Standard Disclaimer: The characters of Xena, Gabrielle, and Ares belong to other folks, not me. Renaissance Pictures/MCA and Rob Tapert have all the ownership rights. I invented a few other characters for this story; they are mine. Don’t imagine anyone else wants them.

Violence Disclaimer: Yep it’s here this time. There is a homicidal maniac running loose in this story. He is a very twisted individual, and takes great pleasure in hurting other defenseless people. I have tried to keep the gore and graphic description to a minimum, but it’s there. Attn: This story contains non-consensual sex, rape. Again, I have kept the descriptions as non-graphic as possible, and as brief as possible, but again it’s there. If this type of subject matter bothers and/or offends you, by all means move on and read something else.

Sex/Language: Stace and Becca are still together, and they are still very much in love. They express that love in a physical way, and sometimes very graphically. Therefore, if you are not at least 21, or you live in a state or province where this type of depiction is not legal, go away; read something else. Probably, it wouldn’t be a good idea to read this at work; you might lose your Internet privileges.

Hurt/Comfort: Things don’t go really very smoothly here. This is real life, and sometimes bad things happen that people don’t deserve. There is some angst here, but hopefully it won’t last long. I would like to think my stories contain a whole lot of hope to go with the hurt.

This is the fourth story in the ‘Lost and Found’ series. All of these stories are connected, so if you haven’t read ‘Loss’, ‘Recovery’, or ‘A Bad Penny’ this story won’t make any sense. I don’t know where this will go, I’ve been thinking about taking a little break. Please let me know if you want this to continue, or we can end it here. Your support and constructive criticism really have touched me. You are certainly welcome to heap praise profusely. The addy is fantasy@clarkston.com. Now let’s get on with it.

Put the Demons to Rest

by

Fantasy

October 3, 2000

Chapter 1: Security September, 2000

I arrived home is a state of near exhaustion. Becca had some work to do at the gallery, and said she’d be home around 6:30pm. On the drive home, I kept asking myself how could this be happening and what did I have to do to put the past behind me and leave it there? I had made the decision, over my angel’s objections to increase, and update the security at the house. Gil suggested we use Bryan Fergusen, who handled the security systems at the trauma center, and was coincidentally an ex-marine. I called Bryan and he, Becca, Gil and I had a serious conversation about the threat that Faraday posed. He said he’d have no problem setting up a system that would meet our needs. We made an appointment for him to come over to the house at 7:30 this evening and check the layout of our home, grounds, and beach area. Margie would have puppies about having to put up with all the new fangled electronic equipment. Her attitude would change quickly when I tell her it was for protecting Syd and Becca from Faraday.

I drove into the garage, and noticed Ange’s bike was out front. From such inauspicious beginnings, Ange and our Syd had become best friends. Even Doug Flannery, Ange’s dad had finally come around to at least acknowledging our right to live this lifestyle if we chose. I wouldn’t go as far as saying he’d be seen at any gay right’s parades, but he at least was trying to be open-minded. He even decked a guy at the kid’s softball game for calling Becca a dyke. I can’t say I condoned the violence, but I had to admit I was ready to do the same. Yeah the ol’ redneck ain’t half bad once ya get to know him. Anyway, Ange spent just as much time at our house as she did at her own, and vice versa. I walked into the house, and was greeted by Margie’s less than smiling face. Great now I have to tell her about the new security when she’s in a bad mood. Hey look at it this way, it won’t make any difference one way or another then. Ya got a point there. Of course. I thought a little Irish blarney might help. Dreamer.

"And how is the best cook in all the world this fine day?" Margie’s expression never changed. Oh hell!

"Don’t you try to sweet talk me. You go out there right now and do something about those two girls." I looked in the direction Margie’s arm, under my nose, was pointing.

"What’d they do?" I figured the interested, concerned parent act would work in my favor. No such luck.

"Don’t you take that condescending tone with me. Your daughters…the plural form of daughter wasn’t lost on me… are out there using those flea bitten mongrels you call watchdogs as pillows. Do you have any idea the vermin they can collect in their hair? Get your medical butt out there and do something about it, now." I’d see if I could assuage the woman’s anger.

"Look Margie, those dogs are cleaner than most people." Margie was not convinced.

"They live outside in the dirt. How clean can they be?" Okay, I give up.

"Margie, calm yourself, if it will make you feel better, I’ll take care of it." Hey this could work. Give a little get a little. What spaceship did you just fly in on?

"Listen Margie. We had a little incident at the center today. Faraday paid us a visit today. He didn’t do much, just ranted and raved and made some idle threats. But there’s no sense in taking chances, so Bryan Fergusen will…" I filled Margie in on the discussion Gil, the security expert, and I had this afternoon. "…be here around 7:30 tonight."

"Well that no good… You just let that damned abuser come around here and he’ll have to deal with me. Why I’ll use my rolling pin upside his head." Right on Marge! I’ll hold the sob for you.

"Well irregardless, I want you to cooperate with Bryan; don’t be giving him a hard time. I imagine he and his technicians will be here the better part of a week installing the security system. So don’t give him any grief." Margie looked at me like she was really offended.

"Me? Mac, how could you say such a thing? I don’t give people grief unless they bother me first. You know I’m a very agreeable person." I just groaned and stuck my head in the fridge and extracted a Corona.

"I’ll be outside, tell Becca where I am when she gets home, please." Margie nodded and went back to fixing dinner.

"And you do something about the girls and those mangy dogs." Yes ma’am.

I headed out through the solarium to find Syd and Ange with the two dogs laying in the yard listening to CD’s and looking at teen magazines. They were totally oblivious to my presence and the dogs weren’t any more alert. The girls were using my mutts as canine pillows. Each dog provided a headrest for their human counterparts. I sauntered over and bent down and kissed my daughter on the head.

"Hey, what’s up girls?" Sydnee removed her headphones and jumped up and launched herself in my direction, throwing her arms around my neck, and giving me a big hug.

"Hey kiddo, take it easy; I’m an old woman ya know." Truer words were never spoken. Who asked you? "What was that for?" My suspicious nature began scratching at the edges of my conscious mind.

"Oh no reason, Mom. I’m just glad things are back to normal around here." Why do I have a problem with this? Because you are such a miserable cynic, that’s why.

"Hey c’mon, I didn’t just roll in off the ‘tater truck’ y’know." Both girls looked at each other.

"Told ya this wouldn’t work. Mom’s too suspicious." Syd slapped Ange upside the head playfully.

"Yeah, don’t work at my house either. But, hey, it was worth a try." Ange admitted. The girls looked shamefaced and I knew then that I’d probably give in to whatever they wanted.

"Look you know how I feel about being honest. No games okay? Just spit it out. Whatever you want, just ask." I was afraid I’d be sorry no matter what, but hey.

"Well Ange and I wanted to go to the Brittiny Spears concert in two weeks. It’s at the LA Coliseum. There will be four of us: Jenny Gray, Kylie Johnson, Ange and I." It’s during the day, so we wouldn’t be out after dark and Kylie’s folks will drive us down and pick us up. Please Mom?"

"Yeah coach. We won’t let no guys pick us up either. I got my mace, and I’ll nail them." Of that I have no doubt. A bit butch ain’t she? That was rude. Yeah, your point is? I hated to disappoint my little girl, but…

"God guys, I don’t know. Your mother and I will have to talk this over." As if on cue, Becca came out onto the patio.

"Talk about what?" My baby leaned down and kissed me hello. She stood behind me and leaned over my shoulders. Her breasts pressed temptingly into my shoulder and her arms and hands rested on my chest.

"The kids want to go to the Brittany Spears concert weekend after next." My wife shifted her position slightly so she could look in my eyes.

"And what do you say?" Well at least I wouldn’t have to lie.

"I didn’t say anything; they just now asked." My angel looked the girls over then asked.

"Who all’s going? How are you getting to and from?" So the girls explained the whole thing over and Ange put in her two cents about security arrangements.

My angel looked at me in question. I shrugged my shoulders. Oh that’s decisive! Shut up, I don’t see you with a degree in child rearing.

"What do you think? Do you think now is a good time to have Syd out without protection?" God I didn’t want to have this conversation. Syd peered at us both, confusion apparent on her face.

"Mom, Mother. What’s going on?"

How do you tell your child you’re a target? That because of something you did, your family is in danger. How do you tell your child, who thinks you can do no wrong, that she couldn’t go to a concert because she might be harmed in some way? How do you become a virtual prisoner in your own home, entrapped by gadgets and gizmos to keep all the crazies out? God I hate this. I looked at the three faces turned to me waiting for an answer. Sometimes being the head of the household really sucks. You’re telling me!

"Baby, Ange I don’t think now is a very good time to be out where your mother or I can’t be there to protect you." Sydnee was speechless. "Girls, there is a man who has made threats to harm me. He didn’t say how, but the easiest way to hurt me, or make me suffer is to hurt your mum or you. I’d die if anything happened to either of you." It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was causing problems, but Sydnee certainly was, and she jumped on the culprit without any prompting.

"It’s that bastard Faraday isn’t it?" Her use of the expletive drew her mother’s wrath instantly.

"Sydnee Renee, watch your mouth." Syd dropped her head and mumbled an apology.

"Sorry mother." Then Ange popped in.

"Hey Syd did you tell your folks about the guy you thought you saw up on the hill the other day?" Instant panic gripped me.

"When? What guy? What is Ange talking about Syd?" Syd looked at her mother and I and for the first time in her young life, I saw fear in her eyes. Tears leaked from my daughter’s eyes and my heart broke.

"C’mere baby." I opened my arms to her and held her close to me just as I did when she was five and fell from her bike on her first solo ride.

"Mom I’m so sorry. I should have told you. But I only saw him for just a second." My little girl’s tears were drying up and the spasms from the sobs stopped so she could continue. I soothed her with my hands stroking her hair and rocking her back and forth.

"Honey, it’s okay. Don’t ever blame yourself for this. Can you tell me about it? Try to remember all you can." My little girl sat up and took a deep breath to steady herself.

"Well Ange and her folks and I were getting the volleyball court set up. I felt kinda funny; y’know like someone was watching me. I stopped what I was doing and turned around. Then I saw a flash, like sun glinting off metal. I looked up on the bluff and saw a man watching me from up there. Then Ange called to me; but when I looked back, the guy was gone." Suddenly I felt rage build deep inside me. I felt invaded. I felt sick to my stomach that someone was watching us: my Becca, my child, and our friends. Faraday you son of a bitch. I’ll kill you before I let you harm my family. You bastard you mess with me and mine, and I’ll see you dead. My angel asked the next question.

"Honey can you tell us what he looked like? Describe him as best you can. I will try to draw a sketch of him, and maybe one of us will recognize him." My lover got up and went to get her sketchpad and pencil. When she returned, she sat down next to Syd while the rest of us crowded around and behind her on the couch.

"Okay mother. I’ll try, but I only got a glimpse of him. Um he was dark: his hair and skin."

"You mean black, like an African-American?" Ange asked.

"No, more like mother, black straight hair, and suntanned." Wait a minute! This doesn’t sound anything like Faraday. Hey so that doesn’t mean he’s not involved. Maybe he hired someone. While the girls were describing what they saw, I began to pace. The doorbell rang, and I glanced at my watch: hmm 6:50. Too early for Bryan. The next thing I heard was Margie’s screeching.

"You dirty scumbag! What do you think you’re doing comin’ ‘round here? I’ll see you in hell before I let you hurt my family." Yo Marge; you go gal, you go. I rushed to the door where I found Margie beating the crap out of Faraday’s helpless form with her broom. I thought about letting her continue, but I wanted a little myself. Faraday was yelling for someone to pull the crazy woman off him.

"Damn, this woman’s tryin’ ta kill me." What’dya expect comin’ around here anyway, jerk. I picked Faraday up by the front of his shirt ready to beat him to a pulp.

"You bastard what do you want here? Becca call Kyle; I want this bastard arrested."

"I’ll make the call." Margie was gone in an instant.

"Just give me enough time to hurt him a little." Becca was concerned, in my mood; I could really kill this scum.

"Babe remember he isn’t worth you ruining your life for." Yeah I know. What ya mean ya aren’t gonna hit him? Man you’re getting soft in your old age.

"Get in here asshole, and if you so much as twitch, I’ll bury you." Becca always the voice for calm asked the obvious question, that in my rage I failed to put words to.

"Stace don’t you think it would be a good idea to find out why he’s here? After all, coming here in broad daylight and ringing the bell doesn’t sound like the kind of thing a crazy person who intends to harm us would do." God I hate when she’s right.

"All right Faraday, what are you doing here?" I’ll bet this is going to be good.

"I come here to make m’peace with y’all. I done some pretty bad things in m’time both in and outta jail. But I’m dyin’ now and I’ll pro’ly burn in hell for what I done. But I wanted ta say I was sorry for what I done ta y’all and I come ta warn ya." I was ready to put my fist through this man’s face. Go ahead, works for me.

"If that’s true, what were you doing spying on us from up on the bluffs." Faraday looked truly confused. Like that should surprise you? The guy only has two working brain cells.

"I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout. I ain’t been spying on nobody. I swear ta God." I looked into the man’s eyes, and had trouble finding any deceit. Oh please, don’t tell me you believe this lying piece of shit? The decision was made for me.

"I don’t think this is the man I saw mom. This guy looks small and sick. The other guy was big and didn’t have gray hair. This couldn’t have been the man." I turned to look in my little girl’s eyes.

"Sweetheart are you sure; this is really important." My Sydnee’s gaze never wavered.

"I’m sure mom. He’s not the man." That still doesn’t mean he didn’t have something to do with it. Hello, get a clue smartass. Just then the doorbell rang, and there stood Kyle and Bryan.

"What’s going on? Margie said you were about to kill someone." Kyle gasped for breath. Hey the evening’s young. There’s always hope.

"Hardly, although the thought had crossed my mind to seriously maim someone. C’mon in. Hi Bryan, looks like you got here when just all the fun is starting." Both men followed me into the living room.

Faraday looked small, harmless, and quite alone in the presence of my family and the two men. I started to explain Faraday’s presence and the man Sydnee saw on the bluff just a few days ago. I told Kyle about our suspicions of Faraday’s involvement with the man and his spying on us.

"I’m dying. By the time ya catch the guy and go ta trial, I’ll pro’ly be dead. I could jest stay quiet and I get my revenge. But it ain’t worth it no more. And 'sides that guy is one sick, whacko son of a bitch." Oh isn’t that just the end. Guess this guy would know.

"I bought this guy to kill the doc. When I was in the joint I did shit for Maletti. I tol’ him what I wanted was ta get ta y’all. He put up the money and gave me the name of a man that would do the job. He’d do it for next ta nothin’ cause he has a thing for the doc’s bitch and kid. The only catch was I got ta watch." Without warning, I launched myself on the sorry piece of shit. I began beating him mercilessly. This bastard hired someone to hurt my family, and me, and watch while some sicko did the job. Kyle and Bryan pulled me off the man kicking and screaming. Then Kyle took over the questioning.

"Listen Faraday, you’re on really thin ice here; tell me the guy’s name before I turn her loose and let her finish your miserable life." Faraday squirmed in his seat.

"John Smith." Oh gimmed a break; even I could do better than that! I wanted to ring the scumbag’s neck.

"If you think you’re being funny, you’re wrong. No one here is the least bit amused." Kyle stopped me before I could do any real damage.

"Calm down Mac. He’s telling you the truth. A good hit man wouldn’t run the risk of giving out his real name for fear of getting caught. We’ll take Faraday down to the precinct and have him look through some of the mug shots." Then Sydnee came up with an idea.

"Wait! If he knows what the man looks like, Mother can draw a picture of him. Then we’d save time." As much as I hated to have this dirt bag in my house any longer than necessary, Syd was right.

"Okay, Becca can you do this?" My angel nodded emphatically.

"Of course I can." Kyle nodded.

"Good, let’s get to it."

We all gathered in Becca’s studio where Becca began to create a likeness of the man who had been stalking us. Faraday was very specific about the man’s appearance. He explained in great detail every characteristic of the man who called himself John Smith. Becca’s hand flew over the paper making the blank page come to life. With each stroke of the pencil, I could sense an uneasiness grow in my angel. Finally, the sketch was finished. There on the page was the picture of Kyle’s suspect.

"Oh my God, it can’t be." As quickly as Becca’s exclamation was out of her mouth, she fled the room. Kyle studied the picture intently.

"Jesus H. Christ, I don’t believe this." Everyone’s gaze was transfixed on the picture as though by some magic spell cast by some sorceress. I didn’t hang around to look at the picture; I went in search of my angel.

Chapter 2: Satan Incarnate Jan 3, 1977

I found Becca huddled on our bed curled up into a ball sobbing quietly. I slipped up to the bed, and sat down on the edge. Hesitantly, I reached out to touch her shoulder. I brushed the hair away from my wife’s face and noticed the pallid, ghostly appearance of her normally golden tanned skin. I placed my hand further on my lover’s back and rubbed the skin there tenderly. I waited until she was ready to tell me what troubled her so about the man depicted in the sketch. I didn’t want to push her; I only wanted to convey to my lady how much I loved her and was here for her to do whatever I could to make her pain go away. Finally, she spoke.

"Please baby, lay with me, hold me. I need you, I need your strength right now." I reached over my lover and lifted the covers on the bed. I slid in next to my lover and spooned her body to mine. It never ceased to amaze me how much leg extended down past mine. What’s so amazing? You’re short; she’s tall. Hello! I covered both of us with the comforter, and held my wife. After a time, Becca stopped crying and was able to speak.

"God it’s been such a long time. I never told you; about Grayson Fowler, that’s the name he used. Harley stopped him, and I never saw him again. I thought the nightmare was over. I guess I was wrong…"

"Damn I wish you didn’t have to go back home tomorrow." Stace whispered in my ear as she nibbled teasingly on my ear. It was time for me to go back to California and UCLA for the beginning of the spring semester. I was nearly finished with my masters, and then Stace and I could be together forever, no more separations, no more living apart.

Stace held me close to her stroking my naked back and brushing my sweaty bangs away from my face. Our lovemaking had been furious, lustful, and powerful. I was simply astounded at times the way my wife could one minute be so ferocious and demanding in bed, and the next minute be so solicitous, caring, soothing, and loving. She brought me to the heights of passion to the point where I was afraid I would die if she didn’t stop touching me and at the same time afraid I’d die if she did.

"Thank you my love." I kissed the breast I was lying on, and snuggled deeper into my wife’s embrace.

"What did I do to warrant such a nice thank you?" I kissed Stace again, but this time I added a little lick and suck encouraging the nipple to become hard and erect.

"I’m thanking you because I love the way you make me feel when we make love. You always make me feel so special." I returned to my ministrations on my love’s breast.

"You are special. Ummm, I love it when you kiss me there. Oh hell I love it when you kiss me anywhere. Wanna do it some more?" I didn’t have any time to answer because my wife simply wrapped her arms around me and flipped me over on my back, with her body covering mine.

"Hmmm, I love the way you smell, my love. I love the way you feel. I love the way your body responds to my touch." Stace placed small, wet kisses all over my face and neck. She ran her tongue all around the outside of my ear, and then invaded my oral orifice with her wet muscle. She began thrusting in and out, simulating the same rhythm she would soon be doing elsewhere.

"God baby I can’t get enough of you. I want to make long, slow, gentle love to you." My baby began to move over my body with feather light caresses that were driving me crazy.

"Hmm I love you baby, but please, not too slow and gentle. I need you so much." I could feel, more than hear my wife chuckle as she covered my ribcage with gentle kisses.

"Are you saying you want hot, rough, passionate sex?" The touches my lover made on my skin became more forceful, more demanding. God my lover could be so frustrating. What’dya expect? Look in the dictionary to find frustrating, you’ll find her picture.

"Oh baby please, somewhere in the middle would be fine." My Stace looked into my eyes and I saw a glint of debauchery there. She smiled evilly.

"How about this middle?" I gasped, as I felt strong, but gentle fingers stroking my sex. Oh if felt so good.

"Yes my love, just like that, please don’t stop. God I love the way you love me. More please." My wife didn’t miss a beat; she kept me on the edge for what seemed like an eternity exploring my nether regions. When she added her low sexy voice to the mix, I thought I’d die simply from the sounds.

"You like this don’t you my angel. You like feeling my fingers stroking you, playing in your wet folds. And you are wet my angel. So wet and warm on my fingers. Tell me baby, do you like my fingers touching you like this, loving you?" Damn this woman was so good. Frustrating, good? God woman, make up your mind. I grabbed handfuls of bed covers to keep myself grounded. Stace was in one of her moods, and I knew this loving torture would go on and on before she gave me my release. God! Such magnificent torture!

"Fuck Stace, yes! It feels so good! Please I want you inside me now, please!" My lover showed no signs of changing her tactics anytime soon; and as much as said so.

"Mmmm, I don’t think so. I love the feel of your swollen, puffy lips, and your little clit sticking out from its hiding place. Maybe I’ll explore there for awhile. Hmmm? What do you think?" With that, my lover began stroking my burning clit back and forth with just the right amount of pressure. God she knows what I like.

"Ye—sss," I hissed "Hmmmm, that feels sooo…goooddd." While my love’s left hand was ravaging my sex, her right hand, mouth, and tongue were making love to my breasts. She sucked, licked, and nibbled my left breast, while she twisted and pinched my right with her fingers. "Stace, God baby, that feels so nice. Suck and bite me harder, please." Always one to try to please me, my wife applied herself dedicatedly to her task.

"Ungh, Ungh, yes my love, mmmm, suck me baby. Suck my tits; yes you feel so good. More baby more." I arched my back into my lover’s mouth trying to force the entire globe into her loving mouth. My wife sucked me like a child seeking sustenance from its mother. And suddenly without warning, I felt two fingers plunge deep into my straining cunt, and establish a forceful, loving stroking. Then, my baby straddled my hard thigh rubbing her wet throbbing pussy up and down my leg. Her nearly constant grunts and groans as she rode me drove me higher to the top of ecstasy. Just as I neared my climax, my baby slowed her ministrations.

"Dammit Stace, I need to cum, baby please, I am so close, God I want to cum so bad. Please baby, don’t make me wait." I closed my eyes, but just a quickly opened them again.

"No! Don’t close your eyes, or I’ll stop. I want to see you when you cum. I want to look into your eyes." Then once again, my lover changed tactics. She spread my legs wider to accommodate her hips between them. She separated our nether lips, and lowered her pussy to mine until our clits came together. Then she began a slow circular grinding motion with her hips. Our juices poured from each other’s cunts and mixed together in this dance of love.

"This is what I want baby, and I know you want it too, don’t you? Answer me, baby. Tell me how good this feels to you." I wasn’t sure I could form one coherent thought, let alone voice one.

"Ungh, yeah, yeah, oh yeah." My Stace smiled.

"I’ll take that as a yes." Stace supported herself on her forearms, and brought her lips to mine. She captured my mouth in a slow, passionate, and sloppy wet. She thrust her tongue in and out of me, fucking my mouth with her wet muscle, matching the rhythm her hips were setting. God this was so good, so sensual. "I love you my angel so much. Cum with me baby. Cum with me now."

We both increased the rhythm of our hips, thrusting into each other’s clinching cunts. I could feel my orgasm forming deep in my center like an earthquake spreading outward all along my extremities until I was totally encompassed by its power. Bright colors exploded before my eyes, and I could see my wife straining just as fiercely with her climax.

"Oh my angel. Feel it, feel us. This is us, loving each other, cumming together. Oh yeah baby your clit feels so good on mine. So---close---can’t---hold it. Becca, I’m cumming. Yesss Becca!!!" Just as my Stacey came, so did I.

"Stace, hold me baby!! I need you to hold me!! God I’m cummmiiinnngg!!!"

We both collapsed onto the bed, holding each other our centers still joined. My good doctor rolled us both over until she was on her back, and she held me, my head resting on her breast. This was the time in our love making we both loved almost more than the actual act itself. The afterglow was so wonderful; both of us totally sated and satisfied. We generally talked a little, before we fell asleep, about what we wanted for our future, and how much we loved each other.

"Honey, I love you so much, and being here with you feels so good, so right." I snuggled deeper into my lover’s body. There were more places to snuggle into. Stace’s build was such that her stocky muscular body had more muscle definition than my longer, leaner, sleeker runner’s type body. Although I carry more bulk than most true runners do. God I hope so, they all look anorexic. Thanks I think. I don’t know Stace just seems fluffier than I do. Fluffy? Smartass and fluffy? I think that’s a misnomer.

"You feel pretty good to me too. God I hate the thought of you having to leave tomorrow. Why can’t you do your masters program independent study? Then you could do it here. Have you thought about that? I miss you already. Of course, we did have a wonderful Christmas. Even the snow wasn’t so bad since you were here." My Stace kissed the top of my head, and then began raining tender little kisses all over my head, face, and neck. Then she started blowing little raspberries all over my neck just under my ears.

"Stace, God stop, stop please. Baby that tickles quit, please." My chuckles had turned to all out laughter. My lover gave me a few more licks for good measure before she relented and let me be.

"Okay, I’ll stop, but you’re just so damn cute when you get to laughing out loud." My lover took me up in her arms, and pulled the covers up over us. "We better get some sleep, you have an early flight tomorrow. We kissed each other sweetly, tenderly and let the arms of Morpheus take us to his land of dreams.

It seemed the early morning sun came all too soon to suit me, and Stace’s habit of rising with chickens was way too early for me. I could hear the shower running, and as much as I would have loved to go in there and share a little early morning delight, I just couldn’t get my body to agree with my mind. Smartass wore ya out huh? Sorta, and don’t call her samrtass. Listen to me, I’m talking to Stace’s little voice like she actually exists. I must be nuts. My lover sauntered into the bedroom wrapped only in a towel. She was vigorously drying her hair with another. God I love her so much. I rolled over onto my stomach so I could watch her better. Stace came over to the bed and sat down next to me, then leaning over to kiss my cheek, then my lips.

"Hey sweetheart, you better get a move on, we don’t want to miss your flight." Says who?

"I don’t care. And what makes you think I want to catch this flight. I wanna stay here with you. How’s that?" Stace tore the covers from my naked form and swatted my bare butt with her towel. "Ow that hurt’s ya know." She did accomplish her objective because I flew out of the bed.

"Sorry angel, but it did get you out of bed." She waggled her eyebrows wickedly, and strutted back to the bathroom.

"I will get you for this you know." Too late I dove for my lover only to end up with a handful of wet towel.

"Maybe, but not today. Now let’s get a move on."

The drive to the airport was a little slow due to the holiday traffic and the early morning icy roads. Stace was trying to remain cool, take the drive in stride. She only became really irate once or twice, discussing someone’s parentage in less than charitable terms. People just didn’t understand Stace’s need to be catered to while driving on the turnpike. She felt her tax dollars warranted that whenever she was on the highways and byways everyone should simply get out of her way so she could get to where she wanted to go without interference.

"Most of these people ought not be allowed out on the highway. They shouldn’t be issued driver’s licenses. And don’t even get me started on old people. Now don’t get me wrong, I like old people. After all, I like Harley. But after a certain age, they just simple shouldn’t automatically be issued a license without first having passed a driving test. Is that too much to ask?" I let the comment about my father pass, and just nodded, deciding that humoring my wife in these circumstances would be the best course of action. I just smiled and nodded.

"Yes dear, whatever you say." I think I might have gotten myself in trouble.

"What?" I patted my lover’s leg,

"Hey there’s our exit." Got out of that slick didn’t ya?

We managed to get a parking place not too far from the main terminal and found the Delta Airlines ticket counter in plenty of time to check in my bags and find a coffee shop for a quick cup before I boarded my plane. This was the worse part. I wanted to take a cab to the airport, but Stace would hear none of that. She insisted on taking me to my plane; this would be the last time we’d see each other for three months, until spring break in April. We sat down at a table and the waitress came to take our order. Stace wanted her usual black coffee and a cream cheese filled croissant. I had a coffee with cream and sugar and an apple and cream cheese filled croissant. I stirred the cream and sugar in my coffee, much to my wife’s chagrin.

"Why do you want to ruin good coffee with all that gunk? There should be a law against that. It’s coffee abuse!" She shivered noticeably and scrunched up her face in disgust. Oh honey, I love everything about you.

"It’s an acquired taste," I said as I took a noisy slurp. "Aaahhh, now that’s good stuff Maynard!" Stace just shook her head.

"You’re nuts woman, but I love you anyway." Stace took my hand in hers and brought our joined hands to her lips and kissed my fingers lovingly.

The intercom announced my flight, and I stood up to gather my purse and other carry ons. Stace pulled out my chair, and linked her arm through mine and we started off to my gate to board.

"Now you make sure to call the minute you get home. Don’t forget to lock all the doors and windows, and if you have any problems you call me. Call the Sheriff too, he’ll make sure everything is okay." My love’s concern for me was so sweet. We had never been apart until 1975, and these past two years have been hell for both of us. Nothing ever has happened up to now, but the way Stace saw it, there was no point in not taking precautions. I humored my love on this point because I knew if anything happened to me during this separation, Stace would blame herself for not being with me, and then never forgive herself.

"Yes honey, I will. I’ll take care of myself, but you promise me you will too. Please don’t work yourself to death, and make sure you get plenty of sleep and eat properly. And don’t give Irish and Rachel such a hard time. They’re good people and they’ve been really good friends to us. Okay?" My wife put her arms around me, and held me close. Not one to usually go in for open PDA’s, she seemed oblivious to all the stares and looks, and refused to let me go. She kissed me passionately, and when our foreheads touched, she whispered.

"I love you so much. See you soon?" A woman who saw the display passed us giving us a disapproving look. Stace reproached her soundly.

"What are you looking at lady? Haven’t you ever seen two people kissing before. Darlin’ you need to get a life." The woman snorted derisively, but hurried down the concourse to board the plane.

"Wooo, remind me never to get on your bad side." We kissed again.

"You could never get on my bad side, no matter what." I turned to walk down the concourse and onto the plane. I waved before I ducked to get in through the plane’s door. We never said goodbye to each other. That would be too hard, and carried the connotation of finality, that we’d never see each other again, and that would never happen, ever.

The plane landed at LAX without any mishaps, and I fought my way through the terminal to claim my baggage. I just managed to grab my bag when a large hand covered my own. I looked up into the most disturbing face I had ever seen. The face wasn’t hideous or anything like that, and if it weren’t for the angry red scar that ran the length of the man’s face, he would have been quite handsome. No the feeling I got was one weird, spooky. His presence made my skin crawl. To say I was uncomfortable wouldn’t be out of line at all.

"Excuse me, that’s my bag. And if you don’t mind, I’d like it if you’d remove your hand from mine." The man removed his hand, and tipped his head slightly in acknowledgment.

"I’m sorry, I meant no harm, I noticed you were alone, and I thought I could be of assistance." His voice was a deep baritone, and it unnerved me to the core. I started to say something when I heard an equally deep and threatening voice behind me.

"You were wrong; she ain’t alone buster, so why don’t you just move along. We don’t need your assistance." Sometimes it just pays to have an ex marine and current sheriff for a father. Being huge doesn’t hurt either.

"Yes of course, perhaps we’ll meet again, when you are alone." That comment got my father’s attention, and more so than the stranger wanted. Harley had the man by the throat and slammed into the circular luggage carriage in a heartbeat.

"That sounded very much like a threat. I don’t like threats. Listen to me buddy. You stay the hell away from my daughter. She don’t like you, and I sure as hell don’t like you. You better be payin’ real close attention bud, cause if I ever catch you anywhere near her, I’ll take you apart, slowly, and painfully, got it?" The man nodded as best he could with my father’s arm in his throat. "That’s just fine. Now be on your way. Quickly." Daddy put his arm around me, and picked up my bag. Forgotten in all this, was mother standing a few feet away.

"Hi baby, how are you? You look great. Harley what was that all about?" Harley kissed mom, and hustled us toward the doors to the parking lot.

"Just some punk who needed to be taught some manners. Nothing important." Harley put my bags in the back of the Bronco, and helped mom climb inside. I climbed into the back seat, and tried to relax. I couldn’t get over the fact I was being watched. If I had only known a lone figure stood inside the terminal watching us, me, I would have really been unnerved. If I knew what lay ahead, I would have been terrified.

"Oh don’t worry my love, our time will come. We will be alone together, and trust me, you will enjoy every moment of it." The tall dark man turned from the window, shouldered his army duffel bag, and walked away.

Chapter 3: The Stalker Jan 1977

Mom and dad and I engaged in a lively conversation all the way home. I told them about the holidays with Stace, and Harley grumbled about his holidays with ‘The Admiral’ and Mrs. Lindsey. The drive home was pretty uneventful and dad suggested we stop at Red Lobster for dinner.

"Dad, I’m kinda tired. Stace and I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night…" What’s the matter? Aren’t you gonna give the ‘jarine’ all the details? I thought you were Stace’s little voice, why not go bother her? I’m on loan; she wants me to keep an eye on you. Sides you’re nicer than she is. Don’t bet on it. Ooooo. Angie saved me a lot of embarrassment.

"Of course you are dear, what with the flight and all. Why I remember when your father shipped out to Korea. The night we had. It was the night you were conc…" Harley was truly uncomfortable and getting more so by the minute.

"Ange, I think Rebecca gets the idea. I think we both get the idea." Aaahh c’mon ‘jarine’ the conversation was just getting’ interestin’. Hush!

"Okay, why don’t we just order in pizza at your place then. How about that? Also there’s a new ice cream parlor that just opened up not far from your place, uh Guy’s, Gordy’s…" Angie helped Harley’s recollection problems.

"Garcia’s dear, the man’s name is Gus Garcia. He is a Hispanic gentleman. He’s very hardworking and I bet he does really well in that location." Harley looked at Angie out of the corner of his eye.

"How come you know so much about this guy?" Even though daddy was a cop, he could be really very unobservant sometimes.

"Oh Harley, don’t you remember? When we took Rebecca to the plane, on the way back to check on the kid’s house, we stopped for ice cream? I struck up a conversion with Mrs. Garcia. She is a very pleasant, kind woman. They have been married for some time, and had two children, a boy and a girl. The girl in about Rebecca’s age, their son was killed in Viet Nam just before our boys pulled out." Harley hated to hear about the Viet Nam War. As an ex marine, he had his own notions about the war. The way it was fought, and the reasons America had become involved. Now only four years removed from the end of "the conflict": conflict, how can a war that lasted ten years, and cost over 58,000 lives be called a conflict. It was a war; dammit people die in wars. Just like Korea was a police action. Yeah right! "It’s just too bad, all those young men…anyway, the Garcia’s seem like really nice people, and I’ll bet when Stace gets back in the spring, she’ll be all but living there." Only if they open a shop in Malibu. Stace has her heart set on buying that house on the hill. Sometimes, I wish I had never mentioned wanting that place. It almost has become an obsession for her. Hey, Bec go with it. What you want, Stace will get for you. Trust me on this; she would give you the world if she could. I know, and I love her so much. I brought myself out of my reverie to answer dad’s question.

"Sure daddy, pizza would be fine. We’ll call Sargusa’s; they have really good authentic pizza, and their large is really large. They’ll even deliver beer too." That got dad’s attention. "But you have to promise to stay the night. I don’t want you driving all the way back to Bannock tonight. Okay?" Daddy never argued with me about drive after he had a beer or two; we’d all seen the tragedy from drinking and driving. Growing up, I knew that was always the one thing daddy hated most about his job: telling people they had lost someone close to them because of a drunk driver.

"Okay sweetheart, you got a deal, but we get your bed, you can sleep on the couch." Daddy hated our hideabed; it was too short for him. Not that it wasn’t for me too, but he was my father so it was the least I could do. Of course I couldn’t resist the urge to give him a little jab.

"Stace will be glad to know that I gave up our bed for you and mom…" Daddy stopped my explanation.

"Uh, Rebecca, I think your mother and I will be quite comfortable on the couch. You needn’t put yourself out." Mercifully, for Harley, we pulled into the driveway of our little house. Mom just smirked at me over the maneuverings I pulled regarding the sleeping arrangements.

"Rebecca, you should be ashamed of yourself," mom whispered. "You know how sensitive your father is about you and Stace’s sex life. The less he knows about it the better." Mom couldn’t help but chuckle. "But then it never hurts to shake him up a little every now and then." Harley was starting to get a little impatient.

"Hey are you two coming or are you gonna stand there and gossip all night, I’m hungry." I walked past dad, and gave his tummy a gentle pat. I unlocked the door, and let us into the house.

"Yes daddy, I know. I’ll call our order right now. Is sausage, olive and mushroom okay with you?" Daddy was adamant about only one thing.

"That’s fine babe; just no anchovies. Oh and you better order two large pizzas: one for you two, and one for me." I swear my dad has a hollow leg. Mom had to comment on some of the changes Stace and I had made to the house.

"Oh Becca, I really like what you’ve done with the entry way, and the living room is really homey now."

Our cozy little Spanish style home was just right for us. Thanks to Stace’s benevolent anonymous benefactor, we had enough money to buy this small house close to UCLA campus. Stace hated living in apartments; she figured they were too noisy, and lacked privacy. I had to agree, this small house on a quiet culdesac, was just right for us. Most of the people who lived on this street were students, and the people next door had become our closest friends. The two women, Maggie Cockrane, and Shelly Byers were gay too. They had been together for almost as long as Stace and I had been, and they were really great. We had a lot of things in common, and really enjoyed each other’s company. So our little house had become a happy place for Stace and I the last few years. This was our second home, the two bedroom apartment at Presnell was the first home we shared together, and those four years of apartment living were enough to ruin Stace forever to ever want to live in another.

After I had finished making our pizza order, I went out to retrieve the newspaper from the shrubbery. I saw Maggie and Shelly drive into their place. I waved hello and asked them to come over.

"Hey guys, it’s good to see you. Mom and dad are staying over tonight, and we just ordered pizza and beer for dinner, why don’t you join us, if you don’t have plans." The two women nodded enthusiastically.

"Wow it’s so great to have you back, we’re just getting home from the holidays too, and frankly, ‘ol’ Mother Hubbard’s cupboards are bare’, we’d love to join you." Shelly slapped Maggie playfully.

"God, Mags, you can be so gauche sometimes. Thanks Bec, and let me apologize for my partner’s ill manners." Maggie still didn’t see what the problem was.

"What’d I do? The woman asked us to dinner, and I simply accepted. What’s the matter with that I want to know?" I put my arm around the disgruntled woman, and ushered her toward the door.

"Just go on in, I’ll order another pizza and some more beer." The two women entered the house and immediately attacked Harley with hugs and kisses. They just enjoyed harassing Harley this way because he was still a little uncomfortable around gays and lesbians.

"You know Mrs. D., if I was so inclined to bat for the other team, you’d have some real competition with ol’ tall dark and sullen here." Maggie just loved to give Harley a hard time whenever she could. Shelly, the more reserved of the two, jumped to Harley’s rescue. sort of.

"Oh Harley, don’t worry, I’ll save you, Maggie is just too butch, I’m more your type." Everyone was gut rolling, except Harley, even my conservative mother.

"Oh dear, I’m not sure Harley could keep up with either of you." Harley glared at my mother. Angie, hot damn, I didn’t know ya had it in ya!

As I started to close the door, I looked up and across the culdesac. There lounging on a huge Harley, sat the man we had had the run-in with at the airport. When he saw me, he smiled, but the smile never reached his eyes. They held a frightening evil glint in them. Once he knew I saw him, he simply started his bike and left.

At the sound of the motorcycle starting up, Harley tore himself away from the attentions of my two neighbors. He only saw the back of the man as he sped away.

"Who was on the Harley?" I didn’t want to worry daddy, so I lied.

"I don’t know, just some guy, never saw him before, he must be lost." The biker was really pleased with himself.

"Oh my dear, this is just too good. It is so nice that you have two beautiful neigh-bors. Perhaps we can all get to know each other at the same time. But, I wonder about those two. I may have to teach them a lesson, show them the error of their ways. It must be done before you too are infected with their disease. Wait, perhaps you already are. No it can’t be; I won’t believe that. You are far too pure to be one of them. Of that, I am sure."

The pizza and daddy arrived at the same time. Harley had gone to Garcia’s to get the ice cream. He had a caramel, vanilla nut flavor that had become our favorite. I told daddy to get a whole gallon, because I was sure it wouldn’t go to waste between the five of us. We enjoyed a wonderful evening full of lively conversation. The bantering between Maggie and daddy was just too good. Neither one of them wanted to give in to the other. I was a little reserved; I couldn’t help thinking about the biker and why he would be hanging around my house. My quiet demeanor wasn’t lost on my father.

"Hey pumpkin is something bothering you? You seem a little quiet; ya wanna talk to your ol’ dad?" I wasn’t going to worry him any more than he was already, so I lied, again. This is becoming a habit, don’tcha think? Stace is right, you are a pain in the ass. Hey I do what I’m good at. What can I say?

"Oh daddy, I’m okay really. I just miss Stace." Well, that wasn’t a total lie, I did miss my lover so very much.

"Yeah…well as much as I hate to admit it, smart---short stuff does kind of grow on ya after awhile. You really do love her don’t you?" How can I make you understand daddy?

"Yes I do. I don’t know how to explain this to you dad, but she completes me. Daddy, think how empty you would feel without mom in your life. That’s how I feel without Stace. I need her everyday, in every way. I couldn’t live without her." My daddy just wrapped me in his big bear-like arms, and hugged me to him.

"Yes baby, I do understand."

As much as we all hated to, we had to end the evening. My neighbors and I had early classes in the morning, and my parents had to take off at dawn to get back to Bannock. Dad had his duties as sheriff, and although his deputy was more than capable of handling things while he was gone, dad always worried that something would happen while he was gone. He took his job very seriously, and felt he was the ‘father’ of a very large family: the citizens of Bannock and the surrounding areas were his responsibility, and it was up to him to keep them safe. All the while I was growing up, my father never once shirked his duty as sheriff, and I couldn’t imagine him ever doing that now. Perhaps had Harley not been so conscientious, the events of the next night would never have taken place.

Classes were pretty much the same. I was working on my thesis, Van Gough: A Tortured Soul, and my advisor was a hard taskmaster to say the least. He required perfection, and I was beginning to wonder whether or not a masters was really necessary for my career goals. My whole point was that it was Van Gough’s self doubts and depression that made him a great artist. It was sort of a variation on the old theme of the artist suffering for his art. My advisor kept questioning my thinking on one point after another, and I battled back, defending my position defiantly. Finally, I figured out what he was doing, and of course he was right, and changes to my thesis were an ongoing process. Any- way, I was just about finished, and thanks to Dr. Jefferson’s badgering, my thesis was a good one. In the end, we would both be very proud.

I drove home from the art building, and stopped at the mailbox to see what bills and various other pieces of junk mail we’d received. There was the light bill, the phone bill, God, I’ll bet that will be a killer, a letter from The Mayo Clinic. I’ll bet that’s an offer for Stace to accept a fellowship there. The other piece of mail was a card postmarked Balti-more, Maryland. Oh Stace you sweetie you. If I hadn’t been so engrossed in trying to read the card in the gathering darkness, I might have noticed my front door was slightly ajar, and perhaps the tragic events of January 26, 1977 could have been averted. But I wasn’t. I tore open the card, and read as I came up the walk.

Lover, I miss you already. I miss your touch, your smell, and your taste.

I miss the sounds of our passion as we make love together. I miss the way your

body writhes beneath me as we reach the peak of ecstasy together. I love you so

much my angel. Stace.

When I reached the door, I was jerked forcefully into the entryway and slammed up face first against the wall. My hands were pulled behind me, with one strong hand, while the other groped and fondled my breasts. I was so frightened I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t move. My brain was flooded with all kinds of thoughts. The one thought of my wife, my Stace was most prevalent. How could I ever explain this to her. I knew I would be raped, maybe even killed. But why, why me? Then a voice penetrated my thoughts. That horrible chilling voice I would never forget from this day forward.

"Rebecca my darling, at last you’re home. I’ve missed you so much. Your body feels so good rubbing against me. Can you feel my hard member between your legs? Soon my love our life together will be consummated, but first, I have some unfinished business to tend to." He dragged me into the living room, and the sight that met my eyes would haunt me for the rest of my days. There on the couch lay Shelly, naked, her throat cut, and Maggie, with her feet and legs tied spread eagle on the floor. Fear, shock, and panic etched on her face.

"Oh my God, Maggie, I---I—Shelly, I’m so, so sorry." I turned to my soon to be torturer, and hissed. "W-w-hy—wh—at did they do…" The tall dark monster held up his hand, and thrust me into a chair and bound my arms and legs to it with duck tape. Then, after he kissed me forcefully, thrusting his tongue inside my mouth cruelly, he taped a strip over my mouth.

"Your friends have to be punished, purified if you will, before they meet the Lord. They have sinned in His eyes, and I have been chosen, me, Grayson Fowler, to walk the land and turn these abominations back to the true path. I am showing you this as a warning. I will not harm you, for you will be my queen, and we will reign together over the land in peace and harmony after we’ve purged the earth of its wickedness. This I have been commanded to do my the one true God."

All the while he was spouting his lunatic ravings, he was undressing. He walked over to where Maggie was tied, stroking his member as he knelt down between the woman’s legs. She too had her mouth taped and couldn’t scream, couldn’t make a sound. But the sheer panic and dread in her eyes was unmistakable. She turned her head toward the couch where her lover lay, and a tear tracked slowly down her cheek. Then she turned her head toward me, and I saw there in her eyes a quiet resignation for what was about to happen to her. In that moment, I knew she held no blame or malice toward me for what was about to happen to her. When the man’s member was suitably hard, he positioned himself at the mouth of Maggie’s vagina.

"This is the beginning of your purification. You will be brought back to the true way by this sacred rite." With that, the man plunged deep into the woman, my friend with such force; he lifted Maggie’s body off the floor. The rape seemed to go on forever, but soon, the man withdrew his spent member from her battered body, and kneeled upright. He reached over and drew the combat knife from his boot, and put it to Maggie’s throat. He raised his eyes upward in some perverse prayer, and then made one neat single slice across Maggie’s throat. Mercifully, she died painlessly. An in a short time bled to death on my living room floor. The man whispered slowly.

"Yes my Lord, your will be done." The man stood up and walked over to me, and touched my cheek, collecting my tears on his fingers. He stroked my hair, and tried to comfort me. "Shh, my love, this is not the fate that awaits you. I will keep you safe, but first, you too must be purified. But your purification will be gentle. You will give yourself to me willingly. You will love only me unconditionally." The maniac took his knife, and cut the tape holding my extremities to the chair. He lifted me up and carried me into the bedroom. I had to think clearly, and try to maintain my composure. Remember what Harley always said. "…a man, every man, has one vulnerable spot: always go for the family jewels. Attack there, and attack hard."

Fowler set me gently to the floor; I could feel him leaning into my back. As quickly as I could, I stomped as hard as I could on the bastard’s bare instep, then whirled around and brought my foot up in a hard vicious kick to the man’s testicles. He crumpled to the floor in a painful writhing heap, and then I grabbed Stace’s baseball bat and brought it down hard on the man’s head. He lay there unmoving, and I didn’t know if I had killed him or not, but at this point, I didn’t care. I’m sure it would be self-defense; the clear, horrible evidence lay there on my living room floor. I collapsed onto the bed, but wasn’t there but a few seconds before I felt the urge to vomit. I rushed to the bathroom and emptied the contents of my stomach. I retched for what seem like forever, and then rinsed out my mouth, brushed my teeth, and washed my face. I knew I had to get help before I went any further into shock. I returned to the bedroom, and called a number I knew by heart. A gentle voice on the other end soothed my tortured soul.

"Hello, Danforth residence." I didn’t wait for any other conversation.

"Mamma, I need you and daddy, please come quick." I nearly passed out and dropped the phone, but a deep strong voice came on the line to bring me back.

"Rebecca Marie, where are you, what happened. Rebecca talk to me." I tried to explain as best as I could, and the voice on the other end was no longer my father, nor the Sheriff of Bannock, but a tough as nails marine. "Rebbeca, listen up! This is what I want you to do. Tie the son of a bitch up, tight. Find whatever you can." I thought for a minute.

"Th-th-ere’s some d—d--uck tape," I stuttered. I was having difficulty remaining conscious, let alone form coherent speech.

"That will do fine. Tie him up, lock him in a room separate from you, and make sure the doors and windows are locked. Don’t call anybody; don’t let anybody in until you hear from me. Do you understand? Becca? Becca! Do you understand?" I finally acknow-leged his question.

"Y-y-ye-ss, Daddy, I understand, please hurry." My father’s calm soothing voice replied.

"Baby, I’ll be there within the hour."

The connection was severed, and I was left alone with this murderer. I had a lot to do, and I got to it immediately. I retrieved the duck tape from the living room, and tried not to look at the tortured murdered bodies of my friends. I went back to the bedroom and tied Fowler’s hands and legs and feet with the duck tape. As an after thought, I placed a strip over the man’s mouth as well. I could tell by the rising and falling of his chest that he was still alive. Once I was finished, I dragged him into my art studio, and made sure the window was locked and on my way out, I locked the door too. Then I went to the hall closet and retrieved two blankets and went into the living room and covered my two friends. I went back into my bedroom, took the picture of my Stace from the bureau, hugged it to my breast, and then laid down on the bed, curled up into a ball, and wept. The next thing I was aware of was gentle hands shaking me awake. I opened my eyes to see my mother and father. My first reaction was to bolt, but the strong, firm arms prevented it.

"Rebecca, baby, it’s all right, we’re hear now, everything will be all right." I fell into my mother’s arms, and sobbed hysterically.

"Oh mamma, it was horrible, he took them, and then he killed them, he said it was his calling. He was doing God’s work. He said they needed to be purified. And then he was going to purify me too. Oh daddy, they were my friends, it’s my fault they died…" Daddy took me into his safe strong arms, and stroked my hair, just like he did when I was a child.

"Sweetheart, pumpkin, don’t you blame yourself, this was not your fault. The man was sick. He lost his mind. There’s no way any of this was your fault. Now tell me, where is he?" I tried to form the words, but couldn’t, so I pointed toward the studio. "Okay, I’ll take care of this. Angie, get some clothes packed for Becca, she’s coming home with us for awhile, until we get this mess cleaned up." My mother nodded, my father kissed me on top of the head, and then disappeared into the other room.

Mom packed the things I would need, and led me out into the living room. To my surprise, "The Admiral" was there directing some uniformed men as they removed the bodies of my friends from where they lay. I don’t ever remember my grandfather ever touching me in any way that wasn’t cursory or perfunctory in form. This time, as mother led me to him, he reached out and took me in his strong arms, and held me close. He kissed the top of my head, and whispered.

"Don’t you worry my princess, you let ‘the Admiral’ take care of this." He released me, and nodded to a young ensign who was standing nearby. The ensign led both my mother and I out of the house and into a long stretch limousine. We had barely gotten settled into the plush leather seats when a soft rap on the window sounded. Mother lowered the window.

"Um, excuse me ma’am, I found this in the entryway, I guess you must have dropped it when…" My mother took the card, and thanked the young man.

"Yes, thank you ensign, my daughter appreciates your kindness." The young officer saluted briskly, turned on his heel and disappeared inside the house. Before mother could get the window up, my father was hauling Grayson Fowler forcibly from my house.

"This isn’t over yet; we will be toget…" He never finished his sentence because my father took the butt of his forty-five and slammed it up against the man's head. All right jarine, I don’t know about you, but I hate talkie prisoners. I fingered the card in my hand, and it brought me back to reality. My God Stace, I have to talk to her.

"Mother, I have to tell Stace, how can I tell her our friends…" My question was interrupted when Harley and ‘The Admiral’ climbed into the car. Daddy sat next to me, which had me effectively, pinned between my parents. My grandfather sat across from us, and pushed a button on the armrest next to him.

"We’ll be leaving now lieutenant, you have the destination." The response was brief.

"Aye, aye sir." And with that the car pulled out of the driveway, and sped away into the night.

"Daddy, I have to call Stace. I have to tell her what happened." But I never did.

"Oh Stace, my love, I never wanted to lie to you, but ‘the Admiral’ said it was for the best, for everyone concerned. Grayson Fowler would pay for his crimes, save the taxpayers the cost of a trial, and run the risk of his getting off on a technicality. Maggie and Shelly’s parents would never have to live the horror of the true nature of their deaths, and you would not blame yourself for not being here to protect me."

"Oh baby, I was part of a cover up. I lied about the truth about what happened on that horrible night so long ago. In an encapsulated version, this is essentially what happened. Grayson was taken to an undisclosed highly secured military installation where he would he held for the rest of his miserable life. Daddy was in favor of, "…executing the son of a bitch and tossing the slimy carcass in the ocean and let the sharks finish him." ‘The Admiral’ said as much as he would like to do that, he didn’t have the authority to execute a prisoner without the benefit of the trial. He could however make someone disappear with out a trace. If any questions arose from family or friends, he could produce the man, and after some governmental fast shuffling, apologize profusely, and then go about his business. A terrible accident was manufactured to account for Maggie and Shelly’s deaths, and the phone call from me to you letting you know I had a severe case of the flue, and everything would be tied up into a nice, neat bundle of deceit. I won’t blame you if you hate me forever for this, I never meant to lie to you, but my God, I didn’t know what else to do. I’m so sorry. And now he’s back, I brought this monster back to you and our Sydnee. How can I ever ask for your forgiveness?" My angel sobbed uncontrollably into my chest, while I rocked and tried to soothe her.

"My darling, you have nothing to be sorry for, you don’t need my forgiveness. I’m only sorry you had to deal with this all alone for so long. But you listen to me; you’re not alone. We’ll get a hold of Harley, Gil, and Gary. Together with Kyle and Bryan, we’ll get this bastard, and let me tell you something. For what that son of a bitch did to Maggie, Shelley, and what he wanted to do to you, this time he’ll pay with his life. Now, I’m going out there and explain. You can stay here, and I’ll send Sydnee in to be with you." I started to get up and go into the living room, when a strong hand stopped me in my tracks.

"No, I’m through hiding and lying. If you still want me, then we will do this together, like we should have done in the first place. What do you say?" What could I say, I loved this woman more than my own life, and if she had the strength to go through all this again, then I could do nothing else but be there to protect, support, and love her.

"Yes baby, together, always." I drew my angel’s lips to mine, and kissed her with all the love and concern I could muster into the kiss.

Chapter 4: Run Like Hell You Bastard Sept. 2000

We entered the living room to hear Kyle still going on about the character in the sketch. The expletives spewing forth from the detective’s mouth would make a sailor blush. And he should know; he came from a long line of sailors.

"My ol’ man told me about this fucking bastard, who twenty some years ago, fancied himself as some fucking avenger called by God to cleanse the world of all the perverts. Jesus H. fucking Christ, this is the same guy, I know it." My wife and I came into the room.

"Yes Lieutenant O’Brien, he is. His name is Grayson Fowler, and would you kindly not use such profane language in my home. There are children present." My wife’s deep, low contralto voice was deadly serious, and Kyle was duly chastised.

"I’m sorry Bec—uh Mrs. McGregor, I guess I got carried away. Mac, I’m sorry." My wife was still not satisfied.

"You should be apologizing to my daughters detective," Becca growled. Oooo Becca could be a killer when her back was up. Yeah, if you want some good advise, don’t ever piss her off.

"Sydnee, Ange, I’m sorry. As a member of the Malibu Police Department, I should set a better example for young people. I was out of line. I sincerely beg your pardon." Both Syd and Ange tried unsuccessfully to stifle their chuckles. I helped them both with a slap up side their heads.

"That’s okay Lieutenant O’brien, my mom’s don’t like me to cuss either, so I know how ya feel when ya get yelled at." How did I ever raise such an irreverent child? Simple, you raised her to be just like you. Which, I hate to admit, ain’t half bad. What did you say? Was that a compliment? Damn let me write this down. Hey don’t press it!

"Kyle," my wife was back in her friend mode. "You said your father told you about Fowler. How would he know about him?" Kyle went on to explain, and managed to shock us all with the revelation.

"Yeah my ol’ man is a lifer in the Navy. Some twenty years ago, during his first enlistment he was attached to some hotshot admiral. Um, let’s see it was uh, Lindler, Litler…" Becca finished for him.

"Lindsey?" Kyle’s eyes got big as saucers.

"Yeah, how did you know?" Becca calmly explained.

"Admiral Lindsey was my grandfather; he died about six years ago." Kyle was nearly speechless.

"Well I’ll be dam…darned. It’s a small world ain’t it. I guess I just never put you and him together. I mean you being Harley’s daughter and all. I bet those two were quite a pair." I mumbled softly and got a poke in my ribs for my trouble.

"Kyle you have no idea." I glared at my wife, to no affect.

"Tell me Kyle, what was your father’s rank at the time." Kyle chuckled.

"Ah, he was a snot nosed ensign. He got to do all the grunt work for the Admiral. No offense meant." Becca smiled her dazzling smile.

"None taken. Just between you and me and the apple tree, my grandfather could be a real pain in the ass at times." Syd’s head swung around in Becca’s direction.

"Mother! Watch your mouth!" Becca gave Syd ‘the look’, and my daughter shriveled perceptibly. I leaned over and whispered in Sydnee’s ear.

"See how I feel all the time?" Syd chuckled, and Becca gave us both a withering glare.

"Kyle, I met your father, and he was very kind to me. Is he still in the Navy?" Kyle shook his head.

"Heck yeah, with a name like O’Brien, what else ya gonna do? Ya either join the cops, or ya go into the Navy. He’ll be there until he dies." Margie returned to the room, and I caught her eye immediately.

"Did you get a hold of Harley?" I asked.

"Yes sir I did, and he is furious. He and the missus left as soon as I hung up. They should be here before too long." I knew I shouldn’t ask, but I did anyway.

"What did he say?" Margie looked around the room, at Becca, and then at the two teenagers.

"Well here’s the cleaned up version. He said he was right all along, and he should have shot him and dumped him in the ocean and let the sharks eat his worthless hide." I could easily fill in the missing colorful metaphors Harley would have used to punctuate his thoughts. Kyle was seriously confused.

"What does Harley have to do with this?" Becca told the detective the whole story, and I held my wife tightly as she relived the terrible events of that night twenty-three years ago. Most everyone had forgotten Faraday was still in the room, and everyone turned on him en masse. Kyle was the first to speak.

"And you, you son of a bitch, you put that bastard onto this family? Why you miserable, useless piece of shit. I wish I wasn’t an officer of the law right now, cause I’d like to beat your scrawny, worthless ass to a pulp." Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He made one call that was all one sided.

"Jeff, this is Kyle I’m at 3742 Oceanside Drive. Send a squad car over here, I got a piece of garbage to haul off. Yeah, conspiracy to commit murder. By the time you get here, the scum will have already been read his rights. Oh and hurry, I don’t want the people who live here to have to put up with the stench any longer than necessary. C’mon you sorry piece of shit, we’ll wait outside. You have the right to remain silent…"

Six people sat in the living room, the shock of the whole thing finally sinking in. My Sydnee was the first to voice the severity of the situation.

"Murder? Mom, mother? This guy is going to try to kill you?" Both teenagers shared looks of abject fear on their young faces.

"Gosh coach, Mrs. M. what are you gonna do? If you need my help, I’m there, ya know? I mean like you guys are a second family to me. I couldn’t let anything happen to any of you." Becca and I engulfed both of our kids into our arms, and comforted the frightened girls. Bryan was visibly uncomfortable by all the mush. Margie always one to help a guy out slapped him on the back.

"Aahh Bryan, they do this kind of stuff all the time around here. Ya might just as well get used to it if you’re gonna be around here very much. They’re a pretty demonstra- tive bunch." Bryan felt a little less uneasy.

"Hey girls, my job is to make sure the security around here is the best, most up to date there is anywhere. By the time I’m through, a cockroach won’t be able to get in here without setting of an alarm." Margie, with her aversion to vermin, was decidedly offended.

"I beg your pardon young man, I run a clean house here. I defy you to find so much as a gnat in this house. Why I…" I jumped to the man’s rescue.

"Margie calm yourself, Bryan wasn’t trying to insinuate you were remiss in your duties. It’s just a figure of speech. ‘Sides he’s from New York. Cockroaches are thick back east right Bryan?" The security expert jumped on the opening.

"Yeah, uh, right. Lot’s of cockroaches. Thousands…millions." Don’t overdo it boy! I decided I would help the poor guy out before my irate housekeeper took the broom to him.

"Bryan. C’mon, I’ll give you the grand tour. Honey will you be okay if I show Bryan around. He’ll need to get started on our security system right…" My angel held up her hand to stop my ramblings.

"Sure babe, I’m okay. For the first time in a long time, I feel relieved. I should have told you the truth a long time ago. Go ahead. The girls and I will help Margie get something ready for dinner."

It took awhile, but I took Bryan through every room of the house, and we covered every nook and cranny on the grounds and entrances to and from the beach. He advised we fence off the entrances to the beach temporarily until the danger was passed. The fence would be electrified, and contain heat sensors designed to detect movement of any kind. I balked about the electricity, I didn’t want to fry some unsuspecting fur seal, or some little girl or boy’s puppy or kitten. There were a few homophobes I could do without, but other than that; I didn’t want to be the cause of anyone’s early or unnatural demise. Bryan assured me the electricity running through the fence would not be enough to kill or maim, but make animal or human extremely uncomfortable. The main deterrent was the obstruction the fence presented, and the heat sensors that detected movement.

"Look Bryan, I need this all done as quickly as possible. I don’t want to leave my family unprotected for an instant." For the first time in my life I was terrified. Even the fear of my ol’ man’s beatings didn’t scare me as badly as the thought of some sick bastard wanting to hurt my wife and daughter.

"Listen, I’ll give this job my top priority. We should have everything in place by the end of the week, if we work darn near non-stop. It’s up to you." Bryan looked at me sincerely.

"Bryan, you do what you have to do for as long as it takes. Round the clock if necessary. Losing a little sleep is minor compared to losing Becca or Sydnee." Bryan nodded.

"Okay, I have everything I need, I can have my crews here first thing in the morning." I walked the security expert to his car.

"Bryan, you don’t know how much this means to me, and I don’t know how I will ever be able to thank you." Bryan smiled.

"Don’t worry, you will as soon as you get my bill." Bryan’s attempt at humor back- fired.

"Bryan where they’re concerned, money is no object. See you in the morning." Bryan nodded gravely and drove away. At the end of the street, a lone black Ford Explorer sat. Inside, a dark brooding figure watched the goings on at the McGregor house with marked interest.

"So Faraday, you little weasel, you sold me out. Well, no matter; this added security will add more of a challenge, but will not stop me from my mission. Rebecca, I am coming to free you from the clutches of this perversion. Hold on just a little while longer my love. God will give me the strength I need to free you." The man put the car in gear, and drove up the street. He drove right past our house just as Harley drove up. I was standing in the driveway as the SUV came past. I got a clear look at the driver, and just about vaulted over Harley’s car.

"That’s him, that arrogant bastard. Can you believe it that son of a bitch just drove past my house like he owned the joint." I dialed Kyle’s cell phone, while I waited I contin-ued to pace and fume. My rage boiling to the point of explosion. "God damn son of a bitch…fuck…I am so pissed; I can’t believe this!" Kyle came around the corner, and I didn’t even give him the chance to get out. "The son of a bitch was just here. He drove right past the God damned, fucking house in a black Ford. You had to have had to pass him just now. Go after him!" Kyle did a 180-degree turn and squealed after the SUV. I knew I had to get control of myself. I felt like I was going to explode; my rage was barely under control. Harley got hold of me, and held me until I came back to reality.

"Stace, get hold of yourself. You’re not going to do Rebecca or Sydnee René any good when you’re like this. C’mon, slow down, take deep breathes, and calm yourself." Harley’s reasoning, and warm deep voice calmed me surprisingly quickly. "Okay, now think about this. Did it ever occur to you that this reaction is just exactly what he wanted? If you’re angry, if you let your emotions rule your head, he wins. You have to remain cool for Becc and Syd." Remain cool, my God Harley this is Becca and Syd were talking about. They’re my world. Hey smartass; buy a clue. That’s exactly why you have to remain calm. For them, think of them. Yeah, I’ll try. Just then, Kyle came back along with two patrol cars.

"I’m sorry Mac, we didn’t get him. We found the SUV abandoned. We found tire tracks from a motorcycle, probably a--a--um--damn--well it’s a Harley. We called in the registration to the SUV; it was stolen. The owner so far hasn’t been located. It belonged to a Rita Johansen. Gee Sherlock, what was your first clue. Could it be because you’re tracking a homicidal maniac? "We have some information we got off the wires, and I’d like to go over it with you, now if it’s all right." Yeah, sure why not.

"Kyle, come on in. Who are your friends?" I looked to the four heavily armed police officers dressed in combat gear.

"These officers will be patrolling the grounds until we catch this guy. After what I we found today, it is definitely warranted. Faraday spilled his guts about a couple of prostitutes who’ve been missing for a few days now. The LA police them in a seedy bar in East LA. Their throats were cut. They had sex before they were killed, and from the looks of things, it wasn’t consensual. This guy’s a real piece of work." I couldn’t believe this was happening.

"You’re right Harley. You should have killed this bastard when you had the chance." Harley nodded.

"Yeah, well…" I hooked my arm in Harley’s and we walked together into the house.

"Don’t blame yourself Harley. You would have only become part of the problem." We all gathered in the living room to listen to what Kyle had learned about Grayson Fowler.

"It seems the maniac had a long history of violent behavior, and run-ins with the law. There were also a string of unsolved murders that seemed to occur whenever, or wherever Fowler was at the time. At forty-five, Fowler had no less than forty arrests ranging from petty larceny to violent assault beginning when he was fourteen, but unfortunately no convictions. There never seemed to be anyone willing to testify against him, so he was set free. That’s the way the system works. This isn’t to say he had never done any jail time. He had, and created quite a following. Evidently the stories of his exploits garnered him many admirers." Oh yeah, a fan club full of sickos, peachy.

"Then, exactly twenty-three years ago, any record of the guy simple disappeared. It’s like the man vanished." That’s about the time when he attacked Becca and killed the neighbors. "For that, we have to thank Harley and ‘The Admiral’; Fowler was taken out. Things were quiet until about six years ago. It’s interesting that Becca told me that’s when her grandfather died. Evidently he had more clout with TPTB than anybody knew. Cause, when he died, Fowler was let loose." The looks of shock were plastered all over every face in the room.

"Who was the idiot who made that bone head decision?" Who do you think ‘jarine’?

"The CIA couldn’t stand to see such a ‘valuable asset’ going to waste. It seems our whacko was a Navy Seal and saw duty in Viet Nam. Go figure, he was one of America’s finest. He did every nasty, dirty job TPTB needed done, and he was really good at it." Surprise, surprise! "‘The Admiral’ new all about our boy’s history. He was under direct orders of one Admiral Robert Anthony Pershing Lindsey III for covert operations. Small world ain’t it? Evidently that’s why ‘The Admiral’ could keep the guy locked up without any opposition. As soon as he died, there was no one to hold the CIA at bay, and they sprung the bastard." Damn, I think I’m gonna be sick. Move over smartass, I’m gonna join ya. "The CIA bosses figured if they sent Fowler to Europe, he couldn’t cause trouble here, and nobody, namely Harley, would be any the wiser. They could use Fowler for any little dirty job they needed done. The only problem is they didn’t have their boy on as tight a leash as they thought. Not too long after they let him out, a string of unsolved murders began to spring up across the pond. The victims were mostly prostitutes, lesbians, and a few gay men. All of them had what appeared to be non-consensual sex, and their throats were cut. Sound familiar?" Can this possibly get any worse? Careful what you ask for. "Oh by the way. We found Rita Johansen…" Let me guess… "…her throat was cut and…" Harley stopped the detective.

"We get the picture Lieutenant O’Brien. Is there any good news in any of the information you found?" Kyle shook his head.

"I’m afraid not." Ain’t this just dandy.

"Just what in the hell are we supposed to do now? I want this son of a bitch caught and put away. I swear to God, if you can’t do this, I will." The anger was no longer below the surface; it exploded out into the open, in front of God and everyone.

"Listen Stacey, I’m sure Lieutenant O’Brien is doing everything he can. We have to trust that the police will do whatever’s necessary to bring him to justice." Angie was always the voice of reason, but not this time. Easy there smartass, this is Becca’s mom. Don’t go off on her, oops, too late.

"Justice?! Don’t talk to me about justice. When in the hell has justice ever been served in this fucking world? Where was the justice for Casey Faraday? Where the hell was your precious justice for Maggie and Shelly and all the other victims that fucking son of a bitch has murdered? Where the fuck is justice for them? Now this sick bastard is targeted my family. Well, I’m not waiting around for the system to render its brand of justice, I’m gonna get my own justice." After I made a complete ass of myself, I stormed out of the room. Well wasn’t that special? Becca didn’t wait around to let me do something too stupid.

I ran out the door, and down the path that led to the beach, Nip and Tuck hot on my heels. I ran and ran and ran. I don’t know how far I went; I was totally unaware of my surroundings. I finally collapsed in the sand, my lungs burning, and sweat streaming from my body. I just lay there; my pups lay on either side of me standing vigil over my prostrate form. I hadn’t cried in a while, maybe the last time was when I saw Becca, my angel, get up out of that damned wheelchair for the first time. Or was it the time out on the balcony of the physical therapy wing. God, I don’t remember. Why was I crying now? What or for whom was I crying for now? I don’t know. The tears sure as hell don’t seem to do any good. They just seem to fall; eventually I wipe them away, and start all over again. Maybe that’s why I’m crying: it just never seems to end, it just starts all over again. God damn you! I got up on my knees and shook my fists at the heavens. Why won’t you make it all stop: the pain, the anger, the tears. You have the power, Dammit!! Make it all stop, please. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t keep going on; it’s just too much. I folded in on myself, and crumpled back to the sand. The tears came unbidden now; I couldn’t stop them if I tried. But the next thing I sensed was being wrapped in strong, yet gentle arms, being rocked and comforted, a soft voice humming a tender lullaby willing my tears and pain to go away.

"Shh, shh, shh, Stacey, my love. It’s all right; I’ve got you. Shhh, you’re safe in my arms. I’m not going to let anything harm either of us. We’ll get through this, just like we’ve gotten through everything else in our lives." My angel stroked my hair and kissed my head, and continued her loving song. She rocked me the way a mother would comfort her hurting child. We sat there for hours, neither of us saying anything. No words were needed. But I had received my answer. God was there; He hadn’t deserted me. He had sent down an angel to love me, to watch over me, to keep me safe. I guess I owe you an apology. Yeah ya don’t want to piss the big guy off, now do ya? Since there was no time to get the security measures in place quickly enough, Kyle called in every favor due him. The private security guards, and members of the special terrorist unit on loan from the LA Police Department, patrolled the perimeter of our property. A solitary figure was positioned high on the bluffs watching, waiting.

"Oh please, you don’t actually believe these toy soldiers will be able to stop me do you? Really Doctor McGregor; you will be very, very sorry if you underestimate me. I’ve been trained by the very best. ‘The Admiral’ saw my potential, and he used it. Too bad he had to die too, but he just didn’t understand my higher calling. The more important mission." Movement drew Fowler’s attention back to the beach. The infrared glasses picked up the two of us together. Becca pushed me away just a little so she could look into my eyes.

"Oh Stace, please don’t give up on life. Don’t give up on us. I love you so much. I need you; I need your strength, your courage, and most of all your love. Will you keep trying for us?" How could I refuse? Without giving me a chance to answer, my angel took me in a tender, soulful kiss. One meant to reaffirm and connect. The kiss seemed to go on forever, and when we did break for air, I whispered to my lady.

"No baby, I won’t give up. I’ll keep fighting as long as there is life in me, as long as you will be here to pick me up when I fall. And I swear, I will do everything in my power to keep you happy and safe." We came together in another passionate kiss, and I followed my angel to the ground, and we lay together in love, sand and all. The watcher was infuriated.

"No!! This can’t be. My Rebecca what have you done? Have you too been so corrupted that you would stray from the path of righteousness?" Fowler began to frantically pace back and forth trying to decide what to do about this turn of events. "Maybe I can still turn her back to the path. Yes, it’s not too late, but I must get her away from these evil, per-verse influences. Yes, yes, that is what I’ll do; I’ll take her away from these demons, and once we are joined, we will still rule the earth as God’s King and Queen." Becca and I lay there in the afterglow of our love, but something was wrong. I could feel eyes watching us. Don’t tell me you’re getting paranoid now. Like you don’t feel it too? It was time to go in and get rid of the sand anyway.

"Baby we should go in. I need to get rid of the sand and it’s getting chilly; I don’t want you to catch cold." After a few moments, my angel stirred. She stretched her long sinewy frame sensuously.

"Yes, I’d like to get you alone in the jacuzzi for awhile. What do you think? Interested?" I picked up my lover in my strong arms, and carried her to the house. Our lovemaking rejuvenated my tortured soul, and I felt like I could take on the world. With Becca’s help of course. Of course. We walked up the beach, unaware of the dark form skulking just behind us. Becca was sure I wouldn’t be able to carry her all the way up the path to the house without pulling something or popping something out of place.

"Honey, Stace stop; put me down. For God’s sake I can walk you know." God I wanted to old her forever.

"Ooohhh all right." I gently lowered my love to the ground, the dark form getting closer and closer to his unsuspecting prey. Back up at the house, Harley was still pacing back and forth.

"Where in the hell are they?" Harley groused.

"I just got a report from Stanton; they’re down on the beach. It seems they are preoccupied. Stanton felt he should give them some privacy." Kyle chuckled lightly as he continued to work the keyboard on his laptop.

"Privacy, of all the hair brained, irresponsible, sophomoric stunts. They’ve got six God damned bedrooms in this house, why the hell can’t they use one of them if they want privacy. Don’t they know some lunatic is trying to kill them, and they’re out rolling around on the beach like a couple of rabbits." Angie tried to calm her husband.

"Harley, calm down. They are perfectly safe…how naive can you be lady…you heard the Lieutenant; Officer Stanton just called in, and they were fine." Harley wasn’t convinced. He worked too long in both the military and in law enforcement to take any-thing at face value.

"How long ago was that?" Kyle humored the older man.

"Just a couple of minutes ago." Harley scratched his chin thoughtfully. A lot can happen in two minutes.

"Try to raise him again." When Kyle didn’t immediately jump to, Harley asked a little more forcefully.

"Would you like to explain to me, if anything happens to my two girls, why you refused to do a simple thing like check on your patrol?" Harley was still intimidating at 69 years of age. John Wayne had nothing on this guy. Kyle got right on the radio.

"Stanton, what’s your status?" No reply. "Stanton, his is O’Brien, reply. What is your status…" Harley and Bryan didn’t wait for Kyle to ask a third time before they were out the door. Kyle notified the other perimeter patrols. Intruder alert, intruder alert. Converge on Sector C, repeat converge on Sector C, intruder alert." All the security personnel outside converged to the designated location, while those personnel assigned to stay in the house herded the occupants away from the windows, to the floor behind the couch. Down on the beach, the predator had cornered his prey. Using a tranquilizer gin, Fowler had injected my angel with a strong tranquilizer. But still he spoke to her, as those she were alert and listening.

"Rebecca, it is so good to see you again. I have missed you terribly. I tried to get to you sooner, but they wouldn’t let me see you. They kept me against my will. But now we’re free to be together for always my love. You will come with me now, as soon as I finish with this a front to God." I could barely see, by brain was cloudy, and I was having trouble focusing on the sounds of the animal’s voice. The blow to the side of my head came from out of nowhere, knocking me to the ground. I tried to rise, when a booted foot connected with my left ribcage. Damn, I thought my ol’ man was dead. C’mon smartass, you’ve taken worse beatings than this. Remember Becca is in danger. Get your ass up and protect her. Fight dirty if you have to.

"You cannot defeat me. I am God’s warrior on earth. Ha, I am a God. No one can stop me." Fowler began to laugh hysterically. This guy is really beginning to get on my nerves. I used the little time I had to gather all the strength I could. But before I could roll out of the way, Fowler drove another booted foot into my gut. The wind was forced from my lungs, and I was left eating sand.

"You see my love, she is beneath you, she is so unworthy of either of us. I will enjoy purifying this one before I kill her." Fowler spoke to my wife’s unconscious form.

"You son of a bitch, purify this." [Sorry, I couldn’t resist; it just slipped out.]

I threw a handful of sand into the assassin’s face, momentarily blinding the man, and giving me a few seconds to regroup and get to my feet. While Fowler was still staggering around blind, I managed to find a piece of driftwood, picked it up, and swung as hard as I could. I connected with Fowler’s jaw in an upward thrust propelled by all the force I could muster. Fowler staggered backward, but didn’t fall. Hard headed freak ain’t he? My next blow connected in his midsection, which doubled him over. I then brought by makeshift baseball bat down on the man’s back. The force of the blow brought him to his knees, but not out. Jesus this guy is on tough mother fucker. Tell me about it. I guess I should have seen it coming, but too late I saw the hand snake out and take my feet out from under me, and Fowler’s huge form towering over me. In his hands was a wicked looking combat knife, the serrated edge glinting in the moonlight. The mad man stood over me, his legs a shoulder width apart. "…every man has one vulnerable spot: go for the family jewels." Thank you jarine! I brought my foot straight up as hard as I could and kicked Fowler full force in his groin. Fowler howled in pain, and collapsed in a heap at my feet. I struggled to an up right position, and picked up the discarded knife, and threw it as far as I could. I knew I didn’t stand a chance in hand to hand combat with this guy, and I didn’t want to run the risk of having him use that knife on me. I was rapidly running out of stamina, and I knew I’d be dead before long, and that bastard would have my angel. No way, not in this lifetime. With renewed vigor, I picked up my weapon and brought it down on the writhing man’s body. Again and again I struck the now helpless man.

"Never again; I will never again let you hurt another living soul. Do you hear me? No more." All the seething anger, hurt, and fear boiled up inside me erupting into an uncontrollable rage. I continued to strike Fowler repeatedly until he no longer moved. But I didn’t stop. I kept beating the man savagely projecting my ol’ man’s face into his. The years of abuse I had suffered finally caused me to snap. I was finally in a position to fight back, to retaliate for all the beatings, not only for myself, but all the Casey Faraday’s of the world. This man, this evil, hurtful man represented, in my tortured mind, all the abusers in the world, and I intended to make them suffer the way I did. I was so focused on beating this monster to death, I wasn’t aware my angel had regained consciousness, and the marines had stormed the beach. The fight seemed to go on forever, but could only have lasted a couple of minutes. Then the sound of an angel, my angel penetrated my violence fogged brain.

"Stace, baby stop, that’s enough, it’s over. He can’t hurt us any more." For just an instant, I hesitated. The next thing that registered in my addled brain was huge, strong muscled arms encircling me causing me to drop my weapon. I began to shake involuntarily. The result of my actions caused my body to go into convulsive shock. My angel was by my side in a heartbeat. She stroked my hair, and talked to me in a calm soothing voice.

"Baby, you’re okay, we’re okay. Shhh, please; calm down relax; I’ve gotcha. It’s over. I love you." My angel’s voice finally penetrated my consciousness.

"Angel, are you okay, he didn’t hurt you?" My lover chuckled.

"No honey, I just had a little nap, and I’m afraid I wasn’t any help to you." I snuggled deeper into my lover’s embrace, trying to ignore the invasive sand.

"Damn I hate sand."

Harley and Kyle heard our conversation, just shook their heads, and didn’t intrude any further into our privacy. They had other business to tend to. They checked the still, prone figure lying in the sand. Harley and Kyle were kneeling over Fowler, checking for pulse when the EMT crew arrived on the scene. Harley stood in one smooth motion, and shook his head. John Smith was dead.

Chapter 5: The Appointment February 18, 2000

God I hate doctor’s offices. Good, now you know how the rest of us feel. Oh I know I promised Becca I’d do this. I needed to get the demons in the ground once and for all. We needed this. I want to be happy, I want to feel whole again. I want this for us, for our family. And I wouldn’t have to do this alone. Of course not; I would never desert you in your hour of need. Not you fool. Becca. My angel sat next to me looking through Architectural Digest. Look at her. Yeah mmm, mmm, mmm,mmm,mmm. Not that way, jerk. She’s so calm, so at peace. She looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Maybe it’s all that Yoga. I couldn’t stand the silence, so I decided on small talk.

"Find anything interesting?" My angel smiled at me, reached over, took my hand in hers, and kissed the palm tenderly.

"Yes as a matter of fact. Take a look at that." Well I’ll be damned.

"Hey isn’t that one of your sculptures? Whose house is that anyway?" She smiled sheepishly.

"Ours." Damn where the hell have I been?

"Ours? What? When did we have our…how old is that magazine?" I took the magazine and looked at the front cover. July 1998. Oh yeah, I remember that…

"What do you mean we’re having pictures taken of our house? I mean I know you take pictures of your wife, children, your pets, even yourself, but a house. Why do you want to take pictures of our house." Oh Stace my love you can be so dense sometimes.

"Honey, I’m not taking pictures of our house. Architectural Digest is; they want to do a layout of our home." Light dawned.

"Oh no, no way is somebody coming into my house and taking pictures of where I live. Hum,mmm. Nope, that’s an invasion of privacy, and I won’t have it." There how’s that? You’re toast.

I was toast. The magazine reporter, with photographer in tow, came, took the pictures, and wrote their little story; I fled the house. That was another adventure on the links with Harley. It was almost worth the trouble of people looking at my bathroom, where I…you know…God. Hey everybody’s got one, why should you be any different? Not everybody has too look at mine. A lot happened in the next two years. Most of it good, most of it happy, only reliving the past over and over seem to interfere with our bliss. Then the episode with Fowler. I had finally snapped. I, a physician, someone who made an oath to save and protect the sanctity of life, had ended a life. Albeit not a good person by any stretch of the imagination. But I became judge, jury, and executioner. Oh sure, he was going to kill us both, but I had stopped him. He was unconscious. He couldn’t hurt us any more. The police would have come and taken him away. He would have gone to trial and he would have been judged for his crimes. But he never got that chance, I saw to that. I was sure he’d get off on some technicality, an insanity plea or something. Then he could have been released. But that’s the way our system works, innocent until proven guilty. And every person in this country has the right to a fair trial, and the best defense available. Or the best you can buy. Damn sometimes having a conscience really sucks. The receptionist brought me out of my reverie.

Dr. McGregor, Mrs. McGregor, Dr. Friar will see you both now. My lover stood and reached her hand down to me.

"Are you ready my love?" I took my angel’s hand in mine and stood. I kissed our joined hands and then kissed the sweetest lips I have ever tasted.

"Yes angel, let’s take our lives back. Let’s put the demons to rest."

Well, that’s it, the end. I deliberately ended the story like this for a reason. If you would like more in the lives of Becca and Stace, let me know. If not this will be the end of the series. (For now.) I appreciate your comments and constructive criticism, so ‘…fire when ready Ridley’.