"That reporter called again for you. I told him this isn’t the best time, but he’s being awfully persistent. He left his cell phone number."

Jim sighed and looked at his office manager Susan, a college student who was studying to be a teacher. "Ugh, I hate interviews. Still though, I suppose the publicity would be good for the school. You did call the magazine and make sure he really writes for them?" Jim had one experience in the past with a tabloid reporter that he did not care to repeat. As he learned from his adopted father, the price of being wealthy came with a certain loss of privacy at times.

"Oh yes," she assured him.

"Well, in that case, I guess I might as well call the guy. At least it will get him off your back."

"Hey, I can keep playing phone tag with him—it’s no big deal," Susan smiled at her boss. She really liked working for him—he was fair, he never minded when she had to take off for school projects and he trusted her to do her job without micromanaging her. Too bad he’s married, she thought to herself, not for the first time.

"No, no…I’ll call him. It’ll take my mind off things, actually." Susan knew about Kyle—everyone who worked at the school did. Without going into personal details, Jim had warned all of them to be on the lookout for anybody who didn’t belong. Jim only told Regan, who was in charge of the school stables and gave riding lessons to the students, the whole story. Regan had been extremely upset—in fact, Jim couldn’t remember ever seeing him that angry. Kyle wouldn’t know what hit him if he tangled with Bill Regan!

"You’re the boss," she smiled, handing him the slip of paper, returning to her desk.

Jim glanced at his watch—he had 30 minutes before he had to meet with Regan to discuss a few students. Might as well get this over with, he thought, going into his office and shutting the door.

*     *     *

"If I ask you something, do you promise not to get mad at me?" Honey asked.

"Yesssss," Trixie said slowly; curious.

Honey braced herself. "I need to do a follow-up interview with Mr. McCallister, he’s too busy to leave the office right now so I said I’d come over there, and I want you to ask Dan to come over here so you’re not all alone in the office," she spoke in a rush without taking a breath.

Trixie’s first impulse was to be annoyed, but the look on Honey’s face was so much like a child who’s just made a confession that she just knows is going to get her into a heap of trouble, that she laughed instead. "When do you need to be there?" she said, spreading her hands in an ‘oh-what-the-hell-my-life-is-one-big-joke gesture. She already knew that everyone wished she’d just stay home until all this blew over. She also knew that would be completely unbearable.

Honey smiled. "Don’t think I don’t know how hard this is for you."

Trixie nodded. "It is hard, but not for the reasons you’re thinking. The hardest thing has been knowing that the people I care about are worried and upset". Honey started to protest and Trixie cut her off. "You’re my best friend, so I know what you’re going to say. And believe me, I appreciate it. I do."

"I’m glad. I’m also glad that you don’t see our concern as proclamation that you can’t take care of yourself," Honey admitted.

Trixie suddenly grinned. "Gee, I wonder what could have ever given you that idea?" The two women laughed, remembering what an issue that used to be with her, how admonishments and safety warnings used to fire her temper like nothing else. "God, it used to make me sooooo mad when Jim would warn me to be careful. I never could believe then that he wasn’t trying to make me feel like a helpless female."

"And now…?"

"Grown up since then." Trixie was delighted to take part in any conversation that didn’t involve Kyle Dalton.

"Still though, Jim was a bit over the top sometimes when we were younger. When I first saw Emma at the movies with Diana, we were both totally reminded of Jim in all the Mr. Knightly scenes. We couldn’t stop laughing about it afterwards." Honey smiled in remembrance. "Badly done Emma! Very badly done!"

"Oh you are so mean!" Trixie gasped, trying not to laugh, but it was impossible. "He never said THAT to me. And anyway, I saw that movie too. And Mr. Knightly tells Emma at the end of the movie that he’s sorry he lectured her so much, remember?" And then he asks her to marry him and he looks so sweet when she says that he’s her Mr. Knightly…

As if reading her mind, Honey sighed. "Oh yes. Jeremy Northam was so fine."

Trixie laughed at her lovestruck expression. "I hope Brian doesn’t know you have lust in your heart for another!"

Honey sniffed. "Hmph! Celebrity crushes don’t count. Besides, you can’t tell me that Brian really wanted to see Mask of Zorro three times because the script was so well written!" She glanced at her watch. "Yikes! I need to leave in 15 minutes. Do you think Dan will be able to come on such short notice, or should I re-schedule?"

"You were all worried about asking me for no reason—Dan said he was stopping by at 3:00 anyway." Trixie smirked at her partner mischievously, ducking when she threw a paperclip at her.

"Skank!" Honey growled

Honey was spared her follow up insult by the ringing of Trixie’s cell phone. "Hello?

"It’s me."

Honey wondered if Trixie had any idea how soft and dreamy her face could get. She discreetly went into the kitchenette on the pretense of getting something to drink.

"Hi me."

"How’s it going today?"

"Good. Nothing from our favorite creepazoid." Not yet, anyway.

"Good."

"It’s been almost 2 weeks. Maybe he’ll just get tired of it and go away."

"Nothing would make me happier, beautiful."

Trixie sighed. "I think we both know that’s not going to happen."

Jim sighed back. "I suppose not. Hey, remember that reporter I’ve been telling you about? Well, I finally decided to meet with this guy and get it over with, which puts me pretty near your office. How about a hot date tonight, baby?!"

"Ooooh, I don’t know how my husband would feel about that!"

"Brat."

"What time will you be finished?"

"I’m meeting him at 4:00, and he’s getting 1 hour—that’s all I can stand."

Trixie laughed—she knew how much Jim hated this sort of thing. "I can’t wait."

"Me either. Well, I have to run or Regan’ll never let me hear the end of it. See you later—I love you."

"I love you too. Bye." Trixie folded up her phone, feeling warm and happy.

"Trix? I see Dan heading this way, so I’m taking off. I’ll see you tomorrow," Honey called from the front.

"’Kay," Trixie called back. She heard them exchange greetings and called to let Dan know she was in the back room.

"What’s with you?" Dan asked, lifting his hand in greeting and plopping down in Honey’s vacated chair.

"What do you mean?" Trixie asked, puzzled.

"You’ve got a Cheshire cat thing going on."

Trixie blushed slightly; wishing for the umpteeth time that she had a better poker face. Then she shrugged—next to Honey, Dan was her best friend. Why should she care if he caught her grinning like a fool? "I have a hot date lined up for tonight," she said breezily, smiling wider.

"Does Jim know?" Dan shot back, his voice amused.

"I don’t have to tell him every little thing!"

"Don’t tell me, let me guess. You’ve finally succumbed to Captain Molinson’s charms."

"Another secret bites the dust. Can’t a girl have a little mystery?" Trixie joked. Then she told him about Jim’s phone call.

Dan nodded, then confessed, "I too have a hot date tonight. This town will never be the same!"

"Holly?"

Dan shook his head. "Ah Trix, keep up, will ya? The charming Nicole has graciously agreed to accompany yours truly to dinner."

"Ohhhhh, your partner’s cousin. Now I remember you mentioning her. But what happened with Holly? She seemed pretty nice."

"She was. Is. We decided we made better friends than…" he broke off and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"I just don’t get it. Now don’t go getting a swelled head, or the wrong idea, but you’re such a great person, not to mention one of the most gorgeous guys I have ever seen in real life. Why can’t you meet anyone?"

"What are you talking about? I meet people all the time!" Dan took a brief moment to thank God that he wasn’t as prone to blushing as she was.

Trixie kicked him in the foot. "You know what I mean. I’m talking about meeting the one."

Dan grinned wolfishly. "Who says I haven’t?"

"You mean Shana?" Trixie asked before she could stop herself.

Dan jerked, his dark eyes surprised, his smile evaporating. "How did you…"

Trixie stopped him. "Dan, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Me and my big mouth."

"But how did you know about her?" Dan persisted.

"I don’t know about her. It’s just…when you came over to watch movies with me and Jim the other night and you fell asleep, I was putting a blanket on you and you said her name in your sleep." And you sounded so…lost.

Dan was silent as unbidden pictures flashed into his head, a slideshow of ache and sadness.

"Tactful Trixie strikes again, as Mart would say," Trixie said quietly, her blue eyes sorry.

"No, don’t…it’s okay. I think…I’d like to tell you about her, if you don’t mind."

"Oh Dan, of course I don’t mind."

He stared down at his hands for a moment. "She lived on the streets too. A few times we crashed in the same place and just started talking. She had split from a foster home, her mom had recently died…I guess we just related. We became each other’s sleep guard."

"Sleep guard?"

Dan looked at her, decided she could handle it. She wasn’t a kid anymore. "When you sleep in the streets, anything can happen. You’re open prey—it’s one of the main reasons I ended up joining the gang in the first place. Someone could steal your money, take your shoes, do…stuff to you." He broke off, wondering if he’d said too much.

"Did anyone ever…do…stuff to you?" Trixie was clearly upset.

"No, no. Thank god. But it was something I had to worry about. Anyway, after I joined the gang, I couldn’t see her as often, but I knew where she hung out and I’d check up on her from time to time. It had to be secret—the gang didn’t take kindly to outside interests." Dan let out a short bitter laugh. "One day, I looked in all the usual places, but…nothing. I talked to a few people and finally tracked her down to this homeless encampment." Dark emotions played across his face and a lump unexpectedly formed in his throat. Almost against his will he could see a small determined face, dark expressive eyes framed by sweeping brows, an uplifted chin. His friends never knew the real reason he walked out of Alien Resurrection; the 40-foot high image of Winona Ryder temporarily destroying him…

"Dan, you don’t have to say anything more…"

Dan took a deep breath. "Are you saying that because you don’t want to hear more? Because I’m cool with that."

Trixie shook her head. "I’m saying it because if this is too hard for you, I don’t want you to feel like you have to finish." She smiled a little. "I’ve grown up—I won’t ‘die’ if I don’t find out all there is to know!"

Dan smiled back at her. "Don’t grow up too much, Trix!" He welcomed the opportunity to get his emotions under control. "I tracked her down to this encampment," he repeated, his voice steady again. "This guy, I can’t even remember his name, points to the dumpster, says he saw her go back there." He felt his stomach clench; so much for being in control. "I…she…she was lying on the ground, it was like…she had just crawled back there like a wounded dog. She was really hurt, nothing could be done…"

Trixie gasped. "My God, why didn’t anybody help her? Didn’t anybody see anything?"

"Even if they did, these weren’t people who would get involved. Survival is a very selfish thing." Dan stopped, his face pale, remembering a young voice whispering his name… "She died," he finished simply. What else could he say?

"Oh Dan, I am so, so sorry." Trixie’s eyes filled with tears as she took his hand. As much as she wanted to throw her arms around him she instinctively knew that would be too much for him at the moment. She contented herself with a heartfelt squeeze of her fingers.

"She wanted to be a writer—she was always writing stuff down in this notebook she carried around. I looked for it, but…" Dan shook his head.

"So awful; such a waste…"

"I shouldn’t have laid this on you."

"Don’t say that, Dan; you can tell me anything. What are friends for? I’ve burdened you with my woes plenty of times!" Trixie smiled, remembering a few conversations that managed to last all night long. Then she added, "When all is said and done, it’s the people you can call at 2:00 in the morning that matter the most."

Dan suddenly grinned. "I never minded that either." He found to his amazement that his heart actually felt lighter. Maybe there was something to this revealing secrets business after all. It depends on who you share it with, he decided.

"It’s too bad you couldn’t find her notebook."

"I do have a poem she wrote. Want to read it?"

Trixie nodded and Dan removed his wallet, carefully pulling out a worn piece of folded paper. He handed it to Trixie, who unfolded it gently.

"Wow…that’s…that’s…" Trixie’s hand was shaking slightly as she handed the poem back, words completely failing her. I wonder if that’s why Dan’s become a serial monogamist?

"Yeah, pretty good, isn’t it?" was all Dan said.

"I wish…" Trixie stopped, bit her lip, stayed silent. How could she tell him that she wished that he didn’t have that time in the city? How naïve and corny was that?

Dan looked at her and knew what she was thinking, loved her for it. "Thanks," he said simply. "You’re a good friend. If I’d had more people like you in my life back then, I probably wouldn’t have…" he shrugged, his lips twisting in a bitter smile. "Then again, who knows? I could be a real jackass in those days."

"No!"

Dan laughed. "Oh, I know it’s hard to believe, a charming guy like me!" They sat in companionable silence for a moment. Then he said thoughtfully, "This may sound weird, especially considering what I just told you, but I’m starting to realize that as awful as that time was, and as much as I’ve tried to forget, it’s…God how can I explain it—it’s kind of made me the person I am today. I couldn’t help her then, but I can help people now."

"I hope you don’t...I mean, you don’t think it’s your fault, do you?" Trixie had to ask.

Dan steepled his fingers. "I did for a long time. I had all kinds of thoughts like, maybe if I’d been around it wouldn’t have happened." He shook his head. "We were both just a couple of kids. It’s a big mistake to think you have that much control over what happens in life."

"Don’t get me started on control!" They both laughed.

Dan was about to comment when the phone rang, startling them both. Trixie took a deep breath and answered it. "Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency, may I…" When she heard the familiar voice she looked at Dan, who hit the record button, activating the equipment.

"You’ve been such a big help already—I want you to suffer, suffer, suffer." Kyle’s voice was rough and low. Trixie’s breath caught when she realized that this time he wasn’t hanging up.

"Kyle, what do you want?" Dan straightened as he realized he was staying on the line, his body tense and alert.

Laughter, vile. "You know what I want."

Trixie made her voice deliberately calm and cold. "No, I really don’t. Why don’t you tell me?"

"You ruined my life. I want to ruin yours. It’s very simple."

The phone went dead with an abrupt click. "I don’t know if that was long enough," Dan said, anticipating Trixie’s question.

She sighed. "We’ll just have to wait—if there’s anything to be traced, Coop’ll let us know. What is Kyle hoping to accomplish? If he knows I’m here, why doesn’t he just come over and start something?" It had been puzzling her ever since this mess began—was he just trying to drive her crazy, or did he really mean to make physical contact with her? She knew she had to prepare for the latter, although she flat out refused to stop coming to work or living her normal life. If you can call my life normal!

"These calls are getting uglier. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider…"

"Dan, no. I refuse to live my life that away—I’m not running away and I’m not hiding. That’s what he wants." Trixie shook her head, her expression suddenly hardening in a way Dan had never seen before. "I’m not some stupid little college sophomore anymore either. I’ve had some good self-defense training since then." She noticed Dan watching her, the concern evident in his dark eyes. "Besides, I’ve got some good people watching my back," she added, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards.

"Well now, that’s true!" Dan was glad to see her more normal expression.

"And Jim’s been begging me to be careful for so many years that you know what? I…am…careful!" Trixie spaced the words for effect, her eyes suddenly sparkling. For some reason this struck both of them and they began laughing hysterically, doubling over.

"Are, are, are you now?" Dan gasped, banging the desk, his dark hair falling into his face.

"Ssssure! Nnnothing ever happens to me; my life is so darn calm and quiet," Trixie stuttered, holding her stomach and rocking back and forth. She had been under so much tension the last few weeks—it felt good to blow off a little steam. Who did this Kyle think he was anyway? Enclosed in the protective circle provided by Jim, Dan, Honey and Coop—Trixie suddenly felt almost invincible. "Ya know what? This guy’s really getting on my nerves. I’d like to make him suffer, suffer, suffer!" Trixie said, smacking the flat of her hand on the desk.

"Good for you!" Dan grinned, enjoying seeing the old Trixie. "And if anyone knows how to make someone suffer, it’s you. And you wanna know why? ‘Cause you’re good enough, you’re smart enough and…"

"Doggonit! People like me!" she finished, laughing. She took a deep breath, let it out. "Whew! That felt good. I feel like my sense of humor has been completely wrecked ever since this nutball came back into my life."

"Oh, so now I’m a nutball, eh?"

Dan and Trixie turned, startled. They had been so involved in their hilarity they hadn’t heard anyone come in.

"Glad to see you’re so alert and prepared for danger, kiddo," John Simms, Trixie’s former boss from her FBI days continued, half-serious, his eyes merry.

"Johnny! What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be taking it easy?" Trixie cried, coming around the desk and giving him a hug. He’d had surgery only a few months before.

"There’s only so much taking it easy I can stand. I wanted to come down here and check up on things myself after Johnson filled me in," he replied.

"Who?" Trixie asked saucily. John never called Frank Johnson "Coop" like everyone else did.

John just gave her a look; he had little tolerance for nicknames. Trixie was the only one who dared to call him Johnny. For some reason, it didn’t bother him when she said it. He shook Dan’s hand, remembering him from Trixie’s goodbye party. "I see she’s recruited you into this mess too?"

"Believe it or not, I volunteered," Dan replied. "I always was a glutton for punishment."

John suddenly looked serious. "I’m awfully sorry this is happening. That damned parole officer should have contacted you, warned you Dalton was being released, allowed you to prepare." He looked at Trixie, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well, that would have been helpful. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been so freaked out by that first message."

"Let me hear the tape; I want to hear for myself what this gonad has been saying," John replied gruffly, the vulnerable look on Trixie’s face suddenly filling him with anger. He could never repay her for the role she played in saving his son’s life; if she and her partner hadn’t been there, it could have ended very badly. Trixie’s current situation was unbearable to him. He sat on the corner of the desk, waiting.

"They’ve all been pretty short—nothing even remotely traceable so far. Well, except for the one that just happened." Trixie popped in the cassette and hit play. The three of them listened to the litany of hate-- you ruined my life, I’ll make you pay, you’ll be so sorry before I’m through…

"Hmmm. You know, it’s pretty strange..." John stood up and paced in front of the desk, his brows knit in concentration.

"Well, yah-huh!" Trixie said, widening her eyes at her former boss.

"No, no. I mean he doesn’t make any specific threats. Usually these kinds of calls are very detailed."

"In what way?" Dan asked.

"Specifics. I’m going to kill you, I’m going to cut your throat, that kind of thing."

Trixie was nodding. "You’re right. I hadn’t thought of it. All of his messages seem to center around one theme, but he’s never said what he’s going to do to me…" she broke off, a strange look coming over her face. She suddenly thought of another threatening phone message, one left for John that she and Coop listened to only a few months earlier…

I want you to suffer, like I’ve suffered. No, I won’t kill you. I’ll just kill Jack. I think that’s fair, don’t you? I have no life so why should he? And you’ll be responsible again. You’ll have to live with it. I want you to live a long, long time; knowing everyday that your son is dead because of you…

"Oh…oh God." Trixie’s voice was barely a whisper as everything suddenly came together in a rush, her heart freezing in her chest. All those calls really were random—Kyle didn’t care if I was here to answer them or not. I’m not the one he’s been watching all this time. Suffer, suffer, suffer…I finally decided to meet with this guy and get it over with…

"What is it?" Dan and John spoke at the same time. She looked at the Special Agent and their eyes locked as he suddenly nodded, his eyes bleak as he comprehended her expression.

"Trixie, what is it? What’s wrong?" Dan was practically shouting, the silent communication between them filling him with an unknown dread.

"He doesn’t want…he’s not after me. Oh God, I’ve been so stupid!" She tried to stand and sank back down, her legs trembling. "Oh Dan, don’t you see? He wants me to suffer, he wants to ruin my life…"

Dan’s face darkened with comprehension. "Holy sh…" The phone cut him off with its abrupt ring. Trixie answered it shakily, putting it on speaker when she heard who it was.

"Hey it’s Coop. We traced the call. You’re not going to believe this. The call came from a cell phone, and the area puts it right near your own house, not your office at all. What the hell can this mean?"

Trixie started to cry. "I’ll tell you what it means. Kyle never intended on doing anything physical to me." Her voice was terrible and certain. "He wants to kill Jim."

To be continued…

The poem quoted is To My Son, Approaching 11 by Linda Pastan and is mischievously reprinted without any permission whatsoever! I hope some lawyer type doesn’t make me suffer, suffer, suffer! In my own defense, I was going to write my own, but this one just seemed so perfect I couldn’t resist. I’d like to thank everyone who has posted comments; you have no idea how encouraging they are. God Bless Us, Everyone!

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