(Now then, very softly)         
J. J.                   
M. M.                   
W. G. du P.            
Took great             
C/o his M*****              
Though he was only 3.          
J. J.                   
Said to his M*****         
"M*****," he said, said he:    
"You-must-never-go-down-to-the-end-of-the-town-if-
you-don't-go-down-with ME!"



Chapter 21

Trixie slapped a Post-it note on the manila folder and tossed it on the table. "Fine, I'll take charge of Nelsson Electronics. Is that the last of the background checks?"

Honey held the now empty cardboard file box upside down to demonstrate, "That's it. Let's divide the insurance investigations next, these files here."

Trixie sighed slightly. Her euphoria from the pleasant task of convincing Jim of her love yesterday had been waning all morning. She and Honey were in the big conference room, "getting organized." Files adorned with yellow sticky notes, were sorted in piles on the table and on some of the chairs.

Honey had been on the move ever since she arrived (late) at the agency this morning. Trixie hadn't minded her taking over the planning. Much. Organization was one of Honey's strengths, after all. But her behavior had been pretty high handed the last hour or so and it was starting to chaff Trixie. "Huh! I always thought I was the bossy one," Trixie muttered under her breath and then was immediately ashamed. She had only been a partner few days, after all.

Honey didn't hear, fortunately. Or did she? She dropped the heavy box she was lifting with an emphatic bang onto the table and she brushed a wisp of hair from her eyes. It was rare for Honey to have a hair out of place, and rare for her to look as tired and strained as she did right now. She rifled through the box, murmuring, "I think some of these can wait, but I know the Steadfast Insurance inquiries need to be done, where are they?"

"I've been patient,” Trixie told herself. “Honey is used to being in charge and I respect that. But this is ridiculous. We haven’t said one word about any case at all. Or about what happened yesterday.”

"Why don't you take charge of Steadfast, and I'll do the Stratemeyer Insurance Syndicate cases." Honey shoved some files across the table at Trixie and suddenly Trixie's small store of patience ran out.

Honey was deliberately avoiding the most important case. Trixe grabbed the Missing Persons filebox and pulled it across the table. "Let's do these instead!" She refused to feel embarrassed when her voice seemed to echo against the low ceiling and looked at her friend challengingly.

Honey raised her eyebrows and lifted her chin. "All right," she said evenly, "how do you want to divide them?" She walked around the table and pulled out a thin file without even looking at it.

"I think we should work on them together," Trixie took it from her, not looking either, but knowing that it was the Annie Smith case.

"I don't think that's necessary," Honey's cool tone was really getting irritating, Trixie noticed, and she slapped the file down impatiently.

"I disagree. I think we need to bounce some ideas off each other." Trixie said through her teeth.

Honey out her hands on her hips. "Oh, you want my ideas on the Smith case? Fine! I think there's a good possibility that there is no case at all."

It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but at least they could hash it out now. Satisfied, Trixie dropped into a chair and took a sip of her cold coffee.

"Come on, Honey, of course there is a case. No one knows where Mrs. Smith is. She is by definition, a missing person."

Honey remained standing. "The woman disappears all the time. Mr. Smith said so. Apparently she always turns up."

"But Mr. Smith said this time was different" Trixie pointed out. "So what makes it different?"

Honey rolled her eyes. "Nothing makes it different. You heard what he said, it was an impulse to even come here. Bobby exaggerated the whole thing because he wanted - "

There was a knock on the conference room door, and Latisha poked her head in, "Lunch is here, you guys better come out before Luis eats all the spring rolls!"

Still watching Honey, Trixie said quietly, "Thanks, Latisha, go ahead and eat, we may be a while."

After a glance at Honey’s set face, Latisha nodded and backed out quickly.

Honey fumbled for her purse, "I'm hungry, Trix, let's eat and then go over this. And don’t forget, we were going to have your fitting today, don't you want to see your bridesmaid dress? I know you're going to love it."

She found her lipstick and started applying it. It made no sense to put on lipstick before lunch and Trixie watched her with real concern. The deep rose lipstick emphasized Honey's pale complexion and the circles under her eyes.

Trixie was suddenly reminded of the day they had met, when Honey had been recovering from illness and loneliness. She surprised herself when she threw her arms around Honey's slim shoulders and pleaded, "Honey, please don't worry, I promise, I swear, Jim and I are fine, this case has nothing to do with us! Tempest has nothing to do with us!"

Honey returned the hug wholeheartedly and rested her head on Trixie shoulder, but she protested weakly, "That’s not why - I mean, I wasn’t worried."

Trixie snorted. "If a certain full blooded, red headed, adopted brother told you Tempest was sending me birthday presents, I bet you were darn worried!" Trixie watched from under her lashes as Honey cheeks stained crimson with embarrassment. "Well, I hope you enjoyed scaring each other."

Honey's blush deepened, not quite ready to acknowledge Trixie’s teasing tone.

Oh, Trixie,” she almost wailed, “It's not... I mean, we didn't talk about you, I mean we did, but not behind your back, well, exactly. It was more like, well, Jim was confiding in me, about his feelings, of course his feelings about, well you, but it wasn't like we were talking ABOUT you, it was just talking about, well, YOU."

Trixie burst out laughing and after a moment Honey joined in. "Sorry, Trixie," Honey said ruefully. "Do you have any idea what I meant?"

"Of course, I do, and you are way off base, that's all. Those skates were from Bob, silly.”

"Oh," was all Honey said as she sat down limply. She played with a pen for a few seconds before asking, "Do you understand, really? I was just so- It’s so embarrassing to admit, even to myself. Brian told me I was being a ninny."

"I hope that's not Brian's idea of sweet nothings,” Trixie said dryly.  She picked up the thermal coffee pot and poured coffee into two paper cups. “This coffee is probably completely vile by now, but let’s take a little caffeine break. To Brian Belden, the doctor with the silver tongue!” Trixie raised her cup.

"To dreams coming true.” Honey correct solemnly before drinking. “You make fun of Brian, but he was right. He was so sweet last night. He told me I was spinning dreams to suit me, and maybe I wasn’t thinking about what was best for you.”

Astounded, Trixie put almost put her cup down on the Steadfast file. She grabbed at it before it spilled and gasped, “What is best for me? What do you mean?”

Honey stood and moved to the tiny window. Trixie was reminded of Jim striking
an almost identical pose yesterday in her office. So she wasn’t altogether surprised when Honey confessed, “I was so hung up on my dream of us all being together forever, just like I imagined when we started the Bob Whites. I....I wasn’t prepared to, well, accept that maybe you might fall in love with anyone else but Jim.”

A variety of emotions battled in Trixie’s mind and she actually sputtered. "Someone else - You - I - " When she finally achieved coherency she demanded "Honey Wheeler, why on earth did you think I was in love with anyone else?”

Honey said as it were obvious, “Because Bobby told Brian way back last year he thought you were going to marry Tempest Smith!”

Funny how emotions could change in an instant. Cold rage filled Trixie. “And just why would Bob Belden think something so ridiculous?” she said in a tight whisper. “For that matter why would Bob have the nerve to interfere in my life?”

Honey’s eyes filled with guilt and she tried to backtrack, “Well, he wasn't interfering, he was just writing Brian with news, that’s all, Brian shows me his letters. Bob knows that, and he, well, I don’t know exactly, but I guess that day when you caught Julie, Tempest was said something to Bob that made him think.... Where are you going?” Honey’s question ended with a very un-Honey-like yelp.

Trixie was mildly to find her hand on the doorknob. When had she crossed the room? Honey was looking at her anxiously, so she answered calmly, “I have a little errand to run, a little lecture on professionalism, I need to administer to my youngest brother. I can’t believe he was behind all this! Do you mean he cooked up all this about Tempest’s mom, just to get us together? How could he worry Tempest and Mr. Smith like that!”

This tine it was Honey putting her hand on Trixie’s shoulder, “No, no,” her voice was suddenly gentle, “I wasn’t being fair when I said that. I think Mrs. Smith is missing and he took advantage of that to see if he could fix you up with Tempest. Well, he pretty much told me and Brian that last night. He feels really bad, Trixie, I know he loves Jim, but, you know, he’s a little kid in some ways, he just didn’t think of Jim and you getting married, I guess."

Trixie continued to hold the doorknob in a death grip while she tried to sort this out. If truth be told, she had been thinking about Tempest these last few weeks. But as nice a guy as Tempest was, her attraction to him was just not the same as her love for Jim. Tempest was cute, he was rather sexy, but Jim was, well, Jim, the love of her life.

Honey was talking softly, " ....think about what you want, not what I want, I won't, I mean, I want you to be happy and not to think 'what if' about Tempest" her voice trailed off weakly.

Trixie did a double take.  "What you want! Are you kidding? You think I am only marrying Jim to please you? It has nothing to do with Jim, those green eyes, or the way he keeps from swearing in front his students, or that annoying manly-man  bossiness, not to mention that great way he walks in the woods?" She sighed and then giggled knowing how moonstruck she must sound. "Well, actually, I think pretty highly of Jim."

Honey relaxed. "Well, yes I did kind of notice that over the years. So you're sure, you're one hundred and ten percent sure?"

"Yes, Honey, I am sure. Jim is sure. Jim is now sure that I'm sure, are you sure I'm sure?"

"Sure!" Honey was now giggling, with a slight hint of hysteria.

"So let us have no more discussion of Tempest Smith, OK?" Trixie was giggling, too.

"Well, we do need to find his mom," Honey pointed out, sobering. She raised her chin slightly. "I'd like a chance to make up for messing up last year anyway, so let's get going." She sat down and opened the file. Trixie stood shock still.

"What are you talking about? You didn't mess up!"

Honey looked up from the notes she had taken yesterday, "Of course I did," she said shortly. "I was completely fooled by Julie Summers, had no idea she was involved the vandalism at Skate Connection, much less that she was a danger to Tempest."

"No, Honey, that's not true." Trixie sat down next to her. "I mean, it was just kind of a fluke that I figured that part out, I was in the right place at the right time."

Honey glanced up. Trixie was relieved to see that she was looking thoughtful, but not stressed like before. She gave a gentle sigh. "I'm not going to torment myself Trixie, even though I certainly should have been more thorough. My mistakes led to you finally the agency, after all. Now, let's trace Tempest's mom! What do we do first?"

Trixie pulled a yellow pad close. "I do have a few ideas, Ms. Wheeler."

Time flew by. In a half hour, she looked at their notes with satisfaction as the phone rang. Honey picked it up and stiffened. "Hello, Mr. Smith, yes, we're working on...Oh, really? That's wonderful!"

After a few minutes of conversation she hung up. A crooked smile on her face, Honey said wryly, "I guess you heard, I won't have a chance to redeem myself."

"Mrs. Smith turned up?" Trixie was conscious of both relief and disappointment. Their plans had been going so well. "Where was she?"

There was a tiny wrinkle between Honey's well shaped eyebrows. "She called her home yesterday and talked to Tempest. She said she was all right, and that she didn't know when she'd be back."

After a slight hesitation, Trixie observed, "Well that takes the wind out of our sails." She looked down at the list she had made. "So where was she? Were any of our deductions correct?"

"She didn't say. Just that she was all right." Honey looked at her notes, too.

Trixie tapped her pencil on her yellow pad. She looked up. Her partner was studying the ceiling. As though answering Trixie's unspoken thought, Honey said, "I don't think this case is closed."

Trixie smiled slowly. "Me neither. Shall we proceed as planned, partner?"

Chapter 22

She was kissing Tempest Smith. Or was Tempest Smith was kissing her? They were equal participants, she decided hazily before she pressed closer to him. Her heart was thundering so loudly she had to open her eyes. The first thing she saw was Señor Coyote grinning at her. The puppet was still on her arm, and her arm was draped cozily around Tempest's neck. The thundering she heard was applause, not her heart and she and Tempest were smooching behind the puppet theater the way kids used to neck behind the gym at Sleepyside Junior Senior High school

Shocked at her own behavior, Di Lynch stopped kissing Tempest Smith and walked around the puppet theater to take her bows to a crowd of cheering children. As she bowed, Tempest at her side, she told herself she was just caught up in the moment. The cheering and applause for was Diana Lynch, the Bob-White who couldn't even pronounce words properly. Sure, she had been in Romeo and Juliet, but she had always known she had been chosen more for her looks than any so-called talent.

But here, completely hidden from the audience, she (and Tempest who had just taken her hand to bow one more time) had actually made people laugh. There was nothing like it in the world!

They were the last act of the festival and the crowd of children and their parents flocked outdoors to booths selling corn on the cob, hamburgers and hot dogs, cotton candy, and ice cream. The festival obviously was obviously continuing in the park surrounding the community center. She and Tempest were swept out along with the other performers into the happy throng. Music was playing and she felt like dancing again. She looked at Tempest, who was surrounded by people who had recognized him, mostly little girls, but a couple of Paulette types were pressing pretty close, coyly asking to have their picture taken with him.

It occurred to her that with his eyes lit up like that, he was surprisingly charismatic.

No doubt that explained her behavior. Di was a normal woman, after all. She merely responded to an attractive man. She couldn't help wondering why Tempest had responded, to her though, knowing how terrible she looked right now: messy hair, sloppy shirt, once again no make up. She needed another breath mint, too.

The memory of her stage fright whipped away her happiness. Ugh, how could Tempest stand to kiss her after that? Probably it was pity. Moodily watching Tempest signing autographs, she almost didn't notice a police officer approaching till Jose almost bumped into her. She smiled in response to Jose's shower of compliments, faintly surprised that the admiring company of a tall handsome police officer did not lift her spirits. Tempest was dragging some of their props out to the car She half heard Jose offering to get her a drink and she thanked him absently, thinking that Tempest's knee must be feeling better though he was still hobbling.

The crowd was getting louder and, needing to sort her thoughts out, she followed the narrow gravel path that evidently led to the beach. As the crowd noises faded, she perched on a rock. Was it only a few weeks ago that she looked out over the ocean and thought her life was over because of Trent? As she watched waves crash against the rocky beach, she heard halting footsteps behind her. Tempest!
 
She turned eagerly only to see a tired looking man of about 60. Overweight, out of breath, he nodded politely to her, as he mopped at his forehead and bald head with a grayish handkerchief. Although he did not look especially healthy, his gravely voice was brisk.

"Afternoon, Miss. Say, weren't you one of the people in the puppet show today? I missed it, but sounds like you were really something!"

"Well, um, thank you," she said stiffly. "I mean, yes, I was one of the puppeteers. Sorry you missed it." Something about this unsavory looking character raised her hackles and she rose, ready to go back up the path to the festival.

His eyes, almost hidden under bristling brows, were fixed on the ocean as he fumbled in a pocket. "Nice view, eh? Nice little town." He pulled out cigarettes and matches and in a moment drew in smoke with an immense sigh of enjoyment. "Mind if I smoke?" he asked belatedly.

"No, I was just going back anyway," Di hinted for him to move, as he was blocking the path completely.

He coughed, and groaned slightly.
 
In spite of her qualms, decency required Di to say, "Are you feeling ok? Maybe you better sit down, Mr..."

He sat down on the rock she'd vacated, and she took a few steps up the path, and hesitated, still concerned.

"No, I'm fine, thanks, though. Just need to catch my breath. So who do I contact about getting a puppet show for my granddaughter? You got a boss? Someone said there was an older lady who was the boss. Smith was the name. I'd like to talk to her" He shot a suddenly piercing glance at Di.

Without knowing why, Di hedged, "It's probably me you should talk to, but I am not sure, well, give me your name and phone number and I'll check our, my schedule and let you know."

His coughing suddenly sounded phony and in a second ceased all together. He stood and took a step toward her and suddenly in spite of his age and apparent ill health she felt a chill creep over her. Without knowing why, she turned suddenly and almost ran into Jose's arms, nearly spilling the drinks he held.

"You ok?" he asked her, giving the old man a suspicious glare.

"Fine, I'm fine, just thirsty, that looks great." Di babbled. Without another glance back, she walked with Jose back up to the festival. He stayed close all afternoon and his obvious admiration was soothing. Of course he'd not be so attentive if he'd seen her bent over the trash can only an hour ago! She flirted with him automatically while he helped carry puppets and props back to the Rambler. They were saying good-bye when a loud bang made her jump. Tempest had slammed the tailgate shut.

She waved good bye, then hesitated. It had not seemed awkward, being alone with Tempest the last few days. They had been so nervous and focused on the performance up till today, but now, thinking of sitting next to him in the Rambler, staying at the lighthouse with him; it just seemed different.

Her parents would not approve of the arrangement at all. Of course, that was silly, she had lived in a coed dorm in college, it was just the same thing, after all. There was no hotel close by and Tempest was obviously a gentleman. Or else not interested.

She crouched and checked her reflection in the sideview mirror. She looked terrible! How did she get in such a mess? She asked herself. She tried to comb her hair with her fingers, then realized she was trying to look good for Tempest. How she could have lost herself in a kiss with a man she didn't even like? (Much)

Oh for Heaven's sake, he was just a guy. With the exception of Get Bent Trent, no guy had ever been too much for Diana Lynch to handle! She tossed her head and marched boldly to the back of the Rambler. All her nervousness about facing him, however, disappeared when she saw the object he held out.

"I think this is real," was all he said.

She took the bracelet from him and held it up. The sun was getting low, but there was plenty of light to verify his assessment. "Where did you get this?" she asked, baffled.

He swallowed. "I tore Borreguita by mistake, I mean I shut the tailgate, didn't realize she was in the way, and when I pulled her out, she ripped and this fell out. Are those rubies, I mean, are they real?"

They were real, and it was an antique, a thing of beauty, delicate flattened gold flowers linked to an exquisite ruby and aquamarines setting. The gold shone and the gems sparkled, the bracelet was in almost perfect condition. This had been hidden inside Borreguita? She didn't even think TC liked jewelry.

“Are those rubies?" Tempest repeated softly

She cleared her throat. "The red stones are rubies. The blue ones are aquamarines. Looks like a Victorian piece. This is worth a couple thousand dollars. Why... how?" She couldn't finish the thought, because she could think of no good reason for TC to hide a valuable bracelet in a puppet.

Tempest was leaning against the tailgate. "It's pretty," he said, foolishly because he was looking at her, not the bracelet. He straightened suddenly and held it against her wrist. It sparkled delicately, until Tempest stepped back abruptly, dropping the bracelet in the dust. “We've got to get out of here," he announced as he scooped it up, stuck it in his pocket and limped around to the passenger door.
 
She was still bemused as she maneuvered the Rambler through the Community Center parking lot. A white sedan nipped in right behind her and she winced, the last thing she needed was a fender bender.
 
Tempest was silent, as she pulled onto the highway. What was he thinking about? The bracelet probably. Or their performance. She did not allow herself to wonder if he was thinking about, er, anything else. She had no business thinking of that herself!  He turned to her suddenly, his eyes intent and her heart fluttered in her chest. "Ana?"
 
She was enjoying her new name. 'Ana' It sounded so different from her normal ordinary self; it sounded romantic, mysterious.
 
"Did you sew up Mean Janine the other day?" he asked very unromatically.
 
Deflated, she answered snappishly "Oh. Yes. I sewed her up. I did the dishes too. And cleaned the bathroom." She was a fool to be thinking romantically about anyone in her heartbroken state. She had just broken off an engagement to a selfish, conceited and immoral jerk. In other words, a man! She braked as Tempest unbuckled his seatbelt and twisted backwards.
 
"What are you doing?" she gasped, keeping one eye on the traffic in her rear view mirror, and the other on the rear view of Tempest as he balance on the back of the seat.
 
“She's back here, isn't she?" He groped among TC's cartons before he snatched Mean Janine and flopped back into his seat, dragging the unwieldy puppet with him. His struggles had messed up his hair, she couldn't help reaching across the seat to smooth it into place. Then she saw his grim expression and the lines around his mouth and her heart sank.
 
Tempest was muttering. "Damn, I hoped I was wrong."
 
“Put your seatbelt back on," Di ordered. "It's the law in California and I don't want to get a ticket." He ignored this speech as he pressed his strong hands down on Janine's fat tummy.
 
"Why I am so stupid?" he gritted out and she saw with shock that he was ripping Janine open. She realized what he was up to as another sparkle caught her eye and she gasped, "Another one?
 
“A couple of rings this time." His voice was grim. "I knew there was something tangled up in the stuffing the other day and I just, I just forgot about it." He held out the two rings she had unwitting sewn back into Mean Janine and said blankly, “Why is my mother hiding valuable jewelry in her puppets?"
 
She thought she heard accusation in his voice and her reply was acidic. “Why are you asking me? I don't know, I never saw her wear any jewelry except some really hideous maple leaf earrings! She's your mother, you should know her better than me!" She knew she was being unfair, but this entire day had been unnerving to say the least.
 
He was looking at an art deco ring, pulling bits of fluff off of it, but at her bitter words, he looked up. "Oh are we back to that again?" he asked coldly. “You've made your point, Di-ANA, I'm a Bad Son, I get it."
 
The lines around his mouth deepened and she noticed the strain in his eyes. Shame washed over her and she said repentantly, "You're not a bad son, I'm just... I'm just worried and taking it out on you. Just don't call me Di-ANA, please!"
 
A horn sounded behind her. She had slowed the Rambler almost to a crawl. She stepped down hard on the accelerator and said, "Let me see them." She reached out and he pulled them jewelry away from her.
 
“You're driving! If you don't want to get a ticket, you better concentrate on the road. I think we can safely assume these are valuable too. It's more important to figure out what to do."
 
“I think we should tell the police," Di said promptly. "Jose and Ed are still at the festival, I can turn around at the next light."
 
“Why should we tell him, I mean, them?" He practically snarled the words. "There is no crime in hiding your jewelry. Looks like Mom was smart to hide them. They weren't taken in the burglary."
 
The car behind her had its brights on and Di flipped the rear view mirror up as she corrected him, “I didn't say it was a crime but maybe these rings are what the burglars were looking for? Or..." she spoke her thought slowly, "What if her disappearance has something to do with the jewelry?"
 
He considered, then shook his head. "Didn't she have Borreguita with her in Seattle? I think you were waving her around the hotel room when you had your tantrum. If it had to do with the jewelry, wouldn't she have taken the puppet with her?"
 
“I was not having a tantrum!" Di was furious, not just at Tempest, but at the idiot driver behind her, who was now tailgating the Rambler on the narrow winding road. She spotted a turnout ahead pulled into it muttering bad words under her breath as the car passed. She put the car in park and turned to Tempest. "I don't know if any of this makes sense, but I am getting seriously worried about TC." She hesitated a minute, “I think maybe we should call Trixie."
 
 Something flickered in his eyes and then went still.

Chapter 23

For the first time since he'd awakened in the hospital he'd had a good sleep. He felt completely rested, and he dared to hope he hadn't walked the night like a zombie. He lay in bed a while, enjoying the sensation of well being. The grayish light suggested it was another foggy morning, and the clock told him Ana would not be awake yet.

Ana. Her bed was just on the other side of this wall. He sat up abruptly. That was a thought he didn't need to follow up on.

As he pulled on his jeans, tugging the worn denim gently over his knee brace, he caught a glimpse of himself in his mother's mirror and he suddenly wished she was here now, not just because he was worried about her, not just because he'd wasted so much time, but also because maybe she could, well advise him. Mothers gave advice, after all. His grandmother had often given her opinion, unsolicited most of the time. Lots of times she had even been right. He suddenly saw his mother's sad smile when he talked about Grandmother to her last week. Maybe Mom could tell him what to do about, well, yesterday.

He sat on the bed to pull on warm socks, thinking about yesterday. The way the puppet show came together, his sudden memory of the Olympics, the discovery of the jewelry, and his sudden, um, attraction to a girl he didn't like. And who didn't like him.

There was no sound from her room. He knew she liked to sleep late, at least they had that in common. No matter how stressed she was about the puppet show, she'd slept past nine each day.  He passed her closed door on the way to the kitchen, conscious of two strong but conflicting emotions, he wanted to see her and he didn't want to see her.

In the kitchen, he looked out the small window over the sink, seeing neither the wall of fog, nor the reflection of himself filling an old tea kettle, but instead a vivid, heart shaped face, laughing, determined, concerned.

Water bubbled out of the kettle and splashed his arm. Giving an irritated sigh, he jerked a checked dishcloth from the refrigerator door handle and blotted his dripping sleeve. She had looked exhausted last night. He thought it was the release of tension, but maybe he should just check on her, make sure she was all right. Right now. Just ease open her door and make sure she was sleeping sweetly. I guess I do want to see her, he thought ruefully. Not much conflict there, after all.

He wondered what she wore to bed. "You are pathetic, Tempest. Nice try, but control yourself."

Sleeping one wall away from Ana was becoming more difficult. And disconcerting, considering that he was heartbroken over her best friend. On the other hand, that had happened a year ago and heck, he was human, after all.

To keep himself from acting on his Peeping Tom impulse, he put the kettle to boil then forced himself to start some coffee for her. Mom had a percolator, a really old one, but Ana said the coffee was great, he waited till it was blooping merrily, then limped into the living room to finish looking for clues.

He had to laugh. Making tea was a normal part of his morning routine, but "looking for clues" was not. He had not liked any of Ana's suggestions last night (especially since none of them entailed picking up where they left off behind the puppet theater) She had wanted to tell the police about the jewelry. He had persuaded her that if Mom had wanted the police to know about it she would have told them after hearing about the burglary.

Her next idea had thrown him. He didn't even want to explain to himself why he didn't want to call in Trixie Belden, and he certainly had no intention of offering any explanations to Ana. They had argued about it as they picked up a pizza on the way home. Somewhere along the line the argument had switched to what toppings to get and if the crust should be thick or thin.

They'd compromised on the pizza (mushrooms, but no olives, pepperoni but easy on the cheese, thick crust but extra sauce) After they had eaten almost the entire thing, they'd negotiated a deal on the jewelry issue. They would checked the rest of the puppets but found no more jewelry. So they turned to the papers and files they had dumped into a couple of cardboard boxes the other day. They could tidy them up a little and though they would not pry (exactly), if anything seemed concern jewelry, they would glance it over.

Tempest could tell Ana was just as uncomfortable as he was at the thought of looking through his mom's personal papers, but if the alternative was telling the police (Jose in particular) or Trixie, he thought they had no choice.

Well, there was one other option. The last alternative was to butt out. After all, Mom was OK, she'd told them so herself. Ana needed to go back home for Trixie's wedding and Tempest should have started physical therapy on his knee by now. He should be getting ready to get back out on the ice.

But even though Tempest barely knew his mother, as Di-ANA was fond of pointing out, he did know his father. When he had talked to Dad the other day, telling him Mom had called, Dad had said all the right things, but Tempest just knew somehow, that Dad was still worried, considerably worried in fact. It was time Dad got some real good news, Tempest told himself and he sat down on the floor and got ready to pry, or rather, look for clues.

At first there wasn't much to enlighten him or embarrass him as he rummaged half heartedly through the first box. Health insurance, phone bills, a manual on how to program her now missing VCR. Rage flashed through him when he imagined her coming home to find all her possession gone or damaged. Maybe he could replace some of it before she got home.

He shuffled more papers. Nothing about jewelry, nothing about puppets. The coffee's aroma filled the room as he looked through files and stacked papers neatly. Ana was sleeping later than usual. Maybe she was avoiding him. He pulled another box close and found a jumble of videotapes and envelopes.

He couldn't play the tapes, so he turned to the envelopes: A bunch of big manila envelopes, all apparently stuffed with papers. He opened one and grinned. Letters from kids, telling her thank you. Many of the kids had illustrated their thank you notes with pictures that obviously were intended to be Borreguita or Mean Janine. He pulled out one messy note printed on an uphill slant, and adorned with a gray creature with plenty of huge pointed teeth. Senor Coyote, he figured.

"Dear Mrs. Smith

I licked the sory. I licked the wolf and boorgeata. Please come agin. I lick  you!

Your Friend,

Joshua"

He read the rest of the notes, enjoying seeing his mom through the eyes of the kids who obviously loved her. He dumped out another envelope and his smile faded. Not thank you notes this time, these were plain, no nonsense envelopes addressed to his mother at various locations around the states. The handwriting was his father's.

Without a thought for his parents' privacy, he opened one and read,

"Happy Birthday Annie,

I have been thinking of you all day. That poem you used to read to Tempest has been running through my head, seems like it was written for today, doesn't it?

'When Anne and I go for a walk
We hold each other's hand and talk
Of all the things we mean to do
When Anne and I are forty-two'

Look at me quoting poetry in my old age! Anyway, hope your 42nd is a good one.

Were you were able to see the world championships, or were you off in Outer Mongolia? As you probably know, Tempest was 6th, not bad for his first seniors."

Tempest read the whole letter, hearing his fathers voice speaking. Most of it was about him, his first world championship when he was 16, what he'd done in school, even things he had said. Dad had talked a little about his job and what was happening with Grandmother, then had finished,

"Well, I guess that's all for now. Your mom is sending the tapes she made, so don't worry if you weren't able to catch the championships. I'm not sure they showed Tempest in the states anyway. Tempest is really becoming a man, Annie, I wish you could see him. Well, of course you will, here's his schedule, are you going to in any of those parts? I wish you could come home. (That last sentence had been crossed out but Tempest could still read it) Colorado Springs looks like the best bet, Tempest will be at Skate America in November. Let me know what you think.

Take Care, Annie,

Bill

PS. I counted 6 hairs on my pillow this morning, must be going bald!"

Tempest read the rest of the letters. Mom must have kept everything about him, everything Dad had written. In another envelope were letters from Grandmother, as prim and elegant, as she had been, but with a thread of love and warmth running throughout. It only struck him now that grandmother must have missed Mom terribly. He let the last letter, written after his tenth birthday, drop to the floor. Still seeing his tenth birthday party through his grandmother's eyes, he stood up and promptly returned to the floor as his knee protested. Without really thinking, not noticing the pain, he pulled himself up with Bob's cane and walked through the kitchen and out into the fog.

He was far away, thinking about his grandmother and how much he missed her, thinking about Dad writing those letters over the years. What had it been like for Dad, who Tempest realized still, well, it seemed like he still, um, missed Mom.  And what about poor Mom reading them in the lighthouse, or a hotel room all alone except for her puppets. He shuddered, not from the cold, but imagining what it must have been like for both of them. What had happened? Why did they break up? Why hadn't she come home?

He slipped on some loose gravel, almost fell. He looked around. He was halfway down the dirt road leading to a rocky beach. The fog was still thick, and the dirt and gravel a little wet from the damp. He barely remembered leaving the cottage. Not the brightest thing he'd ever done. He turned and, feeling more pain from his knee than he liked, leaned more heavily on the cane as he started back home. He'd taken only a few steps when a small, dark form materialized and he felt like the sun had come out.

"Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day, I've got a beautiful feeling, everything's going my way," he sang foolishly. Thinking of Grandmother had reminded him of how she loved corny old musicals and this song seemed appropriate in spite of the murk.

"Tempest! What are you doing out here? It's freezing out here! And the tea kettle is boiled dry and you left a wet towel on the kitchen floor, and there are papers scattered all over the living room!" He grinned at her scolding. She was wearing a huge sweatshirt with the hood up and pulled tightly around her face. Most girls would have looked silly, but Ana looked as beautiful as ever, her cheeks were rosy and in the gray light, her eyes were back to that deep purple color. The bulky sweatshirt almost complete covered her hands, which were placed firmly on her hips.

"It's not that cold," he was still grinning, couldn't seem to stop, "But the damp makes it feel worse. Sorry about the mess, though. I was just heading back, I'll clean it up."

She relented. "So I see. Thanks for brewing the coffee, I needed it." She paused and then said abruptly, "I see you found some letters this morning."

He felt the cold for the first time this morning. "I, I didn't mean to read them, I don't know, I just did it...I couldn't help it" Damn, why had he left them out, no doubt Di-ANA was going to read him the riot act for prying into his mother's private stuff.

He stopped, braced for a blast of scorn and was shocked when she said pensively, "Poor TC, to be so far away from her son while he was growing up." She looked up at him, and must have read his surprised expression. She spoke almost reassuringly "Tempest, we said we were going to look for clues. I glanced through them myself."

"Well there wasn't anything in them about jewelry," he pointed out guiltily.

"Maybe not, but we agreed to look for clues and that was one avenue." She pulled her hood closer around her face and added with a small laugh in her voice, "Trixie wouldn't have hesitated one second."

That cute little half smile of hers was too distracting. It wiped away his vague feelings of guilt and an even vaguer sense that the mention of Trixie should cause him pain, as his thoughts instead settled on the desire to kiss that little pucker next to her mouth.

He was leaning forward when she teased, "So you were naughty at your tenth birthday party! What did you do that was so bad your grandmother had to take away your brand new Transform-o-tron as a punishment?"

Still watching her lips, he answered truthfully, "I threw cake at one of the kids. I can't even remember why, I guess she made fun of my name or something." He reached out and touched her cheek. "I plastered her right here. So maybe you throwing chocolate at me and ruining my new pants was divine retribution, eh?"

"Your pants weren't ruined, you shouldn't have thrown them away," she said stepping a little closer to him and looking up at him solemnly. "They could have been washed."

He dropped his cane in the gravel. "How did you know I threw away my pants?" He noticed her already rosy cheeks turn a little brighter before she stretched up to kiss him.

This kiss was even better than the last one. He returned it with enthusiasm, pausing only briefly to whisper that she was adorable and then resuming with more passion. He felt a thrill down his spine when she responded with equal passion and the cold gray world faded away.

After a century or two, he whispered even more softly, if incoherently, "Ana, this is, I, maybe we should..." He wasn't sure if he was going suggest they take it slowly or that they head back to the comfort of the cottage.

Her eyes were only a few inches from his and she was smiling. She snuggled a little closer and he tightened his arms around her delicate but shapely form
as she spoke seriously.

"Tempest, I, well I do think we, but I have to..." She reached up and caressed his jaw. He waited, barely breathing, not sure of what she wanted. Disappointment overwhelmed him when she stepped back and walked away from him. Damn. He was the stupidest, clumsiest...

"Tempest, I have to tell you something." The fog was so thick she was a dreamlike figure. She was going to tell him she still loved that Trent guy, he didn't want to hear it, but his voice was too tight, he couldn't stop her. I've been through this before, a stupid voice started repeating in his brain.

"That night, um the night, I, well you know...with the chocolate?" She still had that silly hood pulled up over her hair and she was fiddling with the drawstring that kept it tight around her face. She looked adorably confused and young...

He caught his breath. His senses suddenly felt on alert. He heard something other than his own heart pounding, and just as he realized it was slow footsteps on gravel, he saw a shadow in the fog behind Ana. He was already running forward when an arm jerked around her shoulders and pulled her back out of sight. Her scream was swallowed by the fog.

Chapter 24

"Tempest! What are you doing out here? It's freezing out here! And the tea kettle is boiled dry and you left a wet towel on the kitchen floor, and there are papers scattered all over the living room!"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Di could have smacked herself. Her hands were on her hips, her voice was shrill and tart. It was Full Frontal Nagging! Hardly the style of greeting she'd wanted to give Mr. Tempest Smith this morning. He had haunted her dreams last night, after all. She had never really dreamed about any of her boyfriends before, not even Trent.

Not that Tempest was her boyfriend.

No wonder a sense of being slightly off balance had stayed with her when she finally got out of bed. The morning was cold and gray, just like the day TC had disappeared and she was struck with an irrational but overpowering conviction that Tempest had gone, too.

His door was open, the bed made and the room as tidy as if no one had been there all night. She'd relieved to see the messy living room, but only in the kitchen was her rising panic completely quelled when she noticed the fragrant steam coming from the percolator and the dry hiss from the almost empty tea kettle.

"Wake up and smell the coffee, Di," she'd murmured, then squealed as her bare foot stepped on something cold and clammy: a wet dishtowel. She'd picked up the soggy, faded terrycloth and held it against her short nightgown as if it were the finest linen. He must have spilled while he made her coffee. (Or his tea.) But he hadn't left. He wouldn't just disappear like TC, he wouldn't do that.

She'd gulped down some coffee in the hopes that it would help her regain her senses and wandered into the living room.

Tempest had obviously read them the letters scattered about so she did too. After she'd put the last one back in the envelope, she roamed restlessly around the living room, still seeing the tousle-haired little boy who had grown into the man she'd dreamt about last night. She'd looked a long time at the envelopes and frowned. It was a long shot of course, but still.... She quickly dressed and grabbed her old sweatshirt as she went out into the fog to find Tempest.

It was funny how fast she'd found him. As he started singing that silly song, she pulled up her hood,;she suddenly wanted to hide her, her ... what? Joy at seeing him? No, no, not joy. That was ridiculous. It was relief, just relief, not joy. Well, anyway, whatever emotion had flooded over her at the sight of him, nagging was a good way to disguise it.

Tempest didn't disguise his emotions. His eyes showed he was glad to see her and she completely forgot to share her hypothesis.  She was too busy noticing how the faint scar on his jaw looked like an arrow pointing to his lips to pay to much attention to mere conversation. She was thoroughly enjoying the gentle touch of his hand on her cheek when his teasing words sank in.

"How did you know I threw away my pants?" That was a question she wasn't dying to answer and she decided the best way to avoid the question was to silence him.

Her dream was merging with reality anyway, and she found herself reaching up. Her vague brain activity ceased altogether as her lips met his. His arms were warm and strong around her, he was whispering endearments, they were inching up toward the cottage, back to the living room and a driftwood fire and she never wanted the moment to stop.

And then she stopped.

The living room. The letters. The envelopes.

"I have to tell you something," she answered without thinking.

It was hard for her to meet his eyes, he was still smiling but his eyes were suddenly haunted. He looked young and vulnerable and she forgot her hypothesis about TC.  What was it? It was hard to think, so she reluctantly took a step back and then another. It didn't help much, she still couldn't meet his eyes. So she glanced down instead, and started to take a deep, cleansing (but foggy) breath.

Her breath burst out of her lungs in a shriek as someone jerked her back violently. She kicked backward and screamed again, a long, loud scream until a large hand covered her mouth rather ineptly. It was almost too fast to be scary and yet she was terrified as she bit and squirmed and kicked again. A voice wheezed, "Shut up lady and you won't get hurt! You know what we want to know. Just tell us and we won't take twenty years of frustration out on you!" The threat ended in a grunt as she jammed her elbow into a soft stomach.

An instant later, she was dropped unceremoniously on her rear end. A tornado had rushed past her and a thunderbolt felled the would-be kidnapper. She scrambled to her feet in time to see Tempest jerk a large, pudgy man up by his collar and aim another blow at his face. The man staggered, but recovered and struck back. The two men's fight carried them out of sight, deeper into the fog.

Desperate to help Tempest, Di demonstrated her usefulness by tripping and falling headlong. On the ground in front of her was a hunk of granite and she snatched it up. Tempest had the kidnapper by the throat and slammed his bulk against a Eucalyptus tree. A few leaves fluttered to the ground. Di relaxed slightly. It looked like Tempest didn't need her help after all.

No sooner had she come to this conclusion than her attacker's sunken eyes narrowed and he aimed a deliberate and vicious kick at Tempest's knee. She saw agony flash across Tempest's face and he crumpled. Di's rage gathered in her throat, all fear was gone, there was only savage fury as she rushed forward, her boulder raised high. The man grabbed at her arms and they struggled until the rock crashed down on her own forehead. She heard a hoarse shout before things started to swim.

She  was on the ground now and warm water was dripping into her eyes. Tempest had gone down, she knew that, she had to help him. Disoriented by the fog and what she now realized was blood not water, she floundered on her hands and knees for an eternity before she noticed the silence. She crawled forward and the pain in her head was forgotten as the fog lifted slightly to reveal a frightening picture.

"Branching out, Judson? When did you switch from a typewriter to a gun?" Tempest's voice was remarkably steady. He was back on his feet, swaying slightly, his eyes fixed on the gun aimed at his chest.

Di felt a scream rising in her throat, but like in dreams, only an dry croak came out. She had her rock in her hand, but couldn't quite get her feet underneath her. And somehow she knew, she just knew that Tempest didn't need help, didn't want help.

"Take it easy, Tempest ... talk is all...." The man was out of breath, his words difficult to understand, he looked near to collapse but that made him no less dangerous.   He jerked his head toward Di and muttered, "She is going to tell me where they are."

"I have to help him," Di was thinking in anguish when she saw Tempest's eyes flash and she suddenly knew what he meant to do.

"No!" Di screamed, but too late. Tempest launched himself directly at the gun.

In the eerie silence that followed her scream, Tempest knocked the attacker to the ground. They were rolling in the dirt and Di was running forward with her rock high. She thought stupidly that it was just like the movies.  She was couldn't see the gun but every nerve was waiting for the horrible sound of a shot. And then, all at once, and it was over, it was all over.  Tempest twisted the gun from the attacker's grasp and flung it into a clump of juniper bushes.

Diana's knees turned to rubber and she sat down and wiped blood absently from her left eye. Tempest had things under control. By the looks of it, he was going to beat the heck out of the guy, which seemed a good plan. Their opponent obviously thought the same thing and grabbed at his chest ostentatiously, "You can't hit me, it would be bad press!" he yelped.  "'Tempest Smith murders heart attack victim!' You don't want that kind of  headline, do you?"

Tempest ignored him. "Ana?" he called, panic in his voice, just before he tripped over her legs.

"Are you all right?" they each demanded. Tempest's eyes searched her face frantically and she was positive he would crush her in a fierce embrace, but instead he touched her forehead gently and said calmly, "You've got some bleeding action going on here."

He pulled off his sweatshirt, slipped one arm around her shoulder and pressed the cloth to her head. She leaned against him gratefully. In spite of his calm, she could feel tremors running through his body, and she reassured him truthfully, "I think it's just a scrape. Brian says head wounds bleed a lot. And that kidnapper is going to get away. "

Tempest didn't even glance at the guy, "He's not going anywhere, eh, Judson?"

It finally sunk in that Tempest knew the assailant. "You know him? Was he going to, to kidnap me? " She hated the shakiness of her voice and cleared her throat to hide it.

"He's a reporter. I guess he's decided to commit crimes instead of just reporting on them." Tempest voice was savage, but his hands were gentle, if clumsy. He was trying to apply pressure to her cut with the awkward, bulky sweatshirt but only succeeded in covering her eyes, so she pushed his hand away.

"I can't see, Tempest, and I'm sure the bleeding has stopped, it's just a scrape."

"Try this." The gravely voice of "Judson" was next to her ear and she jumped. He was offering handkerchief. Diana's eyes flew to Tempest's face and she read violence there. Before he could start swinging again, she took the handkerchief dubiously, and pushed back her hood to get a better look at her would be kidnapper. It was the same weird old guy she had seen yesterday at the festival, she was realizing in shock. He, in turn, got a good look at her and his unlovely, unshaven jaw dropped.

"You? You're not - where's -"

"Shut up Judson!" It was fair to say Tempest bellowed these words,   "You've got some explaining to do, but right now we have to get Ana to the hospital." Di found herself being lifted gently. Tempest took some halting steps up the road and sanity finally returned fully to Di. As delightful as it was to feel cherished in his arms, she squirmed down and told him roundly, "I don't need to go to the hospital, you do!"

He glared at her and barked, "There is no way I am going to any hospital, except to take you to have that cut stitched up. I am fine." He reached for her again.

She put both hands on his chest and said, "Oh really? And do you always look all pale and drawn when you are fine? I saw that guy kick you! You shouldn't even be walking right now!"

"Pale and drawn!" Tempest's voice nearly cracked, "I'm not, you, have..."

"Hey, when you guys work this out, could one of you give me a lift, eh? I'm not feeling all that hot myself."  With these words, their recent adversary folded neatly in half and collapsed in the dirt.

Chapter 25

"Is this going to help?" Bill Smith sounded frustrated as he gestured at Trixie's rather sketchy notes. "Will we be able to find her?" He had avoided her eyes as he talked, choosing instead to look out the window or study the pictures of famous skaters adorning the walls of the small office.
 
"I don't know," Trixie was blunt. "We have so little information. We don't even know why she left Seattle so suddenly." Trixie was not surprised that he suddenly looked wary. She and Honey suspected he knew more than he was saying.
 
Time for their plan. She stretched casually and turned toward the window as she assessed the situation for her client, "We know she travels quite a bit, that she and Tempest meet once or twice a year, but never at her home in California. We know the cities where they have met. So that's where we start: In addition to Seattle, we have Flagstaff, Buffalo, Colorado Springs and San Diego. How does she make a living, does she get alimony?"

"No, she wouldn't take any money from me." The comment was brusque. "When I met her she was a folk singer, not really that good, but there was something about her. People would go just to listen to her jokes between songs, the owner told me once. I sort of got the idea she is performing again, but she’s pretty guarded about it."

"She’s a folk singer?" It wasn't difficult to sound dubious, how could you earn a living singing folk songs nowadays. She scowled at her yellow pad. "Well, it's not much to go on, but we may get a break."
 
Bill's broad shoulder's slumped slightly. Trixie didn't enjoy sounding so discouraging, because she instinctively felt Bill Smith was as nice and decent as his son. She stood up, tossed her notepad on the desk and walked to the window overlooking the skating rink. A crucial part of the plan had been to meet here at Skate Connection instead of more conveniently at Honey's, er, at the Belden Wheeler Detective Agency. Mr. Lynch had offered his tiny, little used office and now it was time to, well, make Bill feel indebted to her. Honey had warned her this was a risky plan and now that it was time, she was feeling plenty of qualms herself. But it could work.
 
She took the plunge. "This is a great place, isn't it? Only problem is, every time I come here, I remember the lights exploding and Tempest falling. And of course Julie holding that gun on him the next day. She stood right about where that kid in red is, and Tempest was sitting up on the boards. I still have nightmares about her laughing while she held her gun against his knee."
 
Bill turned white. He swallowed and said quietly, "That whole week was a nightmare. Tempest doesn't talk much about what happened, but I know you saved his life."
 
"Well, I helped, anyway." She couldn't bring herself to brag. "Bob, too, of course. And Tempest kept Julie from pulling that trigger, kept her talking and all. Really he saved his own life, I just, well, distracted her."
 
 He spoke haltingly. "I know. He did great. So did Bob, he's a great kid. And of course, you did save his life. Is your hand all better?"

Trixie showed her right palm, where Julie's skate and sliced it in the struggle for the gun. "It's fine, no permanent damage, not even a scar.

"I wish Tempest had been so lucky, he has a couple of scars." For the first time, Bill met her eyes and she felt a shiver run down her spine. "It was pretty tough on him. It was a hard year."
 
She frowned skeptically as she pointed out, "Well, he did win the Olympics! Surely that was a good memory."
 
Bill's smile was both proud and sad. "Yes, he did. He was amazing. But," he hesitated, his eyes still intent on hers. "He's just been working so hard since then, never took any time off. I know it’s so he can forget, but, it's not working, he's just making things worse, only he doesn't listen to me, I'm just his dad, after all and he can be stubborn at times. " He smiled wryly. "He tells me the apple never falls far from the tree. Hard to argue that."
 
She relaxed and smiled, too, in her most encouraging and trustworthy manner. "I am a little stubborn myself. One of my worst faults, actually,"
 
"If it weren't for your stubbornness, who knows what Julie would have done last year? Stubbornness can be a good thing too."
 
"I suppose so. Anyway, I promise, I will be stubborn about finding Mrs. Smith, but..." Trixie hesitated. She looked down at her notes and shook her head.
 
"You've got to find her. I know she told Tempest she was OK, but there's something wrong. I just know it." The urgency in his voice was a contrast to his earlier stillness.
 
“Then stop holding back." Trixie decided to be frank. "If you want me to find Mrs. Smith, you have to trust me, you have to tell me everything." 

Again he was looking at her intently, almost measuringly. Trixie gave him time, put some of her files back in her briefcase, turned to a blankpage in her notepad.
 
When he finally spoke, he said the last thing in the world she expected. "I don't know if I can trust you. I mean, it's hard after what you did. I think that if Bob hadn't been so insistent, if he hadn't told me about all the crimes you solved, if I hadn't been so worried about Annie... Well, I wouldn't have come. I shouldn't have come. " He laughed shortly. "I acted on impulse."
 
It was a novel experience to be told she wasn't trusted. Novel and distinctly unpleasant. Horrible, in fact.  A bitter taste spread across her tongue as temper rapidly followed shock. She forgot the need to be cool and professional and her sarcasm was loud in the small office. "You can't trust me? Saving your son from a smashed kneecap doesn't earn trust in your book? You set a pretty high standard!"
 
His gray eyes flared and he flashed back, "Do you think I'm not grateful to you? You saved my son's life! If anything happened to him...oh God.  Do you think I don't value his life above anything else?"

"Than how can you have the gall to tell me you don't trust me?" Trixie was on the brink of angry but unprofessional tears.

His jaw set firmly and his quiet voice was more stunning than a shout. "Because I also value his happiness and you destryed that. I just can't understand the way you treated him. I can understand that you loved someone else, but why did you let Tempest think he had a chance? How could you invite him to your engagement party without even warning him?"
 
The air came out of her lungs in a loud whoosh, as if she'd had the wind knocked out of her. Trixie could only echo weakly, "Engagement party?"
 
He continued as if he hadn't heard. "I just, can't understand why you wouldn't be honest with him."

"Oh. I see." Shocked, she thought back to the conversation she'd had with Tempest at the Christmas party that was most decidedly not an engagement party. Tempest had been quiet, even for him. Finally he'd told her that he knew what her announcement was going to be, and he wasn't happy about it. She'd wondered at the time why he didn't want her to join the detective agency but only now did she realize how terribly he'd misunderstood the reason for the party. He'd left early. He'd missed the real announcement. He'd said good bye. She’d never seen him again.
 
Her thoughts battered her. Tempest had thought she was getting married, and he didn't like it. And that must mean he had cared about her. That's what Bill Smith was carefully not saying. Well, isn't that what Bob had thought, too? She covered her eyes with both hands and shuddered. Was love supposed to be this terrible? She loved Jim, but Tempest was, well, he was a really great person, amd she had hurt him. Destroyed him, his father said. As she realized that for a detective, she could be pretty clueless, a sick feeling spread through her stomach.
 
Why didn't a hole open up and swallow her, sparing her from facing the accusing eyes of Bill Smith? As the floor of Mr. Lynch's office remained all too solid, she struggled to explain to herself as well as Tempest's father.
 
"I, I didn't know Tempest felt that way. Well, I did, in a way, but not like that, exactly. I mean he was, he actually helped me through a really hard time, but I never, I mean I did, actually, but it wasn't... And then he left and, Jim, it was like when we were kids only better, much better and I knew it was Jim, but it was only last week that we got engaged."

She got the nerve to look at Bill Smith and comprehension was starting to dawn in his eyes. She finished more firmly. "It was a misunderstanding. I am engaged now, but at that party, I was just announcing that I was joining the detective firm. I did think Tempest was, um, fond of me and I was surprised that he wasn't happy that I was going back my original plans. I was disappointed he never called me or anything. But now, well, there's Jim. To be honest, it's really always been Jim."
 
When she had finished, Bill Smith clearly was longing for the same un-obliging hole. A flush stained his cheeks and he swallowed a few times, his mortification obvious. He didn't say anything for a while then he said the only thing that could have made her feel better. 

"I do know why Annie left Seattle last week. Her past caught up with her.  But I don't know where she went. I want her safe. I want her home. I'm sorry I misunderstood so badly. I need your help and I'll tell you anything you want to know."
 
He talked for a long time as Trixie took notes. "I've been thinking about her a lot, the past year. It was so, so ... horrifying almost losing Tempest. He's so much like her. And then seeing him so unhappy, so lost... I tried to give him time. He never talked about it at all.  But when I was with Bob at the airport, it just dawned on me. It made me realize how much time I've wasted. Back then, I thought Annie needed time too, but look at us now, twenty years later, twenty years apart."
 
For the first time he looked directly at Trixie, "It still worries me, I'm not sure Annie really understood I knew she hadn't done it. I wake up sometimes wondering if she knows that."
 
 She couldn't help herself, she asked, "You knew she hadn't done what?"
 
 He looked at her as if she were stupid. "Stolen the bracelets of course. There was a robbery at her work, an inside job, the police said. They questioned her over and over; she was their only suspect. It was in the papers, too, not a big story, but because the collection was so rare, it made the news."

He started pacing, hard to do in the small office. "The police thought she'd done it so she could leave me. We did have arguments, I wanted her to quit that job because it took so much out of her. She'd been sick off and on since Tempest was born, tonsillitis, mono, and then pneumonia, one on top of the other for a good three years.  But it was more than that, she was like a bird in a cage."

His voice trailed off, but then he spoke ferociously, "But she would never steal, never. They never had enough evidence to charge her. As soon as the police said it was ok, she left. And I thought she needed space and time and rest I didn't try to stop her. I let her out of the cage but I thought she'd come back. She never did."
 
He stopped talking and Trixie discovered that the music from the rink could penetrate up to the office. The Macarena was playing and Trixie strained to retrieve a memory. Something about a bracelet. She struggled to push her guilt away and focus. Something about bracelets.... She squeezed her eyes shut as Bill continued.
 
"She did back in touch with me. Eventually. Naturally she wanted to know how Tempest was doing, and, we, we talked on the phone sometimes. We were, well, civilized, friendly even. I mean she even teases me now, but... well, she never came back."

Things were quiet in Mr. Lynch's office after Bill's voice faded away. The music from the rink stopped and someone on the loud speaker was announcing the public skate session was over. Trixie's mind barely registered these sounds, she was remembering: amazed, doubting, and sure all at once.

"No way!" she exclaimed, "I's just coincidence, it can't be!" She was on her knees behind the desk, her hands were rummaging frantically through her briefcase.

"No way what?" Bill was exclaiming. It sunk in that she was being rude, he'd poured his heart out to her, but she had to know, and he had to know. She'd been in a hurry this morning, she'd thrown all the missing person files in her briefcase this morning, was it still here?

"Trixie? Trixie? What's going on?" Bill was crouching next to her. Hopefully Mr. Lynch would not walk in and see them hunched like gorillas behind his desk.

Aha! Here was the file. She jerked it out and her breathing was fast as she pulled out a photograph and handed it to Bill. "Is that Annie?" she asked almost in a whisper.

"Where did you -  Oh my God, it's her, it's her, where did you get this?" He stared at the photograph a man named Clive had given her weeks ago.

"Are you sure? You said you haven't seen her for twenty years, is it really her? " Trixie was almost shouting. Bill sounded prayerful as he said,

"She looks good, she looks so good, healthy and happy, Oh my God, it's Annie."

It took a while for Bill to recover from the emotional shock. As calmly as she could, Trixie told how Mr. Clive had asked her to trace this "customer," claiming that she had stolen some bracelets from his antique shop in Colorado Springs.

"He sent me the store's security video which was much clearer than this picture. I saw the bag she has on her back has a picture of Winnie the Pooh and the name of a children's bookstore. They knew her there, spoke highly of her, had a California address for her. I gave it to Mr. Clive, but I told him I didn't think she was the thief. I just had that feeling."

Bill touched the photograph of his ex-wife gently. "Sheldon Clive was Annie's boss. He owned one antique store in those days, but now he has a chain, 'Aunt Ellen's Attic.' He was the one who accused her. We had been good friends till the jewelry turned up missing.   Ellen and Shelden Clive got divorced right about the same time Annie left." He jerked himself back from the past and looked puzzled. "But that was 20 years ago, why would he come to your agency now? Did he say it happened years ago? How did he get this picture?"

"He said it happened in January of this year. As for the rest, I don’t know," Trixie told him grimly, "but I'm going to find out. And Bill,"

He looked dazed, "Yes, Trixie?"

"This is a wonderful clue. We know where Annie was this year, we know she is a customer of this bookstore. We just might be able to trace her after all.” The meeting had been considerably rougher that she’d expected (to put it mildly) but at least she had the pleasure of seeing his face light up.

Later, after accepting his thanks, his embarrassed apologies, after reminding him this was still just the beginning, after saying good bye and promising to keep him posted on every step, finally, Trixie was alone. “I will never play with fire like that again,” she vowed as she sank into Mr. Lynch’s chair.  Her plan had worked, but at a cost to her conscience that she never expected.

How could she have been so callous to Tempest? She remembered his face when he said good bye, quiet and composed, just a little pale, but she should have known. She shuddered and covered her hot face with her cool hands.

Poor Tempest. I’ve ruined his life and I never even knew it.

 Chapter 26

He felt he couldn't hold Ana close enough or kiss her long enough, but she didn't seem to mind. She swayed closer to him and a stab of pure joy shot through him. He struggled for common sense, making out ten yards from a guy who’d tried to kidnap her was kind of stupid. At least they were out of sight of the scumbag, behind a convenient Eucalyptus tree.

With a superhuman effort, he pulled back and looked at Ana.  He had a sudden vision of her almost tearful announcement that she was a coward. Yeah right. She'd attacked Judson with a rock, instead of leaving him to kick the crap out Tempest. And yet here she was smiling up at him, looking feminine, adorable, sweet.

He wanted to fold her into his arms again, but there was work to be done. They didn't need much discussion to decide that she would call 911 from the lighthouse while Tempest stayed with Judson to: A) make sure he didn’t need a dose of his heart medication and B) make sure he didn't get away. He had a hell of a lot of questions to answer, after all. Tempest blew a kiss to Ana, and she smiled vaguely at him, leaving him to wonder (worry) how she felt about him.

Smiling himself, he limped back to Judson, who looked remarkably well for a guy who’d been clutching at his heart five minutes ago. They had insisted he lie down and propped his head up with Tempest's sweatshirt (He would have to throw it away now) Tempest was not completely surprised that as soon as Judson saw him, he launched into speech. 
 
"Look, Tempest, it was all just a joke, that gun wasn't even loaded, I just needed to talk to her, that's all."
 
Tempest restrained himself from kicking the “sick” man in the rear end. "The police will find out if it was loaded, but either way you're looking at some serious jail time."
 
"What? Is there a law against a reporter researching a story?"
 
Tempest made no effort to stop Judson from sitting up. "Is that what you call it? I think in the states, they call it kidnapping."
 
"Kidnapping!" If Tempest didn't know better he would think Judson's astonishment was genuine. "I wasn't kidnapping her, I just wanted to talk to her!"
 
“Does your editor know the way you research a story is to grab a woman and drag her away kicking and screaming?" Tempest's rage and his terror for Ana surged anew, and it took all his strength to keep from driving his fist into that pale, pudgy face.
 
"I know, I know, I shouldn't of done that, but I knew your mom didn't want to talk to me, she's been running from us for 20 years, and I just needed a chance."
 
"My mom!" Tempest couldn't hold back an exclamation.
 
"Yeah, yeah, I screwed up big time. I thought the lady in the hood was your mom, not your, um, well," Judson actually had the nerve to leer, "Well, I didn't know she was your girlfriend. Geez, you know how to pick some winners, Tempest, first a gorgeous French redhead, then a beautiful American brunette. So what's her name, are you guys, ahem, close?"
 
Tempest's mind was reeling but all he really knew is that he couldn't punch an old guy with a bad heart, no matter how much he deserved it. He clenched his teeth and Judson foolishly took that as an invitation to assess Ana's charms.
 
"Yeah, if I was a young guy, I gotta admit, I wouldn't mind making off with a girl like that, wow, whatta babe." Judson's voice faded suddenly at Tempest's expression and he sounded subdued as he added lamely, "Yeah, well, um, anyway, I was just looking to talk with your mom, maybe do a story, is all."
 
"This is not helping your case, Judson." The words were tight in his throat. "Telling me you meant to kidnap my mother does not make me feel exactly forgiving, you got that?"
 
Judson shrugged and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. The sight of Judson, complacently (and stupidly) smoking, was going to drive him to violent action any minute now. Without a word, he limped toward the bushes where the gun had disappeared. Might as well see if he could find it. Angry as he was, he couldn't shake the feeling Judson was telling the truth about it not being loaded.
 
It didn't take too much effort to find the weapon. It was just a hunk of metal lying in the dust under the prickly, fragrant branches. It looked exactly like the one Julie almost used on him.
 
Lost in thought, he didn't realize at first that he was rubbing the scar on his jaw.   When he did, he swore, turned back toward Judson and nearly bumped into Ana.
 
He scanned her anxiously, but even in his worried state, she looked beautiful.  She had washed the blood from her face and his anxious eyes saw a cut and some bruising, but no swelling. Relief washed over him as the sun broke through the fog and a light breeze moved a few strands of her hair across her forehead. He was leaning forward when the breeze carried cigarette smoke to them, breaking the spell.
 
"How about him, is he ok?" Ana asked, not particularly anxiously.
 
"I guess. Can you believe the guy, smoking a week after having a heart attack?"
 
“Who is he? You said you knew him. Why did he, he want to kidnap me?" Her voice was steady, but he forgot his inhibitions as he pulled her close and told her how he'd met Judson in his hospital room and who Judson's intended victim was.
 
Her eyes were huge and her next speech shocked him to the core, "I should have known. Oh Tempest, I should have known. I saw him yesterday at the festival and he was asking about TC. I thought he was weird, but, you know, just regular weird. Not kidnapping weird!"
 
"You saw him yesterday! What, when was this? Why didn't you tell me?" He was actually sputtering and he stepped back, right on a loose rock, which didn't help the savage throb in his knee.  He stumbled, she caught his arm and they both almost went down. After they had steadied each other and he had bit back a few choice words, she told him about her encounter with Judson yesterday.
 
"I meant to tell you," she moaned, “But then we found the bracelets and, and, I am just, clueless, I always have been." His jaw dropped as she said a bad word. She said it as if it were unfamiliar to her, she said it quietly, but she definitely said it. Then her eyes welled up and she said, "TC is in danger and it's all my fault."
 
"She's not in danger," he corrected her as he wiped a lone tear from her cheek.
 
Her eyes went from sad to angry in a flash. "Are you completely heartless? You said that man wanted to kidnap her! You don't consider that danger?"
 
"She's not in danger because he thought she was here. She's not in danger because no one knows where she is!" He laughed shortly. "And now we know why she left. She wasn't mad at me, she knew he was going to come after her. Dad sent her the article he wrote about me. It said I was going to visit her in Seattle. So she took off. She's safe because no one knows where she is."
 
The morning was getting brighter. A bunch of seagulls were screeching overhead. Ana was perfectly still. When she finally spoke, he could barely hear her. "I might know where she is, Tempest."

Once again, she astonished him. She put a finger under his chin and closed his mouth, then touched the scar on his jaw. He tensed as she gently traced a line from the scar to his mouth. The morning was clean and bright and her finger on his mouth felt like it was washing away every bad moment of the last year. He swallowed and kissed her fingertip.
 
Naturally Judson ruined the moment. Now he was coughing, a real smoker's hack and the gentle wind was carrying the revolting sound directly to them. Tempest hated Judson more for ruining the moment than for any of his other crimes.
 
"We have to find out why he is after Mom." His voice was shaking, but Ana didn't seem to notice. She tilted her head, considered, and tossed her hair. "Maybe we can find out why. Have you ever played good cop, bad cop?”

Good cop, bad cop? A second ago he wanted to kill, but now he found himself laughing. She hadn’t waited for an answer, she was already standing over Judson who stubbed out his cigarette. He looked fine, even satisfied. But hopefully not for long. Tempest assumed he’d be “the bad cop.” Not too much of stretch.
 
"The cops are on the way,” he announced harshly. "We're going up to the road to meet them. You're welcome to try and run out on us. Dropping dead from a heart attack is the only way you're going to escape prison, so feel free."
 
"Tempest!" Ana's eyes were shocked, her voice suitably outraged. "He's a sick man! We can't just leave him here."
 
He grabbed her by the shoulders, "He tried to kidnap you! He's lucky I didn't toss him off the nearest cliff! I still might." Tempest took what he hoped was a menacing, if slightly unsteady, step toward the recumbent reporter.
 
It seemed to work. "Wait, Tempest, please, I, I need to talk to you, I don't want to go to jail, ask the cops, they'll tell you it wasn't loaded!" That squawk of panic was music to Tempest’s ears. Judson continued, "I just wanted to talk to your mom, that's all, just talk!"
 
Tempest couldn't meet Ana's eyes as she said, "Don't worry Mr. Jenson, he's not really going to do it. But he's right, you tried to kidnap me and you are going to jail."
 
"Why are you even talking to this scum?" Tempest growled. "We shouldn't have even bothered to call the paramedics."
 
She put her hands on her hips and glared at him convincingly. "He is a human being and he's sick," she scolded convincingly.

Judson smirked, then his face fell as she continued, "even if he is pond scum. You lie back Mr. Jenson, and don't worry. The paramedics are coming along with the police. Don't talk right now."
 
"Ok, Miss, but the name's Judson, Terry Judson. I'm a reporter. I was just doing research! This is all a misunderstanding! "
 
Tempest narrowed his eyes. "A misunderstanding the cops can straighten out."
 
Ana chided Judson, "Well if that's the truth, you acted foolishly. You scared me to death and you probably put yourself into the hospital. No research is worth that."
 
"Yeah but, see, this is the big time. Tempest's mom, well, every time I saw Tempest skating on TV I'd say to myself, 'Man, his Mom's got a fortune in stolen jewelry.' "
 
"Wow," Ana breathed. Her eyes were violet again and Tempest wondered idly if she could do that at will, as she exclaimed, "But TC doesn't have any jewelry!"
 
The journalist swore. "Are you sure? You never saw any?"
 
Tempest broke in, "She's not going to tell you anything. Why don't you just lie down and shut up?"
 
Ana shot him a dirty look reminiscent of her glares the day they met.  Sweet memories.

"He's right, Mr. Jensen, I mean, Mr. Judson," Ana corrected herself. "You should rest. I can't imagine why you would think TC steal jewelry, though. She's a free spirit, she isn't interested in material things."
 
Judson was mesmerized by Ana's wide eyes and he walked willingly into the trap. "Well, yeah, that surprised me too.  She was kind of a hippie wannabe before you were born, Tempest, singing folk songs at a vegetarian restaurant in Vermont when she met your dad. I interviewed a lot of her old friends and they were all surprised that she would steal. But they all knew her marriage was doomed, married to this stuffy conservative type, and maybe she needed the money. You'd think she'd of cooked the books, since she was the accountant there, but no, she pockets the jewels and takes off. Impulsive you know, she's the impulsive type."
 
Tempest's hands were in fists. It would be easy to be the bad cop here except he couldn't speak.  Ana's pink nails were digging into her palms, too but she managed to sound perplexed as she asked, "Did she work in a jewelry store?"
 
"No, no, an antique store. The collection were insured up the wazoo, of course. Probably for more than they were worth, but Sheldon Clive's not a guy who likes to be crossed. He wanted the jewelry and I wanted the story, but we could never trace her." Judson sounded aggrieved. "But, geez, how do you trace a lady who has about 25 different names, all legal! Anne Smith, Annie Smith, Tiffany Smith, Tiffany Lovelace. Kris Smith. Sometimes it was Smith Lovelace, and sometimes it was Lovelace Smith. We gave up after a couple of years, but when I see you in the hospital and you flat out tell me you're visiting her, I figure it's our chance. I missed you in Seattle, saw you on TV and her too, for cryin' out loud, I never get any breaks. And then out of the blue, he, I mean, I get a tip to where your mom lived. After all these years, too! The fickle finger of fate, I guess." Judson shook his head at fate while Tempest felt an unexpected and totally inappropriate urge to laugh.
 
"Why do you think TC would talk to you?" Ana patted Judson's hand and looked at him from under her lashes and he swallowed visibly.
 
"Well, I didn't, of course. But I thought she might like it better than me writing a big front page story about the Olympic Champion's mom abandoning him as a baby and taking to jewelry theft.”
 
In the distance, the siren wailed.
 
Ana’s perfect teeth were exposed by her snarl and she abandoned her "good cop" act. “I have to go meet the police at the road. Unless you do want to throw this pond scum over the cliff. I'll be glad to help with that."
 
"We'll let the police handle it. I think you get 20 years for kidnapping." Tempest's words were catching in his throat, so he took Ana's  arm and they walked up the dirt road, ignoring Judson's pleas to "put in a good word for him."
 
The sirens were getting louder and Ana said subdued, "I'll run ahead. You knee is still hurting you."
 
She looked exhausted and he put his arm around her. "No, wait a minute, Diana, My-Ana We have to talk. We have to figure this out."
 
She leaned on him gratefully. "It's been a rough morning, hasn't it?"
 
"It hasn't been all bad. You were great." A blush rose on her high cheek bones and he added hastily, "You were a great ‘good cop’. "
 
“Well, you were a good ‘bad cop’.”  They both laughed, but he could feel her panic underneath it as she continued, "I guess we have to tell the police about the jewelry we found now."
 
He had been prepared for this and spoke firmly. “No way. Not with that story Judson is telling. Not yet."
 
"Tempest, obviously your mother didn't take that stuff, the police can clear her name!"
 
"How can they clear her name when she is in possession of the damn stuff? If we tell them, they would have no choice but to go after her."
 
Ana stared at him as if he were a worm. "You think she took it, don't you? Because she abandoned you, like Judson said."
 
"Of course I don't," he gritted his teeth. Was she the most maddening woman he'd ever met? He tried to make her see. "Of course I don't think that! I'm just trying to be logical. Trying to see what the police will see. The jewelry disappears at the same time Mom did, she's been on the run for 20 years and now some of the jewelry appears hidden in her puppets? They won't have a choice." She jerked away from him and was almost running up the hill. He took one running step and groaned. It was humiliating and infuriating to have to call for her to wait.
 
She stopped and turned. She was halfway up the sloping dirt road and he was reminded of his fancy that she was a princess in a tower.
 
"Please, Ana. Let's find Mom first. Please. We'll tell the police, just not right now. You said you thought you knew where she was! Please, Ana."
 
The sirens were louder now and she said brusquely, "I have to go up there. You go back down to Judson."
 
He was going to say something, he wasn't sure what, but the chill in her voice stopped him. "Just leave me alone, ok?" She turned again and starting running up the dirt road to the police car.
 
Oh God, what had he done?

To Be Continued

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