Author's Note: Thank you all for sticking around so long to this, the final chapter. True, there will be a wrap-up epilogue, but not enough to make it a full chapter, so… here you have it.

Some notes: the movie mentioned is The Shawshank Redemption. It's a wonderful movie, not depressing at all. It very much earns an R rating, is not for the squeamish or those prone to nightmares. I won't give it away here, but the plot revelation at the near end of the movie is worth the price of admission alone. Oh, and subconsciously, I suppose watching that movie did help inspire me in some aspects of this story. Thanks, Mr. King!

Thanks to Lynn for editing, Chris (my sweet husband) for perfectly perfect suggestions (he's responsible for the very last scene in the story, btw), Mark for help with some of the police information (any mistakes are solely my misinterpretation of his valuable opinions), Deb for asking him for me, and to Dragonquirk for suggesting the perfect song to accompany this last bit of my story. If I've forgotten to thank anyone, I apologize!

 

Chapter 14: Ray of Light

"What's going on, Trixie? Why do I have to help you?"

Molinson's expression was a mixture of patient amusement and uneasy curiosity. Trixie glanced at Lisa, still hanging on to her boyfriend's arm. Lisa smiled, her eyes wide and bright. She didn't have anything to hide. Did she? Didn't she? "Uhmm, Molinson," Trixie began. She cleared her throat. "I need to talk to you. Alone."

A chuckle escaped Lisa's perfectly colored lips, leading Trixie to wonder if the woman actually thought she had a teenage crush on the man. Now that was a funny idea! Molinson, however, did not laugh. "Trixie, what's this about? I'm off-duty today. Can't you go find someone else at the station house to share your latest theory with?"

"There's no time for any of that!" she insisted. "In fact, just arguing with me like this is costing us valuable minutes."

"Just tell me what you're talking about, okay?" he told her stubbornly. But Trixie stared up at him with mute appeal and he gave in. "Fine. We'll talk. Lisa, honey," he said to the slender blonde. "Why don't you go on ahead to the apartment and I'll catch up with you. I'm sure this won't take long."

Lisa shrugged. "Okay, Dell." She leaned against him and kissed him swiftly on the mouth. "Nice to see you again, Trixie." She left them on the parking lot and hurried off.

Molinson watched her go for a moment, then faced Trixie with his arms folded. "Now what?"

She thought wildly for a moment how to begin. "Doesn't she have to work today?"

"Lisa? No," he replied. "Since this whole thing happened, she's been working part-time. There's not much for her to do there without your father. Is that what you needed to ask?"

"No," she admitted. "How well do you know Lisa?"

"Excuse me?"

"Lisa! Your girlfriend," she told him. "How well do you know her? I mean, do you trust her?"

Molinson began to get angry. "Just what business is it of yours who I date and what my relationship is with them? You're not my mother, you know." He scowled, but then his scowl changed and he took a step backward. "Unless you're… oh, God. Please don't tell me you've got a crush on me or something!"

"What!? No! Of course not!" Trixie was dumbfounded. How could he, how could anyone think that? How could she be emphatic enough in her denial he'd be certain she had no romantic interest, yet not protest too much he'd become convinced of it? How could such a simple conversation go so horribly off-track?

But he wasn't yet persuaded. "You sure? 'Cause the uniform appeals to a lot of girls."

She snickered. "That why you became a cop?" She thought she detected a slight flush along his cheeks and knew she'd scored a hit.

Molinson stared levelly at her. "Why're you asking about Lisa? What do you think she's done?"

Happy to get back on the subject, Trixie told him. "I think she's been working with Ron Barger."

There was a long pause. Molinson just blinked. Then he said, "Don't waste my time. Of course she works with Barger. At the bank."

"No! I mean," Trixie began, then stopped. "I'm not saying this well," she continued. "You read the papers, right?"

"Yeah," he said flatly. "And I read about your little theory."

Gritting her teeth, she said, "It is not a 'little' theory! It's-"

"It's a good theory," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "If it were up to me, I'd look into it." Surprised he would back her up, Trixie fell silent. He went on to say, "Knowing you, I'm sure you have. But what does this have to do with Lisa? And why are you here, staking out her apartment?"

"She lives here? I thought you did." Trixie asked. Then her eyes widened. "She lives here!"

"Yeah. She lives here. So what? And what does this have to do with that creep Barger?"

"Barger's the guy who's been stealing the money and framing my dad," she said swiftly. "I have reason to believe Lisa's been helping him."

He stared at her. "Lisa," he repeated. Trixie nodded her head. "That Lisa?" he asked, gesturing toward the apartment buildings. "The one I've been dating? Lisa Hencey?"

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Don't you see? It makes perfect sense," she said, fairly bouncing in her shoes. "Barger lives here. Lisa lives here. They work together. It's perfect."

"Barger lives here, too?" he asked. "You sure?" He frowned toward the buildings.

"I've been in his apartment," she said. "That's how I know all this. I saw the evidence. It's all in plain sight. The suitcases, the disks, the tickets to Geneva, the passports. Oh, my gosh. The passports!" She grabbed his arm insistently. "He's got his own passport and he's got a copy of my dad's, only instead of a picture of my dad, it's got a picture of him! He's going to use it to get the money from the bank in Switzerland."

"You broke into his apartment?" Molinson asked incredulously.

"Not the first time," she said pertly.

He shook his head at her. "You crazy? You could have set off his security alarm or something."

"These apartments don't have security systems," she said. "I checked."

"I know," he said. "I've been trying to get Lisa to move out of this place just for that reason. But how can you be sure Barger doesn't have anything rigged up in his apartment? You checked that, too?"

"Umm…" She thought a moment. "I didn't see anything."

"Terrific." Molinson rubbed at his face, thinking. "When does he leave? What's it say on the tickets?"

"The tickets are for six-ten," she said. "Six-ten tonight."

He nodded. "With a two-hour wait at the airport, a two-hour trip into the city, allowing for traffic, he'd have to leave by one thirty, two o'clock at the latest, just to get there in time. And since he's a banker, he'd probably have a thing for punctuality."

"-since he's a banker, he'd want to be on time," Trixie said along with him. They grinned at each other. She felt a thrill run through her at the knowledge that she was thinking like a real detective, even if it were only Molinson. Of course, he had been proving himself more and more of a regular human being lately.

He checked his watch. "It's a quarter to twelve. We don't have much time. But what does Lisa have to do with this? Don't tell me you're only going on the fact that they both live here."

"No! More than that. Her name is on the other ticket to Switzerland."

Breathlessly, she watched Molinson's expression harden. She gulped, suddenly aware of what he must look like to a 'skel' or some other bad guy on the street and she was very glad he seemed to be okay with them working together.

"Are you sure?" he asked her harshly.

She nodded. "Positive."

He thought a moment longer, then grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her along with him as he headed toward the apartment buildings. "Let's go talk to her then."

Trixie almost stumbled on the sidewalk, but managed to keep up with his longer stride. "Why start with her? Barger could still get away."

"He can be stopped at any point along the way to LaGuardia. He can be stopped by airport security. His plane can be kept from taking off. I'm not worried about that. Besides, if I know Lisa, and I do, and if she's involved in this, then she's the weak link. She'll crack and give us whatever we need. If she's in on it with Barger. And if they're in it together, there's no way he's leaving without her, so no matter what, we've got time."

"You're not sure she's involved? The airline ticket-"

"It wasn't in her apartment, right? It was in his. Besides," he said, pulling Trixie down a side path to a building near Barger's, but facing away from it. "I have reason to believe that Barger's feelings for Lisa are one-way."

As they passed the gap between the two buildings, Trixie noted that the patio side of one building faced the patio side of the other to form a large, grassy courtyard. She wondered how much a person could see into another person's apartment that way. They turned another corner and Molinson led Trixie straight through the entrance doors and then into Lisa's apartment. He called out her name as he shut the door behind them.

Trixie looked around, realizing Lisa's apartment was the exact same floor plan as Barger's, with the bedroom to one side, the kitchen, dining room and living room to the other, a patio beyond the living room sliding glass doors, although vastly different in decoration. The accoutrements tended toward pastels and Victoriana, shadow boxes full of small porcelain pieces, and almost too much lace on everything. Lisa greeted them both, but as she kissed Molinson hello, Trixie moved directly to the sliding glass door opening onto the patio. She peered through the glass and then the outer screens, across the courtyard and straight into Barger's apartment. "Hey, Lisa," she said. "You got any binoculars?"

"Um," the woman replied thoughtfully. "No. I've only got those cute little things you get at the theater when you sit in the back row."

Trixie turned, frowning. "Opera glasses?" She looked at Molinson. "You guys go to the opera?"

Lisa laughed. "No, silly! We went to see 'Cats'."

"Umm…" she said, forcing from her mind an image of Molinson tapping his toes to 'Rum-Tum-Tugger'. "Could you get those glasses, then?"

"What do you see?" Molinson asked as Lisa headed off into her bedroom. He came to stand next to her at the glass door. Moving quickly, he pulled the drapery cord. A thin white sheer covered most of the glass, restricting the view. Trixie was about to protest when she realized what she could see, could see her in turn.

"That's Barger's apartment." She pointed. A moment later, Lisa arrived with the glasses. Molinson took them from her despite Trixie's attempt to grab them. She waited impatiently as the officer looked across the courtyard.

The man cursed under his breath, then handed the binoculars to Trixie, moving aside to let her peek. Looking through the lightweight glasses, she saw Barger at his computer. She focused on the oversized monitor. It looked like the man was opening pictures one by one. Color pictures. Of a slender blonde who liked to wear micro-mini-skirted suits. Pictures of Lisa, probably. "Ew," was Trixie's succinct summation.

"What's going on?" Lisa asked. She stood on her tiptoes to try and see over Trixie's head.

"That's what I want to know," Molinson told her. "Have a seat. I've got some questions to ask you."

"Oh?" Wide-eyed, the petite blonde did as she was told and sat down.

*     *     *

Briefly, Trixie outlined her theory, which was news to Lisa, who had paid no attention to the news since the Weekend Update on SNL. "You think someone is framing Mr. Belden? That's wonderful! He's such a nice man. I really didn't think he had anything to do with all that icky business."

Then Trixie discussed her reasons for focusing Barger as the culprit. "Of the only three guys it could be, he's the only one who isn't getting married soon, who isn't focused on making a name for himself in the computer world and the only one with tickets to Geneva for tonight and a passport with my father's name on it."

"Wow!" Lisa breathed. "Why did your dad give Ron his passport?"

Molinson sank onto the sofa beside Lisa. "He didn't, sweetie. Ron must've had a fake made up. He probably has all sorts of identification with Peter Belden's name on it. See? That's how he's been able to get others who don't know what the real Peter Belden looks like to buy that they're doing business with the real Peter Belden. He's bought hookers, ran up credit card bills, all under Peter Belden's name. He's made it seem like the guy's got a secret life."

"Why focus on Peter, though? He's such a nice man." Lisa frowned and stuck out her lower lip in thought.

"I'm not sure," Molinson admitted. "Beyond the fact that Barger needed someone to take the fall for him, he probably just chose him at random."

"I'm not sure either," Trixie said slowly. She looked out the patio doors once more. "When did Barger move in here, Lisa?"

The woman thought a moment. "I don't know. See, he lived here first. When I got the bank job, I was living with my aunt and uncle. Out near your place on Glen Road. I needed my own place, so Ron talked to the leasing agents here and got me the apartment."

"And who decided you'd get the one right across the way from him?" Trixie asked. "The one with the perfect view from his apartment into yours?"

"What do you mean?" Lisa asked. She stood and went to stand next to Trixie. She took the opera glasses from her and looked through them. "No way!" she cried. "I can see right into his apartment!"

"And he can see right into yours," Molinson remarked. He was not happy. "Just where do you do your exercises, anyway?"

"In this room," she said slowly, realizing his point. "Every morning." To Trixie, she explained, "I work out to 'Buns of Steel' four times a week."

"Does that really do anything?" Trixie asked.

Lisa nodded. "Oh, definitely!" She glanced at the other girl's backside. "You might think about getting a copy for yourself."

"Right." Trixie said. She fought not to notice Molinson sneaking a peek at her. Abruptly turning away from the window, she sought the offensive once more. "So you let him lead you to this apartment, right across the way from his, then what? Do you signal each other through the windows? Did you plan this whole thing together?"

"What whole thing?" Lisa asked.

"Watch it, Trixie," Molinson warned.

"Watch what?" she demanded. "Just because she thinks my dad's a nice guy doesn't mean she wasn't in on the whole thing from the beginning." She folded her arms and stared at the confused blonde.

"But I'm not in anything!" she insisted. "At least, I don't think I am."

Molinson sighed. "Then why is there an airline ticket for Switzerland with your name on it in Ron Barger's apartment?"

It was Lisa's turn to frown. "I don't know. But didn't you say he was going to Geneva?" She smiled. "That proves I have nothing to do with it, if my ticket's for Switzerland."

Molinson groaned softly. Trixie fought a grin. "Geneva is in Switzerland." You dope, she added silently. And I thought I was bad in geography!

"Oh." Lisa looked worried. "I still don't know. I mean, he's been asking me out a lot lately, but only to go to dinner and stuff. I wouldn't go to a whole other country with him! He's not that nice."

"He's been asking you out?" Molinson said.

Lisa nodded. She rubbed at her stomach, clearly becoming upset. "We've been meeting for lunch and for drinks and stuff after work sometimes. I didn't know he was after me. How creepy! I thought he was just upset about the thing with Mr. Belden. I mean, we all are, you know? Everyone's been calling each other, trying to figure out what's going on and how we can help. The FBI's been asking everyone all kinds of questions."

"Barger, too?" Trixie asked.

"Uh-huh," she said. "Everyone. And after they go, we call each other and talk about it. Poor Brandon's been having trouble sleeping and one of the tellers got so upset when they questioned her she confessed to taking home pads of paper from the supply closet. It's been unreal!" Her eyes filled with worry.

Trixie looked at Molinson. Was Lisa in league with Barger? It didn't seem likely. For one thing, Lisa seemed too stupid to be trusted with any detail of such an intricate plan. For another, she admitted to being in contact with the man and that he'd asked her out. A likelier move would have been to deny contact. She tried to summon up any lingering suspicions for Lisa's involvement, but found none that held up under close examination, particularly when she added in the inescapable fact that Lisa was beginning to see Barger's interest in her as something less than desirable.

"So you didn't know Barger was planning on taking you out of the country?" Molinson asked one more time. Lisa shook her head. "And you don't have plans with him tonight?"

"Tonight?" Lisa repeated. "No! I have plans with you tonight, Dell. We were going to… you know." She gave a small smile and Trixie felt slightly ill, watching Molinson smile in return. Yuck! was all she could think.

"We might have to postpone things," Molinson said softly. He looked at Trixie. "But we do have to move on this." He checked his watch. "It's after twelve now. We've got just over an hour to figure out what we're going to do, do it and be done with it."

"I'm game for anything," Trixie said.

"Good," he replied. "I'm going to start with a phone call." He walked quickly to the kitchen and picked up the wall phone.

"Huh?" Trixie asked. "Who are you going to call?"

Lisa groaned. "Please don’t say 'Ghostbusters'!" She lay her head against the back of her sofa and closed her eyes. As Trixie moved away to stand so she would hear Molinson's conversation, she could see Lisa massage her temples.

Molinson ignored Lisa's comment and began to dial. "I'm calling this in to the Chief. I have to get his OK before going ahead with anything."

"What about the FBI? Don't you have to call them?" Trixie asked. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but didn't he have to call them in?

He made a face. He punched a few more numbers into the phone, clearly entering some sort of code. "The 'Fumbling Bumbling Idiots?' Not if I can help it. The way they've been taking over our station house, interfering in our routines and making slams on our ability to solve a case, there's no way I'm going to give them the satisfaction of getting in on this. Besides, if they had any sense, they'd have listened to you better and not given you up to Trent."

She flushed at the unexpected praise. "Thanks," she said. "But do you have time to call the police then? Will that take long? Maybe we should just make up our own plan and go in ourselves?"

"No!" he told her. "We've got protocols for a reason. You know. Things like 'backup' and 'proper procedure'. I'm going to need their help and I'm going to need more proof before I go in there."

"But the proof is all around. You just have to walk in and see it," she told him.

"There's such things as search warrants and probable cause -" He held up a hand to indicate he'd gotten through to someone. "Mark? It's Dell. The Chief there? Good. Let me talk to him."

Trixie sighed. She had a strong sense that things were about to be taken out of her hands.

*     *     *

After Molinson hung up from speaking to the Chief of Police, he made two more short calls. Trixie and Lisa sat in the living room and made small talk. Trixie began to get the sneaking suspicion that Lisa knew just a little too much about her father's daily habits. "Did you know that when your mother comes by to visit him, he brushes his hair before he goes out to see her?" she said quietly. "And that I can always tell when he's on the phone with her because his voice gets all soft and warm. And he always has two cups of coffee. One when he turns on his computer and the second at ten-thirty. He always has a diet soda at lunch and then drinks water the rest of the day."

Listening to Lisa's recitation of Peter Belden's day, Trixie realized that her father's secretary harbored a not-so-secret crush on him. She wondered if Barger, who continually asked her out, who planned to take her to Switzerland, noticed the crush as well, and if that helped make her dad the perfect fall guy. It bears thinking about, anyway, she decided.

When Molinson joined them in the living room, he announced, "I've got it all set. Lisa," he began. "You'll probably get a call from Barger, asking you to go over and visit with him or something. You'll be wired up and we'll be able to keep an eye on you from here. Once we get on tape the information we need, we'll be able to bust him."

Trixie was nonplussed. "You're sending her?"

Lisa's mouth dropped open. "You want me to go?" She began to shake her head. "No, Dell. Please don't send me."

"Why not?" he asked. "You're who Barger's wanting to talk to. You won't be suspected. It makes perfect sense." He sat next to Lisa once more and took his hand in hers. "You'll be fine. We'll be watching you the whole time."

Trixie stepped forward. "I don't mean to insult her or anything, but does she even have any clue what she'd have to do?"

Molinson frowned at her. "Believe me, she'll be fully briefed."

Trixie took a deep breath. "You should send me instead."

He laughed. "We should what? Not hardly!"

"Why not? What's wrong with sending me?"

Lisa joined in with, "Yeah! What's wrong with that? She wants to go!"

Molinson didn't acknowledge Lisa's comment. "For one thing, you're a minor. I don’t want to even think about all the legal work I'd have to go through just to get this approved. With Lisa, she can legally make her own decisions."

"I can?" Lisa asked quietly. She frowned. "Oh. I guess I can." She whimpered nervously.

Molinson began ticking off his reasons one by one on his fingers. "Lisa's going to get asked to go. She'll be expected to go. She won't have to get her parents to sign a whole bunch of releases to let her go. If this backfires in any way, the department won't catch as much heat as if a teenager is sent in. Got it? You're not going."

Trixie didn't even blink. "But I've been there. I know what I'm looking for. I'm sixteen years old, hardly a child, and I've done this sort of thing before, or don't you remember Tilney Britten?" At the mention of Di's fake Uncle Monty, Molinson's eyes narrowed. He was about to speak, but Trixie continued. "See? I'm the better choice."

At that moment, Lisa's doorbell rang. She went to answer the door. In short order, four police officers of the Sleepyside department came in bearing technical equipment boxes and excited expressions.

"So, we're going to crack this case wide open, right, boys?" the lead man said. He smiled at Lisa and Trixie and stuck out his hand. "I'm Reggie Diersendorf."

Trixie supplied her name and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you," she added. As Lisa did the same thing, Trixie was introduced to Reggie and Molinson's fellow officers. There was Billie Cooper, a female plainclothes detective, and Chuck Thomas and Neil MacWilliam, both in uniform. They set up their equipment on Lisa's dining room table.

"What'd you find out? Anything?" Molinson asked.

Cooper shook her head. "Nothing. Barger's clean as a whistle. No warrants, no parking tickets, no fines, no overdue library books. He must be doing all his dirty stuff on Mr. Belden's dime."

"Great," Molinson growled. "There goes that hope. Find out anything else?"

"You bet," she continued. "You've been curious about that 'anonymous tip' the feds received alerting them to the original charges of bank fraud, right? I finally found out that call was placed from the payphone outside the leasing office to this complex."

Molinson smiled slowly. "You're kidding. That's a neat coincidence. What about you, Dorf? You get anything?

Diersendorf nodded. "He's on the manifest for the six-ten Swissair flight to Geneva. Lisa Hencey, too." Hearing her name, Lisa moaned and put her hand to her throat. "You want us to put in a call to the NYPD or LaGuardia?"

Molinson took a long pause. Finally, he said, "No. I don't. If I'm not going to stand by while the FBI takes credit for cracking this case, then I sure as hell - that is, heck," he glanced at Trixie, "aren't going to let the NYPD, or even worse, airport security, get the pleasure of arresting our guy."

The others nodded their heads in agreement. Trixie certainly understood their feelings. They were the same ones she had every time Molinson tried to force her off a case, or got to take the bad guy she had caught off to jail, feelings like she had done all the work and he had gotten all the credit. It wasn't as gratifying as she might have imagined, realizing that other people felt the same way she did about such things, but it did give her a larger perspective on them, and that felt good.

"Then we're all clear?" Diersendorf was asking. "We're in it to win it for ourselves?" There was a round of answering grins and 'yes, sirs'. "Great! Then what's the plan, Dell? We wiring someone to go in or what?"

Thomas asked, "And who'll it be?" He looked from Trixie to Molinson.

"Yeah, Dell," Diersendorf said, opening and setting up his equipment cases. "We need to get started if we're going to get this done. We got less than an hour now." He checked his watch.

"I know," Molinson replied. "There's been some disagreement, but Lisa's going. Barger's going to call for her, so he won't be suspecting a set up."

"Sounds good," Diersendorf agreed. "What's the problem?" Trixie waited, but to her irritation, Molinson didn't volunteer her name. "Let me guess," Diersendorf said, the light dawning. "Our Junior Miss Marple wants to go instead?"

MacWilliam and Thomas laughed at the joke, but Cooper spoke up for Trixie. "Hey! I'd rather have an experienced girl going undercover than some rookie."

"Naah," Thomas said. "We'd need to get her parents' permission first."

Trixie gulped hard. "No, you wouldn't really, would you?"

The officers shared a speculative glance, then Cooper said, "Yeah, we probably would. Besides, if Barger's really got this thing for Lisa, she's got the best chance of getting him to say something incriminating. Something we can use. Seriously, Trixie. She's the best choice."

Trixie had to agree. Lisa was the best choice. Who better to send than someone who would probably be summoned? She nodded her reluctant agreement and noticed Molinson's expression remained unchanged. While studying him curiously, their eyes met. She frowned a quick question. In reply, he shot a glance toward Lisa. Ah, she thought. He's worried about sending her in. That's sweet.

The other officers continued to set up their equipment, speaking in shorthand as they synchronized watches, double- and triple-checked the listening devices and discussed the best way to protect Lisa while in Barger's apartment.

"What if he comes here?" Lisa suddenly asked.

They all stopped moving. "Won't he call first?" Diersendorf asked.

"Yeah," Molinson agreed. "Or does he often just drop by unannounced? How often has he been here, anyway?"

Lisa gulped. "He hasn't been here since my Christmas party last year. I invited everyone. He helped me plan it, buy food and decorate. He was really sweet about helping. But no, he doesn't just come over."

"He won't leave his place without you," Molinson said, taking the words from Trixie's mouth. "He'll probably use the passports and airline tickets as proof he means what he says. He won't risk taking them out of his apartment unless he's got you with him."

"I don't understand," Lisa said.

"Let me see if I do," Trixie said. "That's Barger's home base. Most of the things that make him feel secure in his home base, that is, his computer, the fake IDs, all that stuff, are there. He'll probably want to bring you in there, too, so that all the things he needs to feel good are in one place. He'll feel stronger there, I think, and more confident. He'll need that confidence to get you to go away with him." She looked up at Molinson. "Do I understand?"

He nodded. "Yeah. You do."

"Smart girl," Diersendorf commented. He visually checked the equipment one last time. "We're ready, Dell."

Molinson took a deep breath. He smiled at Lisa. "You ready, sweetheart?"

She took a shuddering breath. "I guess so," she said, her voice wavering.

"Then let's get ready for his call."

*     *     *

Trixie watched avidly as Diersendorf put a tiny transmitter inside the phone receiver. She helped MacWilliam set up his high-powered telescope so he could peer out the sliding glass doors into Barger's apartment across the courtyard. She helped sort a stack of tapes for Thomas. Molinson took the long way out to the parking lot, returning with a change of clothes. In the bathroom, he switched into jeans and a Sleepyside PD T-shirt and jacket. Meanwhile, Cooper took Lisa into the bedroom to help her with the tiny microphone and transmitter. When they returned, Lisa kept pinching at her cleavage. "It feels funny," she complained. "Tell me again why it has to be in my bra?"

Cooper grinned slyly. "Because most men talk to women's chests." She put a hand on her shoulder. "Seriously, it really is better to hook it to clothing than stick it on your skin. Trust me."

"I guess," Lisa moaned. She rubbed at her stomach and looked uneasy. "I have to go to the bathroom. I don't feel well."

Just then, the phone rang. Everyone jumped. "Just talk normally," Molinson urged Lisa. "Pretend we're not here."

The woman nodded and went to answer the phone. Thomas hit the RECORD button on the tape machine. Lisa's hand shook as she picked up the receiver. "H-Hello?" she asked. Then, "Oh, hi, Ron. Umm… I'm fine. Uh. How are you?… That's… that's great…Yeah, it's been a strange couple of days… Oh, um, come see you? I-I can't, I-"

Almost as if they had rehearsed it, the four officers began vigorously pantomiming the word 'no', shaking their heads and mouthing the word with exaggerated movements. Trixie felt the urge to shout, 'what do you think you're doing? Say YES!'

"-I-I mean, of course I can come see you. Is now a good time?… It is? Great. It's a good time for me, too. A real good time. Okay. I'll see you. Bye!" She hung up the phone.

The others let out a collective sigh of relief. Lisa began to shake. "Oh, D-Dell!" she cried. Immediately, he rushed to take her in his arms. Rocking her slowly back and forth, he rubbed the small of her back and cooed soothingly, "Shh. It's all right. You did great. You were just fine."

Trixie noticed the other officers allowing Molinson the illusion of privacy to comfort his girlfriend. She turned away, too. There were so many people in the relatively small apartment that she kept making direct eye contact with the others. More than once they smiled reassuringly at her. Not once did they make her feel unwelcome or intrusive. She decided she liked them. They certainly seemed to like each other.

After a moment, Diersendorf coughed, attracting Molinson's attention. "Come on, Dell. He's waiting. You want to go over the drill or should I?"

"I will," he said. Walking her back from the kitchen, Molinson told Lisa, "This is all you have to do. Let Barger do all the talking. Let him go on and on about whatever he wants to go on about. At some point, he'll probably talk about travel, or going out of the country. Say it's something you always dreamed about doing. Lead him on. Keep him talking. Ask him where he'd go, and why. Mention money. Say it'd be too expensive or something. See what he says. Above all, don't panic. We're right over here, keeping an eye on you the whole time. Cooper will be outside near the apartment. Dorf and I will be listening to every word. You're not alone." He spent the next few minutes continuing to brief her on things to do and not to do. Trixie found herself listening carefully, wishing she could take notes. Molinson's instructions seemed mostly common-sensical, but at the same time, brilliant in their simplicity. She tried hard to memorize them.

Cooper smiled encouragingly at Lisa. "It's not as hard as it sounds. He'll want to talk, to tell you all about what he's done. He's about to get away with everything. He'll need to boast about it. He might show you something on the computer. Let him, but make him talk about what he's showing you. Ask him what he's doing, what he's showing you."

"Why?" Lisa asked.

"Because we can't see what you'll be seeing," she explained kindly. "We can only go by what's being said. He needs to say it, or it's no good."

"And if you get scared," Molinson said, "or if he seems threatening or if anything seems wrong to you, say you have to go to the bathroom and then get up and go. We'll be watching through the curtains." He gently turned her to see MacWilliam adjusting the sights on his telescope. "When you go in there and close the door, say… say…" He cast about for suggestions. Cooper offered 'pumpkin' and he nodded. "Close the door and say 'pumpkin'. That'll be the signal for us to storm the place, okay?"

She turned back to face him. "I just go to the bathroom and say 'pumpkin.' Got it."

He smiled. "That's my girl." He looked to the others. "I think we're set."

Behind her back, Trixie crossed her fingers. She watched as Molinson took Lisa to her front door and opened it. Out of sight of the others, she saw them kiss before Lisa hurried away. Except for that part, Trixie thought. I'd give anything to be in her shoes. She's got the best job of this whole thing. I get stuck here waiting to see how it all turns out. Rats.

*     *     *

Diersendorf had extra headphones for Molinson and Trixie. After they heard Lisa knock on Barger's apartment door, Cooper left to stake out his front entrance. Dressed in plain clothes, her weapon hidden in her baggy jeans, the detective would go unnoticed by any passersby. Another moment passed and they heard a squeak and then Barger himself saying, "Lisa! You came. I'm so glad. Come on in!"

Trixie shuddered to hear the man's voice. She fought the urge to stomp across the courtyard and curse him out for all he'd done to her father, to her family, even to Reddy. She quickly checked Molinson. He had a closed expression on his face. He was concentrating on the job at hand. Trixie realized she could learn a lot from him about focus.

Lisa was saying, "Thanks for inviting me. What did you want to talk about? The bank? Your computer?"

Trixie almost swallowed her tongue. She glanced at Molinson and saw his expression become pained. He shook his head and seemed to be whispering a prayer. Diersendorf muttered, "Come on, Lisa. You can do it. Don't be nervous. Please."

There was laughter coming through the headphones. Trixie listened carefully, trying to decide what kind of laughter it was. Did Barger know? Did he suspect? Or was he just caught off-guard by Lisa's idiotic question?

Barger again. "How about something to drink? What's your poison?"

"No!" Molinson said sharply. He cursed. "I knew I forgot something!"

Trixie realized Barger might easily have drugged some food in preparation for Lisa's visit. She hoped the woman would have sense enough not to say -

"That sounds wonderful. You got any juice?"

"I thought you might like some. Have a seat. I'll get it for you."

 

Oh, no, Trixie thought. Barger's voice faded. Alarmed, she looked up at Diersendorf as he twisted a few knobs on the listening machine. "What's he doing? What's going on?" Molinson asked loudly.

MacWilliam, peering through the telescope, said, "Barger's in the kitchen. I can't see him. Lisa's sitting down in the living room." He made a clucking noise with his tongue. "She keeps looking this way. She's going to blow it."

"She'll be fine!" Molinson insisted. Trixie saw his hands clench into fists. His knuckles whitened. He said more softly, "She'll be just fine."

"Of course, she will," Trixie agreed. They continued to listen.

Barger must have returned with the drinks, because his voice came back into range. He was saying something about a movie he'd seen. Apparently, it was about a man in prison for a crime he did not commit. The man was smart about taxes. He did the prison guard's taxes. He helped the warden skim money from government contracts. He went so far as to create a separate identity so that, if anything were to happen, if anyone were to discover the fraud, that fictitious man would be found guilty of the crime, not the warden and not the prisoner.

Trixie felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Lisa's reply to all of it was, "I don't like prison movies. They're all gray and icky."

Barger sighed loudly. "That's not the point, Lisa."

"He's sitting next to her now," MacWilliam said narratively. "She doesn't look good."

"She doesn't?" Molinson asked. "What do you mean?"

MacWilliam shrugged, but kept looking. "She looks like she's going to puke."

Trixie remembered how Lisa kept rubbing her stomach. She was not being cool under pressure. Nerves were to be expected, but so far, all Barger had done was talk about old movies.

"I don't feel well," Lisa said suddenly. "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure, Lisa," Barger said. "You know where it is… We have the same floor plan." He laughed.

"She's getting up and going into the bathroom," MacWilliam said.

"Uh-oh," Diersendorf said slowly. He spoke into a small radio and informed Cooper to stand by.

"Already?" Trixie asked. She heard the sound of rushing water, not the toilet but the tap. They heard a strange sound, like the snap of wrapping paper, which Trixie translated as splashes of water against a sink. They heard Lisa whisper, "I'm okay. I'm okay."

"Is she talking to us?" Trixie asked. Molinson and Diersendorf shrugged. They continued to listen.

Lisa's voice was shaky and ragged. Desperately, she whispered, "Don't come in, okay, guys? I can do this. I can! I'm sure I can. Oh, gosh, Dell. Why me?"

Trixie sighed. She wasn't sure at all that she could. The woman sounded on the verge of an hysterical breakdown.

*     *     *

"I'm fine, Ron, really," Lisa said, but she didn't sound very convincing to Dell. "I'm going to try some of that juice now." He got up to try and see into Barger's apartment, through the sheer curtain and across the grassy courtyard, but the angle of the sun cast the man's home into shadows. Beside him, MacWilliam muttered, "I'm losing the light. Come on, man! Turn on a light!" But of course, Barger couldn't hear the request.

Dell saw a flash of movement inside the apartment. He fought against the impulse to press himself to the glass in order to see better. Was that Lisa moving around? "Is she standing up?" he asked MacWilliam, who shook his head 'no.' A moment later both men cursed. Barger had drawn the curtains shut.

"It's for our privacy, Lisa dear," he was saying.

Dell heard Lisa's thin voice on the headphones. "I'm sorry, Ron. I suddenly don't feel-"

Dell yanked off his headset and dropped it lightly to the floor, still trying to see into the other apartment. "This is nuts. She can't keep running in there every two seconds to upchuck. I'm calling this off. We'll have to find another way."

"What do you think you're going to do?" MacWilliam asked, glancing up from the telescope long enough to see Dell pull off his Sleepyside PD jacket.

"I'm going to go over there and get her. That's what I'm going to do," Dell said. "I'm putting an end to this. A few more trips to the bathroom and she'll either be choking up an intestine or prematurely wrinkled from splashing water on her face."

"Wait!" Diersendorf held up a hand. "Someone's at the door. Barger's asking 'who is it'."

Molinson reached for the headset, almost allowing himself to grin. "Cooper? Is she going in?"

Diersendorf shook his head. "Dell, you'd better listen."

He picked up the headset and adjusted it. He turned and, just as he noticed her missing, just as he asked, "Where'd Trixie go?", just as he realized what the Junior Miss Marple had done, he heard the wire transmission cut out.

*     *     *

She had to do it. There was no way Lisa was going to make it. Whatever was in that juice, if in fact anything was, it was hardly necessary to torture the poor woman by forcing her to risk it all alone. Was it? No, she decided. It was not. So she slipped out the front door, ran around to Barger's apartment, avoided Cooper standing watch, and entered the building's main foyer. Stepping up to Barger's door, she took a deep breath and rang the doorbell twice before pounding her fist on it. She heard footsteps, then the release of the lock and the turn of the handle.

Barger's voice was low and cautious. "Yes? Can I help you?"

"Oh, Mr. Barger! Thank goodness you're still here!" Trixie said, aiming for a tone of silly innocence. She abruptly pushed past the man and entered his apartment. She made sure to look hastily to her left and her right as if searching for something. To her disappointment, his bedroom door was closed.

Barger followed her. "You again!" he growled. "What do you want?"

"I think I left something of mine in here," she said, stopping in front of the kitchen. She turned to face him. "Did you find a silver ID bracelet by chance?" She smiled, her eyes as wide as they could go.

"What? No." He seemed to hesitate. "Where did you lose it?"

She tried to simper. "That's funny, Mr. Barger. 'Cause if I knew where I lost it, it wouldn't be lost, now would it?" Her mind raced. Where was Lisa? Why hadn't Lisa come out to greet her? The last Trixie knew, Lisa was sitting on the couch, but she couldn't see that part of the living room from where she stood even if she were facing in the right direction.

Barger sighed impatiently. "Look, Trixie. Come back tomorrow, okay? I've got a lot to do today and I don't have time for this."

"But it won't take long at all. I promise!"

During the seemingly eternal pause that followed, Trixie could easily imagine what was going on back in Lisa's apartment. MacWilliam had her in the sights of the telescope. Diersendorf was listening to the wire transmission. She figured Molinson was busy pacing, cursing, and urging Trixie to just get on with it.

"Fine then," Barger growled. "But hurry up. I don't have all day."

Trixie felt an urge to cheer but the simultaneous urge to get herself out of there kept her expression under control. "Thanks, Mr. Barger," she managed to say. Surprisingly, her voice sounded perfectly natural. She smiled and began to step backwards toward the living room. As soon as she crossed into the living room area, she turned, ready to act surprised to see Lisa. She did not have to act. She was surprised to see her. The woman lay face down on the sofa, her legs hanging off the edge, her feet twisted on the carpet. Trixie gasped. "Omigosh! What's wrong with her?" She tried to go to Lisa's aid, but Barger grabbed her arm just below the elbow, keeping her near him instead.

"That's none of your concern!" he said.

Trixie watched him for signs of surprise or dismay at the sight of an unconscious woman on his sofa, but there was only cold resignation. His stronghold on her arm began to threaten blood supply to her fingers. She tried to pull herself free, but failed. "You're hurting me!" she told him. "Let go!"

"She's just not feeling well," he said. He began to drag her toward the other end of the apartment, toward his bedroom and the front door. "You'd better go. Come back tomorrow."

"I can't!" she said suddenly, recognizing the first stirrings of a real panic. Make it work for you! she told herself. "My boyfriend will kill me if I'm not wearing the bracelet he gave me!" She did her best to dig in her heels, but Barger's grip on her arm kept propelling her forward.

Barger scoffed. "Your boyfriend, huh? Like I'm worried about some punk kid." They reached the front door. He pulled her around in front of him. "Get out of here."

Reacting instinctively, Trixie stomped her foot. "James Winthrop Frayne the Second is not some punk kid!" she shouted. "He's wonderful and smart and loaded with money and he's insanely jealous. If he thinks you have the bracelet he gave me, he won't stop until you've paid for it. And I don't mean money, cause he's got plenty of that. I mean personally!"

To his credit, Barger calmed down upon hearing the name 'Frayne.' He hadn't lived in Sleepyside most of his life without hearing about the massive fortune that had been left to young James. "Be quiet!" he hissed. "The neighbors will hear you."

Trixie closed her mouth and folded her arms.

Barger sighed. "I don't have it. What's more, I certainly don't have any interest in keeping it. Tell you what. If I do find it, I'll call your house and tell you. Or better yet, I'll mail it to you. Now, you gotta go. I've got a sick guest to see to!"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to twist her toward the door, but Trixie had other ideas to try. She began to cry. Loudly. Huge, body-wracking, gut-wrenching sobs. Fat tears spilled from her eyes as she wailed and moaned. "J-J-J-J-Jim w-w-w-w-w-ill k-k-k-k-ill m-m-m-m-eeee!" she cried. She went limp and sagged, a dead weight in Barger's hand. It had been years since she'd thrown a tantrum. She wasn't sure it reflected well on her she could so easily throw one now.

"Oh, no you don't!" he ordered, but it was no use. Trixie didn't move. She lay on the carpet and began to beat tight fists onto the floor. He cursed softly, staring down at her for a long moment. Abruptly, he cursed again, turned and went into the kitchen. "I'll get something to calm you down."

Trixie heard the sound of running water. Now was her chance! She got up and, as stealthily as she could, hurried into Barger's bedroom. The door creaked as she pushed at it, but she ignored it. All she had to do now was see the suitcase, the tickets and the passport, ask him about them and bingo! She'd have the evidence. The Sleepyside Police were covered; she was in there asking about her 'lost' bracelet, officially completely unaware that a sting operation was in effect. She was covered; the police were listening and watching her every move. There was just one problem. The evidence was nowhere to be found.

She stopped short and looked wildly about the tidy bedroom. She heard a soft noise behind her. Barger. He cleared his throat and asked, "Looking for this?" Reluctantly, she turned around. In his left hand, he held the passports and airline tickets. In his right, he held a pistol.

*     *     *

"What are you going to do with that?" she asked him, her voice shaking for real now.

"I don't know yet," he answered. "But it won't be pretty."

"W-won't the neighbors hear it?" she said, backing up slightly until she felt the edge of the bed against the inside of her knees.

He grinned evilly. "Most people work during the day. They won't hear a thing."

"And what about your guest?" she said. "What if she hears?"

He shook his head. "She drank too much juice. She'll be out for a while longer and then she'll be so dopey she won't know what's going on until we're drinking champagne on the French Riviera. You won't even be a footnote in the rest of our lives."

"So you're going to add murder to your list of crimes?" She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"I haven't committed any crimes. Peter Belden has. It says so in the paper." He took a step closer.

Trixie twisted one foot and then the other nervously, and used those movements to edge toward the foot of the bed and away from Barger. "But the paper's wrong. The FBI's wrong. You know it and now I know it, too. You did it all yourself."

He nodded, a huge smile playing on his lips.

Darn it! Even the best wiretaps couldn't pick up a smile a good thirty feet from the source. She needed to get him to say he had done it. "Why?" she asked him, raising her voice, hoping he would do the same, wanting beyond anything for the tape to be absolutely clear. "Why blame it all on my dad?"

He shrugged. "Why not? When Bryson needed a new assistant, I applied for the job. But who got it? Some outsider, that's who." His lips twisted and he sneered, "Mr. Good Boss Belden. Everyone's favorite guy."

"So he got the job you wanted? That's what this is all about?"

"No," Barger said. "That doesn't matter any more. Who cares about stupid jobs? Someday, I'm going to own that bank! I figured if the bank wasn't going to pay me what I'm worth, then I'd just have to start paying myself. Took me months to hit on the perfect plan and years to teach myself enough code to write the program. The system turnover two years ago gave me the opportunity to install it. Framing Peter Belden was the icing on the cake and the easiest part. Man, oh, man. The trouble that boy could get into! And what fun I had, sleazing it up while people thought I was Peter Pureheart."

She nodded, all the while moving steadily away from him and the pistol. "And now you're going to go to Switzerland and collect your money and live happily ever after?"

"Yeah. Sounds good, doesn't it!"

"And what about Lisa Hencey? You sure she's up for it?"

His face softened. "Lisa's coming with me. She wants me. I know she does. All that silly talk about how great Peter Belden is was all just girl-talk to get me hot and jealous. It worked and once she knows I really love her, she'll be only too happy to leave that stick Molinson and come away with me so I can treat her like the queen she is."

"And drugging her drink?"

"I had to get her attention somehow."

"I see," she said slowly. "And where do I fit into all this?" She was at the foot of the bed. It was another two feet to the dresser beside her, three feet to the open closet where she could finally see the suitcases, and about five feet to the other side of the bed.

Barger hesitated. The barrel of the pistol dipped slightly. Trixie readied and steadied herself. The barrel raised and pointed straight at her. Barger smiled. "I just thought of the best way in the world to make Peter Belden pay."

Trixie gulped.

In no certain order, she heard a loud crash, a thundering blast, angry shouts, shattering glass, the sound of her own body slamming onto the ground behind the bed.

"Police! Freeze!"

Shaking, she rolled onto her back. She was about to sit up when she saw Barger. He had followed her and stood by her feet, but he was not facing her way. Instead, he faced the door, his gun drawn, his body trembling.

 

Trixie braced herself on her forearm, but she could barely see over the bed frame. Molinson and someone else, Cooper, perhaps, were in the doorway, guns drawn, expressions fierce and determined. Molinson was shouting, "Put the gun down now, Barger! It's all over!"

But Barger had his gun pointed directly at Molinson's chest. To Trixie's amazement, the officer did not even flinch. She had one chance to help end the standoff. With an angry growl, she pushed herself up and then lunged her entire body against the backs of Barger's knees. He collapsed, triggering a shot to the ceiling, falling on top of her.

Trixie scrambled out from under Barger's body. She grabbed his wrist with her left hand and balled her right into a fist before driving it into his groin as hard as she had ever been able to do. "Let go of that gun!" she ordered, taking firm hold of his soft flesh and squeezing hard.

He dropped the gun with a howl of pain.

She twisted harder, feeling the red-edge of absolute vengeance sweep over her. An iron-laced hand gripped her wrist. "Trixie! Let go!" The words barely penetrated her conscious mind. The hand shook her wrist. She turned her eyes to see Molinson holding on to her. He was almost laughing. "Come on, Rambo! He dropped the gun. He's no danger."

She looked at Barger. His face was florid. He had howled all the breath out of his body and was now gasping for breath with which to howl some more. His knees were drawn up tight and his hands and arms clutched convulsively at hers, trying to pry her grip loose. Cooper tugged at his wrists and cuffed him.

Trixie let go, suddenly embarrassed by what she had done. She sat back on her knees, too weak to get to her feet. The adrenaline that had aided her attack left her just as suddenly and she felt herself begin to shake once more. Tears threatened. Real tears this time, not the fake ones she had used on Barger.

"Come on, Trixie," Molinson said firmly. "Let's get you out of here. Cooper? Read him his rights. We'll be in the other room."

"Got it," the woman replied.

Trixie felt herself stand and begin to move, but she wasn't quite aware of how she was accomplishing the task. The last thing she remembered as she left the bedroom was the sight of a huge, gaping hole in the wall where a mirror used to be. The hole was just as high as her own head.

*     *     *

She felt better after sipping a glass of tap water. Molinson had draped an SPD jacket across her shoulders and the warmth of it eased her out of the shock. He sat with her the entire time the rest of the team carefully searched the apartment. The first thing they found was a plastic bag of what they took to be a variation on Ecstasy on the kitchen counter. Five minutes after the Sleepyside police broke through the door, the FBI arrived, duly dispatched by a helpful phone call to the station house.

Lisa seemed to be coming around on her own. After vomiting once on the carpet, she admitted she felt better than she had since the whole mess started. "I guess I'm not cut out for all this excitement," she said ruefully, burying her head on Molinson's chest.

"That's okay, sweetheart," he said softly. "Just leave it all to me. The ambulance will be here shortly to check you out. I'm sure you'll be fine, though, now that you got the drug out of your system." Trixie studiously sipped at the glass of water, avoiding direct sight of the two lovebirds.

Agent Hoffman was not happy. As soon as she saw the broken front door, she began demanding answers. "Who did this? Who's in charge here? Is anyone?" One of the officers brought her to the living room where Molinson, Lisa and Trixie waited. Hoffman barked, "Who broke down that door?"

"I did," Molinson replied easily.

Trixie was surprised. "You did? Wow. Thanks." He nodded in return. Lisa snuggled closer to him.

Hoffman was not impressed. "On what grounds? You know this case is our jurisdiction."

"You're welcome," Molinson said to Trixie. He laid a kiss on Lisa's forehead, then eased her back against the sofa cushions. He stood. To Hoffman, he replied, "Barger's been stalking Miss Hencey here for months. We had reason to believe that he was going to make things more 'permanent' between them. We were just collecting evidence to that effect. Last I checked, stalking was not one of the charges against Peter Belden. Or has that been changed?"

The agent scowled. "Right. Stalking. That's what all this was about. And the fact that 'Ms. Belden' here came to us yesterday spouting a bunch of speculations about alternate suspects had nothing to do with it, right?"

Trixie admired Molinson's ability to maintain his composure. "You got it," he said, smiling blandly. "Nothing at all."

Hoffman stared hard at Trixie. "And you, young lady. I'm sure that when I question Mr. Barger about this that he'll back up your story?"

She frowned confusedly. "That I was in here asking about my silver ID bracelet? Yeah. He'll confirm it." She gestured to Lisa. "She's got the wire. That's going to prove what I'm saying. Barger is one sick puppy. He drugged her so that she would get on the plane to Switzerland with him."

"About the wire recording," Molinson began, a bit sheepishly.

"What about it?" Trixie asked carefully.

He shuffled his feet a bit. Almost shamefaced, he informed her, "When Lisa collapsed, she fell on the wire. Her, um, 'anatomy' muffled the sound. The last thing we got clearly was her saying she didn't feel well."

"Oh!" For a moment, she was afraid that would mean their case would fall apart. Then she realized that Molinson could still book Barger on stalking, drugging and attempted kidnapping. That would at least earn Barger serious jail time. She asked, "What about the gun? The tickets and the fake passports? What about the computer program? Please don't tell me you can't use any of that to convict him on the real charges?"


Molinson turned to her. "Trixie, I'm surprised at you! Attempted murder is a real charge."

"Whose attempted murder? Lisa's?" she asked.

"Yours!" he frowned at her. Then he almost laughed. "Don't you remember?"

"Oh! Oh, that," she said. "Right. Almost forgot."

"I can understand," he said. "You know, Hoffman, it was a real surprise to us when Barger threatened her with a gun. It was hearing the weapon discharge that prompted us to force an entrance. That's attempted murder and we're booking him on that one for sure."

"What!" Hoffman almost shouted. "But he's a federal collar for embezzlement and fraud and identity theft!"

"No," Molinson told her. He folded his arms. "Barger's our collar for attempted murder. We lost visual contact when he drew the curtains and then we lost the audio. As soon as we could, we surrounded the place. We heard arguing, then the gunshot. That's when we broke in. The other stuff, that's all just extra sauce."

"Uh-uh," Hoffman shook her head. "We're federal. Our charges take precedence. You entered legally with probable cause. The evidence was in plain sight. According to Cooper out there, he was holding it in his hand. His other hand."

"But you still didn't collar him," Molinson grinned fiercely. "We did."

"Hold it! Hold it," Trixie said, standing as well. "I have the perfect solution to everyone's problem."

"What's that?" Hoffman asked suspiciously.

Trixie heard a familiar voice outside the apartment shout Freedom of the press! Freedom of the press! She grinned. "You let Trent in on it, did you? And I'm sure there're news crews out there, too?"

Hoffman folded her arms, a shorter but no less burly imitation of Molinson's stance. "So?"

"And that's why you want this settled here," she said. "Instead of at the police station. You want to be able to go out there and hold a press conference that'll preempt local programming so you can crow about your fab job busting this crook, don't you?"

Hoffman's cheeks flushed as Molinson smothered a laugh. Trixie didn't let the agent interrupt her. "And the last thing you want is for the press to get wind of the fact that a teenage girl, this teenage girl especially, solved your case for you. And you especially don't want it to get out that I risked my life doing it, too! Or do you?"

"He didn't shoot you," Hoffman said, almost sneeringly.

"No, he didn't," Trixie agreed cheerfully. "But have you seen the mirror on the dresser? Oops! What am I saying? That mirror's nothing but shards of glass now." She choked back a shudder.

Hoffman had no reply beyond a gritted, "What's your plan?"

"Simple," she said. "We cut a deal, the three of us. First thing is, I want my name kept out of it."

"Huh?" they both asked.

"That's right," she told them. "Keep my name out of it. Out of every report, every press release, every thing. I was never here. Shouldn't be difficult, if my voice isn't on that wire."

"But… but why?" Hoffman asked, honestly puzzled.

"Because it'd kill my dad to think I risked my life to help him," Trixie said. "Let him and my mother think I obeyed their wish for me to stay out of it, and let them think the system worked."

"The system does work, you know," Hoffman said.

"I know," Trixie agreed. "Most of the time. But this is also a perfect example of the need to listen to the occasional wacky theory. I was right, but you dismissed me," she said to Hoffman. "Simply because what I had to say didn't fit into what you had already decided happened. You let an innocent man spend a week in jail rather than consider you might have made a mistake."

To his credit, Molinson didn't say anything. Hoffman said quietly, "I can keep your name out of it. That's not a problem. Especially if your voice really isn't on that tape." She gave a significant look to Molinson. He nodded solemnly. She looked back at Trixie. "But what will that accomplish, other than keep peace in your family?"

"Everything," she said. "Because there's more to it. You tell everyone that the local cops, in particular Detective Molinson, solved this case for you and you tell them that without his team's valuable assistance, Barger would've gotten away and an innocent man would've been found guilty of crimes he never could have committed. Barger was halfway done kidnapping Lisa Hencey. That's another crime that didn't happen, all because Molinson got in on the case. You share jurisdiction because your cases overlapped. You give all the credit to Molinson and the local cops, and you get Barger for embezzlement, attempted kidnapping, attempted murder, possession. Anything you can throw at him."

Hoffman frowned. "And how am I going to make it seem even remotely plausible that these local guys got involved in a federal case enough to solve it?"

Trixie smiled. "Come on, Agent Hoffman! It's simple. Lisa is Molinson's girlfriend. If she's getting hit on by Barger, why shouldn't he have taken notice and started putting things together? The rest just happened."

"What happens when Barger talks about you being in his apartment?" Hoffman queried. "What are you suggesting I do then?"

She shrugged. "I guess you can tell him it's immaterial. And so what if I don't testify? Won't his lawyer be happy not to have to defend against an attempted murder charge of a minor? I mean, come on! How hard will it be to cut a deal with the lawyer to get that little part of it thrown out?" She smiled broadly. "Come on, Agent Hoffman. I have every confidence that a smart woman like you can figure this out on your own."

"I don't know, Trixie," Molinson said. "I like the idea, but I'm not sure I want to lie to the public about what I did or didn't do and what did or didn't happen."

"Then let me," Hoffman said with a sigh, agreeing to the deal. "Welcome to the FBI where cover-ups are a specialty. We lie to the public every day."

He thought about it. "Okay."

"One last thing," Trixie said. "If you so much as breathe a hint that I was involved, I'll tell the world and whoever else'll listen that the FBI needed the help of a sixteen-year-old girl to crack this case. I'll spin a tale of such incompetence that-"

"Don't worry! Don't worry!" Hoffman assured her. "I don't need that kind of publicity. Now. How are we getting you out of here so the press doesn't see you?"

"The back door," Molinson suggested. "She can go through the courtyard to the parking lot. I can get Mac or Dorf to distract any lurking reporters."

"I'll start the press conference in the front," Hoffman said. "That'll lessen your chances of getting seen."

"Sounds good to me," Trixie said. "Let's go."

Hoffman took a moment to shake Trixie's hand. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," Trixie replied.

"Anytime you want to discuss a job with the Bureau," Hoffman began.

Trixie grinned. "The Bureau of 'fumbling bumbling idiots'? No thanks." Molinson couldn't smother his laugh that time.

*     *     *

It took a moment to push the sliding glass door open. "Must be off the track," Molinson grunted. "Happens to Lisa's door all the time."

"Really!" Briefly, Trixie told Molinson how she had gained access to Barger's apartment. "I'll bet he's gotten into Lisa's place the same way."

"Sick creep," Molinson said. He pushed the door open, checked for reporters, found none and waved Trixie on through. "Thanks for all your hard work and for jumping in the way you did. If I had gone like I was about to, Barger wouldn't have slipped up. But since it was you, his nemesis's kid, you unnerved him enough to make him want to take one last revenge. You did a great job under the pressure, by the way. You're a natural."

"Really? Thanks!"


He nodded. "Really. It's no use trying to dissuade you from a career in law enforcement, is it," he said flatly.

"I don’t think so," she said.

He shrugged. "No matter. We can always use another cool head on the force. You ever need a recommendation to get into the Academy, you come see me, okay?"

"Thanks," she said. "But I still want to open my own agency. You've got too many pesky rules."

He nodded in agreement. "One more thing," he said. "What was that you were saying earlier about your bracelet? If it turns up here, it becomes evidence and won't Jim want to know why you don't have it?"

Trixie grinned guiltily. "Don't worry. It's safe at home in my jewelry box on my dresser. I never even wore it today."

Instead of getting angry as she half expected, Molinson laughed. "You're a natural, all right. Oh, and about your smackdown of Barger?" He clenched his hand in demonstration. "Nice improvisation, but you might think about looking into some sort of self-defense class. There's more than one way to incapacitate a criminal and what you tried doesn't exactly work on women."

She nodded. "I'll think about it. Thanks again."

"I'll see you, Trixie. Good work today." He waved and moved back inside the apartment.

"I'll see you, too, Dell!" She smiled and exited the patio through the screen door.

The walk to the parking lot took her past throngs of spectators watching a clutch of reporters, news crews and Paul Trent interview Agent Hoffman. Molinson appeared by her side after a moment and the questions started flying faster.

Two familiar-looking EMTs wheeled Barger by on a stretcher toward a waiting ambulance. He was barely conscious. Trixie was oddly cheered to recognize Jeff and Miggy in their blue and white uniforms as they readied the stretcher for transport. MacWilliam hovered nearby, keeping watch on their alleged criminal. Someone grabbed her arm. She winced at the sudden pain and realized she was probably developing a few bruises there, thanks to Barger.

The person asked her, "Did you see what happened? Do you know what's going on?"

"I think they got the guy who'd been embezzling all that money from the bank," she supplied, carefully extricating her arm from his grasp.

"Coolness!" the man said. "Now maybe we'll get some answers." He hurried toward the press conference.

"Anything's possible," she said and continued on her way to her car.

Once inside, the air conditioning blowing and the radio on, she had to wait for the ambulance to drive away before she could. She listened to the DJ read the breaking news. It was all about the arrest of Ron Barger. She had to smile as the coffee-voiced woman told how the FBI and Sleepyside's finest had pulled together to solve the crime.

The ambulance slowly drove out of the parking lot. Trixie followed in her car. The ambulance turned left, she went right. As she pulled onto the street, the DJ announced, "And now for Madonna's latest, 'Ray of Light'…"

"Cool!" Trixie grinned. She turned up the knob and listened as Madonna sang: Zephyr in the sky at night I wonder… do my tears of mourn-ing, sink beneath the su-u-un… She's got herself a u-ni-verse gone quickly… for the call of thun-der, threatens everyone…

Trixie turned the volume up and sang as loud as she could, the joy inside her threatening to overspill, "And I fee-eellll! Like I just! Got! Home! And I fee-ee-lll! And I fee-eelll! Like I just! Got! Ho-ome and I fee-eee-eeell… YEAH!"

She passed a car on the way down Albany Post toward Glen Road. She judged the distance, hit the brake and then accelerated through the turn.

 

Faster than the speeding light she's flying…trying to remember… where it all began…She's got herself a little piece of heaven…Waiting for the time when… Earth shall be as one…

Trixie joined in the chorus one more time as her car headed toward Crabapple Farm. "And I fee-eellll! Like I just! Got! Home! And I fee-ee-lll! And I fee-eelll! Like I just! Got! Ho-ome and I fee-eee-eeell…!"

She gunned the engine as the car shot up the driveway, then easily coasted to a stop. She turned off the car and looked toward the white farmhouse. The front door flew open and Bobby raced toward the car, Reddy barking excitedly at his heels. Trixie got out and ran to catch him in a hug. The Irish Setter yipped and danced around them.

"Trixie! Come quick! It's on the TV. Daddy's coming home! Daddy's coming home!" His short arms wrapped tight around her.

"I know, lamb," she told him. "I heard it on the radio. Isn't it wonderful?" She felt tears of joy and happiness spill onto her cheeks. Bobby grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the house.

"Come on, Trixie. It's on the TV right now!"

Together they ran toward the house, up the porch steps and inside to the family room. Everyone was gathered there, all the Beldens save one, but they knew, they all knew, that it wouldn't be long before that one was home as well.

Epilogue

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