and said, "I see that you're getting an early start on your sweet dreams. Daddy will get you into bed."

Carrying her into her bedroom, Chet lay her in the crib and got her situated under her blanket before kneeling down to release the wheel locks. Lily was already asleep before he began rolling the crib to his bedroom where he positioned the crib at the foot of his bed and relocked the wheels. Chet turned off the overhead light but left the door open so that the light from the hallway filtered into the room.

Time to have a chat with Peters.

Monday, August 27, 1990

"Passport, please."

The request was complied with as the man handed his passport to the immigration agent at Miami's cruise ship terminal. Folded inside the passport book was a certified copy of his daughter's birth certificate. He knew that it would be the next item requested.

"You don't travel internationally too much, Mr. Acosta," the agent said, noticing the absence of many stamps in the book. "But I guess it's harder with a small child."

Rick Acosta smiled and said, "True, but that's also a recent replacement for my passport that was lost in a fire at our house in Oklahoma earlier this year."

"Sorry to hear that. How long were you in Aruba?" That was one of the few entry stamps in his passport.

"Only a couple of days. My daughter got an ear infection soon after our arrival, so I decided to return to the States on a cruise ship rather than making her fly. That meant that we had to cut things short in order to catch an available ship when it docked. The ship's doctor was wonderful with her and her symptoms are practically all gone now."

His daughter, identified as Kristine Acosta on her birth certificate smiled at the immigration agent and said, "All beffer."

"What the hell?" Rick thought. She hadn't really had an ear infection, so why was his daughter playing along with his excuse to the immigration agent by telling him that she was feeling "all better"?

The agent chuckled as he affixed the entry stamp to the passport and handed it back to Rick. "Welcome home Mr. Acosta. You too, Kristine."

Waiting in line at the customs inspection area, Rick Acosta wondered how long it would take his daughter to start recognizing her new name. He knew that it would take discipline on his part to learn to respond when someone addressed him by "Rick" rather than Chet. All of his documentation for his prior identity was sewn inside the lining of the backpack containing the diapers and other needs of a traveling one-year-old girl. There was little risk of any customs agent noticing.

Discussing Dillon West with Akeem Peters, the two men had agreed that West was desperate to recruit people and that if his implied threats didn't influence Chet, then he might try using Lily as leverage. To prevent that and to protect her, Chet Diego had to simply disappear where Dillon West and the rest of the world were concerned.

The plan was rather straightforward and simple. After driving to Denver and spending the night in a mid-priced airport motel, Chet Diego and his daughter had flown to Belize City two weeks ago and cleared immigration in Belize under their true identities. While in Belize, all the trusts and bank accounts under Chet's name had been closed and new ones were established at different institutions under his new identity. Chet Diego and his daughter would never leave that country.

Having already assumed the identity of the dead man, Rick Acosta, for himself and the identity of Kristine Acosta for Lily, that made it easy to leave the country under one name and return under their different names. The unfinished business related to selling the house in Lamar and the car dealerships in Joplin complicated things, however. For those, a holding company was established and a law firm in Belize City was empowered to act in the interest of Chet Diego, protecting his privacy in the process.

It was logical to assume that Dillon West or his associate had made a note of the license plate on Chet Diego's minivan when they had encountered him at the postal store. The vehicle was registered under Chet's name, with the postal box address listed rather than the house. In their absence over the past two weeks, the minivan would have been repainted and the title transferred to the Belize holding company before being parked in a different airport hotel parking lot.

With his one duffle bag containing all of their clothes, and the backpack diaper bag, the only item that they needed to get from the cruise ship baggage claim before entering a customs inspection line was Kris' car seat. As it came tumbling down the conveyor belt, Kris pointed and screamed, "MINE!"

That elicited laughs from everyone within earshot. They didn't need the car seat for this trip since they weren't riding in anything but planes, the cruise ship, and a few shuttle buses, but it served as an excellent prop. Much like walking with a limp while carrying a cane, the image of a parent traveling alone with a child, encumbered with all the baggage, and lugging a car seat typically generated extra courtesy and sympathy from other travelers and those serving them.

This proved to be the case once more as Rick stepped into one of the customs inspection lines behind two couples. Both immediately stepped aside and insisted that Rick go in front of them with his daughter. Kris's angelic smiling face was another contributing factor, Rick was certain. He thanked them and stepped toward the agent.

The female customs agent smiled at Kris, and asked, "Good morning, cutie. Do you have anything to declare?"

"Dada", Kris said, turning her head to look up at her father.

Rick chuckled and said, "The only thing we purchased while out of the country were ear drops for my daughter. Do you need to see them?"

Quickly stamping the blank declaration form, the agent said, "No, sir. Thank you and welcome home. Bye, Cutie."

Kris said, "Bye-bye," as Rick moved them both towards the exit without further delay.

Opening the rear door to the first taxi in the line outside of the cruise terminal, Rick heard some song lyrics that he couldn't immediately place, but he knew that they were familiar.

"Yeah, I love my baby

Heart and soul

Love like ours won't never grow old"

He continued listening as he handed his duffle bag and car seat to the driver to stow in the trunk. Rick tossed the backpack across the seat and climbed in next to it. With Kris in the papoose, he would just position the seatbelt around both of them.

"She my sweet little thing

She my pride and joy

She my sweet little baby

I'm her little lover boy"

The driver was getting situated behind the steering wheel when Rick asked, "Is that 'My Pride and Joy' by Stevie Ray Vaughan?"

Turning the radio down before glancing back over his shoulder at his passenger, the taxi driver answered, "Yeah. They're playing a tribute to him on this station today commemorating his career. Where to?"

"The airport," Rick said in response. He then asked, "Did something happen to him?"

"Probably not something that you want to hear while on your way to an airport for a flight, but Stevie Ray Vaughn was killed early this morning in a helicopter crash. Four others died as well."

"Where was this?" Rick asked.

"Someplace in Wisconsin, I think," the driver said. "I just caught bits and pieces of the story in between fares. We're not supposed to play the radio with passengers in the car, so I usually get fragmented information until someone with all the details decides to enlighten me. Listen, there is an accident on the Dolphin Expressway, so I'm going to turn off the meter and charge you just a flat twenty bucks for the ride because I'll need to head north and take the Airport Expressway to get around things. You okay with that?"

Rick nodded and then rode silently, gently lifting the papoose so that Kris would have an unobstructed view out the window of the taxi on their trip. As long as she could see things as they passed them, she never fussed. Ignore her curiosity about her surroundings and you had a very unhappy rider. As they rode, he remembered why the lyrics to that song had sounded familiar to him. Several of the guys that he had gone through Army basic training with had sent those lyrics in cards or letters to their girlfriends.

Rick didn't consider the lyrics the most romantic that he had ever heard but admitted that the emotional blues music that accompanied them when Steve Ray Vaughn sang the song could inspire romantic feelings in someone separated from the one that they love.

Knowing that they would have a few hours at the airport before their flight to Denver, Rick considered what his options were to keep Kris occupied. His daughter was a beautiful, active little girl with a sunny, winning personality and a bright, inquisitive mind but even she had her limits where boredom was concerned. He had considered purchasing a membership in one of the airline clubs when they were waiting for their originating flight in Denver, but at that time he had been traveling as Chet Diego and a membership in that name would be useless to him in the future.

Now that he was traveling as Rick Acosta, he had a few options. He could purchase a membership at one of the airline's VIP lounges, but he didn't anticipate that he would be traveling enough to get much benefit from it after this trip. American Express was starting to open airport lounges for their premium card holders, but these were still too few and far between. His idea of using the USO Club lounge for active and retired military personnel changed Rick's train of thought.

His entire military history was filed away somewhere in the Military Personnel Records Center in Overland, Missouri, under the name of Chet Diego. That history could prove valuable to any future opportunities for Rick Acosta, and that started his contemplation of how he might be able to get the records changed to reflect his new identity without leaving a trail that someone like Dillon West could use to find him.

The famous Mark Twain quote, "Two people can keep a secret if one of them is dead" came to mind for Rick. He couldn't get his military records changed without involving another person, but then that person would know about the change and could potentially hold that against Rick at some point. The only option that Rick could think of that didn't involve him having to potentially eliminate someone who knew of the change in his records was for him to make the changes himself.

But how?

"Which airline are you flying?" the taxi driver asked, bringing Rick's attention back to their ride. He saw that they were approaching the entrance to the Miami airport.

Rick made a quick decision, and said, "American". Their flight to Denver was booked on United Airlines, but American Airlines would be a better option for flights to St. Louis, which is where he felt that he should spend a few days researching and developing a plan for infiltrating the Military Personnel Records Center.

On the flight, Rick reviewed everything that he had researched about the deceased man when selecting him for his new identity. He knew that he had not seen any military service, which eliminated that as a reason for Rick to make many inquiries concerning records at the MPRC. It had been more than six months since he had conducted his research on the man and his background. In the gun safe at his house in Colorado, there was a complete dossier, but all that Rick had at his disposal before arriving in St; Louis was his memory.

He could easily recall all of the man's vital records information because it was now his as well. What he needed to remember is where the man had held jobs, the education he had received, and the skills that he had possessed.

They were on the final approach to Lambert Field when he remembered. The man had worked for a couple of years at Xerox.

Thursday, September 15, 1990

With thousands of requests each day for the millions of records archived at the Military Personnel Records Center, all the photocopiers and printers within the facility needed to be diligently maintained. During the day shift, when the machines were expected to be operational, Xerox had trained technicians onsite to respond to any equipment failures.

These technicians were too busy putting out fires to be distracted by performing preventative or even routine maintenance on the equipment. For these purposes, they had a single graveyard-shift technician tasked with visiting every unit in the facility on a scheduled basis, reviewing the service logs, replenishing any needed supplies, performing remedial maintenance tasks, and creating service tickets for the more senior technicians to address during the day.

Based upon the real Rick Acosta's prior experience with the company, the new Rick Acosta was overqualified for the graveyard shift role. But, as he explained to the human resources person who had interviewed him for the position, he would forego a higher salary and more responsibility to be able to work a shift that allowed him the be home during the day with his infant daughter. An additional quick, ten-minute interview with the branch service manager was all it took for him to be hired.

With unfettered access to the entire MPRC facility at a time of the day when he and two security guards were the only people there, Rick was able to quickly identify the military records for Chet Diego that he needed to replace. He had to locate blank forms for each of the records so that he could replicate them in Rick Acosta's name. The MPRC stored the records, they didn't create them or the forms that were used.

Since records came from different branches of the military, and some of the forms were not interchangeable, getting blank forms would be a formidable challenge and take more time than Rick wanted to spend on this project. He decided that rather than creating replicas of the records on new forms, he would make copies of Chet Diego's records and merely alter the name before destroying the originals.

It had taken Rick only a couple of days to get copies of Chet Diego's entire military history. He was surprised at how much of his activities with the CIA had been included since he had been informed by his handler that none of it would be. He would modify the name on those records, but he didn't expect that they would ever be released or seen by anyone not authorized to view them. He couldn't leave some records in Chet Diego's name and change others to Rick Acosta's. It had to be all or none.

Copies in hand, Rick found the most difficult part of the project to be obscuring just the typed letters that spelled "Chet Diego". Most of the forms had boxes for the name to be typed, but not all typists were diligent in aligning the type to fit squarely into the specific box on the form. Rick spent over a week using "White-Out" to cover the typed characters. He then needed to make high-quality copies in order for them to pass as originals. These copies then required additional work to replace portions of lines around the boxes where he had needed to delete the line in order to completely obscure the previous letters.

The next hurdle that Rick faced was finding typewriters that matched the fonts used on the various forms. Eighty percent of the forms were typed using the "Courier" typeface, but the remaining twenty percent were a mixture of "Times Roman", or "Letter Gothic", and even one was typed using "Helvetica".

The IBM Selectric Two typewriters at the MPRC had "Courier" elements exclusively, so eighty percent of the forms were modified with the name change in a single graveyard shift. He had to wait for his supply order from IBM to arrive at the apartment he had rented before he had the alternate typefaces required to modify the remaining records.

Rick was checking the service log for the copier in one of the file rooms where he had just finished switching out the last modified record. The original for Chet Diego was folded in the back pocket of his pants and would be destroyed by burning it in the kitchen sink at the apartment when he got back there. He heard the door open and knew that it was probably Julian, one of the night-shift guards that he had come to know.

"Hey, Rick, how's it going?"

Rick turned to face the guard and said, "Routine stuff, Julian. How about you?"

"Just another typically boring night. Yours might get busier soon, though."

"Why's that?" Rick asked.

"Things are heating up in the Middle East. France has just announced that it will be sending 4,000 troops to the middle east. The coalition of countries that President Bush has been seeking to form is taking shape. You can expect to see a lot of requests for military records, particularly for reservists to start coming in."

Rick considered the implications for himself now that his name was on all of the records formerly belonging to Chet Diego and decided that he needn't worry. His hardship discharge exempted him from reserve status. A lot of other young men and women who assumed that their military service days were over probably wouldn't be as fortunate.

"I guess that I should do an inventory of the developer, toner, and paper supply," Rick told the guard. "Those would be my only concern on this shift when the volume on the machines increases."

Rick had no concerns related to the copiers or anything else related to the MPRC after this shift. He had a flight reservation for him and Kris for the morning flight from St. Louis to Denver. He would have to remember to pay the retired school teacher next door for her time this week sleeping in his apartment in case Kris awoke and needed anything while he was at work. Other than that, all he needed to do when his shift ended was to go to the apartment, grab their packed luggage, and take a taxi to the airport.

Quitting a job with no notice would not look good on his resume, but he didn't expect that to be a problem with the types of jobs he might be applying for in the future. Plus, with his military records now available to him, his resume would not indicate any other employment for him since he had graduated high school.

Julian, the guard, checked his watch and said, "I guess I should finish my rounds. It's almost six and they're getting greedy with overtime hours again. Catch you tomorrow, Rick."

"See ya, Julian."

Wednesday, October 03, 1990

Rick's description of the vehicle made it easy to pick it out. Wendy opened the sliding side door of the minivan and hopped in, placing her backpack on the floor before sitting down in the space beside the smiling infant in her car seat. They hadn't seen each other in almost three months.

"Winny!" Kris squealed in delight.

"Lily!" Wendy exclaimed in return as she leaned in to kiss a cheek. "How's my little angel?

Rick looked over his shoulder from the driver's seat and said, "Please call her 'Kris' or 'Kristine'. She shares her mother's middle name and I want people to use it as much as possible to help her appreciate the bond that Suzy tried to establish between them."

"I can understand that," Wendy said with sadness evident in her tone. "I'll do whatever I can to help you keep her mother alive in her."

Rick nodded and said, "I know you will. Are you sure that hanging here with Kris for an hour or so won't cause you any problems?"

They were parked in a visitor space in the parking lot closest to the administration building for the Air Force Academy. Wendy had agreed to find the minivan and sit with Kris during a study break so that Rick could attend a meeting that he had been invited to.

"It's no problem at all," Wendy assured him. "If I wasn't here, I would be studying in the library, which I can do just as easily while watching Lil..., I mean Kris. As long as you're back by one, I can make my next class."

Rick checked the time on the digital clock on the dashboard and said, "I don't know what this requested meeting is about, but it's only 10:45, and I can't imagine a scenario where it would run too far into lunchtime. I'll definitely be back here by 12:45, even if I have to walk out of the meeting."

Wendy nodded and asked, "You really don't know why you were asked to meet with the Dean of Faculty and the Director of Staff for the Academy?"

Shaking his head, Rick said, "Nope. I was asked in the phone call last week if I could meet with them today at 11:00 am, and told that the purpose of the meeting would be explained to me at that time."

Opening his door, Rick told Wendy, "I'll leave the keys in the ignition in case you want to use the radio or turn on the air conditioner."

Rick slid out of the minivan, but before he could close his door, Wendy urgently spoke, "Hey, you!"

Rick stuck his head back inside and looked at Wendy questioningly. She said, "I've missed you."

"We've missed you too," he told her.

That wasn't exactly what Wendy had hoped to hear, but she accepted it as she watched Rick walk away toward the administration building. "Damn," she thought. That man sure cleaned up nicely. In his business suit, he could easily win the cover of a magazine, such as GQ.

~~~

After checking in at the reception desk in the lobby, Rick took a seat to wait for an escort to his meeting. He was able to overhear several comments and conversations from people walking through the lobby related to what the unification of the two Germanys would mean to the American military presence in the former West Germany. The interest of the people Rick heard was naturally focused on the Air Force installations there.

Rick had served with a couple of people who he thought might still be stationed at the US Military Medical Materiel Center at Husterhoeh Kaserne, but he knew that the largest Air Force presence in Europe was at Ramstein Air Force Base. As part of the KMC, or Kaiserslautern Military Community, there were more than 50,000 American personnel and their dependents living in that area of Germany alone.

Rick watched as an Air Force Brigadier General approached the reception desk, spoke to the cadet there briefly, and then quickly stepped over to Rick was sitting. Raising as the General approached, he resisted the impulse to salute the man. Civilians aren't expected to salute uniformed officers, even if they are Generals.

Extending his hand, the General said, "Mr. Acosta, I'm Nathan Frasier. I want to thank you for accepting my invitation to meet."

"It's my pleasure, General."

"Please come with me. Colonel Harris is waiting for us in her office."

Rick was confused by the seeming informality of the situation. If he was to meet with a Colonel and a Brigadier General, shouldn't the colonel be the one sent to retrieve him, and wouldn't they be meeting in the General's office rather than the Colonel's?

As they walked down several hallways and a few flights of stairs, General Frasier started making small talk, "What do you think of the events in Germany today?"

"I assume you are referring to the unification that occurred?" Rick asked.

"Yeah. Not something I ever expected to happen when I was stationed with the 7455th Tactical Intelligence Wing at Ramstein," the General told him.

"How long were you stationed there?" Rick asked.

"Three and a half years," General Frasier replied. "Both of my kids were born there.

They stopped in front of a closed office door with a plaque reading, "Lt Col Virginia Harris, Director of Staff". General Frasier tapped lightly on the door, and then pushed it open without waiting for a reply. Rank still had its privileges.

A woman that Rick assumed was Virginia Harris stood as the General entered the room and saluted. She had been sitting in one of four chairs around a small oval conference table in the office. The General returned her salute and motioned for Rick to enter the office.

"Colonel, thank you for hosting this meeting," the General said. "Let me introduce Rick Acosta."

Colonel Harris was a strikingly beautiful woman. Her regulation hairstyle and uniform did little to disguise just how attractive she was. Rick imagined her as a poster model for Air Force recruiting, and then dismissed the idea. While her appearance, even in her uniform would certainly attract more male recruits, she would likely have an intimidation effect where female recruits were concerned.

She quickly strode over and extended her hand to Rick, saying, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Acosta, and thank you for agreeing to meet with us. General Frasier's office is having some emergency repairs done to one of the windows after a bird flew into it yesterday, so I'm more than happy to use my humble office for our meeting. Please have a seat. Can I offer you anything to drink?"

"No thank you," Rick said as he waited for the Colonel to take her seat at the table. He chose one of the seats that didn't have a plain manila file folder on the table in front of it. He assumed those indicated where the General and Colonel were supposed to sit. Watching the two officers take those seats proved Rick correct, but there was one seat with a folder left unoccupied.

Colonel Harris started, "Do you prefer to be addressed as Mr. Acosta or more informally as Rick?"

"It would depend upon the formality of the situation," Rick explained. "Perhaps it would be best to let you or the General make the determination where our meeting here is concerned."

The Colonel smiled warmly and said, "That's fair. While this is a professional situation, I believe we can keep it pretty informal and ignore military protocol. Wouldn't you agree, Nathan?"

"I do," the General agreed, opening the folder in front of him. "Ginny, please explain to Rick the purpose for asking him here."

"Shouldn't we wait for the Secretary?" Colonel Harris asked.

"Ginny," the General said, "The decision will be yours to make. The Secretary and I are here simply to offer our input if you request it. We agreed last week that you had identified the best candidate, on paper at least. Go ahead and explain your reasoning to Rick while we wait for the Secretary."

Nodding, Ginny focused her eyes on Rick and said, "Rick, I am the Director of Staff here at the Academy. I was given an assignment to install a contract instructor and your military records indicate that you are the most qualified candidate for the role. Discovering that you live close to our campus makes you an even stronger contender."

Before Rick could ask what the role was that she felt he was qualified for, the door to the office opened and the Secretary of the Air Force, Theodore Logsdon, walked in. He waved his hand at the two officers, indicating for them to remain seated while he approached Rick and extended his hand.

"You must be Rick Acosta," Logsdon said as he shook Rick's hand.

"Yes, Mr. Secretary. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Logsdon took the remaining chair with a folder in front of it as he apologized, "Sorry about being late. The call took longer than expected, and you can't just walk away from a conversation where the President is involved."

Colonel Harris nodded and said, "We were just getting started. I was just about to explain our interest in Mr. Acosta..."

"Then please proceed," Logsdon urged.

Rick and the two other men listened in silence for just over a quarter-hour as Colonel Harris provided a comprehensive job description for the role that she was proposing to fill at the academy. Her penetrating gray eyes never left Rick's during her attempt to recruit him for the position. Throughout her entire presentation, Rick could only describe her demeanor as "professionally flirtatious". The other men either didn't seem to notice, or accepted this as the Colonel's normal behavior.

When she paused long enough for Rick to register the fact that she had finished, he asked, "I understand the position, but why me?"

Logsdon held up a hand to stop the Colonel from responding to the question and proceeded to answer it himself, "You are undoubtedly aware of the current tensions in the Middle East. Under normal circumstances, we could rely upon having someone with your skills and level of training assigned to the Academy from one of the Army's Special Forces units, but it is expected to be an 'all hands on deck' scenario if the President decides to commit U.S. forces to the fray. The Pentagon feels that outsourcing select responsibilities to retired military personnel is a viable option. This is one of those responsibilities."

"But, why me?" Rick asked again.

"If I may," Colonel Harris implored while looking at Logsdon. When he simply nodded, she explained, "I submitted a very detailed personnel profile to the MPRC, and with Secretary Logsdon's influence behind it, my request was given high priority there. I started by searching for ex-Special Forces people with experience in clandestine operations in hostile territories."

When she saw Rick raise an eyebrow, she smiled, and said, "I have the necessary clearance to view the classified details, as do General Frasier and of course, Secretary Logsdon."

Rick simply nodded, so she continued, "Knowing that each of the profiles I had would include only people who had previously been trained in Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape, I filtered them to include only those who were certified S.E.R.E. instructors. That narrowed the candidates down to five individuals. Even if three of the candidates weren't currently employed by a private military company and on assignment out of the country, you would have still been my top choice."

"Why?" Rick asked for the third time.

"There are several reasons. Foremost of these is the fact that you live near the Academy. While we would gladly pay to relocate the right candidate, selecting you would make that unnecessary. Second, your record indicates that your knowledge of unarmed, close-quarters self-defense techniques is derived from real-world experience. Our SERE specialists have proven experience with the techniques, but they have no practical real-world exposure to applying the techniques. That's where you would come in. You would teach the SERE specialists how to instruct the cadets to really survive. They say that those who can, do, and those that can't, teach. Well with you, we would have someone who can do, actually teaching it..."

Logsdon cut in, "That speaks to your physical abilities and being able to impart some of those onto the SERE specialists so they could help our cadets to augment their resistance training. What we learned from our analysis of your covert field assignments convinced us that you were also the perfect candidate to teach the cadets how to think, act, and respond to situations in hostile environments that would greatly increase their ability to evade and escape. We also want to increase the current code of conduct training for cadets from Level A to Level C and you are qualified to instruct at that level."

Rick pondered their comments for several seconds. He had altered his military records just for such an opportunity as this, but did he want to be separated from Kris too much at this stage of her development. He asked, "Would there be any travel required, or would all instruction be here?"

"Self-defense and survival training are held at the training facilities at Jacks Valley," Colonel Harris assured him. "You would be home every night."

Rick apologized, "I'm sorry. I doubt that a review of my military records shed much light onto my personal life and its current situation..."

Colonel Harris opened the file folder again and quickly scanned through the several pages it contained. She said, "We see that your marital status was changed just prior to you receiving a hardship discharge. Is there something there that would disqualify you from accepting the position?"

"Other than childcare issues, no," Rick answered. "I have a fourteen-month-old daughter and I had intended to keep her under my care until she was at least two."

"I assume the mother is no longer in the picture?" General Frasier asked.

"My wife was murdered during a robbery at her place of employment last February. It happened while I was being processed for discharge at Fort Bragg. My commanders rushed through the hardship dispatch and I have been taking care of my daughter since that time."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Frasier said. His condolences with echoed by Harris and Logsdon.

"I hired an au pair to help me for a few months while I settled my wife's estate, but I am reluctant to keep introducing new women into my daughter's life until she is old enough to understand who her mother was and why she isn't with us. I guess daycare would work since there wouldn't be a single female caregiver for my daughter to bond with."

"Well," Colonel Harris said, "as a contract employee at the Academy, you would be entitled to use of the Family Childcare Center here. You could drop your daughter off every morning, let her receive the best childcare available while spending time with children her age, and then take her home with you each evening. How does that sound?"

Rick considered this and asked, "How long would the contract be for?"

General Frasier answered, "Your initial contract would be for just this class year. Since it isn't yet a budgeted position, we will be tapping into discretionary funds within the athletic department's budget for this year. The position will be budgeted next year and for the foreseeable future, if I'm not mistaken."

Frasier slid his file folder with a copy of the contract across to Rick. He glanced at Secretary Logsdon who nodded his agreement. Rick checked the time and saw that the hour was just about up. "Will you allow me to give your proposal some consideration overnight?"

Before either Air Force officer could respond, Secretary Logsdon said, "I can give you until Friday at twelve-hundred Eastern time, which would be 10 am here. That's the best I can do to keep the program launch on track. Will that be adequate?"

"That should be more than adequate," Rick assured him. He then addressed Colonel Harris and asked, "Would it be possible for me to get a tour of the daycare center today while I am here?"

Colonel Harris smiled broadly, "I can assure you that it will be no problem. Could you meet me there in fifteen minutes?"

Rick returned her smile and said, "With directions that aren't too complicated for a ground-pounder to follow, I should be able to make that."

Rick remained non-committal but knew that if the daycare center met his expectations, he would likely give Colonel Harris his acceptance of the position before heading home. The description of the role at the Academy fit perfectly into his skills ad knowledge wheelhouse. It would provide him with a stable and fulfilling occupation that would allow him to raise Kris on his own.

As Secretary Logsdon stood, followed by General Frasier, Colonel Harris slid a printed map of the Academy across the table to Rick, saying, "The Family Childcare Center is Community Center Drive. I circled the location for you. I'll see you out and then meet you there in fifteen minutes."

Rick waited for the Colonel to stand before he rose to his feet. After shaking hands with the Secretary and then General Frasier, Rick followed Colonel Harris out of her office and towards the lobby entrance. Upon reaching the lobby, she handed him one of her business cards.

"My office phone forwards to my home phone after hours, so don't hesitate to call me at any time with further questions, or hopefully with your acceptance of the position."

Rick couldn't miss the gentle caress from the Colonel's thumb as she took his hand with hers. She held it for a few seconds before finally shaking it. "I'll see you shortly."

Rick merely nodded and headed out to the parking lot. He sensed the Colonel's eyes watching him walk away, but didn't turn to verify his suspicions. He did check the time on his watch and saw that he was returning to the minivan with five minutes to spare in Wendy's deadline.

He heard the click of the doors unlocking as he approached the driver's side door. He quickly climbed behind the wheel and turn to look back at Wendy and Kris. His daughter was napping peacefully as Wendy closed the textbook that she had been reading.

Rick quietly asked, "Was she okay for you?"

"God, she was perfect," Wendy assured him. "She fell asleep within five minutes of you leaving. I'm glad that I brought something to study or I would have been bored silly. So, did you find out what they wanted to meet with you about?"

Nodding, Rick said, "They are offering me a job teaching the S.E.R.E. specialists self-defense in survival situations."

"Are you going to take it?" Wendy asked as she finished zipping her backpack.

Rick shrugged and said, "I'm leaning in that direction. I am supposed to meet the Director of Staff at the base daycare center in a few minutes for a tour. If the facility looks like a good fit for Kris, then I probably will accept the position."

Rick saw Wendy trying to slide the side door of the minivan open as quietly as possible to avoid waking Kris. He said, "Don't worry about waking her. In fact, you should probably wake her so that she can say goodbye to you or I'll be in her doghouse for the rest of the day."

Wendy laughed and then gently tapped Kris a few times on her shoulder, "Hey, Little Angel, I need to go now. Can I get a hug?"

Kris opened her eyes, and in a groggy voice, said, "Bye, Winny..."

Wendy reached over and gave Kris the best hug she could give a toddler buckled into a car seat, and then stepped out of the minivan and closed the door. She quickly walked around to the driver's side window and waited for Rick to lower it.

"Thanks for letting me spend some time with her," Wendy said as she turned to leave. She took two steps and turned back, "Are we still on for Thanksgiving?"

"You bet. We'll be here to pick you up just as we agreed. Thanks again for making time for us."

"Hey, you, I would do anything for you guys," Wendy said. Walking away she thought, "If you would only give me the chance."

Tuesday, December 11, 1990

Rick was growing to like the chat feature on Prodigy, especially when he wanted to converse with someone while Kris was sleeping. He was currently staring at the screen displaying his chat with Akeem Peters. Akeem had to step away to take a phone call but hadn't ended their chat session on his end, so Rick patiently waited for his return. He glanced through the door into her room and saw Kris sleeping quietly in her crib.

Kris had taken to spending her days at the Family Daycare center much better than Rick had anticipated. His concerns over her lack of exposure to a lot of other people, especially other children had been for naught. Rick was greeted every afternoon by one of the teachers or aides at the center anxious to tell him about Kris' advanced language and motor skills, and her overall maturity when compared to children her own age. He didn't know how many times he had been told that Kris's interactions with other children was elevating the other children's developmental rate in most areas.

His screen flashed and Rick saw a new chat message from Akeem: "Go to analog. I do you."

Rick saw the chat session immediately terminate on Akeem's end, so he quickly ended his own session and disconnected the modem from the phone line. He understood Akeem's message to mean that he wanted to chat on the phone instead of online and that he would be calling Rick shortly.

Rick rushed over to close the door to Kris' room and returned to the desk just as the home phone rang. He answered before the first ring had ended, "Hey, Buddy, what's up?"

"So, we're buddies now?" the sultry female voice asked.

"Colonel Harris! I'm sorry, I was expecting a call from someone else," Rick stammered.

"Not another female admirer, I hope," Harris said. "I trust that it's not too late to call you?"

Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was almost 8:30 pm. "No, it's not too late." He ignored the Colonel's other comment and asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Shit," Rick thought. "I need to be more careful with my word selections."

Colonel Harris hadn't done anything inappropriate, but Rick had learned how to read the signs of female attraction from an early age, and these were thinly veiled by the Colonel. She had always acted professionally, but the flirtatious tone of voice that Rick heard only when she spoke to him, combined with her body language and any excuse possible for them to meet about the most mundane topics all made her intentions obvious. He had to be careful not to say or do anything to instill the slightest semblance of hope for any kind of non-work relationship between them.

Based upon her rank of Lieutenant Colonel and her year of graduation from the Academy, Rick has calculated that Harris was probably fifteen years older than himself, but she looked at least a decade younger. As strikingly beautiful as she was in her Air Force uniform, on the few occasions when Rick had seen her in civilian clothing had confirmed to him that Virginia Harris had few equals among the female species where her beauty was concerned.

Rick had been dealing with women like Colonel Harris since high school. Teachers, mothers of his male friends, and typically any older woman who believed that she had something of value to offer in exchange for the attention of an attractive teenage boy would try to tempt him into their bed. They weren't seeking anything other than a brief carnal relationship and had no regard for those who suffered as a result of their selfish desires. He had more than one of his coaches warn him about these "Cougars" and he had diligently avoided them his entire life.

Now, it appeared that he would have to walk a tightrope where Colonel Harris was concerned. From the moment that she had begun their tour of the Family Daycare Center, she had been stressing to Rick that the center provided twenty-four-hour childcare due to the varying hours that base personnel worked. This, she assured him, meant that he had a resource to tend to his daughter for those times when he wanted to get out for a little "adult time" as she called it.

While she hadn't directly asked him out on a date, Colonel Harris had made several comments to him about opportunities for him to meet other single adults at various events and locations around Colorado Springs, and Rick had no doubt that the places that she mentioned were exactly where he would find her if he ever followed any of her suggestions.

Rick had tried to explain to her that he was still mourning the loss of his wife, but as with all the other "Cougars" that he had encountered in his life, she cared nothing about anyone's feelings but her own. Rick could practically read her mind when he explained his unwillingness to entertain dating at this time in his life. He envisioned her thinking, "Fuck dating. If I get you into my bed, I'll make you forget your dead wife and every other woman that you've ever known."

Rick glanced at the top of the bookcase where the urn containing Suzy's ashes stood as he heard Colonel Harris say, "I am calling about your inquiry from yesterday concerning who developed the curriculum you are tasked with supervising. Is there a problem with the curriculum?"

"No," Rick said. "I was more interested in how carved in stone the curriculum is. Is there any room to expand upon it?"

There was silence for a few seconds before Harris asked, "What are you proposing?"

"How about non-lethal combat tactics and strategies? Do these have a place in your proposed training? It seems heavily focused on teaching hand-to-hand combat as the 'resistance' component when evasion isn't possible."

Colonel Harris considered the questions and said, "Maybe you could explain what you are referring to."

"Cadets should be taught the basics of non-lethal combat tactics," Rick explained. "When confronting an adversary, they need to recognize that if a man can't see, he can't fight; if a man can't stand, he can't fight; if a man can't breathe, he can't fight. There are several proven approaches to disabling an opponent's ability to fight without killing them. Since Air Force personnel on the ground in hostile territories would typically be outgunned if it came to the use of weaponry, they need to be taught how to rely upon other tactics, and sometimes, their imagination."

"Aikido and a few other oriental martial arts work well for people who can't use brute force to beat someone much larger," Rick said. "For example, Aikido teaches you to use your body weight against your opponent. When that body weight is applied to a joint it breaks pretty easily. The same principle holds true with the various pressure points on a person's body."

"The goal should be to introduce the cadets to self-defense techniques that would incapacitate their attacker and allow them to escape. These techniques aren't exclusively tied to hand-to-hand combat. Think of things such as mace or pepper spray and how those are used to incapacitate a person. There are several chemical, biological, and technological avenues that we could explore to open up far more options to the cadets to increase their ability to survive in a hostile environment. The Israelis are experimenting with intense light and sound generating devices that could be used to stun an opponent by targeting their senses."

Colonel Harris seemed to be thinking out loud when she said, "With more and more women joining the active-duty forces in combat areas, I could see the benefit of training them in defensive tactics that didn't rely solely upon size or strength."

Rick knew that she would gravitate toward that particular benefit, which is why he hadn't brought the physical disparity between male and female cadets into his explanation. He waited for Colonel Harris to finish her thoughts.

"How much experience do you have with the techniques that you have mentioned?" she finally asked.

"I have practical, field experience with a few of the chemical agents, but only theoretical knowledge of the developing technologies mentioned," Rick explained. "I believe that exposure to the various technologies, even from a theoretical perspective would be beneficial to the cadets during their training because it would expand the scope of what they might be capable of relative to self-defense at some point in their careers. As options come online in the future, we can expand upon the level of exposure that the cadets receive during their training."

"So," the Colonel said, "You are advocating for the inclusion of technologies currently available and essentially inserting 'bookmarks' into the curriculum for later inclusion of others when the time is right. Is that what I am hearing?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Do you know how to format a curriculum modification proposal?" she asked.

"I'm sure I could figure it out..." Rick began.

Harris interrupted, "Figuring it out won't be good enough. It's all about word selection, selling the benefits, filling specific needs, and selling the idea to the respective department heads. Tell you what, I'm slammed at the office right now with end-of-semester meetings and getting ready for the winter break. How about if I come over to your place and walk you through the proposal process? I have an unopened bottle of Hennessy XO that someone gave me as an early Christmas present. We could crack it open and work on your proposal together. I could be there in fifteen minutes. What do you say?"

Rick didn't hesitate, "Tonight won't work. As you remember, when I answered your call, I was expecting it to be from someone else. I still need to take that call, and it will likely last a couple of hours. I'll just get with one of the admins in the athletic department later this week and try to muddle through the proposal process with them. I would appreciate you reviewing my proposal before I submit it though."

There was a slight delay before Colonel Harris said, "Of course. Let me know when you have it ready for review and I'll cook dinner for you. We'll review it after I serve you a home-cooked meal. Do you think that you might have it ready by Saturday?"

Rick considered his response. He didn't want to lead the Colonel on, but he had to try to keep her as an ally while she held her current position at the Academy. "I can't imagine it not being ready by the weekend, but I'll have to regretfully decline your invitation to dinner. Saturdays and Sundays are Kris and my days together for just the two of us. I'll drop the proposal off with your assistant as soon as it is ready and hopefully, you can review it yourself over the weekend and then we can discuss it before the winter break."

Rick was further saved by the tell-tale sound on the phone of another call attempting to come in. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but I have a call waiting for me. It's probably the one I was expecting when you called. I appreciate you calling me after hours, and I look forward to your review of my proposal. Thank you. Good night."

While suspecting that Virginia Harris would consider his abrupt termination of their conversation rude, Rick hoped that it went a small way to convince her that he wasn't interested in more than a professional relationship with her. His phone rang within seconds of him disconnecting with the Colonel.

"Is that you, Akeem?"

"Yeah, Bro. Sorry, it took me a few minutes to call you. I wanted to verify some intel that I just received."

"Not a problem," Rick told him. "I spent the time trying to put a cougar in her cage."

Rick spent the next five minutes explaining his situation to Akeem, frequently having to pause to let his friend's laughter abate enough to continue.

"If she's as attractive as you say she is, you're not going to get a lot of sympathy if you have to report her for harassment," Akeem reasoned.

"I'll begin teaching the specialists at the beginning of the new term, so the opportunities and excuses for her and I to interact will be a lot less," Rick explained. "If I avoid her for the next week or so, then the winter break will be here, and hopefully, she will move on to a more receptive candidate for her charms during the hiatus. She really is a fine-looking woman and should have no problem hooking up with most guys. I'm just not one of them."

"Well," Akeem said, "I think I have some good news for you that will take your mind off of beautiful women lusting after your sorry ass. Did you hear about the huge traffic accident this morning out in Tennessee?"

"No, I haven't heard anything but the local news today. Why?"

Peters explained what had happened, "Ninety-nine vehicles were involved in a chain-reaction accident caused by dense fog along a stretch on Interstate 75 around nine o'clock this morning. So far there have been twelve confirmed fatalities from the crashes..."

"Jesus, Man. How can twelve people dying on some highway be considered good news? Rick asked.

"You're right, Bro," Akeem conceded. "Only one of the deaths is good news. The other eleven are tragic losses for their families and friends. Sorry if I seemed callous about it."

"Still, why is even one death good news?"

"Because the one who died was Dillon West," Akeem informed his friend. "He was a passenger in a car that went underneath a big rig. The driver is in critical condition but expected to survive. West was pronounced dead at the scene. He still had the Agency listed as one of his emergency contacts. A friend who works in the communications center let me know as soon as the Agency was notified."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Rick replied. "I obviously won't miss his attempts to blackmail me into joining his company, but I certainly didn't want him dead. After all, I still have Chesterson and Leering trying to locate Chet Diego to get him to join their organizations."

"I understand," Akeem said. "And the Agency would still like to take a shot at recruiting you - well, Chet Diego. But West was the biggest threat to you, and you know it. Now that's been eliminated and whether you wanted it or not, you should be relieved."

"It really doesn't change things much. Chet Diego is history and will remain that way."

Akeem chuckled, "You're going to have to tell me how you did it someday. I've heard talk around the agency which indicates that Chet Diego impressed quite a few people by the way he just disappeared off the face of the Earth one day after traveling to Belize. The field craft you used is becoming legendary already, even though most of it isn't known."

"Had Chet Diego truly disappeared off the face of the Earth?" Rick wondered.

Akeem Peters knew of his identity change, and although Rick felt that his secret was safe with Akeem, who else might be a loose end? Shawna Hollister knew that her niece had worked as Chet Diego's au pair, but he had never confirmed his true or assumed identity for Wendy. She had never heard the name, "Rick Acosta", so she could provide no lead to anyone regarding that identity. If someone got to Shawna Hollister, searching for Chet Diego, all she could do was send them to Wendy.

In his heart, Rick knew that he could trust Wendy even more than he trusted Akeem. Although Wendy's father had followed suit with his daughter by calling him, "Hey, you", while he was visiting them, Rick had told him that he could call him 'Rick', which is how he was addressed at the Academy. Mr. Foster had never heard the name, "Chet Diego" and had no reason to associate it with the man he knew as Rick Acosta.

His fingerprints were not recorded anywhere other than in his military records and those all now bore the identity of Rick Acosta instead of Chet Diego. Akeem Peters and Wendy Foster were the only two people besides himself that could potentially tie Rick Acosta back to Chet Diego, and he was confident in the loyalty of both. Only time would tell if his confidence was misguided.

Friday, December 28, 1990

Wendy could feel the familiar moisture between her legs as she slowly awoke from the dream. The dreams varied, but the incubus that had been regularly invading her slumber for the last six months remained consistent. Most troubling for Wendy, however, was that this had been the first time that she had been visited by the incubus while sleeping in his house.

She lay silent as she listened for sounds in the house that might indicate that her moans of pleasure had been heard. She knew from the aroused condition of her body that she must have been moaning. Her roommates at the Academy teased her incessantly about her nightly erotic dreams and her moans that frequently woke them.

Wendy checked the time and saw that it was 5:43 am. Her daily routine at the academy had established sleep patterns in her that assured that she would awake each day before 6 am, even when classes weren't in session, such as now, over winter break. Although she didn't hear any sounds in the house, she suspected that He was also awake. She glanced the other way and saw Kris lying still in her crib, sleeping like the little angel that she always was.

Well, she always was a little angel when she got her way. The little girl wasn't spoiled, but she certainly was headstrong and stubborn when she wanted something. Wendy suspected that her father purposely pushed his daughter to fight for what she wanted, even if it was what he also wanted for her. They had all learned over the Thanksgiving break that Kris' insistence that she be allowed to sleep in Wendy's room when she was staying there was one of those things that should not be challenged if they wanted a cooperative toddler in the house.

Kristine. Wendy had tears in her eyes when "Hey, you" had explained to her in November the reason why he wanted Lily to go by Kristine, which he claimed was her middle name. He had told Wendy that Kristine had been his late wife's middle name as well and that calling her daughter by that name would help honor her mother's legacy and help cement what little connection remained of the mother-daughter bond.

Sliding quietly out of bed, Wendy stepped to the bedroom door and slowly opened it a crack. She didn't hear anything, but she saw that there was a crack of light visible beneath the door to the master bedroom and it sounded like the shower in the master bath was running. Opening her door more fully, Wendy entered the hallway and headed for the bathroom.

Pleased to see that her panties were just a little damp and not as drenched as they sometimes became after the incubus visits, Wendy inspected the crotch area of her footsie pajamas and was relieved to see that it was dry. Greeting the mortal version of her incubus with a noticeable wet spot would be an embarrassing way to start her day.

Wendy contemplated also taking a shower, but she had to consider the fact that Kris was sleeping in the room next to the bathroom and the sound of the shower would likely wake her. The best that she could hope to accomplish without making too much noise was to brush her teeth.

Studying her reflection in the mirror as she brushed her teeth, Wendy was as critical f her appearance as most young women were, especially first thing in the morning. Her blue eyes were clear, but her hair held the tell-tale signs of having recently been slept on. When she realized that the glow of her complexion was likely due to the erotic dream that she had awoken from, her cheeks blushed a brighter shade of pink. She splashed some water onto her face before taking a brush to her hair and securing it into a ponytail.

Wendy gasped in surprise when she opened the bathroom door to find "Hey, you" standing in the hallway wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He was peeking into Kris' room to check on her when he heard Wendy coming out of the bathroom.

"Is she still asleep?" Wendy whispered.

Rick stepped back from the door and simply nodded. Glancing at Wendy, starting at her head and then down her body, he smiled at the innocent persona that seeing her in her footsie pajamas always conjured up for him. She was a fully grown version of the beautiful, innocent young woman that he hoped Kris would be someday.

He intended to fight with everything he had to provide Kris the chance to retain her innocence for as long as possible. Rick didn't want her to be naïve or ignorant of the world, but he wanted to shelter her from the influences that could cause her to eventually alter her perspective of what life had to offer her. He wanted his daughter to be a strong, independent woman, but not at the expense of her childhood and the confidence of knowing that her father would always be there for her.

Rick recognized that Wendy was in that transitional stage of her life where she retained a lot of her youthly innocence at the same time that she was maturing and discovering desires and curiosities in the world that enticed her. He felt an obligation to protect and guide Wendy, just as he intended to do with Kris as she grew older. Although, he doubted that Lris would ever exhibit the carnal interest in him that Wendy kept barely contained whenever she was in his presence.

Stepping into the threshold of his bedroom, Rick smiled at Wendy and said, "Give me a minute to get dressed, then you can use the shower in my bathroom if you want. I'll get Kris up and dressed while you do that."

"If Kris is getting up, I can use the shower in the hall bathroom," Wendy said.

"Her hair stuff and other things are in the hall bathroom," Rick explained. "It would be more expedient if you used the bathroom in my room so that I had access to her stuff while you showered. After I get her ready and you're dressed, I want to take you both to breakfast for your birthday."

Wendy smiled widely, "You remembered!"

"Of course. It's not every day that my best buddy turns nineteen. I'm going to spoil you today, so be prepared."

Rick ignored the bright red blush that appeared on Wendy's face. It amazed her that some of his words, spoken in completely innocent contexts could stir so many fantasies of wanton desire within her. He couldn't realize that the slightest hint of welcome from him would have her surrendering herself completely to his masculine will.

Swallowing hard, Wendy said, "Let me grab my clothes and I'll jump into the shower. I shouldn't be long so you better wake her up. Hopefully, she'll awake in her angel mood this morning."

Stepping farther into his room so that he could close the door he said, "I'll wake her as soon as I get dressed. Lightly brushing something soft against her skin will usually stimulate her to wake up slowly on her own. That always makes her mood more cheerful than if she is awakened against her will."

Wendy stood in the hallway for several seconds after Rick had closed his bedroom door. She reached for the knob to his door twice before retracting her hand. She was so tempted to follow him into his room, where she would rip the towel from around his waist, push him onto his bed, and then throw herself on top of him. Being on top of Kris' dad while he wore only his birthday suit was the present that she wanted the most on this day.

~~~

"Serp?" Kris asked.

"Of course," Rick assured his daughter, "but not too much. Do you want maple or berry syrup?"

Kris grinned up at her father and said, "Bowf"

Rick and Wendy laughed and Kris joined them with her own sweet laughter. Other customers around their table smiled at the father-daughter interaction. The pair had become popular and frequent customers at the pancake house only a few blocks from the Air Force Academy's south gate where they would enjoy a hot breakfast before Kris was dropped off at the base daycare center and Rick started his day as an instructor. He thought that they had both been surprised at how smoothly and quickly Kris had adapted to spending her days in daycare instead of with Rick.

"Well, sweetie, you only get one," Rick told Kris. "You just sit there and think about your choice until your pancakes arrive. Okay?"

"I can't believe how much she has learned to say," Wendy said. "I mean, I was surprised at Thanksgiving by her vocabulary, but now it's even larger."

"I think it was all the time that she spent with the TV on in the background," Rick said. Now that she is in daycare and around some older kids that will talk back to her, her vocabulary is developing faster."

Kris didn't respond to her father, but simply returned to using the crayons provided by the pancake house to draw on her placemat.

"Excuse me, Sir," asked the teenage boy at the table next to theirs. "I noticed the patch on your shoulder. Isn't that the patch for the 336^th Training Group?"

Rick glanced over at the boy and saw that he was seated across from an older man with enough of the same features to conclude that he was the boy's father. The dishes on their table indicated that they had both finished their breakfast and were just waiting for their check to be delivered. Rick pointed to the patch on his jacket sleeve and simply nodded. Wendy studied the boy more closely and seemed interested in what she saw. The boy may not have noticed Wendy's appraisal of him, but Rick caught it.

The boy said, "I thought so, but I was confused to see it here in Colorado. Isn't the 336^th Training Group based at Fairchild Air Force Base near Spokane?"

Rick was guessing the boy and his father when he asked, "Are you in town to tour the Academy?"

The boy extended his hand and replied, "Yes, Sir. My name is James Robert Brandt but everyone calls me Bobby. This is my father, Robert Brandt."

The sound of a pager alert drew everyone's attention. Bobby's father pulled a digital pager off his belt and checked the display.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I need to answer this page." Addressing his son, he said, "It's from Terri."

Bobby simply nodded and kept his hand extended as his father hurried towards the pay phone at the back of the pancake house.

Rick finally shook the offered hand and said, "I'm Rick Acosta and this is my daughter, Kris, and our friend, Wendy Foster. Now, to answer your question about the patch, yes, the 336^th Training Group is based at Fairchild, with subordinate units based at Eielson Air Force Base in Alaska and Naval Air Station Pensacola."

Rick then chuckled and said, "Most incoming cadets have trouble recognizing the emblem for the Air Force." He noticed that Wendy was blushing, so he added, "Present company excluded."

Picking up on the implication, Bobby looked at Wendy and asked, "Are you a cadet?"

"Yes," Wendy said with a flirtatious smile. "Class of 94."

Bobby blushed and said, "My girlfriend, Patty, told me about the 336^th Training Group. When I received my acceptance letter to the Academy, Patty started researching the most common reasons why Air Force pilots don't come home from missions. She has made me promise to take survival training as soon as I can."

Kris' pancakes arrived so Rick had to excuse himself from the conversation between Wendy and the boy to get things prepared for his daughter to try feeding herself. Once her silver dollar pancakes were cut into bite-size pieces and lightly covered with strawberry syrup, Wendy took over supervising Kris so that Rick could continue his conversation.

"Well, you can tell your girlfriend that components of the SERE training are definitely taught at the Academy. Due to the events taking place in the Middle East right now, the Air Force wants survival, evasion, resistance, and escape skills to be taught to cadets, who are the ones most likely to become officers that would need the skills. Cadets complete SERE training in the Jack's Valley complex between their third and fourth-class years. My instructional discipline at the Academy is self-defense."

"You teach hand-to-hand combat?" Bobby asked.

"That is one component of the self-defense program here," Rick said. "There are also several other technological, biological, and physiological means for a person to defend themselves. We try to instill three key principles when it comes to self-defense: If a man can't see, he can't fight, if a man can't stand, he can't fight, and if a man can't breathe, he can't fight."

Bobby nodded in understanding and asked, "How long have you been in the Air Force, if you don't mind me asking."

He didn't see any rank insignia on Rick's jacket, but since he was wearing the patch for the 336^th Training Group and had admitted to being an instructor at the Academy, Bobby just assumed that Rick was in the Air Force.

Rick shook his head and said, "I'm a civilian contract instructor. I am a certified SERE instructor, which is what entitles me to wear the patch. However, I got most of my self-defense training while serving with the 1st Special Forces Command Intelligence Battalion at Fort Bragg..."

Bobby's eyes grew wide as he asked, "You were a Green Beret? Wait until I tell Patty! I look forward to what you can teach me."

Rick glanced at Kris and saw that she had her sticky fingers wrapped around what remained of her piece of bacon. All of her pancakes were gone and it would soon be time to take her to the bathroom so that someone could clean her hands and change her diaper before heading back to their house. He knew that Wendy would want to take care of Kris since she had been insisting on doing it while staying with them over the winter break.

Bobby's father retook his seat and explained the page to his son, "Terri wanted to let me know that she and Jerry were all right..."

"Why wouldn't they be all right?" Bobby asked.

"Because they are staying in New York City to attend the new year celebration in Times Square, so they were afraid that if I heard the news about some subway fire I would be concerned about whether or not it affected them. I knew that they were staying with some of Jerry's relatives in Brooklyn and using the subway to go into Manhattan. Terri told me that a fire broke out just after 9 am on the Interborough Rapid Transit number 2 and 3 line just south of the Clark Street station in Brooklyn, which is near where they are staying. She said that news reports are that smoke was seen streaming into the tunnel in both directions, toward Borough Hall station in downtown Brooklyn and under the East River toward Manhattan"

"But Terri and Jerry aren't affected by the fire?" Bobby asked to confirm.

"No," his father assured him. "They may have to take an alternate route on the subways or take a cab into Manhattan, but they still plan on celebrating in Time Square tomorrow night. Are you ready to head out?"

"I'm going to take Kris to the bathroom and help her powder her nose," Wendy said to Rick, although her gaze when saying it was locked on Bobby.

Rick once again noticed her interest. Once Wendy had lifted Kris from her high chair and headed towards the restrooms, he turned to the two Brandt men and asked, "Have you had the scripted tour around the Academy yet, or was that your agenda for today?"

"We had the tour yesterday," Bobby replied. "Our flight home isn't until tomorrow, so we planned to check out things more informally today..."

His father interrupted, "We'll spend some more time at the visitors' center, but I want to get a better idea of what accommodation options are available for when we come to visit while Bobby is at the Academy. We're staying at a budget motel off of the interstate, which is fine for just me and my son, but his mother will expect us to stay someplace slightly more refined when she and I visit."

Rick chuckled and said, "I understand. Say, if you would like to get a more unbiased and informed opinion on the life of a cadet, today is Wendy's birthday and I was planning to have a small get-together for her at my house this evening. Nothing special, just me and Kris and probably an ice cream cake for Wendy. I'm sure that she would welcome you both and be more than happy to spend some time describing the real cadet life with both of you. Interested?"

Bobby looked at his father and asked, "Can we, Dad?"

"It sounds like an opportunity that we shouldn't pass up," his father said. To Rick, he asked, "Is there anything that we can bring?"

Rick took a business card out of his wallet and wrote his home address and telephone number on the back before handing it to Bobby. "No, it's pretty informal. Wendy can't keep much of her personal stuff with her at the Academy, so it's a waste to buy her clothes or anything right now. I gave her a gift certificate for the commissary that she can use to buy toiletries, snacks, and that sort of thing, but the Air Force takes care of most of her needs and limits what she can have that isn't already provided for her. You'll encounter the same thing when you start."

Bobby looked at his dad and said, "I think we should at least get her a birthday card."

Tuesday, October 13, 2020

"I thought that the doctors said that the pressure on his brain was almost normal," Kris Acosta said. "It's been four days. Shouldn't he be waking up soon if that was the case? Could there be something else wrong?"

Wendy Wallace placed her arm around Kris' shoulder and said, "His body obviously needs the rest. We need to be patient."

The sound of a text notification on a cell phone diverted the attention of both women as they checked to see which of them had received the message. Kris had been fielding inquiries about her father from associates at Brandt Consulting while Wendy had been handling the inquiries from various individuals and factions in Washington, DC.

"It's Akeem Peters," Wendy said as she read the message. "He'll be here first thing tomorrow morning. He is hopping on a MAC flight from Germany."

Kris nodded. As the head of a Directorate within the CIA, Akeem Peters could easily arrange for a comfortable seat on any Military Airlift Command flight that he desired. She smiled at a memory of something that Akeem had once shared with her and asked Wendy, "Did you ever hear the story about little Jimmy's conversation with God?"

Wendy thought for a second and said, "I don't think so."

Kris retold the story as she remembered it, "Little Jimmy was lying about on a hillock in the middle of a meadow on a warm spring day. Puffy white clouds rolled by and he pondered their shapes. Soon, he began to think about God.

"God? Are you really there?" Jimmy said out loud.

To his astonishment, a voice came from the clouds. "Yes, Jimmy? What can I do for you?"

Seizing the opportunity, Jimmy asked, "God? What is a million years like to you?"

Knowing that Jimmy could not understand the concept of eternity, God responded in a manner to which Jimmy could relate. "A million years to me, Jimmy, is like a minute."

"Oh," said Jimmy. "Well, then, what's a million dollars like to you?"

"A million dollars to me, Jimmy, is like a penny."

"Wow!" remarked Jimmy, getting an idea. "God, you're so generous. Can I have one of your pennies?"

God replied, "Sure thing, Jimmy! Just a minute."

It took Wendy a few seconds to catch the punchline. She laughed and said, "Well, I know that some doctors think that they are God, but when they told us that your dad should regain consciousness soon, I certainly hope that they had a mortal's sense of time."

Kris nodded in agreement and glanced over at her father once more. He continued lying still in the hospital bed in his private room at Spartanburg Medical Center. His body was connected to numerous monitoring devices through wires attached to his head, chest, and hands. He was breathing unassisted and appeared to be simply sleeping, with the bandages around his head being the only significant indicator of the injury that he had sustained on the helicopter four days ago.

As it was explained to Kris, her father had been riding in a helicopter, escorting a vital asset in the form of an Army captain to a location in Greenville when their helicopter came under small arms fire from a warehouse across from their destination. One of the rounds had entered the helicopter and grazed off her father's head. It had struck the left side of his skull forcefully enough to crack it and depress the boundaries between his frontal, temporal, and parietal lobes. Although there was no bleeding in the brain, the concussive shock resulted in a buildup of pressure in his skull. The doctors believed that once the pressure decreased, his injured brain would start to heal with no lasting impairment.

The pilot had done a miraculous job of auto-rotating the damaged helicopter into a controlled crash that he and his other passenger walked away from without injury. Kris needed to remember to ask Kirby for the name of the pilot so that she could eventually track him down and thank him for his efforts to save her father.

Kirby Wallace had notified Kris of her father's injury within thirty minutes of the incident. She had immediately left the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center near Brunswick, GA. Driving a federal law enforcement Suburban had allowed her to utilize the lights and siren to cut the normal five-hour drive down to only three hours and forty minutes. Her only detour between FLETC and the Spartanburg Medical Center was to pick up Wendy from the Greenville-Spartanburg airport where she had flown from Washington, DC as soon as her husband, Kirby Wallace had notified her of Rick's injury.

Wendy's cell phone chimed again. She checked the display and quickly typed a reply to the message that she had just received. "Kirby is on his way. He wanted to know if there has been any change."

"A change in what?" came a whispered question from the hospital bed.

"DADDY!" Kris exclaimed as she rushed beside the bed and hugged her father. "You're awake!"

Rick Acosta smiled up at the worried face of his daughter and said, "Don't worry about me. How are Captain Avery and the pilot?"

Wendy stood on the other side of the bed and answered on behalf of Kris, who had buried her face against her father's chest and was lightly sobbing. She said, "Welcome back, Hey, you. Captain Avery and the pilot, Cole Aranda are both perfectly fine. And now, so are you."

"I sure don't feel fine," Rick snorted. "My head hurts like a mother..."

Wendy laughed and said, "Yes, getting shot in the head could cause some mild discomfort in a person."

A concerned look appeared on Rick's face. "I was shot in the head?"

"Daddy, your head was injured by a bullet, but it didn't enter your skull," Kris explained. "It grazed you and caused a concussion of sorts, but no permanent damage was done. The doctors tell us that you'll be just fine after a few days. They didn't want to give you anything for pain until you were awake, so I'll let the nurses know and they can see what the doctors will prescribe to make you more comfortable."

Without waiting for a response, Kris hurried from the room toward the nurses' station. Rick looked over at Wendy and asked, "Where exactly am I?"

"You're in the Spartanburg Medical Center," Wendy explained. "I was asked by Kirby to let you know that your mission was successful and that you shouldn't worry about anything but getting better."

"Do you think I could get something to drink?" Rick asked.

His question was answered by the first nurse to rush into this room when she said, "Let's start you on a few ice chips first to see how your body tolerates those. The doctor will be here in a few minutes and after he evaluates your condition, we'll see about getting you more liquids."

Rick had just had the first ice chip placed onto his dry tongue when two doctors entered the room. "Can we get everyone but hospital staff to clear out while we examine Mr. Acosta," one of the doctors barked.

"I'm sorry, but that isn't happening," Kris said. "You will examine my father in my presence or you will be relieved of responsibility for his care."

The doctors shared a glance between them and smiled in unison. The second doctor spoke condescendingly when he said, "Young lady, when you run this facility, you can make decisions on the protocols, until that time, I must insist that you wait outside while we examine our patient."

Kris produced her federal badge and said, "Doctor, when you have the authority to order me away from this man, then you can make decisions on protocols. While it is true that my father is a patient here, I am also here under direct orders from the Deputy Director of Homeland Security who takes his orders from the President of the United States. Believe me, you do not want to start the shit storm that will come down on you by failing to examine the patient in my presence."

Rick started to laugh but the searing pain that resulted made him grimace. Wendy was busy texting on her cell phone but reached over and squeezed Rick's arm in sympathy. One of the doctors noticed and asked, "And who are you?"

Wendy smiled sweetly and said, "In addition to holding the medical POA for this patient, I am a legal representative for the Department of Homeland Security." She glanced at her phone as it chimed and continued, "You might want to check your messages before you make any further demands concerning this patient."

The first doctor was about to respond when cell phone chimes were heard coming from the pockets of both doctors. They each took the time to check their messages before replacing the phones into their pockets. They looked at each other and nodded.

"Our chief of staff has advised us to extend a professional courtesy to you both," said the first doctor. "You are welcome to stay while we examine the patient, but we would appreciate it if you stood away from the bed to allow us space for a full examination."

Kris and Wendy moved silently to a spot in front of the window that placed them well clear of the hospital bed and all of the monitors or other equipment that the medical team might need to access. For the next fifteen minutes, they watched as the two doctors performed a series of neurologic and cognitive tests on Rick, from poking sharp instruments into his feet, hands, and other extremities to confirm nerve sensitivity, to ascertaining his mental awareness of the date, his name, and where he was.

When completed, the doctors gave instructions to the nurses to begin removing most of the probes attached to Rick's body. They then stood at the foot of the bed to address Rick, Kris, and Wendy.

The first doctor said, "We're pleased with the cerebral pressure. It is almost at a normal level so we expect no further complications from that. There do not appear to be any neurological effects, so our only lingering concern is related to treating the head wound to prevent any infection. As with any brain concussion, we want to keep you for observation for at least twenty-four hours more. This will also allow us to closely monitor the head wound. If all goes as we anticipate at this time, I would expect that you could be released tomorrow afternoon."

"Are there any restrictions, Doctor?" asked a nurse.

"I'll write the orders for his pain meds at the counter. Let's keep him on liquids for the night and if he tolerates those, serve him a hearty breakfast."

The other doctor addressed Kris when he said, "Here is my card. Feel free to contact me on my cell phone if you have any questions or concerns related to your father."

After the doctors and nurses had left the room, Wendy said, "I am going to go wait for Kirby in the lobby. Kris, do you want me to bring you anything from the cafeteria when we return?"

Kris took her father's hand and said, "See if they have some apple juice that I could share with my dad. If not, try to find some seven-up or similar. I think he would do better without the carbonation, but I know that he wants something more than plain water to drink."

Rick squeezed his daughter's hand in thanks. There was something so rewarding for a parent to recognize that they have raised their child with the compassion to care for their father when the time came. He was only fifty-three years old, and the present injury aside, he was in excellent health. Rick didn't envision the need for Kris to care for him to exist for a few decades, but she was demonstrating to him now that she would be there when the time did come.

Wendy leaned over and gave Rick a quick kiss on his lips. As he watched her exiting his room, he swelled with pride at the beautiful, professional, loyal, and loving woman that she had grown into during the last thirty-two years. He and Kris had truly been blessed to have Wendy in their lives.

Things were touch-and-go for the first couple of years. The emotional bond that was forged between Wendy and Rick had been confusing to the young woman. It took a lot of effort for Rick to refuse Wendy's advances, and several conversations about his commitment to the memory of his wife, Suzy to finally convince Wendy that some flames between two people never fade away. The fact that she got distracted for several years attempting to win the affection of a certain male cadet at the Academy probably also helped.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your perspective, Wendy had found herself attracted to a fellow cadet with a flame for someone else burning even stronger than the one that Rick held for Suzy. Bobby Brandt spent his entire time at the Academy pining away for a girl that he loved but couldn't have. It wasn't until six years after leaving the Academy that Rick and Wendy learned the reason for Bobby's anguish and witnessed the reconciliation of lost love.

Rick couldn't demonstrate his love and devotion to Wendy in a physical fashion, so he tried to find ways to compartmentalize the intimacies that they could share. At the celebration for Wendy passing the bar examination after law school, Rick asked her if she would agree to be listed in his will as not only his personal representative, but also as Kris' guardian should something happen to him. Her agreement cemented her role as the person that Rick trusted the most in his life, and while they weren't life partners, Wendy felt as committed to Rick and Kris as if she was his wife and Kris' mother.

It was at Wendy's thirtieth birthday party that Bobby Brandt had approached Rick about joining the new government organization that he had been asked to lead. After discussing the plans for the new Brandt Consulting, Rick suggested that Bobby consider also bringing Wendy on for any needed legal advice.

Wendy's law school years were made possible through the Funded Legal Education Program. She graduated from the University of Washington Law School with high honors and was named to the Order of the Coif and the Order of the Barristers. She was barred at the U.S. Supreme Court, the Supreme Court of Washington, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Armed Forces, and the Air Force Court of Criminal Appeals. Bobby's initial concerns about having Wendy reporting to him due to her past attempt to seduce him were addressed by Rick suggesting that she could remain employed with the Air Force Judge Advocate General and be seconded to Brandt Consulting as the need dictated.

When Bobby brought Kirby Wallace into Brandt Consulting, Rick and he became close friends almost immediately. Rick had purposely invited only two unattached people to Kris' thirteenth birthday party, which is where he sat back and let his daughter play matchmaker for Kirby and Wendy. It had been obvious from the moment that the two had seen each other in their bathing suits that sparks were going to fly, and they hadn't stopped flying in twenty years.

"You're a hard guy to find," said a male voice at the door to Rick's room.

Rick glanced over and recognized Cole Aranda. "Hey, Cole, I hear that you saved my life with some pretty amazing landing skills."

Cole approached the foot of Rick's bed and said with a smile, "To be honest, saving your life never entered my mind. I was only concerned with saving my own ass."

Rick started to chuckle until the pain in his head made him stop. "Well, I'm glad then that I got the benefit of you saving your own ass. Now I don't feel half as bad about all the paperwork that the incident probably created for you."

Kris hadn't taken her eyes off the strange man since he had appeared at the doorway. Her initial focus was a threat assessment, but once it became clear that her father recognized the man, and shared some friendly banter with him, her appraisal of the man changed entirely. Understanding now that he had been the pilot of the helicopter that had received the gunfire which had resulted in her father's injury, she was able to relax.

Raising the hand that wasn't currently holding her father's, Kris waved and said, "Hi, I'm Kristine Acosta. Thank you for whatever you did to safely land so that my father could get the medical attention he needed."

Cole studied Kris for a few seconds. "Jesus, she was beautiful!" He thought maybe it wouldn't be so bad to play up the hero angle with her. Unfortunately, he didn't have the first idea of how to do something like that. He had always been self-deprecating, and modest to a fault. This had probably been a contributing factor to his business not being as successful as it could have been. Relying upon others to toot his horn had brought him quality clients, but not the quantities that would allow him to grow very fast.

Cole flashed his warmest smile at Kris and said, "You're welcome, but as I said, it really was in my best interest to have a safe landing. I'm just glad that Mr. Acosta is going to be okay. Captain Avery and I were really worried when we saw the amount of blood from his injury."

Rick sensed the energy between his daughter and Cole Aranda, and it surprised him. Kris had dated several men in her thirty-three years, but none of her relationships had been anywhere near serious. Kris' career with DHS since graduating from Texas A&M University had been on the fast track and she wouldn't let anything distract her from her goals. She'd proven herself to be perspicacious, yet as a senior special agent, she had risen as far as she could and still remain in the field. Rick had been sensing a recent change in Kris' career focus and wondered if she was contemplating a more sedate lifestyle.

"Cole," Rick said, "I'm not sure how long I'll be able to remain awake once the pain meds kick in. Would you mind giving Kris your contact information so that I can thank you more profusely once I am out of here?"

"No thanks are necessary," Cole said, "but I would like to stay in touch with you. Once I get the insurance claim settled and have the chopper repaired, I could use some more business referrals if you can send any my way."

Nodding towards Kris, Rick said, "If it's business referrals that you're looking for, then Kris is the person that you need to stay in contact with. She is much more involved in field operations where the need for contracted air transportation is likely to be required. I only get out into the field on special assignments."

"From the skills you demonstrated today, I would be more than happy to send any business opportunities that I become aware of to you," Kris told him as she handed him her card. "Here's my card. Let's chat in the next few days so that I can get a grasp of the types of services that you would be able to provide."

Cole pocketed her card and said, "Wonderful. I'll text you my contact information. I'm going to be pretty free until the helicopter is airworthy again. Check your calendar and schedule a time most convenient for you."

"I'll do that," Kris assured him as she shook his hand. "As soon as I have your contact information, I'll get something scheduled. Would you be opposed to meeting over drinks one evening next week? That might allow me to find a time for us to meet sooner rather than later."

Cole laughed and said, "I'll be drowning my sorrows while waiting to get back into the air. Having a lovely companion to share the experience with me would be quite welcome. I look forward to hearing from you."

Kris laughed and said, "I'll be awaiting your text. It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Aranda."

"The pleasure has been all mine. Take Care of yourself, Mr. Acosta. I'm really glad that you're going to be okay."

Rick and Kris watched Cole Aranda squeeze through the door to exit just as Wendy and her husband, Kirby were trying to enter. Wendy glanced at Kris, saw her star-struck expression, and asked, "Who was that?"

Rick waited for Kris to speak, but when she didn't, he said, "That was Cole Aranda, the pilot of the helicopter that I was on when I got shot."

"Really?" Kirby said, "Let me go catch him. Some people in Washington want to talk to him..."

Kris heard her cell phone chime, glanced at the screen, and spoke before Kirby could leave the room, "There's no rush, Uncle Kirby. He just sent me all of his contact information. I'll forward it to you."

Kirby paused and turned to Kris. He then saw Wendy wink at him and caught her meaning. He said to Kris, "Well, you seem to have established a rapport with Mr. Aranda if he is sending his information to you so soon after meeting him. How would you like to act as the liaison with him for DHS? You know, negotiate a contract arrangement for his future services and such."

Rick said, "I tried to position Kris into that role with Cole while he was here. They're planning to meet over drinks in the next few days."

A visibly blushing Kris Acosta tried to change the subject. She addressed Wendy and asked, "Were you able to find something for Dad to drink in the cafeteria?"

"Oh crap, I forgot. When I saw Kirby, everything else just slipped my mind. That happens sometimes with us old married folks."

Kris just shook her head at Wendy's comments as her father tried not to laugh at them. Wendy and Kirby had been married for almost twenty years but anyone who saw them together would immediately assume that they were newlyweds. Their love and passion for one another were that obvious.

"That's okay," Kris told her. "I need to take a bio break anyway, so I'll check on what they have that he can drink while I'm out. Do either of you want anything?"

"Not unless they are serving cocktails," Kirby said with a chuckle. "Anything weaker than a shot of whiskey wouldn't satisfy me right now."

Kris laughed and said, "I'll be back in a few minutes."

She leaned over and kissed Rick on his forehead and asked, "Is there anything else you want me to get for you while I am out?"

"You're sure it wasn't in with my clothes and other personal items?" he asked his daughter with a serious expression on his face.

"Wendy and I checked through everything that they sent up from emergency in the bag of personal belongings," Kris assured him. "I'll check with the staff in the emergency room again though."

Kirby pulled something out of his coat pocket and asked, "Is this what you're looking for?"

He held a gold chain with dog tags on it. Hanging next to the dog tags was a clear crystal vial about a half inch in diameter and an inch long. The vial was three-quarters full of something resembling gray sand.

Kris gasped and asked, "Where did you find it?"

Kirby handed the chain to Rick and answered, "The paramedics had it. They removed it when connecting the EKG leads in the ambulance and it got separated from the rest of your stuff somehow. When Wendy told me it was missing, that was the first place that I had the team check."

Rick placed the chain with the vial containing a small part of Suzy's ashes around his neck. He kissed the vial before allowing it to rest on his chest.

"Oh, Uncle Kirby, I am so glad that you were able to find it. Even though it would have broken my heart to some degree, I was prepared to give my own vial to my dad."

Kris wore an identical crystal vial on a chain around her next, hanging beside the heart-shaped locket with the only picture she had of her and her mom together. Her mother had been wearing it when she had been murdered and Kris had worn the locket since her twelfth birthday when her father had felt that she was responsible enough to properly care for it. Before that, he had kept it safe but accessible for Kris to look at any time she desired. She hadn't been given the crystal vial to match her father's until her eighteenth birthday.

Kris had known the details of her mother's murder since a young age. They didn't have many pictures of her mother during the months between the birth of her daughter and her death, since her father hadn't been present during the majority of the period to take pictures, but there were a few, mostly focused upon their wedding and the days immediately after. Kris had spent her childhood praying for vengeance against the unknown men who had so callously murdered her mother.

It was on her eighteenth birthday, when her father presented her with the vial containing her mother's ashes, that he had detailed for her his actions to avenge the murder of his wife and her mother. She had sat in silent awe as he had described retrieving her from the aunt and uncle who had taken her after conspiring to plan the robbery of the bowling alley to hide the for-hire murder of Suzy Diego.

Hearing the details of her father's search for the men responsible for the actual murder and the subsequent acts of revenge that resulted in the deaths of those men, as well as the family members who had orchestrated the crime provided Kris with a satisfaction of justice being served that she was not ashamed of. It also helped her to understand why her father had chosen to seek out and assume new identities for both of them.

Her father had always been her hero and she was so proud of him that she could barely contain it sometimes. Her admiration for him had been the major deciding factor when she had chosen to follow his example and seek a career with DHS through Brandt Consulting. She also recognized that she was destined to live a life without a mate unless she eventually encountered a man who compared favorably to the kind of man that she knew her father was; the type of man who was steady, level-headed, and, in most respects, kindhearted and humane. They also would likely happen to be expert killers. She wouldn't settle for an ordinary man. She wanted a "hero" of her own. She had grown up with one, and she would grow old with one, or do it alone.

Kris had worked with, or at least knew of hundreds of brave men. Current and former military, law enforcement, or private security types who would willingly risk their lives for God and country, but who had no defined sense of justice; right or wrong. They were motivated in their bravado by ego or pride rather than a moral or ethical compass to guide them. No matter how vehemently they professed their willingness to lay down their lives for a cause, they still measured their commitment against what others would think of them over any other factor.

She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and said, "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Kirby and Wendy watched Kris leave her father's room before stepping to the side of his bed. Wendy said, "She seems at least mildly interested in the pilot guy. What do you know about him?"

Kirby answered before Rick, "We know that he is someone that you can count on in a pinch..."

Rick interrupted, "Don't give me that, Kirby. By tomorrow morning you'll be reporting to me on how many times he shakes his dick after taking a piss. Wendy wouldn't accept anything less."

Wendy laughed and said, "He's right, Honey."

"I know," Kirby said. "I was going to have him checked out anyway, but now the motivation is different."

"Did you hear that, Hey, you? My handsome husband thinks I'm motivation. How cool is that?"

Rick suppressed another laugh and said, "Don't make me laugh, at least not until the nurses give me something for the pain. Where are they anyway?"

Wendy glanced out into the hallway before saying, "It does seem to be taking them longer than it should. I'll go light a fire under them."

Kirby pulled a chair over and sat beside Rick's bed. They couldn't discuss the events of the day or talk shop since they were not in an area free of possible eavesdroppers, so they settled for safe topics. Rick asked, "Are Sean and Amanda still shuttling back and forth every other month?"

Kirby's nephew, Sean Wallace, and his wife, Amanda, jointly ran an international holding company that they had formed from their two families' separate businesses. Sean's family business was headquartered in Nashville, while Amanda's family business was headquartered in Sydney, Australia. They had attempted to create a single headquarters operation in one country or the other, but the different customs, tariffs, and trade regulations had made their efforts far more challenging than either had anticipated. Consequently, they found themselves sharing their time between the two operations.

"Yeah," said Kirby, "but they're handling everything pretty well. Wendy and I thought that their deciding on which education system they would use to home-school Eddie and Caranda might cause a rift between Sean and Amanda, but when they compared the curriculum and core requirements, choosing the higher Australian standards was an easy choice for them. Amanda used her contacts at the Australia National University to find a young doctoral candidate in childhood education to hire as a tutor for both kids. She is free to travel with the family and is using the experience as part of her thesis."

"And what about your mom?" Rick asked. "Wendy had mentioned that you were concerned about her memory."

Kirby nodded and said, "We had her tested and she isn't showing any of the typical signs of early-onset dementia. The doctors believe that she is simply facing the same periods of forgetfulness that are common with a lot of elderly people. She is still able to take care of most of her own needs and the household staff has stepped up to assist her without making her feel coddled. She's still active at eighty-five so we want to keep her independent for as long as possible."

The two men had been discussing other mundane subjects for fifteen minutes when a harried man in a business suit strolled purposely into the room, flanked by two new nurses. They were followed by visibly angry Wendy and Kris, accompanied by Bobby Brandt.

"Mr. Acosta," the man said as he approached the foot of Rick's bed, "I am Larry Dennison, Chief of Staff here, and I want to assure you that the level of care that you have received so far is not what the administration of this facility deems acceptable in any way. Rest assured that Doctors Pope and Wise have been relieved of duty at this hospital and are suspended pending a full investigation of their actions relative to your care. If I have my way, they will both be facing the suspension of their medical licenses in this state due to their unethical behavior."

Rick watched as one of the nurses inserted a hypodermic needle into a port on his IV line and injected something. Within mere seconds, he could feel the pain in his head fading slightly. He looked to Wendy and Kris, "What's going on?"

Wendy stepped beside where her husband was sitting, place one hand on his shoulder, and then took one of Rick's hands in her other. She explained, "The two doctors that tended to you earlier apparently took offense at us going over their heads to their boss about allowing us to remain in your room while they examined you. They instructed the nurses to hold off giving you anything for your pain for at least three hours and to delay providing anything for you to drink for as long as possible..."

Kris handed her father a freshly opened bottle of apple juice and continued the tale, "They tried to stop me from bringing this juice to you. They were also doing their best to ignore Wendy's questions about your pain medication..."

Rick nodded, took a long drink of juice, and then glanced over to Bobby. He knew what, or rather who, had resolved the issues. "Thanks, Bobby."

"No problem. I was glad to help. How are you feeling?"

"I've had worse hangovers," Rick grinned. "In fact, you and I have shared a few hangovers worse than this."

Bobby laughed and said, "I should have had you fired from the Academy for the torture that you made me endure on my twenty-first birthday. You're lucky that Wendy talked me out of reporting you."

"It's not our problem that you were such a lightweight," Wendy teased. "You should be thanking Hey, you for protecting your virtue that night. I could have, and probably would have had my way with you if he hadn't stopped me."

"Plus," Rick added, "I stand by my belief that you were faking it. No one, especially a guy your size can get that intoxicated from two beers. I've seen you down a six-pack and then place six shots in the center of a target from a hundred yards."

Mr. Dennison finished giving instructions to the nurses before interrupting the friends. He said, "I can't relieve all the nurses on this floor because I don't have the staffing to replace them right now. However, I can assure you that nurses Garrett and North here will be dedicated to your care until the morning shift change. I have already spoken with the head nurse for the morning shift and she will be meeting with her charges to emphasize this hospital's expectations for patient care. I am to be contacted immediately if there are any further issues."

Dennison addressed Bobby, "Is there anything further that I can do?"

Bobby had a serious expression on his face when he said, "Just make sure that everyone does their job. As long as there are no further issues, upon my friend's discharge, I will speak with the Secretary and request that he rescind his orders."

It was obvious to anyone watching his demeanor that Dennison was hoping for a more concrete commitment from Bobby that the federal funding for the multiple grants that the hospital had been awarded, along with all their Medicare revenue would be restored immediately. After all, this Brandt fellow had gotten the funding cut with a single phone call. He could likely reverse it with another call, but Dennison wasn't going to push the issue just yet. The hospital could survive for one day, so if the patient, Acosta, could be discharged tomorrow, the hospital would no longer have the sword of Damocles hanging over it.

"Thank you," Dennison said before walking briskly out of the room, followed by the two nurses. The assembled group in Rick's room could hear stern, but muffled commands being barked at the nurses as Dennison led them down the hallway toward the nurses' station.

Kris studied her father before addressing the other visitors, "We should let Dad get some rest now that the pain medication is kicking in."

Rick's eyes were growing heavy, so he simply nodded his agreement with his daughter.

Bobby walked up and placed a hand on Rick's shoulder. "Get well, my friend. The country needs you, Kris needs you, and I need you."

***

For those interested, Rick Acosta first appears in "His Daddy's Car". He is also featured in "Change", "Searching", and "Betting on the Aces".

Wendy Foster first appears in "His Daddy's Car". She is also featured in "Heavy Traffic" and "Little Differences".

Kris Acosta first appears in "Heavy Traffic" She is also featured in "Change" and "Searching".