Part 7 of 10
CHAPTER ONE

 Paul Armstrong was surprised to see that Toni was still there, in their shared office. "Working late." It wasn't a question, just an observance, almost an accusation. He saw an evidence box list and several file folders spread out on her desk. He could see she was exhausted.

 "I thought that I would go over the facts and circumstances involving this Swantz case again. Tell me the truth, Paul, don't you have the least doubt about Ga.....H-Hobson being the cold-blooded killer the papers describe?"

 He came all the way into the room at her question. Sitting at his desk, facing her, his friendly expression faded. "Whatever my feelings are matters nothing. Look at the suspect. You know what happened today in particular."

 "Hey, Paul, you have to admit that you didn't actually see Hobson. You surmised from a cryptic telephone call that he'd be there. Sure Marissa and Fishman were there. Yeah, and their excuse for being in the men's room was flimsy and suspect in itself. But look at the whole picture, Paul. I don't think he did any of the stuff he's accused of except one-evading arrest."

 She flashed a skeptical look in his direction, asking, "I mean, can you actually say that you believe that he could brutally murder a woman? Come on. He's a Boy Scout, for Pete's sake."

 "He was stalking her, Toni. What's your 'take' on that?"

 "Did you personally hear her or Hobson say that he was stalking her?" She looked through one of the folders then and asked, "Say, I don't see where it says 'who' reported him as a stalker." She was in full knowledge of who it was reporting the stalker incident and only said it to pull his chain since he never missed a chance to pull hers.

 "I guess that I didn't include it in the report, since he wasn't involved personally and she was dead, with Hobson being caught, shall we say, red-handed."

 "How convenient." Calmly then, she asked, "You never talked directly to her then?" Noticing that he was becoming uncomfortable, she said, "It'll have to come out sometime, Paul, even if it was indirect evidence. We know what Fortas said. Did you ever have the chance to ask her?"

 "You know Aram Fortas from the Mayor's Task Force committee." A suspicious look spread across her face as she nodded. "Aram took me aside that day and described Pearl's worry about a stalker. You heard most of it. He wanted me to scare Hobson off, that's all. He produced the picture, the one we saw, not realizing that we might know the person."

 "You sure he wasn't aware that we would recognize him?"

 Paul wasn't sure of anything at this point, "No, not sure, but I don't think he knew of our encounters of the past."

 "How do you know what the relationship was between Fortas and the nurse? Were they 'close?' Did you bother to ask? Don't give me that 'an associate's nurse' baloney; I didn't believe it for an instant. Everyone says that when they don't want someone to think that the situation involves them." Toni was like a little badger at this point and was ready to contest every point.

 Paul took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. "You're really getting into this. What's going on? Toni, are you, kinda, getting personally..involved?" Her answer came to him in the form of the bitter glance his way.

 He hadn't brought up the 'raid' at her house before, but evidently now was the time. "Toni, I haven't apologized about the 'visit' by the CPD to your house this afternoon. You didn't have to let us in without a warrant. You knew that. Someone should say 'I'm sorry,' so I guess I'm saying it, but with a case this important, every tip has to be followed up."

 "I know that, Paul. It was silly. I was irritated. It's over."

 If Paul Armstrong could have put his finger on the moment that he formed real suspicions about his partner, that was the moment. Antonia Brigatti was a good detective and a loyal member of the department. What she wasn't, was a quietly gracious, forgiving person. 'When did that attitude form?' he wondered.

 He focused closely on her face, "Who are you? Did some alien make you part of an interterrestrial exchange program?" He didn't smile as he said it.

 She frowned as she looked over to him. "What?"

 "This isn't you, Toni. I expected you to be hopping mad, spewing epithets." He added, "I think I would have if they had surrounded my house and insisted that I allow them to search for an escaped suspected murderer."

 "Would you want me to? Six hours after the event? Sure I was more than irritated, but their little search was for nothing! An exercise in futility." Considering it a moment, she added, "It did make me think though. We're concentrating all our efforts on our search for Gary Hobson. We're not examining the crime objectively. No one is! So, I guess, that's where I'm at now. Ya wanna help?"

 "Yeah. You're right. And I want to help, but not tonight." Wiping his hand over his face, he was feeling the effects of the long day. "I'm overdue at home and need to hold our little one before she goes to sleep. I promise, Toni, I'll do some serious work on it in the morning." He called out his goodbye as he left the office.

 To herself, she observed, 'So, Hobson, maybe we can make some real progress now that Paul has promised to take the blinders off.' She had no doubts about his ability, but sometimes it helps to point out blind spots in someone's perspective. All she wanted was to have him re-examine the evidence as though the case was new and they were new.


 CHAPTER TWO

 Between the three friends, Gary and Marissa saw to it that Chuck was able to smuggle his luggage quietly out of his hotel. Two went up; two came down. Gary had already made his way to Chuck's floor. As Marissa and Chuck passed him in the hallway, they handed him the key, a plastic bag, and they left. Easy.

 After hanging the 'Do Not Disturb' sign outside the door, Gary placed the clothes that his friends had brought up with them inside a drawer. He looked around. Hotel rooms. Impersonal and pretty much the same except for the cost. This one was several steps up from his old room at the Blackstone; it even had a coffee maker, but the room was still full of emptiness.

 His dreams, when he finally got to sleep, were full of events that took place in hotel rooms he had occupied. The worst reminder of his hotel days was the dream of the fire in the old Blackstone. Only his room was destroyed. Only his life was altered forever. The flames of the fire lapped at the curtains, already dry from age. Even in his dream he could feel the heat radiating as the fire spread to carpeting and furniture. There wasn't much time to plan. There was no time to pack properly. He grabbed a few things and reached for the doorknob. Locked? Or stuck? He set his cloth bag down and set both hands to pulling on the knob.

 Turning around to check for another exit, he saw that the windows were already enveloped with flames. Sweat was pouring from him as he put more effort into trying to open the door. 'This isn't how it happened. This isn't supposed to happen. Is this a dream? If it isn't, was the 'paper' a dream?'

 Before he could do any more questioning, a loud knock sounded, shaking him awake from reliving his traumatic experience. He went to the door and glanced out of the peek hole. His heart all but stopped as he saw someone in a uniform at the door. "Mr. Fishman!"

 "Yeah?"

 "Someone dropped off a box for you and said to bring it up, that you were waiting for it. Shall I bring it in?"

 Gary looked around to the clock. It was half past five in the morning. "Just leave it at the door. I'm not dressed. Thanks."

 As he watched, the hotel bellman set something down and returned to the still-waiting elevator. When he was sure that no one else would be watching, Gary opened the door, at first just a crack, then he picked up the box and brought it in. 'Don't hotel workers pay any attention to the signs on doors?'

 He had to laugh when he opened the box. It was wrapped like a parcel post package, complete with brown paper and twine and addressed to Charles Fishman. Inside was some toiletries and other necessities and, best of all, a bag of food! 'Leave it to Marissa to take care of me.'

 More hungry than tired, Gary left everything in the box except the food. McGinty's may have been a humble establishment, but they knew how to prepare good food! He devoured the sizable offerings and decided to take an early shower. This would be a challenging day if his plans worked out.


 CHAPTER THREE

 By the time Toni Brigatti arrived at the office, Paul was already pouring through papers at his desk. He had a pad of notes written in his almost undecipherable handwriting. "Mornin' Toni."

 "Hey. Early start?"

 "Yeah, Meredith had to be taken to the airport early this morning. She and the baby are going to visit Grandma for a few days."

 "What have you found in the reports?"

 "You were right about these statements needing more examination. Here's my list of questions so far. It covers several pages."

 She had to concentrate to translate his scribbling. Actually, because the items he noted were the same questions she had, she was able to understand most of them. "What's this comment about a camera?"

 "Have you noticed anything on the inventory list of Pearl's apartment about a camera?"

 "I didn't notice."

 "Well, there's no mention of it. Where'd Pearl get the camera to take that stalker picture? That wasn't just any camera; it was an expensive digital camera. Where is it?"

 Brigatti reviewed that part of the notes. "I assumed that she must have borrowed one."

 "From...?"

 "That might be interesting to know. Have you gone through her bills? I thought they held another interesting item-or didn't hold one, as is the case."

 Paul looked at the box on the floor, filled with invoices, bank statements, and other personal papers. "I can't say that I've gotten that far yet. What're you asking, specifically?"

 "Well, I've gone through them. As a single woman, I figured that I would relate to the usual expenses and the unusual ones."

 "Okay. I'm game. What do you notice that's strange?"

 "She paid cash for her rent, for one thing. A lot of cash. That apartment didn't rent cheap. She paid a hefty lease payment on that SUV. In fact, including her clothing bills, beauty parlor bills, manicure, exercise club, and all that, she paid out a little over twice what her job brought in."

 It woke Paul up in a new way. "Are you sure? Maybe her parents subsidize her."

 "Wanna hear what she doesn't pay?" She was teasing him now.

 "I'd better say yes. What doesn't she pay?"

 "The most obvious thing missing among her invoices is one for a cell phone. Pearl Swantz doesn't have a cell phone-that the phone company knows about."

 Becoming even more interested, Paul leaned forward and insisted, "But we both know that she had a phone among her possessions. In her purse, in fact." He stood up. "I'll be right back. I'm gonna get the evidence box and we're going to check just what is and isn't in it."

 When Paul returned, they went through the contents, piece by piece. No camera, but they did find a cell phone. They went through the speed dial feature and came up with Pearl's number. "Now, why do you suppose that Pearl would want to have herself on 'speed dial'?" They both suspected the answer to that. "Any other names we might recognize on it?" Toni began writing down the various numbers entered into the phone's special feature.

 "I'll get someone to dig out the owner of this number." Toni left to find someone free enough to search out the answer for them. Meanwhile she and Paul checked everything including the shade of lipstick that the victim had used. After a couple of hours had passed, they went to the coffee room for a break.

 As they nursed their coffees, Paul said, "You know, Toni, it was a helluva lot easier and more fun to blame Hobson for everything. We haven't had a case that had so many clues in a long time. What happened to the days when the murderer surrendered and confessed? This one is so, so busy! For every clue we trace, two others pop up to contradict it."

 They finished their coffees and took their discussion back to the office to continue playing with the facts. "What's with that security guard? Has he remembered anything more about what Hobson was doing when the old guy arrived at the room?"

 "I don't think the guard would make a very good witness for either side. He says that Hobson was sitting on a chair near the door when he arrived. The gun was on the floor where the police officers found it. Why would the murderer shoot someone, throw the gun on the floor, then sit down at the open door to wait? Well, I guess Hobson could have been in shock from having shot her, but then we have to give him credit for wiping his prints from the gun. We can't check him for gunpowder residue cause we can't find him! Maybe the gun went off unintentionally. Maybe he didn't intend to shoot, just scare her. Stalkers are weird, Toni."

 "The guard said that there was a line of blood running from Hobson's hair down to his collar. What'd he do, shoot himself? No, two shots, two bullets, two entry wounds. He was hurt, but how?"

 Paul was paging through some reports until he found the one he wanted. "The forensics people claim that the murder weapon had traces of blood and hair on the grip."

 "If we're going by assumptions, then we could claim that if the blood and hair match Hobson's, then the murderer may have used the gun to knock him out and make his own escape. Hobson comes to, sits on the chair, still stunned, until the guard finds him." Disgusted, she added, "And panics when Hobson runs. Panics enough to shoot the poor guy."

 "Don't feel too sorry for him, Toni. He ran. Why'd he run if he was so innocent?"

 She had no answer. He'd been on the streets twelve hours. Where was he? Why couldn't he take the time to call? Was he having a relapse from his injuries? She didn't think so. They were well on the way to healing even when he left. Why didn't he call?


 CHAPTER FOUR

 As Toni was passing the desk sergeant after returning the evidence box, he called out, "Brigatti, yer dad's on the phone."

 "My," her gulp was audible to those near by, "my..dad? Okay."

 Paul had left the office to talk with a witness who had been at the hotel and who had heard the ruckus that day. She was nervous about the call.

 "Hey, Dad. Anything wrong?"

 "Toni." Hobson's voice surprised her, but relieved her at the same time.

 "Ah, nice to hear from you, Dad. I've been worrying how you're gettin' along. Everything okay?"

 "I'm fine. Is it okay to talk? I could tell you that the weather's good, or the traffic's good or whatever the hell you asked me to say-and hang up if you want."

 "Nice touch. Remind me to call you Mr. Memory." She almost laughed, but was watching the activity outside her office and was nervous about someone coming in on her call. She slipped into sarcasm for a moment as she asked, "So tell me, are you stopping by the station house this morning? I could have a reception committee for you."

 "I'll bet you would, too. This is a 'duty' call. Have you found out anything that will help me?"

 "We're actually making some progress, I think." She lowered her voice, "You know the picture that Pearl supposedly took of her stalker? Pearl didn't own a camera...that we know of. We didn't find one anyway. I know you said that you didn't know her. Did you ever talk with her? Like...take her to lunch, or coffee, or..out?"

 "Out? Out, like..ah, ah..."

 "Out, like on a date! Like to talk for an hour. Like to get to know her. Do I have'ta draw a picture? I wanna know if you might know anything about her. Her friends? Her boyfriends? Anything!"

 "No! I told you.." His exasperation was in the tone of his voice. "I told you that I saw her two times...well, plus the ho.ho..hotel room time. We-we, maybe, said three or four words the first two times. No coffee. No flirtation-period!"

 "Don't get all riled up. I have'ta ask if I'm gonna rule out certain possibilities."

 "What possibilities? I'm not hiding anything." He almost stumbled over the word 'hiding'.

 "That'll be a first."

 "Whassat s'posed to mean?"

 "You kinda have a reputation, my friend, for not telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth around here. Remember...the lie detector fiasco? Anyway, we're waiting for some information about whose cell phone was in her purse. It wasn't hers."

 Clauson walked in and set a note on her desk. She read it as Gary continued talking. "Wait, Gary. I just received an update about the cell phone. Wow! Well, I'm not all that surprised."

 "What? Don't keep me in suspense. Whose cell phone?"

 "Our esteemed Mr. Aram Fortas' wife, Rachel. How's that for interesting?"

 "His wife! Why would she.. Maybe they were friends, huh?"

 "By long distance. Aram's wife died several weeks ago. You don't suppose that Aram and Pearl were...cosy? I wondered-when he referred to her as 'an associate's nurse."

 The line was quiet. What was familiar to her had been unknown to Gary. He was remembering the first meeting with Fortas. More important, he was remembering the strange conversation that he and the psychologist had had in and out of McGinty's. Then there was the fleeting glimpse as he was rushing to try to save the Simonson boy in his apartment house.
 "I think we need to talk, Toni. I think I may have some information that you could use."

 "What?"

 "I don't want to say any more on the phone. Can we meet?"

 She thought for a moment, "Can you get to the Centerside Mall? I need to pick up a will call at one of the stores. I'll leave my car unlocked, at the north end of the mall, towards the end of the first line of parked cars. Know my car?"

 All he asked was "When?"

 After he hung up, she wondered why he trusted her not to have a CPD backup at the spot. The exact location, the exact time, he must be as crazy as she was. Well, maybe not quite as crazy as she was.

 Part 8 of 10
CHAPTER ONE

 Aram had been sitting in his car for a little over half an hour. He had all the car windows open to catch some of the breeze. It was the only thing making the hot, sticky air livable.

 With Sonny dead, he had to take some time away from his practice to see to the current problem. This was the type of thing the kid was good at--sitting, watching, and waiting. Keeping Sonny around would have proven far too dangerous. He knew too much and would have no compunction about spilling what he knew if the police ever questioned him. So, that left the drudgework for Aram to do. He had invested too much planning to stop now. His wife had been one thing. He told himself everyday that she had deserved a dignified death, not one distorted by pain and seemingly endless suffering. Besides, he told himself, she wouldn't have wanted him to have his life disrupted for such an extended period of time. Didn't he see to it that she died without pain? That knowledge made it easy on his conscience, what there was of one. She was already receiving morphine by intravenous methods. All he had to do was boost the dosage at an unobserved time. There was no problem with the cause of death. The doctor signed the death certificate and Rachel was quietly and quickly cremated and inurned at a local cemetery.

 The only problems remaining afterwards were Pearl and Sonny. He was at an impasse about Pearl. If she had known about his wife's death, he would have received even more pressuring from her than she already presented. Hobson came along at just the right time by being there at just the wrong times. No matter, the situation only needed a few touches to turn the suspicion away from himself and towards the unsuspecting barkeeper.

 As to Sonny, well, he was useful while things needed to be done. Afterwards is when he became the only real problem remaining. That seemed to go well too, even if he had to pat himself on the back. The papers had reported no inquiry into the gas explosion death of the poor boy. Sonny was a 'good boy' and the death was instant. What more could he ask?

 The only loose end remaining was........Hobson. The police wanted him; and they definitely needed help finding their man. That should settle the case by putting him away for a long time. Even if the evidence was somewhat muddled, the fact that most of it was circumstantial wouldn't stop a jury from putting the stalker, the nude body, the running suspect and the gun all in one package and labeling it guilty!

 Then why was Aram Fortas sitting in this hot car, watching the activities of CPD Detective Antonia Brigatti? Sonny hadn't been imagining things when he saw Hobson at the Brigatti home. Hobson was there! Why? That's what Aram was asking himself as he sat there, almost falling asleep.

 He had parked a few rows away from where he saw Brigatti park her vehicle. She had left the car and entered a clothing store; then exiting with a package, she went into a card shop. He could see her looking at something near the window. 'Women! They can't get through a day without some form of shopping!'

 He was concentrating on watching her in the store so intently that he almost missed seeing a man walking towards the large Suburban parked next to her car. Diverting his attention from Brigatti, he stared at the strange tableau. The person, undisguised and obvious in his identity, opened the detective's vehicle's rear door and climbed in! Interesting!

 Aram started his car up, turned the air conditioner on, and closed the windows, waiting for further activity.

 It wasn't long in coming. Toni saw Hobson approach the car at the agreed upon hour. The white Suburban obscured her car from her sight, but who the figure was, was not in question. It was Gary Hobson all right. She stopped her browsing and left the shop.

 The big bruiser of an SUV served as a splendid shield for their meeting, or so she thought. She slipped into the driver's seat of her vehicle and closed the door. "How's the fugitive today?"

 "Funny, Toni, very funny. Thanks for coming. There's something you should know."

 "So tell me, that's why I'm here. By the way, you hungry?"

 "Yeah, no, I'm fine."

 She started the motor. "Well, I'm hungry. Let's find a less wide-open place to talk than this. And no off track betting stuff either! You were there, weren't you---when Paul Armstrong encountered Marissa and Fishman?"

 "Yeah. You heard about that, huh?"

 Slowly heading towards the parking lot exit, she talked as she drove, "Of course I heard about it. He was livid. If wishes came true, parts of you would be hanging, impaled on the city gates like in medieval times." She laughed at the thought. He didn't think it as funny to envision as she did. But then, it wasn't her parts dangling from the gates.

 "I had to get out of there. He'd.... They'd......"

 "You feel like good Italian food?" It didn't seem to matter if he did or didn't, "I'm headin' to Mario's. It's past the lunch hour and they offer the shelter of booths."

 The BMW that contained Aram was a discreet half block behind their car. The two being observed were not yet aware of how much interest they had generated in the driver of the sleek black sedan.


 CHAPTER TWO

 Toni navigated through the Chicago traffic with her passenger still in the back seat. She entertained him with her comments about the ineptness of the other drivers as they went along.

 Gary thought that he had imagined the soft mewing sound at his feet. His whole body stiffened out at the realization that Cat had made his appearance, newspaper and all--and in the backseat of Toni's car! "Shhhh," he whispered, as one hand petted the cat while the other slipped the special edition of the Sun-Times out from under it. "Talk about bad timing," still whispering, he asked, "Can't you see this is not a good time for this?"

 Toni sneezed and asked, "You talkin' to me?"

 Feeling guilty for being the possible cause of her allergic reaction, he said, "No, I'm just, just mumbling."

 One last 'mew' and he stopped haranguing the cat and began skimming the paper to discover why Cat was demanding his attention. The answer was on the second page and shouted, 'HOBSON FUGITIVE CAPTURED IN RESTAURANT. CPD DETECTIVE ARRESTED'. He had to do something or both of them would be dead ducks. He turned around, trying to discover who had them under surveillance. There were no marked CPD vehicles that he could see. The rest of the traffic was too thick to be able to pick out any suspicious cars. He'd have to wait. If they changed their destination or mode of transportation, the person or persons following would, no doubt, do the same. Someone had already honed in on their location.

 Toni parked behind the building and locked the car up as they left it. As soon as they had entered the restaurant and were shown a booth, Gary waited until she was seated, then leaning over, whispered something in her ear.

 She reacted with a questioning look, but he whispered, "Trust me, Toni." Adding, "Please," he excused himself to use the restroom in case anyone had overheard him. Instead, he went through the kitchen to the back door and peered out.

 Aram Fortas' face was seen behind the wheel of the vehicle just pulling into a space near Toni's. He expected as much when no police vehicles had been obvious. Picking up an empty box for cover, Gary boosted it to his shoulder, concealing his profile, and crossed the open space and went off down the block. The box was discarded at the first storefront.

 He hadn't gone more than a city block when, upon hearing sirens, he ducked into a magazine store. As soon as they passed, he proceeded out and hurried towards the EL. It wasn't fair to expect Toni to face the police alone, but when he really thought about it, it was her word against the anonymous tipster. This would be the second time he had to do this. Would she forgive him?

 He rode the EL for a while. With the newspaper in hand, he could doze as though he were reading any old paper-just so no one attempted to read over his shoulder. The headline had already changed to coverage of a family being saved from a house fire by a neighborhood hero.

 Gary thought as he read it, how much more demanding it must be for the rest of the population to perform 'saves' without prior notice of the consequences. They had no previous knowledge of the outcome: whether someone would die, whether they would be severely injured or die. The idea of 'performing' on the spur of the moment gave him shivers up his spine. At least he usually knew where to look, what he'd find, and sometimes, even the time. 'Yeah, those're the real heroes of the world,' Gary Hobson, ever the self-effacing hero, thought to himself.

 He felt something hit his lower leg, "Excuse me. Excuse me!"

 Opening his eyes, he looked over to an elderly gentleman tapping his cane against Gary's leg. Stammering with the sudden awakening, Gary sat up and asked what he could help him with.

 "Your paper."

 "Howzat?" He became aware of the absence of the paper from his hands.

 "You dropped your paper. If you're done with it, would you mind if I read it?"

 "Ah, ah," he bent to retrieve and reassemble his early edition of the

 Sun-Times. "No, uh, I need the want ads and a couple of articles in this one. Sorry." He stood and decided to get off at whatever the next stop would be.


 CHAPTER THREE

 "So, Paul, tell me, was it another anonymous tip or are you gonna follow me around every day? Does Meredith know what an obsession you have with the exciting day-to-day happenings in my life?" Still working at getting under his skin, she added, "I'm going to the dry cleaners tomorrow. Ya wanna ride along?"

 "Okay, okay." He sounded as disgusted as she was. "The next tip we get, I' ll leave up to Pierson to handle. I've had enough of these wild goose chases." He straightened his back and stretched. "What thrill do people get out of calling in false sightings of fugitives?"

 "Probably the same kind of thrill that the jerks get who give the fire department false alarms. Or, how about the ones who find it humorous to send viruses to computer systems? It's all the same, there are a lot of people in this world who have no lives, no goals except to cause other people problems."

 "Too bad. I always thought it was a real loss that so much time and talent is spent-make that 'wasted'-spreading misery." On another subject, he asked, "Have you been able to contact Fortas about his wife's cell phone?"

 She shook her head. "He hasn't been in his office the last day or so. His secretary either doesn't know where he is, or isn't telling."

 Toni studied Paul's face. He'd been a reliable partner and fully deserving of her trust. So why didn't she tell him about Gary? Surely, he could put aside the badge-mentality for a moment to.. 'No,' she reminded herself, 'neither of them could afford to put their careers aside for anyone or anything, especially not while on duty.'

 Then, what was she doing? When did she decide that she could merge her personal life with her professional life? There was no way she or anyone else could do that with the type of occupation she had. Just when did it happen? She smiled to herself, still envisioning the scene where she had been called into a room and first introduced to Gary Hobson.

 The feds had requested someone to 'babysit' a witness in an important inquiry. As a marshal, she didn't give it another thought. Some assignments were interesting and challenging; some weren't. Babysitting a witness just happened to be one that wasn't. Expecting to walk into the room and confront, maybe, a mob bookkeeper or shyster lawyer, she put on her tough fed persona. When she encountered her 'baby,' she maintained her composure outwardly. She hoped her inner reaction didn't show.

 What happened? She asked herself that many times since that first occasion. It made her angry and disgusted with herself that this stranger could affect her so instantly. She would never see thirty again. So, why did she feel like she was seventeen? 'Fight it, girl,' she told herself.

 Every encounter after that one, she had to tell herself the same thing. That was okay initially, but she wasn't seventeen any longer. She was almost in her mid-thirties. Her body and her mind told her that work was fine, but life was calling. Why not listen to the call before it faded away and left bitterness in its place?

 Paul had been able to handle both work and family. He seemed not just content, but energized by it. 'That's what I want.' She must have mumbled it aloud, because Paul looked up at her, "What'd you say, Toni?"

 It brought her out of her daydreaming, "Nothing, Paul. I was just adding up things aloud. Do you think that Fortas was involved with Pearl, himself? After all, he was the one with the picture and the knowledge about Pearl's suspicions."

 "That's been on my mind all day. If he was the boyfriend, it might make a few other things add up. His wife was very ill for many months this year alone. He and Ms Swantz worked in the same building. Her bio doesn't sound like someone in his league, but there's no accounting for that kind of thing. After the wife died, he might have been worried about the stalker and given her the phone. He hadn't reported it stolen or anything and he was still paying the... Say, Toni?"

 Knowing his next idea, she asked, "How about we request his financial records? Ya think we can do it? Legally? Or...not?"

 He laughed because they both knew that they couldn't use information gathered that way. "Good thought, but I think in a murder case, we might be able to show cause and obtain a judge's signature allowing us to examine his records."

 "Let's do it! We already have Pearl's records of deposits and payments. The least it will do is exonerate the bastard and take him off of our suspect list." Her use of the label surprised Paul, but Fortas didn't win any popularity contests in his eyes either.


 Part 9 of 10
CHAPTER ONE

 For a Sunday, the CPD was busy. That's what dealing with a city the size of Chicago means, after all. An early morning drug raid had coincided with a domestic quarrel that had escalated into a full-scale neighborhood altercation. As a result, detainees filled the holding cells. The less dangerous ones lined up on the benches in the booking room. Additional officers were being called to transport some of the prisoners to other CPD locations. In the meantime, all available help was being utilized to the fullest. The result was close to chaos, at least in noise levels.

 Paul Armstrong had called Pierson into his office. Pierson was a younger, newer addition to the team. He'd been assigned to the detective unit at the last promotional testing. Because he was so new he kept his grumbling to himself on having to come in on a Sunday.

 "Glad you're early," Paul said, motioning for Pierson to sit down. "I've received a call from someone that Fortas is at the medical building on Elston. Right now! This is not an arrest situation, remember, but he's been elusive and I don't want him to slip away. You've read the case and I don't want undue force used, none at all unless he requires some subduing. I don't expect it though."

 Pierson nodded in understanding. He looked upon Paul Armstrong as a capable superior officer, but didn't see him as having much of a sense of humor when it came to police work.

 "I'm really taking you along to cover the possibility that he'll see us and run."

 "He's not really in this case, is he? I didn't see his name except as a possible witness."

 Paul waved his hand in the air, "Fortas is someone I need to question. We can't seem to catch him at home or in his office. That's another thing to add to my list of peculiarities. He raises suspicions that I really don't welcome."

 Pierson eyed him questioningly. "Why's he bothering to act hard-to-get?"

 "One of my questions, exactly," Paul said, as the two of them left, determined to find a break in the stalemate that had enveloped the Swantz case.

 _________________

 Upon arrival at the medical building, Paul had Pierson park in the outside lot, facing the rear door. The building was locked in the front, leaving the parking lot door as the only entrance. At the last minute, Paul ordered Pierson to stay with the vehicle and to keep an eye on the door in case Fortas slipped past him. He was inwardly afraid to scare Fortas by having it appear that he was being considered as more than a witness. Paul already wondered about what his part was in this case, if any.


 CHAPTER TWO

 Aram arrived at his office that Sunday morning, surprised to find the door to the outer office unlocked. Instantly irritated with his secretary, he mumbled a few unpleasantries and continued towards his private office.

 The inner office, too, had been left unlocked and his first impulse was to look for damage and missing items. He was concentrating on his file cabinets and desk. They seemed by outward appearances to be untouched. Miss Sherwood would hear from him about her lax routine in locking up.

 He sat down at the desk and was intent upon searching for something in the drawers when he saw movement at the other side of the room.

 "Mornin' Fortas, looking for this?" Gary Hobson was holding something wrapped in a plastic food bag.

 Aram visibly jumped, startled by the presence of his visitor. "Hobson! Are you insane? Have you added breaking and entering to your list of violations? What the hell are you doing here?"

 "This building is where it all started, or was it in Father Mark's office?" There was no humor in Gary's question.

 Unable to manage a pretense that could no longer exist between them, Aram observed, "Actually it was a combination of the two events. Sonny, rest his soul, told me what happened and described the encounter in the clinic. I put the coincidental meetings together along with your resemblance to me and my conclusion was reinforced when Pearl's stalker turned out to be you." He was up from his desk and had moved around to sit on the edge of it.

 "I'd really like to know, how the hell did you happen to decide to stalk her? Do you do it for thrills?"

 Gary didn't know what to tell him. He was not inclined to explain anything to him, certainly not about the paper, "I wasn't exactly 'stalking' her." He felt stupid offering any excuse at all.

 Aram Fortas gave him a disbelieving look, and sneered, "Of course. You just happened to be around each time she was endangered-three times, I believe." It was then that something stirred within Gary. How could this man have known so much about the 'saves'? He felt no compulsion to get involved in an answer. "I'm not playing 'Psych 101' games, Professor. I found your camera and I'd bet it was the one used by Ms Swantz."

 "So what? So it's a camera-it's not a 'one-of-a-kind."

 "Well, the..the way I look at it, I think it is. I, ah, I think that when they examine this particular one, they'll, they'll find a link between you and her."

 He had Aram sweating as he explained his theory. "I'm not asking why you did this. But why'd you have to implicate me, or, any..anyone?" Gary asked, "Couldn't you just..just do it?" He was repulsed to suggest that someone should just 'do it' when 'it' was murder. "I know that Pearl was the one who managed the drugs for the clinic. Was that it? The reason to kill her?"

 More and more parts of this case were falling into place, finally making sense, at least to him.

 More confident now, Aram went back to his desk chair to sit, absentmindedly reaching into the side drawer. "Pearl was useful...and necessary to procure some...ah...needed supplies without a trail, shall we say?" Gary nodded knowingly to himself as Fortas continued. "She was in a position and only too willing to help me with a, ah, project."

 "What? What could possibly be so important that you'd have to kill her to guarantee your safety?"

 Fortas fidgeted with the item in his desk. "That information is my business, you.."

 Interrupting suddenly, Gary felt his temper rising, "Don't give me that. You-you've made it my business and the police's business. You've set it up to point to me as the murderer. I can't even go home, or, or to let my friends know how I am. I've had to hide out to stay free. Don't tell me that it's not my business!" Something else occurred to him then, "By the way, what were you doing at Simonson's apartment house just prior to the explosion?"

 Aram Fortas sat back after sliding something from the drawer into his lap. He smiled at his visitor, noting again how many similarities existed between them. Too bad he couldn't have put that feature to more use. "I knew it was you on the phone. Were you trying to fool me? That's a laugh! I didn' t need to recognize the voice as much as the subject matter."

 Gary was nervous. He was aware that he was getting into dangerous territory with someone who was an admitted killer. "I..I...I did see you at the building th-th-that day." He paused, wishing he could appear more calm and convincing, "You...you caused his death, didn't you?"

 "Now, that wouldn't be wise to admit to even if you could do anything about it," Aram said, quickly adding, "which you can't!" An evil smile formed on Fortas' face as he asked, vulgarly, "Are you screwing the Brigatti woman?"

 It was as though he'd been punched in the stomach as Gary heard the words spew from Fortas' mouth. "You s-s-son of a..!" He instantly recognized the purposeful baiting that the psychologist had proffered. Controlling his temper, he rose, walked to the door and prepared to leave. In a much calmer voice, he said, "You really are one s.o.b., aren't you?" He had no intention in getting further into the subject matter with this man, "That remark doesn't deserve any answer. You..you..you don't know what it means to, to, to have a relationship in which neither party uses the other."

 "Oh, pardon me," Fortas began, sarcasm dripping from his words, "How foolish of me to accuse you of using Ms Brigatti to evade capture."

 Again Gary felt his anger searching for an outlet. "You have no concept and it's not up to, to, to me to teach you." He raised the plastic bag holding Fortas'-Pearl's-camera, shaking the bag slightly as he nodded his head, smiling, indicating his feeling of accomplishment in obtaining the condemning evidence.

 Before he could fully open the door, Aram Fortas stood up, raising an automatic weapon, pointing it at his opponent, "Just stop right there and put that package on my desk."

 Gary smiled when he saw Fortas' angry expression. There was a degree of satisfaction in having been able to shake the usually calm, smug attitude of this man.

 Fortas warned, "You'll be dead before you step out of this office. I'm a pretty good shot." Then to punctuate his meaning, he added, "Ask Pearl." Without commenting on this confession, Gary said, "I'm leaving now, but haven't you considered where I found the camera-and what else was in the drawer?"

 A look of shocked confusion spread across Aram Fortas' face as he remembered that the gun in his hand had occupied the same drawer as the camera that was in Hobson's hand.

 The last thing Gary heard as he closed the door behind him was two ominous clicks from the gun. Soberly he realized that Aram Fortas would have killed him. He would have performed one more murderously evil act if Gary had not found and emptied the gun earlier. The man's pride had blinded him, giving him that false sense of security just as Gary had hoped it would.

 He took the stairs at a fast clip, clutching the camera in its bag. Being Sunday, the medical office building was deserted except for the cleaning crews that could be heard on the floor above. If not for the possibility that Fortas might have had another gun at his disposal or additional ammunition, Gary may have taken a more leisurely pace.

 He was thinking other thoughts as he burst from the stairway door. As it was, someone was simultaneously bursting through to the stairs. They collided, muttering 'pardon' and 'sorry' to each other. Before either man could recover from the collision, each uttered the other's name aloud.

 "Hobson!"

 "Armstrong!"

 Paul Armstrong was reaching for his gun as the nearby elevator door opened. Fortas emerged from the elevator, the gun at his side, freshly loaded with a full clip. He had hoped to catch up with Hobson and make a 'stronger' bid for Gary to relinquish the camera. Seeing Detective Armstrong, he did something he hated about how others reacted in stress and emergencies. He panicked. His only thought was to keep Gary from Armstrong and Armstrong from the camera.

 Raising the weapon, he intended to shoot the detective first, then Hobson. He'd leave the gun to make it appear a murder-suicide. Gary turned at the sound of the elevator door and, seeing the gun aimed at them, gave Paul Armstrong a powerful push backwards. The weapon was discharged twice, striking Paul once, not in the back as planned, but lower and in his side.

 The second shot had followed closely to the first, but missed them both. With the weapon still poised, Fortas shouted for Hobson to stand still. As soon as Gary had seen Armstrong had been hit, he fell to his knees to aid the stricken man. Opening the jacket, he saw blood had stained Armstrong's shirt in a widening pattern. He appeared not unconscious, but dazed.

 Paying no heed to the madman's order for him to stay where he was, Gary began helping by opening Paul's shirt to examine the wound, removing his own cloth jacket to use as a compress.

 Fortas placed the barrel of the gun at Gary's head. "Stand back away from him. Now!" Shooting him from behind was not going to fit the murder-suicide picture Fortas had in mind.

 "He's bleeding. I've, I've gotta stop the bleeding." Gary continued applying pressure even with Fortas' gun pointed at him.

 "If you're gonna shoot, do it-or else get the damned gun away from me." Fortas backed up, rethinking his plan. He couldn't allow either of them to walk away, especially the cop. And the camera! They didn't know it, although Hobson suspected it, he knew, but his fingerprints were on it. In fact, he didn't consider it important at the time to wipe Pearl's prints off either. Why? He should have added that coverage to the plan from the beginning. That damned Hobson! It was his fault!

 The fact remained; he had to make sure that Armstrong never lived to tell what happened. With only Hobson's word, there would be much less to worry about. As he was considering his next move, he heard the detective groan in pain.

 That's it! If he waited any longer, it would only get worse. He backed up a little farther as Hobson spoke, "Armstrong! Armstrong! Can you hear me?" Though Armstrong's eyes were open, he seemed dazed and didn't appear to be comprehending what was going on.

 Gary removed the cell phone from the detective's pocket, preparing to use it.

 "Don't do that! Put it down." Pointing the weapon at him again, Fortas warned, "Put the phone down!"

 Explaining his actions, Gary said, "He needs medical attention."

 "He won't need anything, but a coroner."

 Paul Armstrong became more alert, listening to the implications of Fortas' threats. He was sure the threats were sincere. Right now his chances of seeing Meredith or his sweet little daughter were very poor. He wished that he could maneuver his gun for a clear shot. 'No chance of that unless Hobson..'.

 "Hobson," he whispered, actually as loudly as he could, out of breath as he did so.

 Gary whispered back, "Quiet, Armstrong. This time you have to listen to me. Now don't talk and stop that movin' around."

 "Hobson, I have to tell you something." He winced as he strained to move. When Gary bent closer to the wounded man, Armstrong said, weakly, "My gun. Take my gun."

 Aram Fortas urged, "Go ahead, Hobson, take his gun."

 Gary looked stunned at the urging of this cold-blooded killer for him to pick up the detective's weapon.

 "I said, 'Pick up his gun!' You can either pick it up or I'll shoot you now and then I'll get your prints on it afterward. Make a decision." Gary slowly took the gun in his hand.

 "Easy," Fortas warned, "Don't make me mess this plan up."

 Fortas watched as Hobson set the weapon back onto the floor, stating, "I'm, I'm not gonna shoot him."

 "Oh, no, you don't have to. Just stand up and get away from him now." Fortas pointed the gun in Armstrong's direction, waiting for Hobson to shift to the side to give him a clear shot. Instead of moving away, Hobson placed himself between the two of them, effectively shielding Paul Armstrong from the killer.

 "Listen carefully as I tell you once more, 'get away from him'!"

 Hobson felt himself shaking inside as he held his position. All he could think about was the wife and child of this fallen detective. Armstrong had the world, in Gary's eyes, the world that Gary only dreamt about.

 "All right, have it your way." Fortas took aim with both hands, aiming at Hobson's head. At the last minute he dropped his aim to Gary's chest. A weak voice, barely heard, urged, "Hobson! Get down! Now!"

 Feeling the pull of Fortas' bullet pulling at his sleeve as he dove for the floor, he hit the floor, landing hard. He hardly heard the second blast of the gun. In fact, it was the last thing he did hear.


 CHAPTER THREE

 "Dr. Novak, call your service. Dr Novak, call your service."

 The disembodied sounds were easy to identify. Gary'd heard them enough, especially during the past five years.

 "Mr. Hobson. Mr. Hobson. Open your eyes." Someone was urging him to break back into consciousness. It wasn't something he particularly welcomed. He' d had headaches before, but never in the category of the present one. Once, when a car had hit him during a planned save on one of the Chicago bridges, the headache had come pretty close to this, but not quite. He winced in hopes that the pain would go away.

 Someone calmly assured him that the medication that they were administering would provide relief soon. The worst part was that the 'voice' wanted to see his eyes open. He wasn't quite willing to go that far yet. As the pain ebbed, so did his need to be awake.

 _______________

 The next time that he allowed himself to waken, the outside light was replaced with the artificial room lighting. He heard voices. In his grogginess, the voices were familiar. Quiet laughter, soft conversation. Almost lulling.

 Gary was starting to remember the sequence of events of the medical building showdown. He strained to see his surroundings. A privacy curtain separated his side of the two-bed room. It was close to surreal, hearing people with familiar voices nearby without seeing them. Rolling to his side made him recognize the incompatible sensation of being nauseated and hungry at the same time. If he could just find the controls and raise the bed, the stomach might calm down. Or so he thought. Maybe just sitting would help. Trying to read the control buttons was making him dizzy, worsening the problem. Finally, desperate to ward off the inevitable, he grabbed a firm hold on the side rail and hefted himself to a sitting position.

 For a few moments he thought it felt good having his legs hanging off the side of the bed. Those few seconds passed as he raised a hand to his head, expecting it to explode as new waves of pain struck. Involuntarily groaning, he lost his grasp of the rail. Falling back on the bed, he closed his eyes, praying he could handle the stomach discomfort. As the visitors at the next patient's bedside heard the activity, a couple of them walked around the curtain to check on Gary, and then quickly called the nurse.

 In his list of things that he hated about hospitals was the one in which the patient is usually treated like a naughty child. You'd think the hospital staff owned his injuries.

 Among the fussings by the nurse as she re-settled him in the bed, he managed to recognize the presence of a familiar voice and attitude. "Hobson! Can't ya just be a patient? Do ya have'ta fight authority every moment?" Crumb would have been more welcome if it weren't for his raucous sound-like sandpaper being scraped by fingernails.

 Something cool was placed over his eyes and, along with an addition to the IV port, and he was able to feel himself relaxing back into sleep.

 After that, his memory was uncertain. One thing, though, a number of different people must have been there-unless it was in his dreams. Finally he chanced the nausea-headache cycle and opened one eye to identify who was there. "Hey, partner," he said, hoarsely, and saw Marissa's face fill with a pleased smile.

 "Hey, yourself." She squeezed his hand again, relieved to hear his voice.

 She'd visited briefly the night he was brought in and on and off that day. "I was wondering how long you were going to ignore us."

 When she used the reference to 'us', he noticed Toni standing tensely at his other side. Her face was strained like...as though... No! She wouldn't, would she? No!

 "Hi," Toni greeted him. "Bout time."

 He smiled cautiously, not wanting her to know how much pleasure her appearance brought.

 "You seem to always be on your back lately." Toni wasn't quite sure how welcome she was.

 Marissa squeezed his hand again, "Gary, we were so worried. Armstrong.."

 At the mention of Paul Armstrong's name, Gary's face paled, remembering how dangerous the man's wound had looked. "Ar-Armstrong. How, how is.". His head began erupting in pain as he wanted to ask about the detective, yet at the same time he feared the answers. He raised his hand to his head in hopes of alleviating the pounding going on there.

 "I..I mean.."

 Toni patted his shoulder, suddenly realizing what had produced the anguish.

 "Gary! Gary, stop! Paul is fine. Well, maybe not that fine, but he'll be fine."

 Gary closed his eyes again, this time seeking composure. "How's his wife and daughter? I'm so sorry." Covering his eyes with his hand, he slowly shook his head from side to side.

 Marissa could hear his concern, "Gary, it's okay. Detective Armstrong's fine."

 "Gary. Listen to her," Toni urged, "Listen to Marissa. She wouldn't try to fool you. Paul's gonna be fine. Believe it!"

 That was the trouble; he didn't believe that Armstrong could be fine. Aram Fortas shot him before shooting Gary. Surely Fortas must have finished the job.

 A nurse entered the room, angry upon seeing the patient upset. "What's goin' on here?" She was reading the vital numbers from the meters attached to Hobson, alarmed at the blood pressure and pulse rate. She glared at the two visitors in silent accusation.

 Marissa contributed an explanation in the electric silence of the moment, "He thinks someone he knows died," Marissa pointed silently to the curtain, "and we can't seem to talk him out of it."

 "Mr. Hobson," the nurse demanded his attention, "Mr. Hobson!" She finally was able to garner his full attention, "Your friend is alive," adding, "Do you understand?"

 Gary looked off to the side, avoiding Toni's eyes.

 "Listen, Mr. Hobson...Gary.." the nurse began, "If your roommate doesn't mind, I'll let you see him. Would you believe us then?"

 He fixed his focus on the nurse, glaring in doubt.

 "Okay," she said, "Hold on a minute, fella." She left his vision. He heard some whispering, and then he saw the separating curtain being drawn open.

 The good and the bad of it were one and the same as a familiar voice was heard, "Hey, Hobson." After seeing the contrast of the white bandages against Gary's dark hair and pale complexion, he added, "How's the head?" Paul was sitting upright in the raised bed, smiling in his reserved fashion at all three of them.

 Gary Hobson glanced from Paul to Marissa to Toni, who nodded her assurance. "Armstrong? I...I...I thought you were dea-dead."

 Paul found some humor in it, but affirmed, "Yeah, I lucked out, thanks to you."

 Toni approached Marissa and touched her shoulder, "Marissa, how's about letting them have some 'bonding' time? Let's allow them to be alone to discuss their 'war' wounds."

 Toni was preparing to say 'goodbye' to Gary. Seeing his expression change to what looked like regret at their leaving, she waited for Marissa to kiss him on his forehead. As the blind woman turned away, Toni threw caution to the wind and aimed for his forehead too. At the last second, Gary tilted his head and presented his lips. She hesitated, thinking about her partner watching from the other bed. The hesitation was short. She accepted the new, more preferred target. Their eyes met in a questioning look afterward, then she turned away to join Marissa.

 It was quiet in the room at first. Gary knew, or at least suspected what would be forthcoming from the man in the next bed. Before he could wonder any longer, a uniformed CPD officer entered and notified Paul Armstrong that he was leaving and that someone named Jason would be taking over. As Hobson watched, the detective nodded and gave a wave in acknowledgement. "Am I under arrest?" It was a natural presumption and to Gary, it appeared to be a fact.

 "Arrest?" Paul smirked, "We're both under protective 'care' until all of the facts are sorted out and processed. They usually provide protection for law officers injured in investigations in case the perp has a confederate still on the loose. I wouldn't try leaving this room though." Always the on-duty police officer, he asked, "Say, Hobson, what do you remember? I think you missed most of the action."

 "The last thing that I remember is Fortas bearing down on us with his gun. I was surprised to see you here. I thought you and I would be statistics." Paul confided his beliefs, "It was a sure thing that I was meant to be his target. I would've been, too, if it weren't for the dumb stunt you pulled. Hasn't anyone ever told you not to move in front of someone holding a loaded weapon?"

 "Yeah, but...".

 "Yeah, nothing! It was a stupid thing to do. Why do you have this death wish that makes you want to stand in the path of trouble? Ever since we met, you've been doing this."

 Why did he have to be in the same room with this particular man, Gary wondered to himself? It was bad enough to put up with his suspicions when Gary was on his feet and able to walk away. Here, he was a captive to Paul Armstrong's questions. He had to get released! Soon! But would they release him? Or would they just put him in jail?

 "By the way, Hobson, thanks."

 "You're welcome. Is Fortas under arrest?"

 "Sorry. I forgot that you'd want to know what happened. While you were blocking him from finishing me, I was able to get my gun into position. That's why I asked you to get down. He was gonna kill us both anyway, you know-or did you?"

 Gary nodded to himself and gestured with his hand. "Yeah, he was cornered."

 Suddenly remembering, he asked anxiously, "Did you get the camera?"

 "We did. We expect to find Pearl Swantz' prints on it along with Fortas'. It won't condemn him, but it will help prove their relationship. That's what police work is, Hobson, pieces of a puzzle that fit to make a picture."

 Paul continued, "After he shot you-by the way, I thought you'd had it, Hobson; I really thought you'd used all your cat's nine lives that time when I saw where he shot you. Anyway, I had a clear shot and gave him two bullets. My cell phone was what I used to call for medical assistance. The funny thing about this is my backup was sitting in the parking lot outside all the while. He had his windows closed; he never heard a thing. Not one blessed thing! That's the way it goes sometimes."

 Armstrong looked across at his roommate, asking, "You need a nurse, Hobson?"

 Gary touched his bandages as if to identify his discomfort, "I think I'll, I 'll just, I'll...rest for a while." He relaxed back onto the pillow and closed his eyes.


 CHAPTER 4

 He never heard the phone, but a nurse entered the room and asked him if he wanted the telephone call. Still groggy, he took the receiver and answered,

 "H'lo?"

 "Sorry, Gary, I didn't intend to disturb you." Toni Brigatti's voice was easily identified. "I wanted the nurse to tell me something about your condition. Instead, she cut me off and here I am. What's happening with you? You sound kinda weak."

 "I'm doin'..good. I was kinda groggy when the doctor came by, but I don't think he's too concerned. Maybe I can get him to release me early-like tomorrow or the next day."

 "If ya need a ride or anything...you know.."

 "Visiting hours aren't over yet, Toni."

 "If you had anyone other than Paul in that neighboring bed, I'd be there, but, well, it's kinda.."

 "I know. I know." Then, hope flowing as he added, "Maybe, maybe tomorrow?"

 "I'll try... Oh, wait a minute. There's a pretty full schedule tomorrow. I may have to call you instead."

 Noticeably deflated, after a short hesitation, Gary said, "Yeah, okay. I understand. I just thought, ah, that..ah.."

 "What?"

 "Oh, nothing; I'll be fine. 'Night."

 She closed with the same sign-off that he did and sat outside in her car, kicking herself for putting him off like that. Why did it bother her so much to have someone, especially Paul, know that she had grown..close..to this very strange, but intriguing man? Paul wasn't particularly fond of Hobson to begin with; he'd been unmerciful in his teasing of her. Toni couldn't help but wonder what he would be like if he were to consider them a 'couple'?

 A 'couple'! But they weren't that and probably never would be. Never could be. Could they? Yet there was that disappointed note in his voice as they talked. He actually seemed disappointed when she had indicated that she might not see him tomorrow. The more she thought of it, the more she felt the same. 'Damn!' Why should she allow Paul's presence to dictate her actions, her emotions, by his happening to be in the same room?

 She locked her car and walked back towards the hospital entrance again. About midway to the elevator, she rethought her decision, asking herself out loud, "What the hell am I thinking?" Toni returned to her car. Her key was ready and about to be inserted into the lock when she uttered a silent curse and put her keys back into her shoulder bag. She strode purposely fast, reentering the hospital and going directly to the room that the two men were involuntarily sharing.

 She couldn't avoid Paul's notice of her, but just waved as she passed through the room to Gary's side. He appeared asleep. She pulled the chair close and sat silently watching him. Toni reached out and, without thinking, placed her hand over his. As she did, he jumped and moaned softly. He opened his eyes, both surprised and obviously pleased at his visitor's return.

 "Should I say that I was in the neighborhood?" she asked. "I can see by your expression that that's not a believable premise. Okay, how's this: I had to pick up something belonging to the department? No, I used that one before after you returned the Lermontov diamond and saved my hide and my career." He was listening with inner amusement as she went on, "Well, then, there's always the 'I missed you' excuse. Choose one 'cause I sure can't pick out a believable one-even to me!"

 "Howzat?" He smiled coyly and asked, "Can you run through my choices again?"

 "Listen carefully, Gary, 'cause I don't want the whole department to find this out, I was frantic with worry when they said that Paul and 'the Hobson guy' were both shot. When I asked, they told me that Fortas was killed. At first I didn't know who shot him, who shot you and Paul, and I had no idea how seriously you and Paul were injured. They only said that the two of you were taken here with head and body wounds. Do you happen to know how a person feels when they hear such a thing? Well, I do! I guess that's why I 'm here...to make sure that you'll be okay."

 "I told you on the phone that I'm fine. They'll probably release."

 Sarcastically, she commented, "Like they'll release Paul with his wound. Take it from me; you're not here because you bumped your head. Don't you ever think before you act? You walked up and dared Fortas to shoot you instead of Paul. That was his story, anyway-and I believe it. It's your style. What were you trying to achieve?"

 He didn't know whether to apologize or explain as he answered her, "That's just it, Toni. Fortas was bent on shooting Paul; he may not've cared about me. I was already wanted for-for murder. Fortas hesitated just long enough to allow Paul to ready his weapon. Should I have stood by and let Paul be killed, then have Fortas kill me anyhow? It-it-it was our only chance and it worked-some. I can't have his wife and little girl be left without him if, if something could be done, ya understand?"

 "If you put it that way, I guess I have to understand, but did you know that when they first examined you, they thought...they, they thought...you were dead?" Toni was embarrassed by the sting of tears she felt threatening to betray her feelings.

 "No, I didn't hear that, but the truth is I'm not! Now 'all' I have'ta worry about is my problems with the law. I'll probably end up in jail or prison or whatever after this is all settled-whichever way it's settled!" His head was bursting with pain from the trapped emotions their conversation was producing. Without realizing it, he had grasped Toni's hand and was squeezing it ever tighter with the growing pain.

 Trying to pry his fingers loose, she said, "Gary, I've lost all the feeling in that hand. Let me call someone for you." She didn't wait for the argument that she was sure he would present. She pushed the call button. He reacted with a further pained expression, but it was too late. Grabbing his head with both hands, then, he wished he could've forced the pain away. When the nurse arrived she came with a medication for the IV port. "Mr. Hobson, this should work fast. We're running a little slow tonight with an overflow crowd."

 Gary wasn't talking; he was feeling too much.

 Toni glared in his behalf it seemed, but kept her silence for fear that she would aggravate his misery further.

 Before the nurse left, she mentioned the end of visiting hours and that Toni'd have to leave.

 She was having none of the suggestion. "This man is a material witness in a murder case." She flashed her badge, "I'm trying to ask him some questions."

 The nurse had her own opinion about why the little detective was there. "You can be the chief of police for all I care, miss. This man needs to rest. I thought you people knew enough to keep from harassing a patient."

 Toni softened her attitude. "All right, all right," she said, giving in and abandoning her attitude, "I really am with the CPD, but that's not the whole reason I'm here right now." She clutched Gary's hand and smiled sweetly at the nurse, "Can I stay a little longer, please?" Tact and diplomacy was not usually in her make-up, but she was on a roll now, "He was almost killed last evening saving my partner's life. I need to know that he's gonna be okay. Ya know?"

 The nurse smiled back and relented, "I thought that you were here earlier."

 The medications had kicked in and it was evident that Gary's pain had subsided enough for him to fall asleep. Toni smoothed her hand against his cheek. The repentant nurse left one more request, "Please don't stay too long. Both of these men need their rest."

 Toni nodded in answer and added a 'thank you'.

 After she left, Paul asked, "Toni, is he awake?"

 "No."

 "Does he know how you feel?"

 Her voice took on a defeated tone, "I'm not sure. Probably not."

 "Tell him. Tell him while he's still in that bed. You'll never have a better chance."

 "Paul!" she said, trying not to raise her voice, "It's not something I can do. You know me about as well as anyone does. Do you think it would be easy to just, ah, ah, to..bare my soul like that? I can't!"

 "If you don't, Toni, he may never hear it from you. You've got to take a chance. That's it, isn't it? You don't want to take the chance that, after all this time, he might say "No way, Jose! Hit the road! Not in this lifetime! ..words to that effect? You want a sure thing, don't you?" He laughed briefly and not to ridicule her, "Toni."

 "Paul, don't do this. I can't. You don't know the terrible things I've said to him. You don't know how I turned him down flat the one time he begged me-begged me-to help him." Her eyes were filling up. She had approached Paul's bed and he could see that she was close to doing something most un-Brigattilike.

 "You're afraid."

 "Damn right I'm afraid! I'm afraid he's gonna laugh in my face! I'm afraid he's gonna tell me where to take 'it.' Wouldn't you be-if you were in my place, that is?"

 "If it was my Meredith and she said something like that to me before we were married, there is no way in hell that I could laugh. If I felt the same, I'd have to let her know. If I didn't, well, I'd still have to let her know. Take a chance, Toni. How're you gonna know if this isn't what life has designed for you.if you don't get in there and try for it?"

 She was still agonizing over the subject matter when he added, "You know how I feel about the guy. He's strange and quirky, but as you said one time, he 's a boy scout. You could do worse. Should I name some others who have taken an interest in you in the past?"

 Toni shot him a warning glance that dared him to try. "I'll think about it, Paul. I don't know whether I'm more afraid that he'll take it seriously..or that he won't!"

 "Regardless of what I, or anyone else may say or think, you're entitled to live your life, so do it! Get involved. If you don't do it now, you won't at forty or fifty or sixty. The prospects are not so good or so plentiful as the years go on."

 "Enough, Paul, enough! I said I'd think about it. Good night."

 Part 10
CHAPTER ONE

 Two days later, when Toni arrived at the hospital, she found that Paul Armstrong had been sent home to finish his recuperation. She was happy to see Gary sitting up in bed, his coloring close to normal. Bernie Hobson was at his son's bedside.

 "Mr. Hobson," she said to acknowledge him.

 "'Mister Hobson'? Why 'Miss' Brigatti, how formal we are. Haven't I earned the title of just plain Bernie yet?"

 She smiled and corrected her greeting, "Bernie. How's our patient?"

 "Patient? Who ever called my son 'patient' never knew him. He's rarin' to get outta here. I told him we could try to sneak him outta here by the stairs..if that damned cop wasn't sittin' out in the hallway."

 Gary was the picture of the long-suffering son during his dad's discourse. He hated to be discussed as though he were not in the room. "Ah, excuse me, you two, you probably don't remember, but I'm here." To Toni, he smiled the smile of someone being saved from torture. "Nice of you to come, Toni."

 "N-nice of me to.." she said, puzzled because she'd been there every day. Then, realizing that he was saying it for Bernie's benefit, she said, "Uh, Gary. You 'do' know that Bernie has been here everyday since the day after you were admitted, don't you?"

 Gary turned his attention to his father, surprised. "I-I-I didn't. I should've guessed, but I thought you'd be busy..."

 "Gar! What kinda busy would I be, not to be here for you? I'm stayin' in your loft 'til we get ya back on your feet."

 'God help me' Gary said, but only to himself. His dad was disrupting his life for his son; his son shouldn't be thinking anything else, should he? Feeling remorse for his thoughts, Gary asked, "Dad, have ya thought about selling your house now that Mom is...so that we can see each other more often? I could help you find an apartment near to McGinty's and...".

 "Nah. I got stuff I gotta do in Hickory. And I figure you got your life here in Chicago."

 "What? What do you 'gotta do' in Hickory?" He didn't mean to make it sound quite so rude, but wondered what his dad could find to occupy his time now that Mom was...not there.

 "Well, for one thing, Herman-you remember the guy across the street-well, his wife died a coupla years back and he volunteers down at the senior citizens joint near the city hall. It's kinda fun; they haven't heard all my jokes and stories yet. Then there's the weekly poker game that me and the boys have-we've made it twice a week now. The yard keeps me busy most of the time and I'm settin' up the garage so's I can have a real workshop. You'll have'ta come see it, son, but call first to let me know."

 His dad was one resilient customer, Gary thought, stunned to hear him tell about how his life had evolved since Lois' death. Both sad to think of him alone and glad to see that he wasn't pining away, Gary found he could smile at his father's busy existence.

 Toni was amused with Bernie's run-through of his schedule.

 "So, Gary, have they set a date for your release from this lush life?"

 "They did some tests yesterday so I should hear some time today. Uh, Toni, what happens next?" He'd been worried about where he would be 'released' to go.

 "That's one of the reasons I'm earlier than usual. There's a lot of discussion about what to do about you."

 "Do about me? Let me go home; that's what to do about me. They said the camera gave them the answers they needed."

 "Unfortunately that was not enough to let you go scot-free. The hotel desk clerk's story about seeing someone looking like you, leaving the hotel at the same time that the security guard found you looking dazed and sitting in the room with the body gave some help. Along with the examination of Fortas ' records and a few other investigations into his life, it's believed that the D.A. will drop the murder charges against you. That leaves the 'escape' charges. And those are the problem at this point. You just had to run, didn't you?"

 Bernie asked what the consequences might be.

 "Paul is trying to convince them to take into account your heroism in saving his life. If they'll accept that, Paul thinks you might get a suspended sentence-probation-something like that."

 The sober expression on Gary's face wasn't changed by the thought of 'probation'. He'd be listed like a criminal in police records. It had come close to that before, but it was still distasteful for him to be thought of as a criminal.

 "Cheer up, son, they'll pay attention to Detective Armstrong and you'll be home before ya know it."

 "Yeah, sure. Or in jail."

 Toni urged, "C'mon, Gary, think positively. Ya can't be putting yourself in the worst case situation until it happens." She was right and hoped he could see through the depressing aspects.

 She sniffled and wiped at her nose. Bernie noticed, commenting, "That cat still freeloadin' at your place?"

 At the mention of 'cat', Gary's ears perked up. "Wha-what cat? Toni's allergic to cats."

 Both Toni and Bernie turned their heads to point an accusing gaze at Gary. "Not-not-not my cat, I mean, not 'the' cat?" Upon saying it, he had his worst nightmare of suspicions confirmed in the looks on their faces.

 Bernie asked Toni, "You takin' those allergy shots ya told me about?"

 "Oh, yeah. Of course. If I didn't, I wouldn't be standing here now. It's getting better though-a little."

 Bernie stood up as though getting ready to leave, prompting Gary to comment,

 "You don't have'ta go, Dad."

 "Yeah, I do. I need to pick up your lovely partner and take her to dinner. Emmett's at the law lib'ry tonight. Before I get her, though, I wanta buy some decent duds. Your wardrobe isn't my kinda stuff."

 Gary rolled his eyes as his father planted a kiss on the top of his head. Gary remembered only too well the times that his dad did the same thing when he was a kid and his friends were around. The comments were tough to take. After Bernie left, Toni pulled the chair close to the bed. "How's the head today?"

 "Fine. Toni. I didn't know my dad had been here the past few days. Who called him? I didn't want to have him bothered. He's got a lot on his mind."

 "Bothered? Ya think he'd be less bothered if he wasn't told that his son came close to death and was in the hospital?" Then, looking him straight in the eyes, she said, "I called him. He deserved to know."

 "I wasn't close to death, ya know."

 "Oh no? Ask your doctor how close that bullet came to helping you cross that line between 'close' and 'dead'."

 Changing the subject on an argument he couldn't win, he asked, "What's the cat doing at your house?" He was hoping that part of her answer didn't include the mention of a newspaper.

 "Every morning the furry little rat woke me up with his yowling. Insistent little bugger! I let him in and fed him the stuff you told me he liked."

 "Anything else I should know?"

 "As in...?"

 "As in anything else I should know about the, ah, cat?"

 "If you're referring to the Sun-Times, I don't read the Sun-Times. I usually read the Tribune when I get to work. I didn't save them for you if that's what you wanta know. Was I s'posed to?"

 A thousand degrees of peace descended upon Gary's soul upon hearing that she didn't read his special edition. He couldn't have done anything about it even if it had come to his bedside. Heck, he didn't even realize that his dad was one of his visitors. Who else stopped by that he didn't know about? She could see the relief through the smile that filled his face. She didn't exactly lie, she told herself. What she said was she does read the Tribune.

 Well, she does! She didn't say that she didn't read the Sun-Times that arrived with the cat every morning. After having read it once, she was hooked and actually looked forward to hearing the cat outside her door. Who wouldn't allow their curiosity some bit of satisfaction?

 "What?" she asked upon seeing the silly expression on his face.

 "Thank you."

 "No problem. I just hope the little critter doesn't forget where you live after you leave here. I'm not gonna feed him forever; don't get that idea. He's yours!"

 "I appreciate it."

 "Gary."

 "Mmhmm?" He was much better but the tension had tired him and he was thinking about lowering the bed and taking a nap.

 "Gary, are you awake enough to talk?"

 He hadn't realized that his fatigue was that evident. "Sure."

 "What happens next?"

 A curious question. Did he miss part of the conversation? "What d'ya mean, next?"

 "Is there any, any, ah, any hope for us?"

 Curiouser and curiouser, he thought. What was she getting at? "Do you mean the 'relationship' type of hope?"

 It got her to feeling like a schoolgirl again-she hated that. "I guess I do mean that kind." Putting both feet into the water then, she said, "This has been a tough couple of weeks. I've gotten to know a lot more about you during it. A lot. Now I'm tryin' to figure out me."

 "That I've been tryin' to figure out for years!"

 "Thanks, I guess I deserved that. Do you remember when you were in grade school-the times when the little girls yelled at or hit the boys?"

 "Yeah. I always wondered what that was all about."

 "It was about, about 'liking'. It's the way a girl showed that she liked someone. You know, the 'crush' thing. A girl's pride didn't allow her to come out and say 'I like you' to a boy; he'd laugh at her. Or worse, he'd run off and never talk to her again."

 He looked at her as though she developed a third eye. "You're kidding, right?"

 She stared at him, convinced that John Gray was absolutely right in labeling men, and especially this particular man, as being from another planet. Gary Hobson and others like him could only be explained if it could be that they were from Mars.

 An exasperated expression accompanied her next words. It was now or never. Paul was right. Whatever was to happen, it had to be right now, in this hospital, where he was a captive listener. He couldn't run off; he could refuse to ever talk to her again though-a chance she had to take.

 "Gary, I, ah, I'm, I... Oh, hell, Gary Hobson, I'm in love with you. Before you say anything, I know I haven't given you any reason to care about me at all. Don't worry; you don't have to say anything. It'd probably be kinder if you didn't. I just needed to get it off of my chest."

 The silence was deafening. Was he awake? His eyes were open. Oh boy, were they ever open. Maybe he was dead? Should she check? No, he had to be in shock.

 "I'd better go," she said as she grabbed her purse and slipped the strap onto her shoulder, "I hope everything works out with the legal part of all this. I'll keep feeding the cat until you're able to take over." Still expecting some reaction-any reaction-she shrugged when there was none and turned to go. She'd better hurry, she knew, as she felt her eyes burning. CPD detectives don't cry. Since she was convinced that was true, she'd better hurry before she spoiled that image.

 She passed Crumb in the hallway as she hurried out of Gary's room.

 As Zeke Crumb approached the bed, he began his tirade immediately. He didn' t even bother to wait for the polite preliminaries, "What'd ya do to her? Don't sit there lookin' like yer innocent or nothin', what'd ya say to make the tough one cry? Whatever it was, it musta been a real doozy."

 "I didn't, I ah, I didn't say anything. She... I... Was she cryin'?"

 "Well, unless she was just peelin' onions, I'd say she was cryin'. An..an..you don't even know enough to realize it. What were you two discussin'?"

 "Nothing. I wasn't discussing anything. She was discussing. She was doing 'all' the talking. If I hadn't been tethered to this IV, I would've been chasing after her when she ran outta the door. She was telling me, ah, ah, I mean, she was...doin' all the talking. Damn!"

 "Don't you college guys learn anything in those schools? About living? When a woman does all the talkin', the guy is s'posed to respond. Didn't you say anything? Nothin?"

 "Nothing."

 "Ya know, Hobson, if you weren't in that bed, I'd take ya by the ears and drag ya over to her house to apologize."

 "But I didn't 'say' anything. She said it all!"

 "What I'm tryin' ta tell ya is that's what women do. They keep talkin', hopin' that some sense will seep inta our heads. When they stop, that's when yer s'posed to say somethin' nice. You know..'nice'." He saw that what he was saying wasn't making any sense to the barkeep. "You really don't get it, do ya?"

 Gary shook his head.

 "Well," Crumb shrugged his shoulders and shook his head too, "It could be there's no hope whatsoever for ya. Maybe that's one 'a the reasons she was cryin'. That's pitiful!" Repeating the 'pitiful' a couple more times to drive his point home.

 "Okay, let's put that subject ta rest. When ya getting' outta here, Hobson? I see the guard's still at the door. I guess he wasn't here just for Armstrong, huh?"

 "Crumb, I...I'm really worried. I don't even have a lawyer. What d'ya think they're gonna do? You're experienced in these things. Toni said they might reduce the charges and give me some sorta slap on the wrists. Ya think? Do they do that in these kinda cases?"

 "I dunno. They might. Then again, they might not. It all depends on who the D.A. in the case is and how he or she feels that day. If ya get Gardner, you can kiss yer freedom goodbye. She's the toughest and the most persistent of them all."

 "Great! My freedom depends on how someone slept the night before and what they had for breakfast!"

 CHAPTER TWO

 "Crumb, where've you been? I've been trying to reach you all morning. Marissa's face and voice were filled with concern, "The hospital says that Gary's been released, but we haven't heard from him."

 He could see the worry in her face and hear the trembling in her voice. Sitting down next to her, he put his arm around her shoulders. "I was at the hospital early 'cause Armstrong warned me that they was releasin' him. I'm glad you didn't have to be there when they put him under arrest. He got all dressed and the attendant came with a wheelchair and all that, then the uniformed cop came in and put the cuffs on him before they rolled him out."

 Marissa gasped upon hearing how Gary left the hospital. "Did you go with him?"

 "Nah, they don't let people, not even me, go with someone when they're under arrest. I just followed along." He hated telling her such news, but Marissa wasn't one who hid her head in the sand. If he didn't disclose it all, she would be even more worried. "They went through all the booking processes. The only allowance they gave him was they allowed him to be seated while they did it."

 "How was he, Crumb?"

 "Just about what you'd expect for Hobson. Quiet. Real quiet. They took him off and I stayed, hopin' I could get to talk to him. After a coupla hours, I searched down Brigatti, but she's in a worse state than he is. Paul Armstrong said he'd try to find out what's happenin', but I thought I'd better come to let you know in person what's goin' on. It could be-don't take this too bad-it could be that they're gonna throw the book at him. He does have a larger than life file of run-ins with the police even if he wasn't convicted of anything."

 "Can I get you anything, Marissa? I'm gonna make up a fresh pot 'a coffee." He went off when she nodded.

 Upon his return, they sat quietly sipping at their coffee for a while.

 "Crumb, is there anything we can do? Does he have a lawyer?"

 "They have'ta get him a lawyer if he asks for one. Don't worry, he's smart." Then, in a concerned tone, he added, "He'd better be!" Thinking more about it, he said, "Ya know what? I'm gonna go back and see if there's been any changes. I'll call if I can find out anything."

 _______________

 Paul Armstrong had been talking all morning to the district attorney on the case, pleading in Hobson's behalf. He also went with the officer as they summoned Gary to the meeting with Gardner in her office. They used the wheelchair to transport him, his hands cuffed to the chair.

 The D.A.'s office had several people seated and a couple standing when he arrived. Looking around, he only recognized Armstrong among the seated and Brigatti standing in a corner. The faces were grim and mirrored his own.

 The difference was, they weren't scared. They weren't shivering from deep down within.

 "Mr. Hobson, do you want to have a lawyer present?"

 "Do I need one?"

 "Whatever questions we direct to you don't have to be answered except with your legal representative present." The woman, identified by her desk plaque as Ms Gardner, was speaking from her place behind the desk. "I need to tell you that, but I don't think you'll be asked to speak at this meeting. We've been reviewing the case and the circumstances. I think your part in all this has enough documentation for us to proceed."

 He hadn't felt this close to death even when he was. It felt like a spear had pierced through to his soul, leaving a dead shell. He looked down at his shackled hands, imagining that he could see them shaking on the outside as well as the inside.

 Seeing him observing his hands, the district attorney asked the officer to remove the handcuffs. "I don't think they'll be needed for now."

 It was the 'for now' that bothered Gary.

 "As you've probably been told, this office has dropped the murder charges we were prepared to bring against you. Enough information and evidence was obtained for us to realize that we couldn't sustain the charge in a court of law. And I don't personally find a problem with that determination. What we're here for today is to discuss the other charge. You left the scene of a capital crime and evaded police." She shuffled through a stack of files, choosing one to open and consult. "You've got an impressive record with the CPD." She paged through as he shuddered. "Yes, I'd say you and the Chicago Police Department are well-acquainted. There's also a few references in these documents from FBI, CIA and, oh yes, even NASA has a note regarding the owner of McGinty's, Mr. Gary Hobson." She saw that he was wanting to defend himself with those incidents and hurried to stop him. "Don't throw a monkey wrench in these proceedings by talking, Mr. Hobson. I told you that we're not going to abuse your rights nor cause you to require a lawyer to be present. We'd just as soon get this over with quietly and without complications."

 She seemed to find a document in his file that attracted her interest. Taking a few minutes to digest it, she smiled, shaking her head in disbelief. "I'll say it again, for a man who's never had real jail time, you do get involved. That's not what we're here for. It seems that you have a great number of friends, not just in high places-they're there too-but in all places! Detectives Armstrong and Brigatti have run a large number of character references through my office during these past few days, including themselves. Whatever you do to become embroiled in these 'activities', you seem to leave a trail of fans."

 She dramatically glanced around the room. "Okay, here's what we're planning to do and why. If we tried to press the charges that you deserve to have pressed, your character witnesses would tie up the court's time for months-maybe years. This office, unless someone objects, is prepared to reduce the charges to misdemeanors and drop any prosecution plans."

 She saw his eyes open widely, afraid to believe what he was hearing. "We're not letting you off without a warning though. Don't ever come before me again! Even a stadium the size of Wrigley Field filled with your friends will not sway me if I see you here again! Now let's all close this meeting and allow this man to go home to rest; he's white as a sheet."

 "Oh, one last thing, you deserve a thank you that you'll probably never hear for your help in bringing Mr. Fortas' part in this to light. And also in putting your life on the line for Detective Armstrong. Oh, hell, I've heard these accolades from everyone you've come in contact with and I'm not going to join your fan club." She stood up, signaling dismissal. The office cleared out.

 Gary was about to step out of his wheelchair when he felt a hand on his shoulder, keeping him seated. "If you'll allow me to, I'll give you a ride home."

 "I'm okay, Armstrong. I can..."

 "Listen, Hobson, just shut up and stay seated. Let's say I need to give you a ride home."

 "I don't need this chair."

 "Humor me. You're as pale as a ghost. I'm not surprised. Let's just do this the safe and sane way; neither of us needs the aggravation."

 Gary glanced around, but Toni Brigatti had already filed out while he was talking with Armstrong.


 CHAPTER THREE

 Toni Brigatti parked her car at curbside in front of her small home. These past two days, since the meeting that she witnessed at the district attorney's office, had been filled with one catastrophe after another. Part of it stemmed from Gary's last day in the hospital when she stripped her pride to the core and blurted out that she was in love with him. How could she have disclosed such a tender and sensitive truth to anyone, him in particular? It took the very spirit from her, so much so, that the ensuing two days had been torture, dragging every ounce of energy from her.

 Coming home at the end of a hard day used to be consoling. She could linger in a hot bath or get out a pail and scrub away at the kitchen floor until she was too tired to think. Tonight she'd settle for the hot bath. The day 's activities had kept her busy long past working hours; she didn't need anything to make her tired this evening.

 As she opened the door it surprised her to see that she had left the kitchen light on. Before going out to put some tea water on to heat, she went to put her purse in the bedroom and slip into her robe. When she went to attend to the tea kettle, the sight of someone sitting at the dining room table made her reach for her service revolver in an automatic reflex. It was lucky for Gary Hobson that she had taken off the weapon when she changed clothes.

 She didn't exactly shriek, but she did utter something very unladylike in her shock and added, "Hobson!"

 He had been sitting at the table with the paper, with his head resting on his arms. She might have laughed as he woke with a start, almost falling off of the chair. She might have if she hadn't been so completely unnerved and alarmed to see a man in her house.

 Once he caught his balance and collected his wits, he stumbled through an apology for frightening her.

 "How the hell did you get in here? I thought you left my extra key here the other day."

 "You need to find a better spot to hide your back door key."

 "Who're you hiding from this time? The FBI, CIA, some other Feds..the dog catcher maybe? What kind of a criminal am I expected to harbor now?"

 "Toni. I'm not wanted for anything."

 "I'm tired, Gary, it's been a long day. I don't wanta play our usual cat and mouse games. What do you want?" She wasn't kidding. If anything, she was even more worn out at seeing him there.

 "What's wrong, Toni? You okay?"

 "No, I'm not okay. But I'm not sick, not that kinda sick anyway. What are you doing here?"

 "Maybe I should go and come back some other time." He rose from the chair.

 "Sit. You're here now. I'm gonna have some tea. Want some? It's herbal."

 "No, thanks."

 She felt like saying, "Suit yourself." She felt like saying something sarcastic. She felt like telling him to hit the road. Instead, she filled the teakettle with fresh water and turned the stove on under it. Without thinking about what she was doing, she set out a cup and saucer for each of them. He gave her a strange look, but didn't comment. So he'd drink some fruity concoction that someone called 'tea'; it wouldn't kill him---he hoped.

 After the tea was ready and they were both inhaling the herbal aroma, she asked, tiredly, "Okay. What did you say you were here for?"

 Watching her, he could tell she wasn't her usual self. In fact, she looked about as wrung out as he felt. He knew that he'd better keep his mouth shut with such observations. "I didn't say, but I do have a reason for having come in uninvited like this. I was waiting outside for a while---a coupla hours---but, when it started getting colder and you still hadn't come home, I thought, well, I didn't want to go home without talking with you, so I retrieved your key from under that rock. Toni, you really have to hide it in a better spot."

 She gave him a sickly smile. "Maybe I should give you your own key."

 "Maybe you should."

 This was not what she meant at all. Not knowing why, she said, "Whatever for?"

 "If we're gonna be, be, ah, seeing each other more, we could, kinda, exchange keys."

 "Gary! Who said we were gonna be seeing more of each other?"

 Why was this so hard? He wasn't eighteen. She wasn't eighteen either. "Ya want some more tea?"

 He wasn't aware until then that he had finished his. "Nah." Going back to her question wasn't easy. 'Who said it? She said it! Didn't she?' At least she alluded to it. The longer he thought about it, the clearer the message seemed to be. How many ways could the words, 'I'm in love with you' be interpreted? He was struck dumb when she originally issued the announcement. Not 'like', love.

 "You know, Toni, back there at the hospital, when you said you, ah, ah, that you were in lo-lo-love with me. Did you really mean love?"

 "Did you think it was easy for me to say such it? I've never done such a thing before. I don't know what came over me. It's too late to deny it now. The words are out. Even though I've felt that way for a long time, I'm not someone who cares to give 'someone' else a chance to take potshots at my feelings." She nervously began to clear away the items on the table. The last thing she was going to remove was the paper. Gary's paper. His hand reached out to the special, very special early edition.

 "I guess the cat has found your loft again," she observed, casually, "I haven't seen him since you got out."

 He frowned and gave her a suspicious glance, admitting, "That's right. The cat has abandoned your generosity and come home..not that I wouldn't be happy to relinquish ownership to you if you chose."

 "No thanks, I'd have to be crazier than I am now. Why do you think I was so late coming home tonight? I only today got caught up on my deskwork. That cat keeps you plenty busy. I don't know how you do it. But now I think I do know why you do it."

 If a pin had dropped at that moment, it would've sounded like an atomic bomb in the silence after her statement.

 Cautiously he stepped out onto the thin ice, "How...I...do...what?" He asked it, but from her expression, she wouldn't have had to answer.

 "You know what, Gary, you do make me crazy." More games-and she was not in the mood. "Your cat..."

 "He's not my cat, ya know."

 "Semantics. You may not have assisted at his birth, but he's your cat all the same. Your cat introduced me to the secret that Paul Armstrong would give his pension to know."

 He leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair, then sat up straight, studying her eyes as he asked, "How...how much do you know?"

 She stared right back at him, confirming his fears, "I know why you're always the first one on the scene of any disaster, usually before it happens, in which case it becomes an 'almost' happening. Close calls seem to be inherent with your, can I call it, 'job'? It's no wonder you're so familiar at the hospitals and police department."

 Was this strange feeling that he felt, relief? It shouldn't have been, but somehow it always took some stress off when another person understood why he did such peculiar things. But Brigatti? He wondered what complications this would produce.

 "Uh, Toni. Have you told anyone about this? Armstrong? Your mother? Anyone?"

 "Haven't you been listening to anything I've said? First of all, I'm exhausted because the paper kept me busy while you were laid up. It kept me so 'occupied' that my office paperwork had to be put on hold. As a result, I've worked late every night since. I have a lot of questions, but for now, I'd like to know who really delivers the paper-and the cat."

 "I don't know any more about that than you do. It just comes, every day, usually at 6:30 in the morning-with the cat!"

 "What's his name? Did you receive a letter of introduction: 'Dear Gary Hobson, please feed Sam, the cat, and prevent the disasters as found in this paper'? What?"

 "No letter. No name. No instructions. It just came one morning while I was staying at a hotel after my wife and I split up. I thought it was printed by mistake. After finding out that the articles predicted things that were going to happen, I got involved." He paused when he noted an admiring expression on Toni's face, "Don't look at me like that! There's nothing noble involved. I saw something that I could have prevented and didn't. Because of that, someone I knew went to the hospital. I can't allow that to happen again, not if I can do something about it."

 In the ensuing silence, he added, "Thank you."

 She smiled, "For...?"

 "For everything. For helping me. For believing in me. For taking care of the paper-and the cat. For sitting here, talking with me."

 "I happen to remember," she shuddered, "a night when you asked me for help and I turned you away. It's a night I'll never forget. Deep inside, I knew you weren't guilty, that you couldn't have done what you were accused of. I kept telling myself 'I'm a cop.' That's what I told myself that night, over and over. It could be that I'll never be the cop I thought I was."

 She hesitated for a moment, "Why'd you come to me for help that night? I know it was cold, you were in trouble, you needed a place to sleep and someone who'd believe you, but why here? Why me? It's not like we hit it off whenever we'd meet. And I was a cop! I'd have thought I would be the last one you'd go to for help."

 "You mind if we take this to the couch? This chair is kinda uncomfortable."

 "Sure."

 For the next three hours Gary disclosed all that he knew about the paper that he served. He answered her questions as much as he could, being sure to mention Lucius Snow's part in this onerous responsibility. He introduced her to what he termed 'saves' and related some of the more humorous ones. Among the stories, he let her in on the original reason that he was on the dinner boat and had the 'Lawrence Thurston' nametag.

 "Toni, about that kiss in the jewelry store..."

 "Don't tell me that the paper said a lonely cop with a crush needed a heart-stopping kiss." She laughed.

 "No-no-no-no-no, that was adlibbed all the way. With pleasure, I might add. You should have seen the size of the bruise you left on my shin with that kick."

 "And just how long do you think I was going to be able to keep my mind on my jewel thief if I had permitted that kiss to continue? As it was, we were both breathless and, mostly speechless. Do you always put so much in your kisses?"

 "There's a way to find out," he said, pointing to his mouth.

 "I'll test it out when you're ready to go home." She checked her watch.

 "Do you have any idea what time it is? One of us has to go to work tomorrow."

 A mischievous sparkle in his eye accompanied his next question, "How're we gonna get to 'see' more of each other if I have to go home?"

 "Oh, no, my libidinous friend," she laughed again, "you want to play a dangerous game and I don't think we're ready for it."

 "Maybe you're not ready, but I...."

 She removed his arm from around her shoulders and stood to help him up. As they reached the door, he asked, "When will you be done with work tomorrow?"

 "I'll try to get here around 5 o'clock." She dropped her head slightly, looking embarrassed, asking, "Will you be here?"

 "I have'ta be here, don't I?" He placed his hands on either side of her jaw line, raising her face. She had an angelic smile as she closed her eyes, waiting for the promised kiss. It arrived, developed, stayed and stayed. She could have melted in his arms as they clung to each other in a hungry embrace.

 There was no kick to break them up this time. By common assent, they stopped, breathless. She spoke first, "Ya want some coffee before you go?" He never mentioned all the tea they'd already drunk. There was no reply, just a smile as he moved back into the house and closed the door behind them. She reached out a hand and put the deadbolt on.

 __________________

 Before they turned out the lights, she asked, "Gary, do you think we could make this, this, this thing permanent?"

 "Shh. I have just the man for you to meet. If you can take off for lunch tomorrow, I'll take you to meet someone who guarantees that he makes the best coffee you've ever tasted." Adding, "And you won't have to bare your soul to get it."
 

The End of 'To Bare One's Soul'

Email the author: arcane@nethere.com
 

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