Emily stood staring into the darkness of the yard. She opened the blinds as soon as she entered, per Harley’s request, and couldn’t seem to do anything but stare out into the blackness. Only a few spots were truly visible by the moonlight shining into the yard through the dense tree cover. Somewhere out there was Harley. Emily was hoping she could divine some clue from her hidden image as to why the space between them had grown so large and quiet.

The ride had been filled with conversation, but it was all relevant to the evening, and there wasn’t a smidgeon of the playful flirting, or anything remotely personal.

Now, she just had to wait for Rita to arrive and wonder. Only a few things were settled in her own mind about her feelings, and the rest left her feeling a little like coming down from too much booze or drugs; light headed and wobbly, but one of them stood forth clearly. In whatever happened to her in the future, she would not settle for what passed as her life and relationships before. From now on, if things worked out with her and Harley, or even if they didn’t, she would no longer accept less than genuine care and respect, and she wouldn’t give less either.

She would stand, for the first time in her adult life, on feet that were not made of clay, assert her right to experience true emotion and not hide from it. No more writing about it as if she knew what she was saying. She only hoped, fervently, that Harley could help her with this. For her part, the writer was determined to give it her best effort. So far, my best effort has always been good enough. This would be a very painful thing to fail at. Wonder if I’d ever get over it?

The doorbell broke her from her musings, and she turned to start tonight’s mission.

**********

Harley was settled semi-comfortably in the lower branches of the sprawling Noble Fir that took up the back left quarter of Stephanie’s yard. The SUV was parked on the dirt road that ran behind the length of the few homes on Old Orchard. Having spent her growing years being everywhere around here with Steph, finding a place to conceal the car hadn’t been a problem. She tried very hard to keep the greater percentage of her concentration on the surrounding area, listening for anyone else who might be lurking there. She found it very hard to do when Emily was standing there, backlit by the table lamp, looking so engrossed in whatever thought held her. It was a lovely site and it didn’t surprise her that it was difficult to concentrate on anything else with the woman looking so beautiful, and being able to watch her without having to make an excuse to do so. She knew she couldn’t be seen from the house and so, even though she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help but look. Of course, looking led to thinking, and that was something she felt she could do something about. There just wasn’t any percentage in thinking about it.

She was both grateful and perturbed when Emily turned away. Soon though, she could see her and Rita slip into the master bedroom, and watched as the light went on and then, as Emily, following Harley’s instructions, opened the drapes to the sliding door leading onto the deck. She had to shimmy a little further out on the limb to keep the blonde in view, as they talked and worked inside. Emily was cooperating it seemed, as she mostly kept herself in full view of the window.

As the tasks inside grew rudimentary and Harley knew there was no danger from Rita, she slowly let her mind go back to the break-in and ran over every possibility that came to mind. Her gut told her the new information on Darla’s sudden wealth had something to do with it. How she got Rita to let her have the alarm combination was troubling. Harley knew the McKinnon’s’s weren’t her greatest friends. They were one of the few families in town who held some deep-seated moral prejudices against homosexuality. They weren’t nasty or vocal, but the undercurrent of disapproval was clear. She thought they may have been one of those that thought it was a case of nurture and not nature and therefore, associating too closely with gay people or allowing a tacit approval of the lifestyle by not openly saying they were against it, might lead to an alternative lifestyle choice for their girls. They had five daughters. Two of them went to school with her, and she was sure that even though they didn’t say it out loud often around here, lots of nasty stuff went on behind the McKinnon’s closed doors. Jenna McKinnon was older than she was by two years, and in grade school, had been one of her closest friends. That was probably due to the crush Jenna had on J.D. All that changed in high school, after the Darla incident. Suddenly people who were always friendly to her got too busy to see her, or just stopped speaking to her when she met with them on the street or at school. It was a real shock to realize that some people could know one thing about you they hadn’t known before and suddenly, to them, you were a different person; a dangerous person to be around. That’s what happened to Jenna.

Even with all that, she didn’t feel that the family or Rita in particular would deliberately help Darla, or try to hurt Stephanie. She was sure by now that the McKinnon’s’s knew that Steph was gay, but still allowed Rita to clean her house. I mean, they had to know, right? Maybe. Nonetheless, even though they couldn’t know about Darla’s sexuality as she made it clear in high school that she was ‘not that kind,’ and to all outward appearances was just that, anyone with common sense could see she was just in the closet. Besides, if homosexuality bothered the religious family, then they must be appalled at Darla’s sluttish behavior with men. Tramp didn’t even begin to describe her. She slept her way through every man she could seduce in Bramble. So, if it wasn’t Darla that Rita gave the code to, who was it?

**********

The information Emily needed to confirm her suspicions came slowly, but that was alright, as she was drawing it out slowly. Rita had to be unaware that she was telling more than she intended or the girl would have stopped. So far, Emily had gotten what she wanted in the tiny bites she’d expected. Rita confirmed for her what days she normally cleaned Steph’s, place and when she did the yard work. She told the writer that she did it alone and always made sure to come on Friday. Steph would call the Monday before to let Rita know the publisher was coming up for the weekend. The young woman told Emily that the last time Steph came up was the first of last month. The pieces all fit. Now was the tough part. She wanted to tread carefully and not frighten the girl, but she had to have the answer. As they were smoothing the comforter over the bed in the master bedroom, she pulled out the big guns.

"You know, Rita, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help with this. I just hate being helpless and dependent. I would have been mortified if Steph came up this weekend, and had to change her own linen. Some lousy houseguest, huh?" She deliberately put on a look of self-disgust.

"Oh, no. Really it was no problem for me, I was glad to do it." The girl was all but falling over herself to help the famous writer. Emily could see Rita’s request to the author was on the tip of the girl’s tongue, so she quickly continued.

"I know you feel that way, but still I want to give you something for it. So, if it’s okay with you, while I’m here, if you ever want someone to read what you’ve written, or help you with your writing, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’d be happy to help, and just by talking to you I can see you’ve really got potential. There’s just a way that good writers speak. You express yourself with clarity, and consider your word choices well. It’s the sign of a good writer, and I’d like to help with that all I can." Before the flustered girl could utter her gratitude, Emily came in for the killing blow. "In addition, since we share an interest in other things beyond writing, I’d like to give you this." She turned to the rocker, and lifted the throw over the seat to pick up the item it had been hiding. Turning around she shook it out, and held it up in front of her. The girl was only standing a few feet away, so she could see it clearly. Her eyes grew round, and her mouth dropped open. I’ve got her!

"The boys were really hot that night, huh?" She handed the shirt to the girl and sat down on the rocker, as Rita collapsed onto the foot of the bed they’d just made. She began to trace the autographs with her finger as she spoke.

"Oh yeah. They were great." She wasn’t focusing on anything but the priceless souvenir in her hand, as Emily continued.

"They sure were. How many encores did they do, four?"

"No, five. It was so great. It just went on and on." She pulled the shirt to her chest and finally looked up. "I can’t believe you’re giving this to me. Wow! How did you get it?"

"Oh, the Boys and I are old friends. I try to get to all of their concerts when I can, and since this was for charity, I just couldn’t miss it. They insisted on signing my shirt and I knew, since you had the same one, that you’d really appreciate it. They’re so nice and so sweet, not to mention cute, huh? I’m glad you got to see this one. Now the shirt will mean so much more to you. That concert just went on, forever. It must have been two in the morning when it ended. I’ll bet it made it hard to get to school, and get over here to clean the next day. I know I was out for the count and didn’t get up till noon Friday." Take the bait, Rita. Share with me.

"Oh yeah, I was really wiped out. I slept all the way home. Thankfully, I was staying at my sister’s and school hadn’t started yet. I was worried about getting back here to clean up for Stephanie, but my sister told me she’d do it and to just sleep in. It was great. First the concert and then someone else did my work for me the next day. That night we went out to dinner and a movie and spent Saturday at the beach. Now, you give me this shirt. It was the greatest weekend ever, before, but with this to remember it by, wow…some writer I am I can’t even put it into words. Thank you so much!"

"Hey, it’s my pleasure, if I want another one, I’ll just call the guys. They’re really great. Next time they play around here maybe we can go see them together, and I’ll introduce you to them." She wasn’t worried that the lie would show on her face, because so far, everything she told the girl was the truth. Emily would be happy to help the teen-ager with her writing and she’d be glad to take Rita to meet her musician friends. She watched as the girl’s eyes lit up all over again, and rushed on. "I guess that’s another thing we have in common; sisters. My sister is terrific too; I don’t’ know what I’d do without her. She’s my best friend, but don’t you have four sisters? Which one is the good one? She asked, smiling and leaning in conspiratorially.

"Yeah, the others are okay, but Nancy’s my favorite." Then Rita looked down and began to retrace the names on the shirt over again.

**********

Faster than the Sheriff thought the light in the bedroom went off, and Emily was back at the living room door looking out. Harley tuned her senses to the front of the house, and listened as she heard Rita back her bicycle out of the driveway and turn out onto Old Orchard, and then the sound disappeared. Harley made her way out of the tree and approached the back door making sure that she stepped into the light as soon as possible. The poor woman has had enough shocks to her system since she’s been here. Let’s not make for anymore.

Emily saw her appear as though by magic from a pitch black spot in the yard when she stepped into a bright spot; a pool of moonlight aided by the living room light behind her. Slinked. That’s the word. She slinked into the light. Animal like. Predatory. Scary. Scary, but gorgeous.

The blonde unlocked the door and opened it, as the Sheriff stepped onto the deck. Before the officer could get a word out of her mouth to ask, Emily answered her.

"Nancy, her sister."

**********

Harley held her questions as long as she could but halfway back to her Mother’s house, she could wait no longer.

"All right. At the risk of feeding the ego of the junior g-man I’m going to ask you how you did it." She turned to look at the writer and nodded her head once. "Please, feel free to embellish your success as much as you like. I know how you creative types need to preen your feathers now and again." Saying the last, she added just a hint of a smile and for a moment, the old banter was back. She turned her attention back to the dark road. "Just try to give me a little insight on the particulars."

Emily couldn’t help but smile at that. She was feeling a little cocky, and she supposed with her having that ‘everything shows on my face’ kind of problem, that this must have shown as well. Okay, I will. A few warm fuzzies for a job well done can’t hurt.

"Okay, and because, being one of those creative types, I do have a tendency to make a long story an epic, I’ll try to capsulate. You remember I told you my being a writer would work in my favor? She looked to the officer who nodded. "Well, it did. From the first moment she came in she had this celebrity haze thing going on." Harley interrupted.

"This what?"

"Celebrity haze. It’s a term my-" What do I call Teddy? I realize she doesn’t really qualify as a friend, at least I realize it now, but without telling her all about it, her, her and me, there is no other word. "My friend Teddy, uhm, coined for that kind of glazed over in the eye look that lots of fans of celebrities get when they get up close and personal with their idols." She finished quietly with a great deal of hesitance, as she realized how full of herself that made her sound.

The Sheriff realized it too, and her knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. Just another example of why I’m just fooling myself about her. She wouldn’t ever settle here. This place would never be enough for her.

"Anyway," she hurried along, "she listened to everything I said and did her best to please me while I did my best to make her feel comfortable. By the time we were almost finished, I’d learned some important facts to verify my theory."

Before she could go on, Harley cut in. "What theory?"

"The theory that said Rita went to that Backstreet Boys concert, and gave someone the code to the alarm." She raised her hand to stop the question that she knew the dark haired woman wanted to ask. "Now, if you’ll just let me explain it will all become clear, alright?" Harley nodded and Emily picked up her narrative.

"With careful questions and well placed compliments, by the time we finished I’d gleaned several things." She ticked them off on her fingers as she spoke. "Stephanie always calls her on Mondays to let her know she’ll be up that weekend." Harley nodded. "The last time Steph came up here was the first weekend in September." The Sheriff nodded again, once again failing to hide the look of respect for the small blonde’s unknown skill. "Lastly, Rita always uses Friday to clean the place when she knows Steph is due for the weekend. Now you told me that Rita wanted to go to that concert and she had her sister come and pick her up. I knew she either went to that concert or knew someone well who had, because today when we met, she was wearing the T-shirt from the concert." That was just a jump too wide for the Sheriff to buy.

"Bu--"

"Wait. I know you’re going to say she could have bought that T-shirt anywhere, or someone could have given it to her. I was betting no one gave it to her, and you can’t buy one, at least not at a store . They were one of a kind and given out to all attendees at the concert, one to a customer. Even I couldn’t get more than one and I asked." Realizing too late just how snobby that made her sound, she grimaced and tried to save her self. "What I mean is, I was a guest. The Backstreet Boys. I was their guest for the evening. They read my books and they’re big fans of mine. They share them and talk about them on the bus while they tour and they found out through mutual friends how much I liked their music, and invited me. So, since I was their guest back stage and all, I thought I’d like another T-shirt and asked. I even offered to pay for one and they said they couldn’t because beyond those given out, one per customer at the door, and the one they got for me, the rest were signed and going up for auction on E-bay with the money earned from the sales going to benefit Children of The Night."

"I know of them. That’s the charity that takes in homeless kids in L.A., right?"

"Yeah, they do great work. Anyway, since I knew it was very doubtful someone gave her one, I surmised she attended. That being the case, I knew the concert was on a Thursday night. I know because it ran really long, and I had to get a room in Santa Barbara because I was too ston…I mean tired to drive back to L.A. that night. I slept in the next day until noon, and had to push it to make it back home in time for a party I was going to that night. However, the next day was Friday and Steph was due up that night. If Rita didn’t clean Steph’s place up before she left then she either came all the way back up here to do it or someone else did it. For that to happen, she had to give them the code and the key."

"Nancy."

"Yeah, Nancy. Now, I have a little sister and when we were younger, I can’t tell you how often I gave in to her pleading for something my Aunt and Uncle said she couldn’t have. I thought if I got the day right, what probably happened was her sister took her to the concert. I found out I was correct. Nancy offered to come back and clean Steph’s place while she let Rita sleep in on Friday. They went to the movies and dinner Friday night and spent Saturday at the beach. Now, either these two sisters are just crazy about each other, or this Nancy saw a chance for something she wanted and took it, and took her sister for a ride as well. I’m sure Rita has no idea about what happened here today and she only thinks her big sister is wonderful for treating her to, in her words, the best weekend of her life. Poor kid."

"Damn." Harley made the final turn into the Ravensdown driveway and pulled up to the porch. "Well, then logic would dictate that I go see Nancy next."

"Okay, what time in the morning do you want to pick me up?"

Harley’s first instinct was to tell Emily she wasn’t going, and then the part of her that wasn’t reeling from the emotion this woman made her feel kicked in, and she realized the writer would be very useful to have along.

"Make it nine. Most of the rush hour traffic should be gone by then and we should be able to get to L.A. by early afternoon." She took a deep breath and turned her head to look out the windshield, instead of the blonde sitting so close to her.

"Uh, okay, then. I’ll uh, see you then." What happened? I was so sure she was going to tell me to stay here. What made her change her mind?

The next thing Emily knew, the Sheriff was at her door holding it open for her and she was stepping out. The tall woman closed the car door and used her key to open the front door to her parent’s house. A quiet ‘good night’ and she was taking off down the driveway, leaving the writer to try to figure out whether to feel vindicated or vexed.

"Damn you, Harley. I was hoping for a good night kiss." She whispered into the night, then turned and closed the door behind her.

As planned, by nine the next day they were on the road. Both were sipping vigorously from large travel cups that held the nectar Twyla brewed and which she laughingly referred to as coffee. The first few miles were fairly quiet with only the basics covered. They exchanged ‘good mornings’ and answered, when asked, that they were both fine and slept well. Harley volunteered that she’d gotten Nancy’s address from her brother, Emerson and he’d gotten it from the alumni register when they’d last sent out the reunion letter. According to the register, Nancy McKinnon lived in Glendale and was, according to the reunion questionnaire she filled out last September, currently working as the Administrative Assistant to the Chairman of the Board of a company called V. Alaska Enterprises.

So far, J.D. hadn’t been able to find out much about the company, only that it was privately owned and not traded on Wall Street, and according to their website, they were in the business of ‘property acquisition for discriminating buyers.’ The site boasted of its coups in finding film shoot sites as well as land and buildings for company relocations and private estates. He was going to keep looking and call when he found the owner and any more information.

By the time they hit Santa Barbara, the traffic was fairly clear and the day was beautiful. The only thing missing in Emily’s estimation was conversation. She made several attempts to draw the woman out a bit and got back only polite, but guarded responses. After they hit the 101 south, she stopped trying.

She couldn’t seem to stop thinking, though. When Emily came in the night before, Twyla had been waiting for her. Since the woman hadn’t had a chance to speak with her daughter, Twyla didn’t have any definitive answers for the writer, but the older woman tried her best to reassure Emily.

"Whatever it is that’s bothering her, it isn’t all you Emily. I know that she must have this whole case on her mind and she’s more than likely worried about your safety. I know too it drives her to distraction when she can’t get to the heart of a matter right away." The older woman gave a small chuckle. "That’s one thing about her that hasn’t changed. She hates it so much when she can’t figure out a mystery. She gets so focused that nothing else matters to her. When she was ten or eleven her tutor gave her a problem to solve over the Christmas holidays. What she didn’t know was that it was really an ethic’s problem and had no real answer. The teacher just wanted her to use her brain and her own set of morals to describe how she would handle it. Harley didn’t know that though. She fought that question from every possible angle for the whole two weeks. It wasn’t until the day before vacation ended that she figured it out. I just happened to be looking at her when she got it. The old cartoons that always showed the light bulb going off above the head of the character was just about true. Her whole face lit up and the smile that came over her was brilliant. She ran out of the dining room and upstairs to her bedroom. She was back down stairs not twenty minutes later, and for the first time all vacation, she actually paid attention to the gifts she got for Christmas."

"I know how that goes. I’m that way myself." Emily smiled at the benevolent look of love and admiration on the older woman’s face and envied the maternal pride that glowed so fiercely from her for her daughter. Emily also ran through a mental checklist of all the other things she and the officer had in common. It was longer than she expected and the dissimilarities seemed to be as complimentary as the similarities. They just seemed to compliment each other. She wondered again if the officer saw it as clearly, and if she did, why Harley suddenly seemed to be distancing herself from her. Was that the reason? Was there someone else? Someone in her past that damaged her? Was she afraid of what was happening between them? That thought gave her a little hope. She could overcome that, if that was all it was. It would just take patience and persistence. She never gave up before on anything she wanted and she wanted this thing with Harley to happen. More than anything else she could think of, ever.

The Sheriff brought her out of her memories with a question.

"Do you know the Glendale area well?" The officer finally gave in to her need to keep contact of some kind with the enchanting blonde in the passenger seat. Harley knew she’d been unreachable for most of the morning and she’d done it deliberately, but it was twice as painful as she expected it to be and before she knew it the question just popped out of her mouth. This whole ‘distance’ thing is getting to be way too hard, for both of us. Maybe Mom is right. Just let it go for today. We’ll be spending all of it alone together for the most part. Just let it go and see what happens. She tried to keep the reason why she’d distanced herself from the object of her obvious interest in the front of her mind, but her attraction to the woman seemed to push that aside. Let it go. It won’t help any to fight this. It will either happen or it won’t and I can’t seem to keep it up long enough to make a difference anyway.

The question was certainly non-committal and had no personal inflection attached to it, but the writer sensed that in it was the seeds of a change in the Sheriff’s attitude and so she tried to make the conversation as engaging as possible.

"Yeah, pretty much. When I first got out of college I had my first apartment there. I liked it. It was closer to all the action in Hollywood without the parking problems or the crime. Of course that was four years ago and like all suburbs of a city like L.A. that means it changes really fast. Where exactly are we headed?" She made sure to keep a smile on her face and turned slightly towards the officer trying to make as much eye contact as possible.

"Eighty-five twenty-seven Doran, apartment 6. Know of it? Know the area?"" She turned to look at the blonde as she spoke and saw the smile. Guess she was as miserable as I was. That’s the first smile I’ve seen all morning.

"I know where it is. I used to live just off Doran on Los Feliz. Since she works during the day, are we just going to wait for her to get home? I mean, did you call to find out if she’ll be there or something?"

"Well, actually, I’d planned just to locate the place and then find a spot to eat something and wait for more info from J.D. I assume she’ll work nine to five and if he can’t find her business address, we’ll just stop by her place around then and wait for her to get home." She gave the blonde a grin as she added, "In spite of what you crime writers insist on in your books, most of law enforcement is sitting around waiting. It’s time consuming, boring and repetitive." She tilted her head as she continued. "Hope you brought a book along."

That brought a real laugh to the blonde. "Nope, no book. I figure you’ll just have to keep me entertained."

Quite without her permission, she responded. "And just how would you have me entertain you? I could recite some verse or perform a local folk dance, or we could always try my personal favorite." With the last two words, her voice had dropped to that deep, seductive growl and even though Emily knew she wasn’t going to say what she hoped she would, she couldn’t help but feel her body respond to it.

"Which would be?" The green eyes twinkled as she smiled her words to the officer, and though the Sheriff knew Emily wasn’t aware she was doing it, she watched as the writer’s left hand began to stroke up and down the outside of her own left knee. Even though the blonde was touching her own denim clad knee, the officer felt it as though it was happening to her. She had to swallow quickly before she answered.

"Juggling."

Even though she was half expecting something along that line, she was not expecting that and her laughter came spontaneously. In between spurts of it, she managed to get out, "Right. Of course. I can’t wait to see it." More laughter and then, "Just another of your" she took a breath, "many…talents, huh?"

The sheriff bit her lip to maintain her reserve and said confidently, "Of course."

It got easier after that. The conversation kept pace with the miles they traveled and covered every subject under the sun like childhood experiences, family, travels, up to and including personal philosophy and the only thing they didn’t talk about, almost by tacit agreement, was their respective love lives.

The sheriff did notice something odd though, and thought long about whether to bring it up or not. The closer they got to L.A. the more the small woman smoked. She’d known her for less than a week, but she’d seen her everyday and, even though the woman had that small panic attack when she was afraid she’d forgotten to buy her cigarettes, she’d only seen her smoke twice. Now, as businesses and residences of the San Fernando Valley surrounded them, she was nearly chain-smoking. She decided to put it off for later. It was so obviously symptomatic of the woman’s reaction to being here you didn’t need more than first year psychology to see it. What it meant was another story all together.

Still listening to the small woman relate another ‘most embarrassing moment’ story, this one having happened at a book signing in Denver, the officer filed the question she wanted to ask away for a later time, and signaled to get off the freeway at Glendale Blvd.

**********

"I’m sorry, Dear but I’ve thought it over and I just don’t think I can sell it to you at that price." Polly Pechter worried at the phone card and twined it about her fingers. Even now, when she’d finally made up her mind to reject the over generous offer for her property, she had reservations. She really wanted to move down to Florida with her daughter and son-in-law and she just wouldn’t be able to make it without the kind of money she was being offered. She half-hoped to be talked out of it.

"All right." This time the voice sounded angry instead of cajoling and charming and Polly felt a little intimidated by it. "We’ll go as high as $300, 000.00, but not a cent more. It’s more than you could hope to get for that place if you waited years for another offer."

"What?" Polly had to sit down hard before her knees went out on her altogether. Evidently, she hadn’t made her point clear. "I can’t do it. You don’t understand. My conscience just wouldn’t let me."

Before she could go on, she was interrupted. "You just give it a little more thought, Mrs. Pechter. Call if you change your mind." The next words were no veiled threat. They were definite. "You have until tomorrow to change it, or we’ll take action. Think hard, Mrs. Pechter."

Polly realized the cramping in her lower intestines was fear and she still had her mouth open when she heard the dial tone in her ear. What to do? What to do? Before she could formulate a rational thought her lower intestines seized, and as always happened to her when she was very distraught, barely made it to the toilet before her bowels let loose.

**********

The place was easy to find. It was just an apartment very like all the other apartment buildings on this street and the one next to it. Harley guessed it catered to an average income level resident. Nothing was special about it and being unfamiliar with the area she relied on Emily to confirm or deny her suspicions.

"So, what do you think? How much a month would a place like this go for?" She asked, as they sat staring at the white stucco building across the street. The black wrought iron gate in the center front gave a glimpse of the pool just beyond and the two-story complex looked to be at least twenty years old.

Emily ran a discerning eye over the door to window ratio of the apartments and noted the entrance to the carports was not gated. Considering the proximity to the financial district that began just up the block and the state of the landscaping of the building, average but not unkempt, she answered. "I’d say around $700.00 a month, tops. Why?"

The answer confirmed her own ideas and she shook her head as she responded. "That’s about what I thought too. It’s odd because for the last several years, all I’ve heard from Nancy or about her from her family and friends is how well she’s doing. According to them, she’s making a very good living and according to that alumni list, she’s the right hand to the CEO of a very profitable company. Now, that to me implies a salary of at least fifty or sixty thousand a year, and that sure doesn’t jive with her living in a place like this. See what I mean?"

The blonde smiled and shook her head. "Yeah, I do. Something’s wrong with this picture. Is she lying to Mom and Dad about her financial situation or is the information we have wrong?" Before the sheriff could respond, Emily turned in the seat and was attempting to open the door. "I’ll be right back."

The sheriff caught her shoulder and turned her. "What are you doing?"

Fixing the dark haired woman with her sweetest smile, she said, "I’m, just going to see if my good friend Nancy is home and if, maybe the manager has a vacant apartment. I’ll be right back." With that she got the handle open and slid out the door.

Harley just shook her head and let her go. Better her than me. Hell, I’d tell her anything she wanted to know if she looked at me like that too. What a racket that girl has going for her. With that whole sweet-young-thing, girl-next-door persona, that woman could talk the Pope into carnal knowledge. She’s not going to have any trouble with a mid level apartment manager. Harley had to smile then. It started in appreciation of the woman’s ability to talk her way into the hearts of strangers and gather information, but it stayed because she just appreciated Emily. It changed only a fraction as the trace of melancholy she felt with her next thought colored it. Ah, Emily. If only things were different.

Before she could let the thought go, the writer was setting beside her again and trying hard to close the door. Harley leaned past her and pulled it shut. ‘So? How’d it go, Nancy Drew?"

Emily just gave her a disgusted look and said, "We were right. She doesn’t live here anymore. Evidently, according to Mr. Hahn, the manager, she got a new job almost a year ago and moved to the beach somewhere. He doesn’t remember which one, only that she gave only a week’s notice and he kept her deposit." She didn’t smile, but the twinkle in her eye said it all.

"Very good." Harley conceded, "Now, we just have to find out where she went from here. How about we find someplace to eat and I’ll make a couple of calls." She started the engine and Emily fumbled with her seatbelt. Seeing the writer struggle, she leaned over her and clipped the belt in. As she rose up, she continued, "Well, since this is your turf now, do you want to recommend someplace to do that?"

Emily gave it serious thought for less than a second before she answered. "Sure, just get on the 10 freeway going west and follow my lead." It might not be exactly what the sheriff was asking for, but it would work better in any number of ways. Besides, she really wanted to do it, and she just hadn’t had enough practice in self-denial yet to make any other choice. Just shut up, do it, and deal with the consequences when you get there.

**********

The pain was better now, even though it looked worse. The swelling around her eye and across her cheek was down but the color of the bruise was a vibrant deep purple and black at the edges. Only the red line of stitches where the ring sliced her just below her right eye broke the continuity of color. The rest of the bruises and marks were concealed beneath her clothing, but she still couldn’t walk straight enough to make it to work.

Holding onto the wall and whatever furniture was along the way, she made it into the kitchen for the fourth time that day. She needed to replace the warm ice packs for the cold ones again, and she had to get a

drink to help her swallow the pain pills. She knew she should eat something or she risked getting sick from them, but the thought of food just made her nauseous.

She’d just taken the pills with water from the tap and was opening the freezer for the ice packs when the phone rang.

It made her jump and the tensing of her muscles made her gasp in pain. She grabbed the wall-mounted phone in fury for it causing her such misery, and growled out, "What?"

"Now, now, now. Is that polite, Nancy?"

God how she hated that voice. That patronizing, manipulating, condescending tone. She hated it but she wasn’t stupid enough to say anything about it. She was also terrified of it.

"Yes, you’re right, it was rude, I’m sorry." The words came out fast and with as much sincerity as she could inject. She only hoped it was enough.

"Of course, I’m right, whore. I’m always right. I can just bet how sorry you are by now. Must be kind of pretty by now, all black and blue and red. You must be a real sight, huh?"

She didn’t know whether to respond or not and the not knowing was making her stomach jump. She didn’t want her mad at her again, but she just didn’t know if she was supposed to agree with her or be silent. Before she could make up her mind, she found out she made another mistake when the voice on the phone changed from irritated to furious.

"Answer me, bitch! When I ask you a question, you damn well better answer me."

"Ye…yes Mistress, I’m sorry, of course you’re right. It’s very pretty now with all the colors." She was swallowing furiously in an attempt to keep what little bit was in her stomach from coming up.

"I know it is. I’ll bet you look just, oh," She heard the woman take in a deep breath, "lovely." She held the last word as though the thought of it gave her great pleasure. Before Nancy could decide if a response was required her mistress went on.

"Now, baby, are you taking care of yourself? Hmn?"

She tried to fight it, but it was even harder than controlling her fear. This was the voice of the woman she loved, sweet and tender. These were the words of her lover, and even though she knew deep down inside they were lies, she just couldn’t let go of it. She wanted her. She loved her.

"I’ll bet you’re not eating, huh? I knew you wouldn’t take care of yourself, so I made some arrangements. Eli will be there in about ten minutes with some lunch and I want you to eat all of it, ya hear?"

She began to shake now, hard and it took all she had to keep her voice steady. If Eli was coming, it couldn’t be good. Besides that, she knew he hated her. He had been her Mistress’s chosen before she came along and he never let an opportunity go by to let her know that she was in his rightful place. She was in no shape to defend herself and her mistress wasn’t here to protect her from him. Even worse, her Mistress had sent him. Oh god, oh God, oh God, I’m going to die. Jesus, help me.

"Please, Mistress, I’m eating. I’m taking care of myself, you don’t have to bother with…"

She got no further.

"But I do, beloved," the woman purred. "You belong to me and I take care of what belongs to me. Eli will be there in eight minutes now. Be sure to let him in and do as he asks, as though it was me speaking. You will do that for me, baby, won’t you? I need you well, baby, I miss you. I’ll be home Monday and I’m going to want a little loving from my baby. I’ll expect you to be much better by then. Bye, bye love."

Eight minutes later the front door bell chimed and Nancy was standing in the kitchen, still holding the phone receiver to her ear, crying quietly. When it rang a second time, she hung up the phone, made her way painfully to the front door and opened it. Without looking up, she turned and made her way back into the living room. She stopped in the middle of the room, hoping.

He said, "Let’s take this to the playroom. The mistress doesn’t want the neighbors alarmed." She didn’t have to see him to see the sadistic smirk he wore. He was finally going to get his own back and she was just going to have to take it. Again.

She nodded and headed down the hall as he followed, taking only an extra second to set down the paper bag of take out food on the cocktail table as he passed it.

**********

Harley had the feeling from the beginning that this was where they were headed, but for many reasons she held her tongue. Now as they drove into the gated parking lot, past the armed security guard, she finally spoke.

"Well, the price is right, but I don’t know about the availability of fresh food. After all the cook has been gone for almost a week." She smiled on one side of her mouth as she made the final turn into space seven and turned of the ignition.

"S’alright, the housekeep…, I mean the assistant manager took care of the deliveries. The kitchen’s fully stocked and ready for the breakfast crowd."

The elevator to the second floor was barley five feet from the writer’s front bumper and the trip upstairs was a matter of seconds. As Emily opened the front door, the dark haired woman was nearly blinded by the sun shining on the ocean and sparkling through the enormous glass doors facing her.

"Wow!"

"I know. That was my reaction the first time I saw it, too. It’s the reason I took the place." She paused a moment to consider the view and then made her way to the kitchen door on the right, leaving the sheriff staring at the ocean and the beach below.

A moment later the wooden shutters over the pass thru bar opened and Harley turned to see the writer as she started to assemble things to eat. She took another quick look at the view and made her way over to the stools in front. As she pulled one out and sat down, she looked at the room she’d ignored in favor of the scene outside the glass. It was very exotic. She was a trifle surprised by that. Everything held an Eastern influence of some kind. The large, low, square table was black lacquer and surrounded by legless chairs. They were wood framed and woven through with linen in shades of plum and forest green, like patio furniture and consisted of seats that rested directly on the floor without legs. The wood seemed to be beech that made up the frame, backs and arms. They had thick velvet cushions in matching tones resting on the seats and backs. Three were facing the window with one on each end and another three had their back to the view. The floor was covered in several complimentary and contrasting shades of expensive oriental carpet. Against the walls were several tables and chests that might have been from either Japan, China or India, Harley didn’t know, and the ornaments ran the gamut from a large Chinese gong and near life-sized bronze Buddha to a pink and green jade chessboard and an old, but very well used, brass, pewter, glass and lapis lazuli hookah. Harley couldn’t help but smirk at that and she shot the writer a look.

As Emily registered what the officer was smirking about, she bit her lip and dammed herself for not remembering the place of honor her well-used utensil held in her living room. She looked down quickly and continued to beat the eggs as she spoke, trying in part, to avoid a conversation about her obvious drug use.

"So, how do you like your scrambled eggs?" She could feel the blush rise up her cheeks again and just hoped the fluorescent light above her hid it a little bit in the shadow of her bowed head.

"Scrambled will be fine. Although why the question should make you blush, confuses me. Is there some kind of double entendre I’m missing in the whole ‘scrambled egg’ issue?" That pale pink crawling up the blonde’s cheek once again enchanted Harley. For such an obviously worldly woman, the site seemed at once, incongruous and very natural.

"Huumm." Emily cleared her throat. "Uhm, not that I’m aware of. Why don’t you go ahead and make those calls, this will take a few minutes and maybe, by then, I’ll be able to get this stupid blushing thing under control, huh?" She turned her back to the brunette and started to chop some green and yellow peppers with purpose, as Harley gave her the break she needed and said, "I’ll do that." But even with the writer’s back turned she could hear the smile in Harley’s voice and Emily could do nothing but chop harder and let out a little groan. She opened the drawer beneath her hips and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She lit one and took a long drag, placed it in the marble ashtray to her right and went back to chopping with enthusiasm.

A few minutes later as she folded her phone and put it in her pocket, Harley returned to the stool at the pass thru bar. She’d taken to wandering the living room while she spoke or waited for one of her brothers or Gunny to try to retrieve information for her. The living room had at it’s opposite end a small hall with four closed doors and it took a lot of self control to resist making that short walk down the hall and peeking into what was obviously, Emily’s more private spaces. As she sat down again, she saw that her timing was very close to perfect as she watched the little strawberry blonde add a sprig of parsley to two full plates of scrambled eggs and bacon. She was about to ask it she could do anything to help. She felt a little bad. The woman had done all this with one arm in a sling and she was being a very rude guest. Mom would have my ass for this.

"If you could just set these on the table in the living room, I can bring the muffins and butter." Emily pushed the plates on to the pass thru and turned to get the basket.

"Please, Emily if my mother ever found out how I let an injured woman fix me breakfast and never once offered to help, she’d kill me. Please, just go sit down and let me get the rest of this, okay?" She grabbed both plates and fan carried them in her left hand, and came around and through the kitchen door to place the basket with the muffins on the inside of her left arm as well as the butter. As Emily watched with her mouth open, she slid the silverware encased by the napkins under her left middle finger and picked up the two glasses of juice with her right hand.

"I’ll be back for the coffee in just a second." She just stood there waiting for Emily to leave before her and when she didn’t she bent a bit at the waist and said, "After you, Miss."

Emily finally got her mouth closed and fumbled her way through the door and to the low table where she sat down rather ungracefully watching as the beautiful, Sheriff did a perfect ‘bunny dip’ and placed the food on the table.

Before she even had a chance to remove the flatware from her napkin the woman was back, pouring coffee into her cup and then sitting beside her.

Harley shook her head at her and said, "You don’t really think my mother would allow any of her kids to grow up and not know how to serve at the table, do you. I waited tables for two years, prep cooked for one year, cooked and worked the front desk for six months and washed dishes and bussed for three months each. We all did." After a moment she added, "Oh, I also bartended for a summer after I turned twenty-one and helped the cleaning crew for six weekends when I was eleven. I didn’t get paid for that though, that was punishment for egging some cars at Halloween."

Emily couldn’t help but smile. This is no spoiled rich kid. How did they manage that? She’s rich and so smart. She’s far and away the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and there’s not a nasty bone in her body. No selfishness, no resentments, no superior attitudes and no stuck up behavior. How can she have all that stuff going for her and have missed out on all the crap that comes with it? Ye gods, she’s perfect. Argh! I gotta find another word, here!

Harley noticed the writer shaking her head and the look of near disgust on her face and had to comment on it. "What’s wrong? It can’t be the food." She said is she took another bite of the excellent fluffy eggs.

"Nothing. Really, it’s nothing, you’re just so, so…"

"So-what?" The sheriff asked as she took another nibble of the bacon and gazed out at the waves beyond the balcony.

"Perfect!" Emily proclaimed, as she dug into her eggs viciously.

Harley sucked in a surprised breath and immediately began choking to death.

Well, it wasn’t that bad, at least not now. Now that her eyes had stopped tearing up and she could sip a little water and she didn’t feel like she needed to puke.

Of course, none of that had an impact on how embarrassed Harley felt. True, there was, to go along with all the bad stuff, that really nice moment of having Emily wrapped around her, with the writer’s hair so close she could smell it. The blonde’s cheek was so very soft…but, Harley was sure she’d have a bruise from where Emily’s cast hit just below her ribcage as the young woman performed the Heimlich maneuver on her. The sheriff’s eyes next fell on the piece of bacon, which until just a couple of minutes ago was intent on taking her out. It was half chewed, wet and grotesquely plastered on the sliding glass doors in front of her. Okay, if I haven’t died of humiliation by now, it looks like I’m going to have to live through this. That means thinking of something to say. Harley glanced up then, at the very wide and very concerned eyes of her hostess and realized that whatever she decided to say would have to serve to remove that look of near terror in those pretty irises.

She cleared her throat for the hundredth time and said with a small smile, "I’m sorry. You must be very special. I usually don’t projectile vomit till the second date."

It must have worked because even though her voice had the obvious rasp of hoarseness from her choking, the words made Emily lose that tight look of worry and a small grin formed.

"Ah. Well, I was really only expecting you to juggle or something considering we’ve only known each other five days. I guess I’ll have to take it as a compliment and just list it among your many…talents."

The sunlight shining through the sliding glass doors brushed a path of fire across the red highlights on the blonde strands that fell over Emily’s shoulder and when Harley saw it, the witty comment that was right on the tip of her tongue just disappeared. Quite without her permission, she found herself locking onto those same green eyes and falling forward until she felt the warmth of the lips beneath her own. She briefly closed her eyes as the realization of it hit her and she sank a little deeper into those wondrously soft lips. Then, for no reason she could identify, she pulled back. Looking back at her were those same eyes from just a moment ago, only now the lids were half closed and the desire in them came close to making her lose her balance. The blonde’s lips were half opened and just a little gleam of moisture glistened over them. She pushed down a little harder on the arm she was leaning on and took a small breath to calm herself, that’s when she realized her lips were half opened too and the cool breeze that met the liquid on her own lips surprised her. It didn’t work too well, as she still felt her heart racing and the unmistakable pulling in her groin, but it did serve to strengthen the muscles in her arm enough to keep her from leaning in again.

"Thanks for saving me." The words were soft and sincere and the meaning ambiguous. Even she wasn’t sure exactly what she meant by them. They just popped out and the Sheriff left them there, between them, hoping the other woman would understand something Harley wasn’t able or willing to say.

Before Emily could respond, the unmistakable and at least to Emily, irritating sound of Harley’s cell phone broke the moment.

She took the opportunity to sit back just a bit as Harley pulled out her phone and answered.

Whoa. That was nice. Short. Way too short but very nice. As Emily relived the kiss, her eyes drifted to the water and her breath became short. The moment just kept replaying in her head over and over again. Her only regret was that she’d had no warning it was coming. If she’d had even the mildest hint it might happen, she would have taken steps immediately to prolong it, but it happened so suddenly that just as it registered as more than wishful thinking, it was ending. But it was really wonderful, all the same.

All of it was not lost on the sheriff. With only a part of her concentration on the call, she was still surreptitiously studying the beautiful woman next to her. As she watched Emily sit back, that same ray of sunshine caught her face full on and made the Sheriff swallow hard. Emily’s lips were still half open and the light that glistened on their pink depths was heart palpitatingly beautiful. She noted the woman’s pulse pick up and her chest straining against her increased breathing. She almost, almost closed the phone in preparation of pulling the writer into her arms when that small part of her that was listening to J.D. heard the words she was half expecting and half dreading.

"…so, if she works for the CEO, then her boss is Valerie Drayden. Took me a hell of a lot of calls to track it though. Looks as if she doesn’t want the whole world to know about it." When he didn’t hear what he expected, he spoke up again. "Harley? You still there?"

Harley realized suddenly she’d been holding her breath and released it with an audible whoosh as she picked up the train wreck of her thoughts and spoke. "Yeah, I heard you. Sorry, even though I half expected it, I was still surprised. Do you have anything else for me, like Nancy’s latest address."

"Nope, sorry. All I have is a P.O. box in Malibu. I’ll keep working on it though. Could be that Emerson can track that down faster than I can. He’s working on it and says if he finds anything he’ll call."

"Thanks, J.D., you’ve been a big help."

"It’s nada. Lucky for you it’s a slow news day." He chuckled a bit and, said a brief, "Later" and hung up.

Valerie. How does she figure into this? I was so sure about Darla I kind of put Valerie on the back burner. Stupid, Harley. Stupid and dangerous. Before the mental self-flagellation could continue, Emily spoke.

"Any news?" The blonde was just sitting down again and Harley realized she was so preoccupied she hadn’t even seen her get up. She watched as the woman refilled their coffee cups and set the pot on a trivet Harley hadn’t noticed before. Wow. Must have been lost in thought longer than I realized.

"Yeah. It’s not good either. I just can’t figure it out though. It seems that Nancy works for Valerie Drayden." She left it at that and watched as the smaller woman asked the obvious question.

"That the same Valerie that owns part of The Village?"

"Yep." The dark woman sipped her coffee and watched the blonde. She was expecting any number of things. She expected to see, confusion, anger or fear, but what she saw instead surprised her. The woman was elated. The smile that broke across her face and the sparkle in her eyes were confirmed when she spoke.

"That’s wonderful!" the blonde took a sip of her coffee and looked blissfully out at the ocean.

Harley couldn’t help herself and said, "What?"

Emily realized the woman had no conception of what she was thinking and began to explain.

She took a deep breath and turned more fully facing her. "Look, if Valerie is her boss, this had to have been done on her orders. You told me yourself that Nancy wasn’t bright enough or vindictive enough to have thought this out. You also told me Valerie is. Besides which, until we know otherwise, Nancy has no motive. The way I see it, is this. For whatever reason Valerie had Nancy get that alarm code. Now I don’t know if it was Valerie or Nancy who actually used it, but it’s a safe bet that one of them did. Whoever it was, is actually kind of irrelevant. The point is Valerie was and is in charge. That makes her, the ultimate bad guy here, and since we’re the obvious good guys it’s our job to get the bad guys. You obviously don’t like Valerie and I detest her on your behalf, as lousy as that sounds. I know I’ve never met her, but I do know you." Here she stopped and looked sincerely at the sheriff and reached out to touch her hand. "True, I don’t know you as well as I’d like, but that will come in time. I do, however, know enough of you to know if you dislike someone as much as you dislike her, there’s a very good reason for it. I trust that." She took another breath and continued, never even realizing that her hand had started to pet the one beneath it. "The point is, she’s the culprit, and if she’s as smart and nasty as you think she is, there’s probably a whole lot more to this than just wanting to scare the bejesus out of some houseguest. She’s a very rich woman and a very mean one and she’s personally pissed at you, but what does that have to do with Stephanie?" She shook her head. "No. It’s something else. Something meaner or more profitable. A smart woman would not have set this up. I think Nancy did it and I think she did it on her own, probably to score points with the boss. We just have to figure out what Valerie really wants and then" she slammed her hand down on the table loud enough to make the flatware ring, "we nail her sorry ass." The look on the pretty blondes face was nothing less than feral and Harley reminded herself again of her personal memo not to get the writer mad at her.

The phone ringing broke up their conversation and Harley answered it with more enthusiasm this time.

A minute later Harley asked Emily for a paper and pen and when she hung up, she spoke.

"Let’s clean up these dishes and take a drive." She was smiling now too, and as with Emily, the grin looked decidedly unfriendly. Emily told herself to make sure to stay on the right side of the lawyer. She never wanted that look aimed at her.

**********

She was getting better at this. She’d managed to hold it together long enough for Eli to be able to report to Valerie that her assistant had eaten. She’d waited until he was gone and the door locked behind him before the memory of his body on her and his dick in her mouth sent her rushing painfully into the bathroom. Now she had an empty stomach again and the pain from her stomach convulsing against her bruised torso was back with a vengeance. If I had any brains at all, I’d get the hell out of here right now, before she gets home. She sighed deeply and realized that was a lie. It wasn’t a matter of brains. It was courage she was lacking. Lack of courage and that sick, twisted feeling she still had, despite everything, for the woman who owned her. Even she was bright enough to admit that Valerie didn’t love her. Not really, anyway. That was a knowledge she’d come to long ago, but it still didn’t allow her to leave. It’s like being an addict. She thought. Like knowing it’s costing you and killing you, but not being able to walk away. I’m really pathetic. She remembered the names her mistress had used to humiliate her and even that didn’t help. She didn’t seem to have any dignity left, any sense of herself beyond that of Valerie’s property. She really was her whore.

She took in a shaky breath as far as she could and then grabbed hold of the vanity to lift herself to her feet. She tried not to look, but being the masochist that she was, she failed. The pale grayish skin offset the dark circles under her watery eyes and she could do nothing but close them against the reflection. She had to think. It was Friday and Valerie was due back by Monday. She had to be better by then. Valerie wouldn’t stand for it if she couldn’t service her, and she just knew she wouldn’t have the energy to fight to come back again. One more beating like this and she was just going to let go and die. She knew it could be done. She’d come so close to doing it before.

She made her way, painfully back to the dining room and sat down. As soon as she could feel somewhat sure to keep it down, she finished what was left of the Chinese food Eli brought and sipped her cold tea and tried to think of anything but what had just happened and what was going to happen. She’d been doing it for so long now, it was easy.

**********

After getting in the car and asking Emily for the quickest way to the area she wanted, she revealed what Emerson found for her.

"He couldn’t track down an address for Nancy but one of the few people from Bramble who still keep in touch with her is a good friend of Martha’s. Clancy lives in Santa Barbara now with her husband, but she and Martha get together once in a while. They’re both elementary school principals and met at a convention. Anyway, Clancy said she last saw Nancy by accident when she was at her in-laws in Malibu. Her husband is a teacher too, but his family are all in the entertainment business and have a house on the beach. She was at the nearest grocery store getting more ice for a party that night, when she ran into her, I guess literally with her shopping cart. They talked for a while and caught up on things. Seems Nancy did her level best to let her old high school buddy know how very well she was doing. She dropped a lot of names and then when they were about to leave, Clancy asked her where she was living now. She said she was living at her boss’s house." Harley stopped and raised an eyebrow at that.

Emily said, "I’m missing something, aren’t I?"

The sheriff nodded broadly. "Eeeyeah. What you don’t know is the way Nancy McKinnon was raised." She made the last turn and started to look for a place to park on the beach side of the road. When she found it and parked, she turned in her seat and continued. "The McKinnon’s are one of the few families in Bramble left who are truly homophobic. We had something happen when I was in high school." Although she tried to contain it, Emily saw the flash of pain deep in the sheriff’s eyes as she spoke. "It was an ugly little incident and it kind of separated the men from the boys, so to speak. After that, the lines were drawn between those who didn’t care and those who hated homosexuality. Thankfully, the majority of Bramble couldn’t care less. The McKinnon’s could have led the group who thought everyone who wasn’t straight should be put on a island somewhere." She took in a calming breath and looked out the windshield as she continued.

"After the incident, both the older McKinnon girls, Nancy and Jenna retreated behind the party lines. They never associated again with anyone of ‘questionable’ sexuality."

She wanted to say more. For some reason she couldn’t understand, she wanted to tell this woman the whole story of one of the most painful experiences of her young life, but she didn’t. It was a watershed event in her youth and marked her in ways she would only see years down the road, but she felt the time was wrong for the telling of it. That thought suddenly stopped her, and she realized she was thinking again that they had a future together. That somewhere in their future, she’d tell this story to the writer and that the woman would be in her life intimately enough to do that. Cut it out and get on with it. Just the relevant facts and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.

She cleared her throat and said, "Anyway, up until last night, I never really gave their opinions much thought, but they really are very much against the lifestyle and to hear that Nancy is living with Valerie more than surprises me. Valerie is very ‘out.’ I also found out after we severed our-, whatever we had-, that she’s very proactive about it. According to Steph and Paris, when Valerie’s not trying to seduce the women at The Village, it’s only because she’s too tired from the flavor of the week she brought with her. Although, according to Paris, the two are not mutually exclusive. If Nancy is living in her house, she has to be exposed to that at the least and at most, a participant." As she finished her brow furrowed and the grim set of her lips left no doubt there was something else on her mind.

Emily didn’t hesitate to bring it up. "Okay, so what else aren’t you telling me here? What has you looking so worried?"

Harley’s mind worked hard trying to find a way to explain Valerie and her tastes to Emily without getting too personally into her own experiences with it. The one that happened when she finally figured out what the woman wanted with her and the lengths to which she would go to get it. She wasn’t worried that the writer would be shocked, not with the fast lane lifestyle she led, however she was a little worried that, if she phrased it wrong, she could either give Emily the wrong impression about her own desires or… She didn’t want to think it too hard, but she was worried about the feisty woman’s own inclinations. That could be a definite, err, uhm, sticking point in moving along with this thing between us. Of course, if I don’t broach the subject, I might never know.

"Valerie’s proclivities run to the painful and sadistic. She’s, at least in her own mind, the quintessential Dominatrix. She likes inflicting pain, as any good Dom would." Here she gave a little grin. "But she doesn’t seem to care if her partner has agreed to do it or not." She looked again at the writer. "She’s very brutal."

Emily took it all in. All of it, and she didn’t have to ask the question to know to her bones, that this was what made the beautiful woman in the driver’s seat end her association with Valerie. Her only question might have been how Harley had known her for six weeks without knowing her as it were, and though she wanted the answer, hell, she wanted the whole incident, verbatim and blow-by-blow, she was smart and sensitive enough to know, now was not the time to ask.

"That being the case and assuming that Valerie hasn’t found religion in the last few months, I assume you believe that Nancy is acting as more than her Administrative Assistant, right?" The blonde asked the question as matter-of-factly as possible, but the tell that gave her away was the way she grabbed a cigarette and lit it while asking.

"Eh." The brunette made a small grimace and moved her head and her hand from side to side. "I don’t know. That’s just the thing. True, I haven’t seen or spoken to Nancy in years and people do change, but she’d have to have changed a hell of a lot to go from virtuous straight girl to lesbian love slave. I’m not saying it didn’t happen or couldn’t happen; I just have no proof one way or the other. I hate all this empty speculation. On the one hand, it’s hard to see someone as uptight and persnickety as Nancy was in high school, turning into a pain slut, but on the other hand I’ve seen lots of things more surprising than that, and it does fit the scenario." She blew out a breath. "I want some answers." She turned to the writer. "And I’m not going to get them sitting in this car wishing for them. What do you say to a walk on the beach? Maybe we can get some idea of what goes on inside that house from the outside."

By the time Harley came around to open her door, Emily had an even better idea. Stepping out, she smiled her most winning smile and said, "Come with me." She walked briskly down the highway for three houses past the one they parked in front of and then made a left at the boardwalk toward the most flamboyant beach house for miles.

Harley could do little but follow and as they waited for the door to be answered, Emily volunteered, "My friend Naomi lives here, and she’s the best source I know of on who does what with whom. Dirt doesn’t stand a chance of being cleaned before Naomi knows about it. She’s a legend in three different beach cities as well as Hollywood and West Hollywood. When she decides to write her memoirs one day, and I know she will, the buried bodies in this town will turn so violently in their graves it will register on the Richter scale."

Just then the fuchsia door opened and the prettiest man Harley had ever seen flew from behind it to engulf her smaller companion in his arms.

"Girlfriend, it’s been forever. Where have you been and what did you do to yourself?" He gingerly petted the cast Emily wore and Harley swore she could see him tearing up.

"Something foolish and it might have been a lot worse if my hero here hadn’t come charging in to rescue me." She smiled prettily at the sheriff and as had happened from the day they met, it caused an answering smile to appear.

"Naomi, meet Harley Ravensdown, Esquire. Defender of the down trodden and hero to the common woman."

Then, before Harley could open her mouth, she too was engulfed in a massive hug from this beautiful 6’5", blonde Adonis.

"Babycakes, any hero of Shasta’s is a Goddess to me." He left her embrace and grabbed both of their hands, hauling them inside as he said. "I just got the tastiest stuff about what Babs and James ‘I-duh-man’ Brolin do in the hot tub at night."

The door closed behind them and Harley tried to decide just when she lost control of this investigation. She had a hunch it was born in a strawberry blonde with attitude.

After about an hour of catching up with Naomi on what each other had been up to, and another half-hour of some of the most explicit insider gossip Harley had ever heard, they settled into the purpose for their visit. Naomi had lots to say about Valerie’s comings and goings, and confirmed that someone who looked like Nancy must be living there.

He did tell them about the parties Valerie had. The business parties that included limited drinking and dining and ended no later than midnight, as well as the usual de rigueur community open house’s at Christmas and Fourth of July, where everyone who lived nearby stopped to share some booze and light conversation. The ‘other’ parties were the ones he’d only heard about.

"I’ve rarely found anyone to be more smarmy than Valerie. This whole town is filled with people who show a side of themselves to the world that has no relation to what they really are, but even with all her money, she can’t hide the bitch inside." Naomi filled his cocktail glass with from the martini pitcher and indicated with his hand the iced tea pitcher sitting on the table as he looked at the Sheriff. She shook her head and watched as Emily did the same. Emily stubbed out another cigarette in the filling ashtray and sipped at her tea with a look of deep concentration on her face.

"I’ve never been to one of her ‘private’ parties. That’s just not my scene, but I know someone who has. If you give me a couple of days, I can find out anything you need to know." He sat back after adding two more olives and put an elbow on each arm of the lounge chair, holding the bowl of the glass with the fingers of both hands, waiting for them to respond.

Due to the wrought iron security fencing and locked gate surrounding Valerie’s house and the fact that Naomi told them you couldn’t get in without a key or being buzzed in from the house, Harley and Emily decided just walking up and asking for Nancy might be a bad idea. If she was the one who broke into Stephanie’s, just the sight of the Sheriff would keep her from answering the intercom. A phone call to Paris had confirmed that Valerie was at The Village for the weekend.

They’d been circumspect in asking for information from Naomi regarding what went on at Valerie’s and, considering what a gossipmonger he was, Harley was surprised at his lack of curiosity about why they needed to know. She was however, more concerned about the pensive look of…worry- or something she couldn’t quite put a name to, that she saw on the writer’s face as Naomi started to fill them in on all he knew of his neighbor.

"She is a right and true bitch, but it’s her desire to be top bitch that makes her so obnoxious. I have rarely, if ever, seen anyone’s ego as large as Valerie’s. This whole town is chock full of pretty people who’ll do anything, or anyone, to be the best…the most…the it, but Ms. Val is the kind who wouldn’t even stop at murder. She flat out scares me."

Just then, the front door opened and a dark haired, short man, with a large nose and receding hairline came in with two dogs on leashes. One was a Russian wolfhound and the other a tiny purple poodle.

"Heeeey! Daddy’s home!" Naomi shouted as he bounded from his chair and ran to the shorter man. He reached ‘Daddy’ just as he finished unleashing the dogs and stood up in time to be engulfed in a passionate kiss. It was almost comical to see. Naomi had to nearly bend in two in order to hold the much shorter man in his arms. Harley was impressed that with all that activity he didn’t spill a drop of the martini from his glass.

As soon as the kiss ended, the shorter man took the glass from Naomi’s hand, took a sip, grabbed him by the other hand, and then walked back toward the women bringing his tall lover behind him.

"Stanley." Emily said as she stood. "How good to see you. You look great."

The older man hugged the writer with the arm he held his glass in and said, "Shasta, my sweetheart, how good of you to notice." Harley wasn’t expecting the deep bass voice that came out of the small man and almost laughed aloud at the surprise of it.

Emily proceeded to introduce him to Harley, briefly explain her injured arm, and accept the appropriate sympathies he extended. Then they all sat back down, only this time Naomi sat on Stanley’s lap.

They made brief conversation and then Stanley reminded Naomi of their plans to drive to Irvine to have dinner with Stan’s parents.

Harley and Emily made like good guests and told the guys they’d let them go to their dinner and talk to them later. Naomi walked them to the door and reminded them to call him on Monday and he’d tell them what he found out from someone he called, Ernie.

Settled in the car once again, the sheriff turned and spoke. "Well, since we can’t do what we came here to do, how about we head home?"

They both thought about the implications of that word, one with trepidation, and one with a surprising sense of peace.

Emily nodded and smiled, turning to watch the traffic as the dark haired woman grit her teeth and started the car.

*******************************************************************************************

The man dialed the familiar set of thirteen digits and waited for the tone he knew so well. When it came, he entered another set of twelve digits and waited again. When the third tone came, he spoke.

"Three, October, time, fifteen-hundred. All clear. Request for N2 to respond to my base this evening after twenty-one hundred on secure three. End report."

The man sat and scratched his stubbled cheek and tried to figure out if what he’d seen- what he suspected- was a matter in which they needed to get involved.

Well, that’s why it’s always so nice to have a chain of command. There’s always someone higher up where you can pass the buck. We’ll see.

He rubbed his hands together and then went to the next room where he changed into another set of clothes identical to those he’d just taken off.

Moving into another room, he shuffled across the floor, his soles scuffing behind him on the floor until he reached the counter. He reached up, secured a cup and then poured the liquid from the steel pot into it.

He stared at his reflection in the machine seeing a rumpled looking, unremarkable man looking back at him as he contemplated what he knew of the activities in and around this small town.

Ah, well. No good worrying about it until I’m told to. With that, he took his cup into yet another room and read the newspaper.

Polly was in a right dither. After nearly twenty minutes on the toilet, she weakly made her way to the couch to lie down and try again to decide what to do.

If only there was someone to talk to about it. She didn’t like the woman who called and half of her wanted to agree to sell just to get the woman out of her life, the other half was getting a feeling of…danger from her. Maybe she should tell the law.

***********

The drive home was quiet, but this time the silence held more comfort than the drive down this morning. Conversation consisted of snatches of thought’s put into comments or questions.

Halfway home something occurred to Harley.

"So, tell me why you kept referring to Naomi as ‘she’? I admit he’s beautiful, but I wasn’t expecting the outdoor plumbing."

Emily bent in two giggling. Between the laughing, she tried to pull in enough breath to explain.

"I’m sorry." She wiped at her tearing eyes with her good hand. "I always do that. It’s just that she’s…" the giggles now became a snort, "he’s such a girl." She took a breath and continued. "We met when I got out of college. In fact he was my next-door neighbor at that apartment I told you about in Glendale. From the very first time we met I’ve always thought of him as just a, well, a girlfriend."

Emily remembered her first meeting with him. She was just beginning to bring in the first box when she saw this Adonis of a man tanning by the pool. They made very brief eye contact and he smiled at her. Her first thoughts were, of course, about his looks. Gay or not you couldn’t overlook that. He was really gorgeous and then when he smiled at her she was afraid she was going to have to deal with another man who couldn’t take no for an answer. By the time she had her door open, set the box down, and turned around, he was standing there in the hall leaning on her front door frame. She smiled and started to prepare to tell him she was attached. That sometimes worked unless their egos were too big.

"I’m just so jealous. I wanted this apartment but it wasn’t available when I moved in. You have the biggest balcony in the whole complex. It’s a full two feet longer than any of the others. I can’t even fit a bar-b-que on mine and, I mean, what is summer in California if you can’t grill seafood while sipping a Margarita, you know?"

They talked and by the end of the day, after he helped her move her things, they bought the bar-b-que together and had lots of dinner parties. They had been confidantes and buddies ever since. Although lately they hadn’t seen a lot of each other, and Emily realized that was her fault. It made her kind of sad because whatever else was phony or shallow in her life, she knew that the affection they held for one another was genuine.

"Naomi, who’s real name I won’t tell you on pain of death, has been a really close friend for a long time. It took me all of about five minutes after meeting him to stop thinking of him as a guy. He doesn’t really think of himself as one and he’s so natural about it, most people stop thinking of him like that too, and if anyone can find out what we need to know, it’s Naomi."

She thought about that and her mood darkened.

Harley noticed and considered whether to bring it up just as once, again, her cell phone rang.

While Harley answered her phone, Emily eavesdropped just enough to know it wasn’t anything earth shaking and nothing, as far as she could tell, about their case. She began to ponder her dark thoughts a bit more thoroughly.

She wasn’t sure. It might have been someone else but she had a sinking feeling it wasn’t. If it wasn’t, than she was more familiar with Valerie than just hearing about her.

It was just before Halloween a year ago. In fact, it was close to a year ago exactly. She’d attended a party at a friend of a friend’s and by the time she got there with Teddy, it was nearly midnight. Emily was, as usual, pretty wrecked.

The details of the meeting were sketchy in her memory but she did remember the tall, slim, redhead who seemed to zero in on her as soon as she walked in the door.

She couldn’t remember any of the brief conversation but she remembered vividly the look in the woman’s eyes and the way she felt as she danced in her arms in the darkest corner of the room. Mostly Emily remembered just what the redhead had whispered in her ear and how moist it made her. Her breathing was ragged and she was more than ready to comply with all the woman’s demands. And they were demands, commands if you will, not requests. It had been a surprise and a kind of relief to finally be able to respond to that part of herself that she’d kept so hidden for so long.

The woman had just kissed her. It had been done to her, not a mutual meeting of mouths. She was about to leave with her when Teddy interrupted and pulled her out of the Domme’s arms. Before she could tell Teddy to let her go, and that she was leaving with her new friend, Teddy passed out.

Normally she would have just let her be and allowed the woman to come to on her own later, but this time Emily saw something different. When Teddy collapsed in front of her, Emily realized that Teddy’s breathing was erratic and her face was losing much too much color too fast. On instinct alone, she yelled for help and before the song on the CD finished playing, an ambulance was on its way and the room cleared of anyone who didn’t want to answer the questions of the officials who might be responding.

Looking back on it now she was grateful, but before this, she had always thought of it as an opportunity lost. She still felt the pull to ‘play’, to be taken, to experience the dominance she couldn’t bring herself to ask of someone who knew her well, but she’d never wanted to be a victim. If the woman was Valerie, and she thought it was a good chance that it was, she was glad she’d been spared. Even if it had meant a night in a plastic chair in the emergency room while they stabilized Teddy from her overdose.

She had to admit; she still felt the…pull.

She looked at Harley and felt the pull get stronger, felt it deepen in the mix of the other feelings she’d developed for the officer and then, as the Sheriff closed her phone and turned to her, felt the heat of a blush come over her from her collarbone to forehead.

The Sheriff saw it too and a dozen erotic thoughts filtered though her mind and settled between her legs.

She fidgeted and took a harder hold on the steering wheel, willing herself to just shut up and drive.

**********

"No, I’ve taken care of that and the memo will be forwarded to finance in the morning. All I need to do now is have Dad sign the final papers as soon as they get faxed over and it’s ours."

The man smiled at the jubilant response his call made to Arnie in Operations and shook his head at the older man driving the car who smiled knowingly.

"Yeah, yeah I know. It was a long time coming but it’s gonna be worth it. Now get off the phone, turn off your computer, go home and get Alice, and go out to dinner on us. You deserve it. Without you we never would have pulled this off." He paused for a response and then said, "No, thank you. Good night, Arnie."

Josh Ravensdown took one hand off the steering wheel just long enough to brush his fingers through his shiny salt and pepper hair. He smiled at his son and said, "I take it that floated Arnie’s boat?"

"Oh, yeah. That was one happy head of Operations there." Wilson chuckled a bit as he replaced the phone in its cradle on the dash. "You’d think this was his idea the way he got off on it. Anyway, now all we have to do is have you sign the papers when they get to the office and the fat lady done sung." He yawned a bit. ‘I’m, sure looking forward to being home."

"Yeah, me too." He sighed as he made the turn off the freeway and up toward the mountains. "Me, too."

Four things happened simultaneously in and around Bramble as Harley and Emily pulled into the driveway of the Ravensdown home.

The first was the phone call to the Sheriff’s office informing the deputy there was trouble at the Pechter’s place out on the south end of Bender, and to get the Doc out there right away.

The second was the phone call from his superior to the nondescript man who dialed the code in hours before.

The third was the phone call from Stephanie Croft to her Aunt Twyla to inform her that she arrived at her house on Old Orchard and would be at the Nest for dinner that night.

The fourth was the decision Emily made to push it with Harley.

**********

Harley found herself pulling into the curving driveway of her parent’s home with reluctance. She’d really enjoyed her day with Emily.

Not like I haven’t enjoyed every day I’ve spent with her.

Today had, she admitted to herself, kind of settled something for her. She couldn’t pin point precisely what it was. It wasn’t that clear to her, but it somehow felt different…calmer in a way.

She stopped the vehicle and went around the hood to help her injured friend to the door. She’d noticed the younger woman’s silence in the last hour or so of their trip and felt a moment’s self-recrimination for having forgotten her injury until she saw the weary lines of discomfort furrowing themselves on the blonde’s brow.

They were about to enter the house when Emily stopped Harley by placing a hand to the Sheriff’s chest.

She turned and was about ask what was on her mind, when she got her answer, full in the face.

Emily fisted her hand and balled up a chunk of the soft blue sweater, pulling the taller woman down to her lips.

Then she kissed her.

This kiss was a doozie.

It was smack on, full pressure, heart stopping, and breath stealing.

In only seconds, the blonde was pressing for entrance into her victim’s mouth and Harley had no choice but to open to her. The feel of Emily’s tongue licking and pressing along her own made her feel like she was falling backward and telescoping down and the whole damn world was the blonde’s mouth.

Emily was just as enraptured. She’d planned to do this as they pulled up to the house. She knew she wasn’t going to let the woman get away again with out kissing her, really kissing her. She knew all that and went for it, but she sure as hell never anticipated this.

The kiss had taken on a life of its own and she was just going along for the ride. Never had a mouth felt so soft or warm. Never had the breath or taste of anyone else made her feel like she stopped existing except for the kiss she was in now. It just never felt so good.

The tongue playing with her own felt to Harley like silk and satin, velvet and fire, and it was everywhere all at once. She was responding to the kiss as she felt her own tongue try to press back into Emily’s mouth.

Then they began to feel it grow, that feeling, that wonderful sexual tingle that ran straight down from the base of the neck to ignite like an explosion between their legs.

Their thoughts were the same, though neither knew it, as equal exclamations of Jesus! went unspoken but silently screamed, until they both felt the swaying and had to grab each other to keep from falling.

Harley was amazed at herself. She never had her knees go out on her before.

Emily had, but never when she was sober, so she too was shocked.

And they both were deeply disappointed that the kiss was over.

Emily managed to smile around her own jumbled thoughts and weakened knees as she croaked. "Now! That was a kiss!"

Harley could only nod and murmur, closed mouthed, "Um hmm." She shook her head and willed her knees to hold her as she took long steps as fast as she could heading for the safety of the truck.

"Later," was all she could manage to say as she threw all her energy into escape and gunned the SUV down the driveway and out on the road.

Emily had a half second of being hurt before the condition of the other woman sunk in, then she just smiled wryly and shook her head.

She turned to the door and grasped the knob as she whispered to herself, "Yeah, later."

*********

Harley kept reminding herself to breathe and rolled down the windows for as much air as she could get. Suddenly that rush of cold air made her recognize the goose bumps she was wearing and that the cold had nothing to do with them.

She glanced down automatically at the dash and realized she was going too fast. She started to slow down and then decided she needed to stop completely and get herself together.

She pulled over to the side of the road and just sat there for a while. She tried, she really did, she kept trying to tell herself to stop that and think about the consequences of what just happened, but the cascading ripple of the memory of that kiss, and all its effects on her body kept rolling over her like a riptide.

She had no idea how long she sat there and no idea how long her cell phone had been ringing when she finally noticed it and took in a deep breath to answer. Her only conscious thought was, maybe it’s her.

It wasn’t. It was Cole and she needed to ask him to repeat himself twice before she understood what he was saying. Then she closed the phone and put the truck in gear to meet him at Polly Pechter’s.

**********

Emily was having her own kind of aphasia as she entered the Ravensdown home.

She more or less made her rambling way to the staircase, completely unaware of the couple watching her and of Twyla speaking to her.

She made it, with help from the banister, up to the third step of the grand staircase when she heard the shrill whistle of her hostess.

She snapped back to the world around her and noticed for the first time Twyla and a man who could only be Josh Ravensdown looking up at her from the foyer.

"Well, that’s better." Twyla said. "I was worried I might have to hose you down to get your attention." She grinned and raised an eyebrow in perfect imitation of her daughter. The sight brought a smile to Emily’s face, which by now was blushing a deep pink. "I guess you two kind of worked out your differences then?"

When Emily didn’t respond beyond opening and closing her mouth, Twyla continued.

"Would it be safe to say it was a good day for you both?"

Finally, Emily had no recourse but to find her voice. The writer cleared her throat and answered, "Uhm, yeah, it was pretty good. At least the last part." With that, she let the grin grow that was just aching to present itself.

Twyla clapped her hands together and shouted, "Oohee, you go girl!"

Josh took that as his opportunity and stepped forward a bit. "You would be the lovely Emily Cutter I’ve been hearing about, I assume? Josh Ravensdown." He sketched a brief bow.

Emily returned the man’s smile.

"Of course you are. I would have known you anywhere."

"I take it then, that the smile on your face has my Mongoose written all over it?"

Emily had to laugh at that. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Okay, now Josh, you let her get upstairs and cool down a bit and then you" pointing to the writer, "come on down here when you’re not so pink and have a drink with us." Twyla paused and scrunched her forehead in thought. "Oh, wait. Are you still taking the pain pills? You shouldn’t drink if you…"

"No, no. I’m fine. I’m still in a bit of pain but I hate the way they make me feel; kind of not all here, so I haven’t taken any today. Maybe a drink will be just the thing to take the edge off. Just," she couldn’t seem to hide the grin so she looked down and started again, this time talking to the floor, "Just let me have a minute and I’ll, uhm, be right down."

She turned and made her way up the rest of the stairs as quickly as she thought she could, given that even now, her knees felt hollow and shaky.

Twyla and Josh grinned at each other and then wrapping their arms around each other, they slowly walked back into the front parlor.

**********

"Savvy, are you ever gonna get out of that tub and get dressed? We’re supposed to meet them at the Nest at six-thirty and it’s almost six now."

Stephanie Croft leaned against the door jam of the master bathroom, trying hard not to smile at the sight of her tall, slim, beautiful lover reclining in the tub.

"Be tranquil, mon petit. We will be there by and by."

The long fingers of her left hand brought the glass of White Zinfandel to her lips as she sipped in the cold liquid. She closed her eyes and let the fingers of her right hand trace the condensation down the side of the glass. As she rested her head more comfortably against the bath pillow, she said. "Besides, it’s my down time. You know how I hate that drive up here from L.A., especially in rush hour traffic."

Stephanie watched as the older woman pouted and had to resist the urge to lick the sheen of wine from those perfect lips.

She crossed the room to kneel at the side of the tub. Taking the wine glass from her partner’s hand, she leaned in enough to give into her desires and licked the wine from her lips before giving her an intense open-mouthed kiss.

She pulled away before they both lost themselves in it and repeated, "Time to get out and get dressed."

Stephanie smiled mischievously as she tried to back up and away and found herself caught by two deceptively strong hands. Without opening her eyes, Savvy said, "For this, you will pay!" Bringing her face forward and finding Stephanie’s lips unerringly before moments later she broke the kiss and finally opened her honey-brown eyes to stare intently into the blue gray ones before her. "Later!" Then she too smiled and lifted herself from the water, letting the bubbles and water sheet down her body.

Stephanie almost decided to call her aunt and beg off for the night. The sight of Savvy wet always did that to her. She tore her gaze from the six and a half feet of shiny café au lait skin and caught that knowing look in her lover’s eyes. That did it.

"Okay, you, enough trying to seduce me into not meeting my familial obligations. We’re going to dinner at the Nest and that’s that." She stood resolutely and walked out the door.

"Of course we are, Darling. Whatever made you think otherwise?"

**********

Harley arrived at the Pechter’s just in time to see the helicopter lift off from the clear space in the back yard. Just seeing it and knowing that Hobie would never have called for it if it wasn’t a life threatening emergency started her adrenaline to flow.

She hurriedly slammed the car into park and made a run for the front door as her sister-in-law opened it for her.

"Kitchen," was all Kath said.

Harley turned left and found her brothers sitting at the table.

"Fill me in." She took the first chair she found and sat in it heavily as Kath followed her in the room and went to the coffee pot.

Hobie and Cole looked to each other and Cole nodded to Hobie to start.

"She’s got a fractured skull. Looks like someone hit her at the base of her skull from behind but I don’t know with what. She was too severely injured to treat here. Without pictures, I can’t say for sure, but my guess is severe intra-cranial bleeding and concussion. She was unconscious when I got here and never came around before the copter left." He stopped to sip his coffee and sat back to relax for the first time since Cole called him. "That’s all I know so far. We’ll have to see what the doc’s at UCLA say after her admit."

Harley nodded and turned to Cole as Kath sat a cup of coffee in front of the sheriff.

"I got a call about," he brought his watch up to check the time, "Fifteen minutes ago from Hank Stevens. He’d been out in the back looking for the shoe Amarice threw when he heard Merry Louise howling for all she was worth. Thinking maybe the poor dog had gotten hurt somehow he came down to their property line to investigate. Kept following the howling until he found her standing over Polly’s body. He got the dog to calm down and let him get near Polly and saw she was hurt and called us. I came right out and called Hobie to do the same. We arrived at the same time." He picked up his own empty cup and went to refill it.

"We found her in the back yard about seven feet from the door. I don’t think she knew what hit her." He finished pouring and took a sip, turning to lean back on the counter. "I couldn’t see anything out there that gave a clue about who or what might have done it. It’s a damn shame she’s such a good gardener. With all the dry weather we’ve had lately if her lawn wasn’t so thick, we might have seen a footprint in the dirt or something. Guess we can be grateful that the grass out there is so thick that when she fell, it cushioned her landing. That’s all so far." He set his cup down and inclined his head toward the rear door.

"Want to take a look? You’re much better at the whole crime scene thing than I am."

Harley nodded and stood, as did Hobie.

"I’ve got to get back to the office. I’ll call down to UCLA and let them know I’m her doctor, and have them call me as soon as they know her condition."

Harley smiled and gripped his arm. "Thanks, Bro." She hugged Kath and moved toward the kitchen door as Hobie and Kath turned to leave.

Harley’s eyes were everywhere and she made several mental notes as Cole opened the back door for her.

"Hank took Merry Louise to stay at his place until Polly gets back home." His face was set and serious as he offered this information.

Harley had to consciously bite back the smile she felt when her veterinarian brother put his obvious priority out there as though it was the most relevant of issues.

She nodded just as seriously. "That’s good."

Then she set herself to absorb as much of the crime scene as she could and walked through the door.

**********

Emily sat on the bed once again going over her choices of attire.

She’d washed her face and removed the blush she wore by making a conscious but difficult choice not to think about the kiss until she was alone later.

Knowing that Twyla and Josh Ravensdown were waiting for her downstairs, she stripped as quickly as she could and finally decided on the easiest thing to get on with one arm in a cast. She didn’t expect to see Harley tonight and wasn’t expecting to go anywhere so she slipped on a pair of loose legged beige cotton pants that only required a pull of the drawstring to close and a hip length, loose weave chenille pullover in beige, brown and black tweed.

She took one last look in the mirror and pleased to see the blush gone, ran a brush through her hair, adjusted the cowl neck to suit her and sprayed a tiny spritz of cologne beneath each ear.

Leaving the room, she smiled at the opportunity to finally talk to the man who sired such a remarkable family. Barring any unforeseen character flaws, she expected to like him very much.

"Ah, there she is," Twyla said.

Like the gentleman he was, Josh was on his feet and across the room taking Emily gently by the elbow and leading her to the large brocade chair adjacent to the love seat he shared with Twyla.

"Now, what can I get you this evening?" He stepped behind the cherry wood bar in the corner.

‘Uhm." Emily had to think this one through. She hadn’t had a single drink since arriving and wasn’t sure how too much liquor would affect her. She wanted to take the edge off the throbbing ache in her wrist but she didn’t want to run the risk of letting the booze do her thinking for her. "May I have scotch and soda, please?"

"You most certainly may." Josh began to mix and pour like a pro. "I knew this girl and I would get along fine. Anyone who drinks scotch is my kind of person."

Emily noticed the bottle he was pouring from and was glad she’d asked for this drink. That scotch was at least thirty-five years old and very smooth. She’d had younger scotch and would, when in a mood to get blind, drink nearly anything, but this scotch, was scotch, the way it should be. Her mouth watered as she waited. She looked around the beautiful room and noticed the addition.

"Twyla, was I as out of it as I think I was when I came here with you yesterday because I don’t remember seeing that bar here before."

The older woman leaned over enough to pat her knee gently.

"No dear, it wasn’t here yesterday. Well, it was but it was hidden. It’s one of Josh’s improvements. He wanted the whole house as realistically depicted as it was in the movie, but the practicalities of the place just didn’t work for our lifestyle so he had them build the bar and then hide it. You just have to move that landscape above the mantle a smidgeon to the left and the wall to the right of the fireplace opens, and swings around to bring the bar into the room."

Emily looked at the bar again and realized it was sitting on a platform. She remembered yesterday when she toured the house that only a wall with art had been in that spot before. Now it was a fully stocked bar with a sink and bar stools backed by mirrored shelves filled with liquor bottles and beautiful crystal glasses. Then it hit her.

"She got it from you, didn’t she?" She smiled at Josh as he started back to her holding out her drink as he resumed his seat.

Realizing that his sometimes-reticent daughter must have shown the writer her secret doors and rooms, he spoke.

"I suppose she did." He took a sip of his own scotch. "I think she and I share that need to maybe hide something of ourselves." He smiled at her engagingly. "Maybe, it’s more like wanting to play a little trick on the rest of the world."

"Whatever it is, it’s okay by me, Honey." Twyla leaned into her husband. "I kind of like that little boy who likes to hide." She watched, as the blush she knew would come appeared. For as far back as she’d known him, only Twlya could make this tall, confident man blush…and she did it as often as she could get away with it.

"Thanks, Cookie. I can always depend on you." He smiled and hugged hard.

They shared a few minutes of conversation with Emily relating the day’s events and Josh asking a few pertinent questions as they sipped their drinks.

"Well, Emily, when you’re ready we should be heading on out to dinner. With Josh home I normally would have cooked for him but Stephanie came up for the weekend today and she just won’t hear of me cooking after working at the Nest all week. Since I promised her you and I would have dinner with her she insisted on meeting at the Nest."

Emily nodded, took one last loving sip of the aged scotch and stood.

"Ready when you are." She started to return the glass to the bar when Josh took it from her.

"Ladies, get your wraps and I’ll clean up here a bit and meet you at the car.

**********

Harley sat alone at Polly’s kitchen table and tried to put together all the puzzle pieces she had.

Cole left for the office after they toured the back yard and turned up nothing of significance.

She knew several things that Cole didn’t.

Polly was looking for help. Harley had known the woman for years and her attention to detail was well known. She would never have let so many things go unless they happened so fast they overwhelmed her. Her back yard fence was down in several places and, looking at the numbers listed on the notepad by the phone, she’d been calling or was going to call Ches Pontry, the town handyman to repair it. She knew the other numbers that were book marked in the small Bramble phone book meant Polly had called the electric company as well.

The Pechter place was old and something breaking down wouldn’t be unusual, but a lot of things had been neglected lately.

Harley noticed a thin layer of dust on the otherwise immaculate woman’s piano and tables in the living room. Beyond the broken length of fencing, there was the lock to the shed that looked like it was just barely attached and the collection of facial tissues she found in all the rooms of the house, wadded up and set down on tables next to every place to sit.

Polly was a creature of habit. Everyday she did the same things in the same order and the only time Harley saw the woman get stressed was just after her husband was diagnosed and the first week or so after Edna, her best friend, passed unexpectedly.

The most telling thing was the appearance of weeds in Polly’s prized begonia beds. The woman took great pride in them and worked everyday on them from two to four in the afternoon. It was a clear sign of stress in the older woman.

It was now Harley’s job to find out why.

**********

They had been seated no less than two minutes when Emily heard the voice of her publisher and looked up to see Stephanie across the table.

"Hey,girl. Any new broken bones or attacks by crazy people since Tuesday?"

Emily smiled as her publisher approached the table. Before she could answer, Josh was on his feet engulfing the small woman in a hug. As soon as he relinquished Stephanie to Twyla’s hugs, he turned to a very tall black woman behind Stephanie and did the same.

Emily was still waiting to speak as Twyla took her niece into her arms and kissed her, exchanging greeting’s and the usual banter loved ones say to one another when they haven’t seen them in too long.

Emily was still fascinated by the way both Josh and Twyla were now making over the very beautiful black stranger Stephanie was beaming at.

As Stephanie took a seat next to Emily, the writer watched as the other woman seated herself next to the publisher and leaned across her.

"How do you do, Ms. Cutter? I’m Savatheda Belvoir and I’m a big fan of your books."

Emily had to return the smile the woman gave her. Her eyes got big as she took in the luminous beauty of the tall woman.

"Thank you, Ms. Belvoir, it’s nice to meet you, too. Do you work with Stepahanie?"

Stephanie started to laugh and began to speak but Savatheda beat her to the punch.

Shaking her head as she placed her napkin on her lap she said, "Not in the publishing business, I’m afraid, only as a domestic, Ms. Cutter."

Both the Ravensdowns laughed at that and Stephanie slapped at her shoulder and said, "Brat, as if! Like you even know how to do dishes."

She turned to Emily and explained. "Pay no attention to Miss. Fibber here, Shasta. She’d starve if she had to do housework for a living. Savvy is my partner."

"Domestic partner, darling, and believe me it’s work. Nice work, but still…" Savvy added as she put her arm around the smaller woman’s shoulders and leaned in for a kiss on her cheek.

Once again Emily was struck with how insulated and ego driven her life had been for the last several years. She knew this woman fairly well, she thought. She and Stephanie had worked closely together for hundreds of hours over the years, either editing her books or discussing promotions and sales.

Emily knew that Stephanie knew plenty about her life away from the business and had been in the embarrassing position of having to bail her out of more than one sticky situation.

How is it then, after all those years she didn’t even know the publisher was gay, let alone that she had a partner at home?

Emily tried to follow the conversation going on at the table between the Ravensdowns, Stephanie, and Savatheda as she tried hard to think through all the talks she had shared with the publisher looking for any clue she missed. Then it occurred to her how embarrassing all those Christmas gifts she’d given the woman over the years must have been.

She tried to hide the blush she felt growing by taking a sip of her wine and leaning back away from the candle light.

Ye Gods, how they must have laughed at me! She remembered the collection of vibrators she had given her publisher every Christmas for the past few years, thinking all along she was single. They were gag gifts of course, and always accompanied by something nice and thoughtful, but Emily in her own ignorance was trying to get the serious woman to get a life beyond her work. It never occurred to Emily that just because Stephanie never volunteered the information to her, that Stephanie actually had a life and a sex life as well. I just never asked, did I, and because she never told me she did, because she was never as out there, up front, and in your face as I was, I assumed she was all alone.

A bit of her self- disgust must have been showing on her face because Twyla took a break in the conversation around her and noticed the expression she wore.

"Emily? Are you okay, hon? Is something wrong?" The sincere compassion from the older woman made the writer even more disgusted with her egoistic, pre-Bramble self. She resolved to make sure that the warm and funny woman she befriended had no reason to feel sorry for her.

She put on her best smile and laid her hand on the older woman’s arm.

"Not a thing, Twyla. Don’t give it another thought."

Twyla didn’t look convinced, but before she could comment further, she realized the younger woman’s attention was already elsewhere. She followed Emily’s gaze and smiled to herself as she saw her daughter at the front desk, talking to the hostess and holding the Styrofoam containers she knew held dinner for the sheriff and deputy.

She was about to try to get her attention for Emily’s sake, when her niece’s partner did it for her.

"Hey, Hero! Come say hello before you head back to the Batcave!"

Harley recognized the voice. She turned, taking in the group at the table in one glance and that was all it took to bring back that feeling from this afternoon. Just that once glance at the author and she was washed with the remembrance of that kiss.

It took a shake of her head and a firm resolve to keep her feelings from showing on her face before she trusted herself to walk to the table. She made a point to keep her eyes on her cousin and her lover and pasted on an amused grin as she approached.

"Well, well, well if it isn’t The Brain and The Brat." Harley leaned over just enough to hug Savatheda and then her cousin.

"Is that anyway to talk to your family, Scamp?" Her father reached over and just as Harley bent to hug her cousin, swatted her with authority on the butt.

"Hey!" She straightened up, rubbed her bottom and frowned "It’s not my fault. I call’em as I see’em." Then she smiled and leaned forward to embrace her father. "Hi ya, Daddy. I’m glad your home."

"Me too, Sweetheart. I understand there’s been some going’s on around here." His eyes caught and held her own and just as she was trying hard to stifle a blush, he continued.

"So, who did it? You have any ideas who the bad guys are and why?"

Grateful for the reprieve from what she assumed would be an inquiry on her feelings for Emily, Harley shifted into her Sheriff persona and told the table of the latest event.

"So, on the face of it there doesn’t seem to be any connection between what happened to Polly and the attack on Emily at Stephanie’s house, my gut tells me there is. Speaking of which, I need to get to the office. I’m still trying to reach Livie to see if she knows anything that was going on with her mother."

"Hold on, hold on here. What did you mean ‘attack on Emily at Stephanie’s house’?" The publisher was obviously upset and kept switching her aggravated expression from Harley to Emily and then to her aunt.

Glancing once in Emily’s direction, she saw the look of chagrin on the writer’s face and decided to let the smaller women explain. An interior grin began when Harley realized what the blonde was in for. She knew no one in the family had remembered to call Stephanie and tell her of the incident with the knife. She’d been on the receiving end of Steph’s temper before and wanted nothing to do with it.

"I’ll let you all fill Steph in. Duty calls. See ya." With another quick smooch to each of her parent’s cheeks, Harley was out the door.

As soon as the door closed everyone at the table spoke at once.

"Oh, Josh, poor Polly. I need to call Olivia and let her know we’ll be taking care of things here."

"This thing is getting way too dangerous, I wonder if the Mongoose would allow me to get some help in here from Gunny Johnson and the state police."

"Who’s Polly Pechter and why would she have anything to do with this?" the writer murmured.

"What did she mean ‘attack on Emily at Stephanie’s house’?" Savatheda asked.

‘What did she mean ‘attack on Emily at my house’?" As was her habit, Stephanie’s voice rose in volume until she shouted the last few words.

That quieted everyone and Emily scooted back into her chair as far as she could while leaning into Twyla.

Recognizing that her outburst put the whole dining room into a state of dead quiet, and seeing all the eyes at her table huge and round, Stephanie cleared her throat uncomfortably. She lowered her head as she blushed a most becoming shade of deep rose.

Savatheda wrapped her arm around her mate as Josh reached over to take her hand.

"Now, now, Honey, it’s not nearly as bad as it sounds. Let’s just order some dinner and a cocktail and we’ll tell you all about it."

Stephanie nodded and then glanced up to see Emily fidgeting and pushing her silverware around while looking everywhere but at the publisher.

************

Harley was just finishing up her chicken and dumplings as once again, Cole announced there was still no answer at Olivia’s.

"It’s too late tonight to reach Ches and ask what Polly needed him for. He’s always gone by five on Fridays to go see his kids."

Cole knew that too. He always went to Santa Barbara to see his boys on the weekend. Since he and Debbie divorced those boys were all he lived for. Good thing they made the split so friendly that his access to his sons was something she never denied him.

"I want to make some more calls but everything’s closed till Monday." Harley sat back and sipped her coffee trying hard to connect the dots between all her evidence and her suspicions.

When she’d arrived back at the station with dinner in hand she told Cole all that happened in L.A. and let him know she suspected that somehow this attack on Polly was a part of the whole scenario.

She also told him how she had dropped the bomb on Stephanie about what almost happened to one of her most popular authors and then left her folks and the writer to fill her in. They both laughed aloud at that.

Now she just had to make this whole jumble of supposition and evidence tell her what the hell was going on. Even more importantly, why.

As her thoughts trailed off that question flew around and around in her head.

************

"Thanks for keeping me informed, Dr. Epstein. I’ll be out to see to her tomorrow or Sunday. If anything further develops I’d ask that you let me know as soon as possible. Good night."

Hobie hung up the phone and leaned forward on his desk. He briskly scrubbed his hands over his face then looked up as he heard Kath enter his office.

"You about ready for dinner now? If not, I can keep it warm longer."

He offered a small smile to his cherub of a wife. He pushed his chair back and reached for her hand as he met her at the door. "Nah, go ahead and put it on the table. I just have to give Harley a call and tell her Polly’s condition, then I’ll be in to eat." He gave her a small kiss and watched as she left the room.

Returning to the desk he lifted the phone and punched in ‘memory 6’ and waited only one ring for it to be answered.

"Sheriff’s office."

"Hey, Sis. What are you doing answering the phone? I thought you had that no account deputy to keep you from doing the scut work."

She laughed. "I’m doing my office proud. I’m delegating authority."

"What does that mean? I mean I know what it should mean, but with you anything is possible." He couldn’t keep the smile out his voice either. He never could when he spoke to his sister.

"I sent him out for donuts. Gotta keep the traditions and standing of the position in mind."

He laughed with her, but he knew his sister. If she was planning to eat donuts at this time of night, she was planning to stay up late. He’d seen her do the same thing any number of times when she needed to study for school or had a problem she couldn’t solve the minute it was brought to her attention. A bulldog. She’s just like a bulldog. He shook his head and smiled, then felt at least he could help her with a bit of her problem.

"Well, I just thought you should know that Polly is out of surgery and doing as well as can be expected for a woman in her late seventies with a skull fracture and a concussion who’s just undergone major surgery.

They had to open her up to remove a couple of small bone chips and put in a shunt to try to reduce the swelling in her cranium, but she did appear to wake up once in recovery."

The situation was really more complicated than that but Hobie knew that Harley hated it when he spoke to her in Doctor-speak. Almost as much as when she spoke to him in Lawyer-speak. They had agreed years ago to keep it in English with each other.

"She is going to make it, isn’t’ she Hobie?"

"Anything is possible with a woman her age. She has a severe head injury and just undergoing the surgery is a strain on the body. That she woke up once is a good thing, but right now it’s just a waiting game. Everything that can be done for her is being done. I’ll let you know more as soon as I get back from seeing her tomorrow. Will that do?"

Harley sighed. Of course she had no choice but to wait and hope that Polly would make it through this and be able to answer some questions for her. Her biggest problem right now was not knowing how long she had to get to the bottom of this. Her instincts were telling her this was far from being over.

"It’ll have to be, won’t it? Thanks, Hobie. Now go have dinner." She smiled.

"What makes you think I haven’t?"

"Because I know you too well. Now, get off this phone and go eat with your wife and pretend you lead a semi-normal life for a change. Even if you don’t, Kath deserves that." She knew she had him there.

"True. See ya, Sis."

As Harley hung up she heard the voice in her head asking her again. What am I missing? Then she heard herself answer, Emily. It didn’t solve her problem and it wasn’t the answer she was looking for, but it was an answer nonetheless and she couldn’t deny the truth of it.

************

By the time the wonderful Grasshopper pie was consumed and they were starting their second cups of Twyla’s fabulous coffee, the table was once again a calm and peaceful place. Stephanie had been placated over dinner by both the Ravensdown’s and Emily’s assurances that she was fine and that the incident at her house was probably a one shot occurrence.

Now they were just chatting and like the fine writer and observer of people that she was, Emily finally got over her self-chastisement and began to charmingly grill both Stephanie and Savatheda about the woman that was the publisher’s partner and their relationship.

So far, without seeming to pry, she had learned that they met about four and half years ago when a mutual friend convinced them to meet on a blind date. Savatheda, or Savvy as Steph and the family called her was a professor of advanced mathematics at UCLA.

Savvy’s passion for her field seemed to be the only thing the two didn’t share a mutual interest in and, perpetuating the widely known joke, they did indeed bring a U-Haul to the second date. Of course, the first date lasted for two weeks.

Savvy was serendipitously on sabbatical at the time and Steph just called and let her people handle anything that came up at the office and took care of the rest from her laptop at home…with Savvy. Quite uncharacteristically for the publisher, she swore that she lived that old cliché when she first saw the 6’4" woman across the crowded room of the club they met in.

"Everything seemed to get dim and cloudy on the periphery of my vision and all I could see was her. The noise of the crowd and the pounding of the music all seemed to fade away." She sighed and took the hand resting on her shoulder linking her fingers with her lovers as she gazed at her. "It wasn’t’ until three days later that Savvy told me she felt the same thing."

The light from the candle on the table was kind and Emily knew she had a bit too much to drink but she couldn’t help misting up as she saw the look of what could only be described as adoration in the eyes and on the soft brown face of the beautiful woman who looked at her friend. It was everywhere. As she felt the first tear drop unexpectedly slip from her eye, Emily realized how moved she was by this very intimate and personal moment she was watching. She realized something new about herself in that moment.

A year ago I would have laughed at this or made some kind of gagging noise. I have never believed in a love that deep. To me, it’s always just been a way of twisting words to keep my readers. Just a sappy way to manipulate the housewives in Iowa, but it never really happened, not in real life. Not until I came here and saw it for myself. In Josh and Twyla. In Connie and Toni. Maybe even in Danita and Paris, and most definitely here between Stephanie and Savvy. Then she remembered again that that wasn’t really true. I did believe in love like that once. I guess I just chose to forget about it. Thanks, Mom and Dad, thanks again.

The waitress coming to ask if they needed anything else broke the spell. Everyone told her politely, no, and Emily continued in her quest.

"I hope I don’t offend, but that is New Orleans I detect in that lovely accent isn’t it?"

"Mais, oui. May I ask how you determined both the city and state? Most people never get that bold, preferring to hedge their questions with something like ‘ What part of the south are you from?’ but you just jumped right in the bayou." Savvy laughed and so did the rest of the table.

"It’s a gift. I don’t do languages very well, I mean, as anyone raised in California I speak a fair amount of Spanish and dabble a bit in French, but I can account for both of those because of several years of Latin in high school, but I’ve always been first rate with dialects." She smiled and tilted her head a bit. "I can hear the inflections and just seem to know what part of the country, or the world, someone hails from." She laughed then. "It’s a gift, but it’s a small one, I mean it’s nothing the CIA would recruit me for, but it did get this short, white, blonde, girl the lead in West Side Story at El Camino high school."

Savvy and Stephanie laughed, Twyla applauded and Josh toasted her with his Brandy snifter.

"Well, then Miss. Shasta, "Savvy began.

"Please, if you would, Emily."

Stephanie looked at her oddly and remarkably did a fair imitation of that same eyebrow lift thing that seemed to run in the family Ravensdown but said nothing.

Savvy began again, "If you prefer, Emily. You’re right I was born and raised in New Orleans, though by now you would expect that I might have lost the accent. I haven’t been back home in going on a dozen years, but for a week or so every three years."

Stephanie saw the wheels turning and decided to give out part of the story instead of making the author work for it more than she had already. It had been especially amusing to watch her voracious little author hunt for and find ways of getting her lover and herself to fill in the blanks for her, but the evening was waning and she was getting hot to have Savvy’s undivided attention.

"Let me sum up for you a bit of background, and then, if you still need to know, and I know you will, you can come over to the house tomorrow for brunch and we’ll talk some more."

Emily had the good grace to blush a bit and Twyla noticed enough to pat her arm and shoot her niece a chastising look. Stephanie just smiled.

"You and that blue eyed legal eagle have something in common with my Savvy, in that she too, is a prodigy. She’s been a whiz at math since she could barley walk and ended up graduating two years early and going to first, MIT and then Stanford on full scholarships. She chose to stay here in California and accept the position at UCLA as her family was having a little fit about her newest bit of self-discovery when she let them know she was sexually ‘other’ oriented. Now she only goes back home occasionally to see her paternal grandmother and eat decent food she says, present company excepted, Auntie." She grinned and nodded at her beloved Aunt and Savvy smiled and nodded, too. Twyla just brushed her off with a hand swipe and finished her coffee.

"Now," she let out a breath, "if I may be so rude as to suggest it, perhaps we can call it an evening. I’m a little tired."

She didn’t fool anyone at the table with that last remark, but no one was crass enough to mention it.

"I think that’s a good idea," Josh said. "We’ll be talking again on Sunday anyway." He got to his feet helping both Twyla and Emily from their chairs and they all exchanged appropriate goodbyes with Emily promising to come back to Stephanie’s at ‘one-ish’ for brunch.

Emily was sitting in the back of the car as the light from a streetlamp caught Josh when he turned to speak to his wife. It was that profile and the blue of his eye that reminded Emily of Harley. She was feeling pretty good about the fact that she’d gone most of the evening without thinking of the woman. Well, without thinking of her constantly. But the evening was over and that flash of familiar planes and angles and blue allowed her the luxury of falling into her remembrances so she just let go and enjoyed it.

************

Harley wasn’t fairing nearly so well. With Cole home and no one to talk to, she’d spent her evening eating donuts, drinking coffee and trying to make sense of this case.

She started doing what she always did and laid out the evidence in her mind trying to fit the suspects in and figuring a motive. She couldn’t seem to complete the pattern. Not just because she didn’t have enough data, but also because every now and then Emily’s image would pop into her head and the second it did, it was followed up by a visceral physical sensation of warm soft lips. That feeling was then chased immediately by the familiar feeling of fear and worry.

She eventually tried to write the facts and evidence all down, figuring if she could see it more clearly the pieces would start making sense. It hadn’t worked. Emily was still popping up to distract her.

Eventually she started compiling lists. Lists of possible motives. Lists of people and places to call for information. Lists of things to do, until she realized that all she could think about now was the mental list she was making about why it was such a bad idea to let her feelings for the writer go any farther.

Slamming her hand on her desk, she got up, checked the doors and windows, turned off the lights grabbed a blanket and lay down on the couch.

She closed her eyes and she was back on the porch again swept away in that kiss, but this time the sensations were more vibrant without any outer distractions to filter the image. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d unbuttoned her jeans, slipped her hand in between her thighs and let the memory of that kiss bring her to a very rapid, very intense, release.

Her last thought that night before the tension in her was fully relaxed, finally allowing her to sleep was, Jesus, I’m so fucked.

Sleep that night was easy for Emily. The booze helped but most of all it was the quiet sense of satisfaction she’d carried with her from the moment she pushed Harley into that kiss on the porch. She felt she was making progress with the beautiful woman and that could be nothing less than a very good thing.

This morning also, lying in her bed, she felt rested and contented. The hangover she half expected wasn’t there. Her wrist felt awkward and achy, but nothing like the last few days.

She stretched and yawned then glanced at her watch on the nightstand to see that it was just barely seven. She never woke this early unless she was forced into it. It just wasn’t her nature to be a morning person. Most of her evenings were filled with partying, writing, or both and either activity usually took up most of the night.

It felt funny. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She wasn’t sure if Twyla and Josh would be up this early on a Saturday morning, yet she felt she just couldn’t stay in bed any longer.

She finally decided on a long bath and some coffee. She remembered Twyla’s instructions about considering herself welcome and to avail herself of anything the house had to offer, so she wrapped herself in her ‘comfort’ robe and made her way downstairs as quietly as she could.

She had to hold the robe up above her feet with her casted hand as she held the banister with the other. The drapes were still closed in the downstairs rooms and there was little light. Besides the robe was large and always hung on her smaller frame as if she was wearing her Daddy’s clothes. In a way it was. Her sister, Leslie, bought the huge white terrycloth monster for Emily in her first year of college. Leslie told her sister that when Emily got lonely or sad she should wear it and pretend Leslie, Mom, or Dad was wrapping Emily up in their arms. It worked remarkably well. Each time she was missing her sister or her folks, or when she felt sad, frightened or even sick, the robe made her feel surrounded by caring but unseen hands.

Today, the best part was that due its size she could put it on over her cast by herself and didn’t need to wake Twyla for help dressing.

More than twenty feet from the kitchen door, she smelled the remarkable and unmistakable aroma of coffee as only Twyla could make it. It made her smile and she moved faster to get to the door.

Entering, she found Twyla and Josh talking quietly at the large breakfast nook and sipping coffee.

"Morning," Emily said.

"Well, good morning to you. Come on in and I’ll get you some coffee."

While Twyla moved to do just that, Josh laid a new place setting out for Emily on the far side of the table. He switched his seat and Twyla’s so that now he and his wife sat on one side and Emily had the other to herself.

"Here, now. Are you ready for breakfast?" Twyla set the large steamy mug down and then waited politely for Emily to ingest the first caffeine of the day.

As she finished swallowing, the blonde smiled the same smile she always did when taking the first sip of Twyla’s nectar. Twyla had become accustomed to it and Josh could understand the blissful look without explanation.

"Actually, I was planning to slip down here for a mug of your elixir-of-life and take it back upstairs to sip while I took a long, hot bath. For some reason I’ll make no excuse for, my more decadent nature is out in full force this morning." Her smile got bigger and Josh was once again reminded why this small woman had his Mongoose all wound up. She was adorable.

Actually, they’d only just stopped talking about the two of them before Emily came to the door. Twyla seemed as pleased as could be that the young writer was smitten with their daughter. They’d been brainstorming over why, even though it was as obvious as the perfect nose on her face that the dark haired beauty was very interested in the smaller woman, Harley was going out of her way to fight it. It just wasn’t in Harley’s nature to be so stupid.

Josh had never known his daughter to do anything without a reason. She was as methodical and purposeful in her personal life as she was in her business, so this reluctance to pursue the connection with Emily had to have a reason to it. He was determined to find out what it was.

Twyla had agreed that a long, hot, bath sounded like just the thing and assisted by brewing another pot of coffee and filling a thermal carafe with it. She placed that and a basket of warm croissants on a tray and insisted she carry them up to Emily’s room for her.

Josh rose as they left and decided there was no time like the present to find out what the major damn malfunction was with his seemingly witless little girl.

********************

This morning it was South Pacific. Harley was glad it was. She was in a kind of Rodgers and Hammerstein mood and as the last haunting notes of Some Enchanted Evening trailed off she was reminded that she’d promised to bring Emily with her one morning to do this.

After sleeping fitfully for most of the night, she finally called it quits at about five and drove herself home. She thought maybe a little exercise would clear her head and spent over an hour on her equipment, running, rowing, lifting, lunging, and punching.

She ended it by feeling pleasantly fatigued, very sweaty, and still just as unsettled as when she started.

The quarter hour in her steam room and the same amount of time in a cool shower left her smelling nice, but no better off.

Then inspiration hit. She dressed in her clean uniform with a royal blue jersey turtleneck under her shirt and grabbed her cell phone. A few minutes later she was sitting in her car under the old maple tree in front of Tarentella Capriolli’s place just as the opening bars of I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair came trilling out the open window. It seemed just what she needed at the time.

Then she had to think about Emily and all the agitation was back. She gritted her teeth in frustration and deciding she needed more coffee, took off for the diner.

*****************

Cole looked up from his computer as his father entered the station.

"Hey, Pops. What’s up?"

Josh made his way around the counter and settled into a chair in front of his son.

"Not a thing. Just thought I’d drop by and find out what’s been happening around here while I’ve been gone. How are Sally and the boys?"

Cole smiled as he always did when talking about his family as he went to pour his father some coffee and bring over the box of ever-present donuts.

"Fine. Good. Johnny helped me when Trixie foaled and this time she got a nice little colt." His smile got bigger. "I think my oldest son may be rethinking his career choices and instead of marine biology, we just might end up with another vet in the family." He sat back down. "You should have seen his face when that little guy finally stood up to nurse. You’d have thought it was his own kid."

Josh laughed. "I’ll just bet. That boy doesn’t do anything by halves."

"So what’s up with the case you guys are working on? Harley says she’s gut sure that there’s more to it than meets the eye. Any news yet on Polly’s condition? What did Hobie say?"

As Cole repeated much of what Harley said last night, adding only the medical report Hobie had given, Josh silently filed it all away and mentally came back to his main reason for being here. As much as he loved Cole, and he did, the man had always been a sweet boy with a big heart; he was wishing that just now J.D. was in the deputy chair. Cole just wasn’t a people person and if his very private daughter were to confide in any of her brothers, it would be J.D. Nonetheless, he was the one sharing space with her for the month so he had no choice but to begin his interrogation with the veterinarian.

As he was about to pose his first question, the object of his curiosity came though the door.

"Hey Daddy. What’s up?"

"Hi, sweetheart. Just thought I’d drop by and find out what all has happened in town while I’ve been gone." He met her halfway to her desk and gave her a hug and kiss.

Cole may not be a people person but he knew when his company would be better appreciated elsewhere. His Dad had that ‘what’s up with you’ look on his face and it was directed at his sister in no uncertain terms. He stood and announced he was going out on foot patrol and before his sister could question it, he was gone.

Harley wasn’t unaware of her father’s intentions either. She settled in behind her desk and tried to fix her gaze on her notes of the case, waiting for the man who knew her better than anyone to say what was on his mind.

Josh cleared his throat. "I’m a little uneasy about what’s been going on here, Honey. I’d like to see whether you would agree to get some help from Gunny and the state police to get a handle on this thing."

"They’re already involved, Dad. I had Gunny down the day we found the knife in Emily’s bed. He took all the physical evidence back with him and the state is processing it through their lab. I don’t think they’re going to find anything though. We’ve already determined that it was Nancy McKinnon who did the break in. We just have to prove it and to do that; we need to talk to her. Emily’s friend is supposed to get back to us on Monday with the info to tie Nancy to Valerie. Now it’s just a waiting game."

She settled back in her chair and hooked one long leg over the other at the knee. Picking up a pencil she started to tap the eraser end gently on her desk. "Gunny is also trying to track down the money angle for me. Of course, I don’t expect he’ll be as good or as fast at it as J.D. and his contacts are." She tossed down the pencil and put both hands behind her head as she leaned even further back in the swivel chair.

"So, what’s going on with you and Emily?"

She should have seen that coming. Her father was nothing if not blunt and by now, she knew her mother would have filled him in on her behavior. Damn, they all know me so well. There is definitely something to be said about having some distance from your family.

She knew it wouldn’t fly but took a shot at it anyway. "What do you mean, me and Emily? She’s a victim of a crime and I’m the one who has to solve it. End of story."

"Don’t you lie to your Daddy, little girl. I’m still bigger and stronger than you and if I need to, I can put you over my knee until you I hear you tell me the truth." He leaned both arms on her desk and looked her dead in the eye.

"Ah, shit." She closed her eyes and prayed for a distraction. She thought she’d settle for a bank robbery right now

****************

Emily felt absolutely beautiful today. The bath, scented with some of Twyla’s gardenia bath oil had been perfect. She soaked for an hour, nibbling on the croissants and sipping the coffee from the bath tray Tywla had insisted she use. She’d listened to some of her meditation tapes and the sound of the ocean, rain, and sitar melodies had soothed her into a near stupor. When she finally decided to get out, she felt pampered and perfect.

Deciding that she liked the feeling of being good to herself, she sat back down in bed and read the paperback she’d been toying with for the last six months.

Finally, at around noon she started to dress knowing she was expected for brunch at her editors by one.

Getting dressed was a breeze when she realized Tywla had packed her favorite casual outfit, and now, dressed in her softest 501’s, her best red Victoria’s Secret satin underwear and her favorite short sleeved, scarlet cashmere cardigan she felt even better.

Twyla had helped with her hair and after she brushed it fully, had pulled the long strands on each side up to be clipped behind her head. With her cushiest socks and best fitting sneakers on, she was feeling altogether luscious.

The day was clear but very chilly and she was glad she didn’t have to be out in it longer than the time it would take to leave Twyla’s car and get to Stephanie’s front porch.

***********************

She pulled up the paperwork on her computer. As she opened the file she began to smile. It wasn’t a nice smile at all.

It was coming together. Of course there was still an obstacle or two, but she was almost there. She congratulated herself again for having the good sense to scan in the documents and encrypt them into a secret file, which opened only with her password. That way the real paper didn’t have to stay anywhere near her. It was all locked up in a safe deposit box where you’d have to have a warrant or her permission to get to it.

Over my dead body, she thought.

But they’d never figure it out. Not until she finished and then it would be too late. She’d have it all and she’d get everything she had wanted all these years. Everything.

Of course I’ll have to find a way to make nasty Valerie go away. It was an annoying, tedious thought. She’d had it before but always managed to decide on the solution later.

She smiled.

******************

It wasn’t a bank robbery, but having Cole come back sooner than expected at least saved her from having to answer for a few minutes.

She asked her Dad to come on drive patrol with her and set her mind on high, trying to find a way to tell him the truth without sounding like such a…a wuss.

Josh Ravensdown was an opinionated man. One of his opinions had to do with people standing up for what they believed in and not backing away from things just because they scared you. She certainly didn’t want him to be disappointed in her, but she knew he might be. The whole situation made her brow furrow and her shoulders slump as she took the turn off Bender up the mountain toward The Village. She just couldn’t seem to find the words.

Josh was never one to beat a dead horse. He knew his daughter heard him the first time so he wasn’t about to ask her the same question again, but as he watched her body language he was suddenly aware of two things. The first was she really didn’t want to talk about this, which made the second thing very clear. She was close to tears, and he hadn’t seen her cry in seven years.

Brunch had been great. The food was wonderful. Savvy had deigned to make the meal and proved herself to be more than a brilliant mathematician. She was a true gastronome and chef. Food was always one of Emily’s favorite things. She wasn’t a fanatic about it and never took too much time creating her own meals, but she appreciated good cuisine when she had it.

The meal began with pumpkin soup, went on to a fresh shrimp salad, a wonderful crab and vegetable quiche with warm brioche, and ended with fresh fruit dipped in white and dark chocolate fondue. The white, unpronounceable, German wine was crisp, light, and favored the tastes of the meal exceptionally.

Funny, I eat out at home nearly every day at restaurants so exclusive you need to be on a list to get in, but I haven’t enjoyed eating anything as much as I have since I came to this little mountain town. Maybe it’s the air. Emily had to laugh at herself. Maybe it’s the company.

The conversation, too, had been good and time-consuming. She was surprised to see the sun so low in the sky as she stood watching it descend through the sliding glass doors. The shadows of the natural woods landscape in Steph’s backyard were long and growing longer. Maybe another hour till true night. This place is just glorious.

More of Savvy and Steph’s personal histories were revealed, as well as a multitude of wonderful stories about growing up in Bramble. It delighted the writer that so many of these stories seemed to involve Harley who, according to Stephanie, had been her best friend since the time she had been little.

The exploits of these two little terrors and the pains and problems that they shared growing up affected the writer in a way that surprised her.

Emily knew a writer needed to feel their emotions deeply and absolutely, so that they could express that emotion in their writing, but it could be a handicap to feel too much. She’d heard lots of hard things doing research for her books. She’d spoken to cops and doctors, crime scene analysts, and FBI profilers trying to get a feel and understanding for her characters. She was a naturally empathetic woman and some of the things she’d learned had upset her. Emily knew she’d lost of lot of her innocence when trying to understand how the criminal mind worked. Some of the acts one human being could perpetrate on another, for the flimsiest of reasons, had shaken her faith in people in general.

When Stephanie told Emily about the loss of her father Emily found herself having to hold back tears. It wasn’t until that moment that she made the connection. Stephanie Croft was the daughter of the late Sheriff Bob Croft. The one who had died in the car accident, propelling the balance of her family, the Ravensdown’s, to take up the law enforcement mantel in his absence. From then on, questions just flew out of her mouth.

The writer in her wanted to know everything about the town and its people. The woman in her had a hard time concealing her curiosity about Harley and her family.

Stephanie didn’t seem to mind until Emily asked what must have been a question that her editor found difficult to answer.

They were speaking in general terms about how fascinated Emily found the town and its inhabitants when she remembered that all stories need a villain, and whom she had penciled in for this one.

"Everyone here has been a writer’s dream. Eccentric, charming, educated with wonderful personal histories. I’ve even managed to wrangle an invitation to tea with Ellie Gravtiz.

The only one I’ve met so far who has managed to fail the charming character test was Darla Dunhem. What’s her story anyway?" Emily asked.

The look of undisguised disgust on Stephanie’s face was in itself a kind of answer.

"She’s a bitch!"

With that, Emily watched as Stephanie got up and left the room. Savvy just shook her head a little and smiled at her. Then she too, got up to follow her partner into the bedroom.

Still ruminating about the so far universal reaction to the spike haired blonde, Emily got up and went to the sliding doors to wonder and worry at Darla’s place in Bramble, before she was caught up in the view and the sense of place she found there.

Despite the chill in the air, Emily couldn’t help but open the doors and step out on to the deck. The smell of wood smoke from the fireplace inside, and others down the road, blending with the pungencies of the trees and leaf litter was so sensuous. She took in a deep breath and folded her arms over her chest. There was no sound of traffic, no waves breaking on the shore, no people noises.

I love it here. It’s like a secret hidden place where the earth doesn’t care who you are and only expects you to be.

Then, filtering though the noises of the breeze and the birds she heard something new. She turned her head to where the noise came from and there, further down the sloping woods, she saw a dog.

She knew it was a dog from its markings, fur in various shades of white, black and red-brown, but looking at its enormous size she felt it might have had some horse or moose ancestors. It was huge.

The giant stocky body and longish ears were reminiscent of a St. Bernard, but it stood fully as tall as a mastiff. If it weren’t for the wonder that its face was, she might have been a little frightened by it. It was a face only a mother could love: so ugly it was cute. As she continued to watch while it sniffed along the edge of the stream, she became aware of another sound. Singing.

Soon, coming from the same direction as the dog came a very small, very old, very dirty man. He had long silver hair and an even longer silver beard. She’d seen homeless people wearing cleaner clothes and his wire-rimmed glasses were taped together in at least three places. He carried a very long branch as a walking stick and kept his eyes on the ground as he caught up to the dog, all the time singing quietly. Over the distance she could just barely hear "A hundred and one, pounds of fun, that’s my little honey bun…".

She realized how chill she was when she felt herself smile and realized the skin on her face was tight. She was about to turn to go back in, when she heard someone behind her.

"Ah, right on time. That’s Tiny and Walter. They come home this way everyday about this time." Stephanie said.

"Home?"

The older woman stepped forward then turned to lean on the deck railing facing the writer. "Yeah, they live a few miles over, just on the other side of Eureka and back a bit off the road in an old camper that saw its best days sometime in the 50’s. Both of them have been around since I was a kid. Every morning early they start to wander here and there all over Bramble." She smiled. "I guess every small town needs its resident hobo."

"Hey, it’s getting brisk out here. Come on back inside and let me show you the surprise I was talking about. Savvy just mulled some wine and we’ll settle in and gossip some more."

Since Emily thought that was such a good idea, she nodded and followed her hostess inside, sparing just a brief look and small smile for the old man and his monster dog with the ridiculous name of Tiny, just disappearing from view

**************

Harley, too, was watching the sun as it began to descend, but she was looking out of the floor to ceiling glass wall of her own home.

She stood slowly twirling the melting ice in her scotch and listening as her parent’s car slid over the gravel in her driveway as they headed home.

They had been en route to The Village when Josh took out his cell phone and called her brother. She knew she’d given herself away. In his best head-of-the-family manner, Josh had appropriated J.D. to play sheriff for the night and then quickly called Twyla to inform her to meet him at Harley’s house. All the while he’d had his hand on her shoulder, rubbing the tense lines of muscle in her neck.

She knew better than to try to talk him out of it and part of her was grateful. She was a mess and she knew it. She sure as hell wasn’t getting any closer to solving this case and she wasn’t focused enough on anything, but her own dilemma with Emily to be able to fix that.

Without a word, she made the first available U-turn she could and headed back home.

Once they arrived, Josh had poured them both a drink and as they began to take their first sip, Twyla came in. She crossed the room and hugged her daughter as Josh poured a glass of Merlot and handed it to his wife. Then Josh and Twyla took seats on the couch facing the window. She found she couldn’t sit and just stared out at the trees, trying hard to find answers there. If not answers, then maybe the words to explain how she felt. Oddly enough, once she began to talk, it all seemed to come out easily.

"The situation is simple. It’s my feelings that are so complex." She took another sip of her drink, then carried it with her as she began to pace.

"I can’t stop thinking about her. I’m crazy about everything she does or says. I dream about her. I fantasize about her. It’s gotten so that I keep seeing pictures of us, she and I, here in Bramble, somewhere in the future. I keep picturing her here with me." She stopped and took another long pull of her drink. She couldn’t seem to look at anything for more than a second. Her eyes were flitting from one thing to another and her breath was coming faster in her agitation

"Uhm, Honey, why is that a bad thing? You must know she’s very interested in you, too. Every time she, or anyone else, mentions your name, she just lights up. It seems to me that you have a mutual attraction here. So what’s the problem?" Twyla couldn’t help but furrow her brow at Harley. What is wrong with two people wanting to get together with each other?

"I like her, Mom. I really like her. I can’t remember feeling like this about anyone since Kym."

A quick glance from Josh to Twyla communicated an instant understanding. They knew their daughter had loved Kym very much and was totally shaken when she’d died unexpectedly.

While Twyla didn’t know the full particulars of her death and the relationship she had with her daughter, Josh did. He’d made it his business to know. He’d had to pull a few strings, but not too many since he had a lot of friends in high places, but eventually he’d had the whole story given to him, neatly typed and single spaced. It had taken over eight pages to wallow through to the truth of Kym’s death and Harley’s real reason for resigning her commission in the Navy.

It had, at different moments, enraged him and broken his heart. He never told his daughter all he knew of the incident and she had never once offered more than the barest basics. She’d said only that it was an accident aboard ship and that it was due to negligence of the officer in charge. Then, as soon as her discharge came through, she’d taken off for several weeks to the cabin she bought in Oregon.

When she came home, she was lighter and smiled again, but there was a new more serious, more defensive look to her and Josh was heartily sorry for it. That look of self-defense, the one that spoke of caution and wariness was out in full force now.

"What is it you’re afraid of, Sweetheart?" Josh asked.

Gods, I’m afraid of so many things. Feeling them all rise up and fill her, she blurted. "She’s a tourist! She’s on vacation here. Steph sent her up here because her pushing the envelope lifestyle was getting her into trouble. She’s only here long enough to let the gossip die down over her last naughty-girl news bite and then she’s going home."

Harley found herself noticing that the hand that clutched the heavy old-fashioned glass was trembling and the knuckles were white. She took another sip and brought her other hand to cover the first one. "This isn’t a simple attraction for me. I don’t want her to go. I don’t want her to leave me behind and be remembered as a nice interlude in a sleepy little town between her last bar brawl and her next awards banquet conquest." She took in another deep breath and was embarrassed at how her voice shook. "I don’t want to be a foot note in her next book."

Josh dropped the study he was making of his daughter as he noticed movement from his wife. With one look, he realized she had a full head of steam up and was about to jump on his daughter with both feet. He knew too, that she wasn’t seeing the full picture and anything she said would come out on emotion alone and that would never do. As she sat up straighter and opened her mouth, he grabbed her arm to get her attention and shook his head.

One of the best things about being married for so many years was that two people got to know each other so well that words weren’t always necessary between them. Twyla knew her husband would never interfere with her expressing herself if it wasn’t imperative that she didn’t. She didn’t understand why he’d stopped her; she only knew that he’d never been wrong when he’d done it before.

"Honey," Josh began quietly, "What makes you think she’ll leave? I mean, has she said so? Is she anxious to get back to her life in Los Angeles? Have you even asked her to stay?"

Harley shook her head and laughed. "No, I haven’t asked her to. Why would I? She’s a writer, Dad. Her stories are based on the life of a high priced private investigator who caters to the rich and famous. She sets her stories in all the beautiful places and her characters are based on all the beautiful people she rubs elbows with. What could she find here to interest her? Oh, don’t get me wrong. I think Bramble fascinates her. But more in the way people watching a documentary on the culture of small African tribes fascinates, but beyond that, they end up just being glad they can go back to their safe little civilization and think of themselves as more worldly for knowing about clan tradition. She might even write a book about us, changing the names and all of course, but she’d never be satisfied here for long." She swallowed hard. "I can’t compete with that and I can’t see myself ever being happy living in her world." She threw back the rest of scotch. "So I’m stuck. I’m stuck on her and I’m stuck with the reality that there can never be an ‘us’ that doesn’t end with me here and her leaving."

Josh was sure then that he had been right in stopping Twyla. She thought that the only thing her daughter was afraid of was not having her affections returned by the small blonde. Josh knew now it was more than that.

Harley was afraid of loving someone more than they loved her and of being second on their list of priorities…again.

He stood and crossed to his daughter, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

"I don’t know what to tell you, sweetheart, except the one truth that has seen me through." He kissed her temple and said, "Love, when it’s true, is never a mistake."

Now she stood there and listened as the words echoed in her mind and remembered the mind numbing pain that loving someone could make you feel. For the first time in her life she thought, maybe her Daddy was wrong.

****************

They’d barely cleared the driveway when Twyla spoke. "So, tell me."

Josh told her everything this time. He felt she needed to know what was causing their oh-so-smart daughter to balk at the idea of risking her heart again. She reacted just as he expected her to, with righteous anger and bitter tears. He couldn’t blame her, it was an awful story to relate, and it was harder still to know their daughter lived it.

For Twyla, it was part of the nightmare fear she’d always had for her daughter.

He finally pulled the car over just before Bender to offer his arms to his wife while she finished weeping for the injustices visited on her baby. When she finally calmed, she took in a deep cleansing breath.

"I understand her reluctance now. I can see how this would make her so wary of repeating the past. What bothers me the most is, my heart tells me Emily really cares for her." She looked deeply into her husband’s eyes. "I think this one’s a keeper, Josh." She looked out the windshield and set her jaw. "What we need to do is help them both to see it."

Now, there were many things about his wife that he loved, but most of all Josh loved the way Twyla loved her family. He couldn’t help but smile at her and nod his head.

Hell, it wouldn’t do him any good to do anything else. When Twyla got a hold of something, she never let go. Just like his daughter, his wife was a bulldog. He spared a moment to feel a little bit sorry for both his mongoose and the object of her affections. They had no idea what was coming.

"I think we need to drop in on Steph and Savvy. I need to speak to Emily," Twyla said.

He didn’t question his captain. It was his job to obey. They were pulling up on Old Orchard in less than five minutes.

*********************

Emily felt only a brief flash of disappointment at seeing Josh and Twyla at the door. It had been her original intention to call the sheriff for a ride back to the Ravensdown’s house, but since she liked them both so much, she didn’t feel too bad.

Knowing both Stephanie and Savvy were smart people she wasn’t at all surprised to see them offer carte blanche to Twyla when she suggested making dinner. She realized that Twyla’s mention of being proprietary about the kitchen only applied in her own kitchen and was very happy when everyone, including herself, offered to help and Twyla accepted.

In short order they were seated at the kitchen table, eating a fried chicken dinner with all the trimmings the colonel could only dream about. She’d also learned more about cooking in the past three-quarters of an hour then she had in her previous twenty-four years.

This time the storyteller was Josh and no one was spared. He happily related the most embarrassing and humorous stories he could think of including not only his family, but people he knew in business as well. There was nothing mean spirited about it and dinner digested nicely with all the laughter. It wasn’t until close to the end of the meal, when he started on a story about a social faux pas that four-year old Harley committed, that Emily started to choke.

"So there we were, the whole family all dressed up and making our way though the reception line at the front of the church. The ceremony had been beautiful and even though they had never attended a catholic wedding with a full mass, the kids had all been quiet and respectful through the two-hour ceremony. That was a good thing because I was in the middle of my first multi million-dollar deal with the father of the bride and he was so formally proper and conservative I wasn’t sure if he’d even heard of the Democratic Party yet.

We were so proud of them. Twyla was carrying little Hobie and I was holding Harley’s hand. She was just four years old the day before and she was the cutest thing, all dressed up in blue taffeta with white tights and shiny black MaryJanes.

We met my associate and I proudly introduced the whole family. He shook hands with all the boys and then bent down to speak to my little girl. Twyla and I just stood there beaming as she politely shook his hand and thanked him for letting her come to his daughter’s wedding. Then, he asked her if she enjoyed it and she smiled really big and said, "Oh, yes. It was beautiful." So, he asked what she liked best. She looked him straight in the eye and said, "The concubines."

We were all frozen to the spot for a minute. I could see the wheels turning in his mind as he stood and looked at me. I knew he was wondering what kind of godless heathen he’d gotten involved with. Finally, he seemed to come to a question and asked her what concubines she was talking about. She just looked at him like he was crazy, poked her finger into the fabric at his waist and said, "The concubines, all these pretty blue concubines." It was at that moment we all realized what she meant was cummerbunds and everyone within hearing distance burst into laughter."

As if she were there, Emily saw it happening. She must have been in good company for the whole table erupted into their own laughter. It was then that she inhaled a bite of biscuit and had to have Savvy pound her back to clear it or she would have choked to death. The minute it was out and the danger was over she continued to laugh until she fell right off her chair.

The giggling and visualizing followed them into the living room where Steph served them coffee. She opened a box of chocolates on the table then sat in her lover’s lap at the opposite end of the denim sofa from Emily.

They chatted quietly for a few more minutes before Twyla suggested they call it a night.

After saying their goodbyes, Josh reminded Steph and Savvy to come to the house Sunday night and they were off.

As they entered the Ravensdown home, Twyla asked Emily if she could talk to her. Realizing it might intimidate the young woman to have them both interrogate her, Josh said he’d be in his office for a while. He wished Emily a good night if he didn’t see her before she retired.

They stepped into the parlor where Emily sat again on the same large brocade chair. Twyla sat opposite her on the loveseat. Without any kind of preamble whatsoever, she spoke.

"Emily, what are your intentions toward my daughter?"

"Uhm, what…excuse me?" Emily was playing for time to answer the question.

"I want to know what your intentions are toward Harley."

Twyla sat very still and made sure to look Emily in the eye. She was determined that the young woman would take her and the question seriously.

"I,uh, I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not even sure what kind of answer you’re looking for. I really like Harley. I thought I’d made that clear. Don’t you believe me?"

Emily was a little confused by the question but mostly she was still just stalling. She did like Harley. A lot! She felt something for her she hadn’t felt for anyone else she’d met. Just where it would lead and what her intentions were, well, that was something she hadn’t really figured out yet.

"My daughter." Twyla stopped to put her thoughts in order. She spoke carefully and her tone of voice was emotional. "Don’t ask or expect her to become involved with you casually. Harley doesn’t do casual. For better or worse she has her father and I as role models and as much as she’d never admit it to anyone, she wants what we have. She isn’t looking for a few hot nights in the sheets. She never was. If you aren’t interested in pursuing this feeling you have for her with the intention of becoming involved in a permanent relationship, then go no further. My daughter is lonely. She’s been lonely for a long time and my feeling is that she’s tired of it. So, if you don’t believe these feelings you have for her are more than skin deep, do her the favor of backing off…before you hurt her."

With that said, the older woman rose and leaned over to place a soft kiss on the younger woman’s head and left the room, heading in the direction Josh had gone previously.

Left behind in the parlor was a very confused blonde.

What are my intentions? What are they? What do I want from Harley? Then her inner self smirked as she thought about it. What you always want from a beautiful, desirable, woman. Sex, attention. Gods, there’s that instant gratification addict again! "Ah, hell. Just when I think I have one thing about me figured out, something new comes up. What is this town? Some kind of earthbound purgatory where you’re forced against your will to peel back the layers of your own psyche? Jesus, I thought I was supposed to be resting."

She stood up and shook her head trying to clear it of all the conflict and confusion. "Well, let’s just take a few minutes to figure this thing out then."

She went to the coat closet and, first checking to be sure she had her cigarettes and lighter, put on her leather jacket as well as she could with one hand and then opened the front door.

She found her way to the porch swing and sat down. Lighting a cigarette she waited for her eyes to readjust to the pale light of the porch lamp and just stared off into the darkness of the woods around her. Swinging gently, she listened to the sounds of the night and breathed in the air, crisp and cool and filled with green things.

What do I want? She wanted Harley. She’d answered that question for herself the other day. But just how she wanted her, for how long, she didn’t know.

Harley wants what her parents have. A committed relationship. A full time, permanent partner. Is that what I want? She considered that. Her first reaction was trepidation. The same person, day in and day out, living in the same place with her? Having to make all her decisions and choices with someone else in mind? Eww. She wasn’t sure that appealed to her very much.

Is there really any such thing? Is that kind of permanence even feasible for us? Once again she remembered the love she saw between the couples she’d met here and that made her think about her ideal of the perfect coupling…her parents. That was when she realized she was looking at this the wrong way. What Harley wanted wasn’t the convention of a permanent partner. What she wanted was the love that made it something to strive for. That real, true, honest to goodness, forever after kind of love she kept seeing between Josh and Twyla and Steph and Savvy. The same kind of happiness she saw on Connie and Toni’s faces after a lifetime of living together. She wants that. And after a minute, I want that.

Can I do that? She’d spent a lot of time since college playing ‘in the fast lane’ as Steph called it. Going where she wanted. Doing what she wanted. Doing who she wanted.

Could she see Harley fitting into her life? Into her everyday? Her imagination pictured Harley at one of Teddy’s parties and as had happened before she couldn’t make it fit. It wouldn’t be the clothes, Harley would of course be nothing less than breathtaking in a designer dress, and her elegance was just a natural part of the woman but …seeing her attempting the superficial small talk and the gossip and , oh, goddess, picturing her bent over a mirror snorting snow! No. That just wasn’t Harley Ravensdown. She’d never fit into that life

Emily had an epiphany.

That just wasn’t her, either. Not anymore.

So, where did that leave her?

*****************

Harley spent the remainder of Saturday evening and night trying to sweat the thought of the small blonde woman out of her head. She put on the CD she’d burned for just that purpose and worked out for over two hours. When she finally pulled herself from the last machine she was drenched and wobbly and had to hold onto the wall to make it to the showers.

She pulled a robe around her and wrapped a towel in her hair before she realized she’d have to eat something or she might not make it upstairs.

After some soup, crackers and a glass of wine she felt sure she could finally sleep without worrying about her love life or lack thereof. She climbed the stairs, all eight-hundred of them, to her room.

For the first time in days she fell asleep as soon as she closed her eyes. As she drifted off, she told herself if all that work was what it took to clear her mind, then that was what she would do from now on…or at least until the writer went home to Los Angeles.

And she could manage to forget she ever met her.

***************

Valerie was halfway home. In spite of the coolness of the October night, she had her window rolled down and was listening to whatever station came in the clearest at high volume. Normally she wouldn’t have been heading back to the beach until tomorrow night at the earliest, but circumstances had changed and she felt the need to be out of Bramble.

It shouldn’t have been much of a problem. She’d distracted that scruffy mutt of the old ladies by leaving a nice big pile of hamburger at the end of a trail of smaller pieces about a quarter of a mile beyond the broken fence line. She was told that the old broad had a nap every day from three to five in the afternoon. Okay, she’d been a little late. Who knew that newbie at the Village would be so compliant? Just climb to the roof and remove a few roof tiles. Rain was expected for tomorrow night and with a leaking roof and the offer to buy as large as it was, it should just tip the scale and have her signing to sell. Just as she’d finished and was climbing off the roof, the old woman came out back yelling for her dog. She hadn’t really panicked; she’d just reacted. As soon as she’d thrown the hammer at the old bat’s head she jumped down the rest of the way, grabbed the ladder and hammer, shoved them back in the shed, and ran.

The last thing she needed just now was another one on one encounter with her partner.

Without a word to anyone, she packed up and left for home. Now, more than halfway there she was trying to pretend she wasn’t afraid of what her next meeting with her partner would mean. Being afraid wasn’t something she was used to, but neither was dealing with people who were clearly insane. If the chance to get back at Harley and the chance to make a fortune doing it meant she’d have to deal with the ‘crazy’, she could do it. But for right now, she’d do it from a safe distance.

*********************

Sunday morning found Harley back at her desk, sipping coffee and reviewing the newest data J.D. found about V. Alaska Enterprises. It wasn’t much. For all intents and purposes, there was nothing suspicious about it. It appeared to be just what it was. She couldn’t find anything odd about it except that it had nothing whatsoever to do with sporting goods.

What is Valerie doing in the real estate business? Where and how did she manage to find all those sites and more importantly, why?

Valerie, as a resident of Los Angeles could become involved in the entertainment industry at some point or another. Many people did. Why would she bother? Site locations required staff to find them and contacts in the industry to want them. How did this sudden diversifying from the sporting goods company she runs come about? Why did she go to so much trouble to hide that she owned it?

The only obvious connection tied Valerie to Harley’s other suspect, Bramble’s own realtor, Darla Dunhem. How that tied in, or how to make the connection between them, beyond Harley’s suspicions, was still the question.

****************

It wasn’t until one in the afternoon that a droopy eyed Emily made her way downstairs. She’d sat out on the porch and smoked and thought and worried until well into the morning, before the cold and her own sense of defeat forced her in and up to bed.

She found a note in the kitchen next to a thermal carafe of coffee telling her that Twyla had to run some errands and Josh would be in and out all day and to once again, help herself and if she needed to go anywhere, she could either call the sheriff or Twyla’s cell.

Since she really didn’t want to see anyone just now, she was just as glad she was alone in the house. She grabbed the carafe and a mug in her good hand by their handles and went back upstairs determined to work on her latest book and shelve her more confusing feelings for now.

The surprise Steph had brought her turned out to be the latest state of the art voice recognition software. After it was installed, Emily cleaned up, poured some coffee and lost herself in the world of Lake Priest, Private Investigator.

She threw out the old story she’d started and with very little thought, began a new one about her high profile P.I. investigating the disappearance of the CFO of a major company. In this newer incarnation of her story, the CFO was last seen headed to a woman’s outdoor survival camp.

It was late in the day when she heard Twyla knock and only then did Emily realize that the sun was setting.

"Hey, you. Time to come down and join the living." Twyla smiled and leaned against the doorframe.

"I’m sorry I’ve been so unsociable. I just got caught up in writing my new book and didn’t realize the time." She saved and closed her laptop. "Anything I can do to help with dinner?" She stood and stretched. "Oh, wait. I’m sorry you did warn me about the kitchen being your domain when you cooked. How about if I set the table?"

"Actually, that’s being taken care of as we speak, and I never cook on Sundays. That rule has been true for as long as J.D. has been alive." They started to head downstairs as Twyla continued. "Josh decided I cooked enough all week and started a tradition long ago that on Sundays, he and the kids cooked and cleaned up." She smiled. "I like it. It feels like Mother’s Day once a week."

They made it to the parlor and then Twyla steered them into a part of the house Emily hadn’t seen before.

"As long as it’s not snowing or raining and it’s not so cold that his fingers hurt, every Sunday Josh fires up the grill in the back and we have a barbeque. The kids get the kitchen for any side dishes Dad can’t grill and I get to sit on the patio or in the dining room being waited on like I really am the belle of the plantation." She smiled her biggest smile. "It works for me."

Emily had to laugh at that. "I’ll bet it does. Quite a little racket you’ve got going here on Sundays." She was just about to ask who all came to dinner, when they entered the elegant dining room and Emily had to stop and stare.

The room was as gracious and elegant as the rest of the house so that didn’t surprise her, but the table did. It was gigantic. She hadn’t seen one this big since she saw pictures of one of the Queens’ castles in a book years ago.

She quickly did a count down one side, doubled that and added the two chairs at each end and came up with a table that seated forty people easily. It was covered in a beautiful pale blue damask cloth which complemented the fabric on the chair backs and seats beautifully. The whole room was perfect except for one thing. The huge table, covered by the expensive and obviously custom-made tablecloth, was covered again with a giant sheet of clear plastic.

Emily couldn’t help the grin she gave into. It reminded her of all those visits she made to her aunt’s parents house in Anaheim. Every piece of furniture in the living room was slip covered in clear plastic "to keep the wear off the fabric" she was told. She thought it was the tackiest thing she’d ever seen, and the most uncomfortable, but this…this was just precious.

She was going to ask about it when the purpose for it became obvious. From the other door came a veritable parade of children ranging in age from pre-school to about mid-teens, all of who were carrying bowls and platters or pitchers or plates.

The number of times something spilled or sloshed onto the table proved the good of the tarp covering it in just the first two minutes. The noise as the kids talked to each other wasn’t quite as loud as she remembered from her college cafeteria, but it ran a close second. She figured she could ask Twyla about the kids if she only raised her voice a bit but just as she began to do it, two of the mid size kids began to circle the table. One laid a plate at each chair and the next set down the silver wrapped in napkins. The repetitive pounding of clatter, thump, clang as first the heavy plates were laid down, followed by the flatware brought the noise level up just enough that shouting became necessary.

Shouting over the din, Emily said, "I take it that these are your grandchildren?"

"They sure are. Aren’t they beautiful?"

Emily had another new experience. She watched and listened as Twyla answered her and realized that she hadn’t raised her voice, but Emily was able to hear her just fine, while the writer had had to shout. It seemed that Twyla just modulated the pitch of her voice and never had to increase the volume. She must have looked like she was questioning how she did it because Twyla just patted her arm and said. "It’s a Mom thing."

Just then the doors opened again and a new parade came though, this one containing all the Ravensdown children and apparent spouses, each one carrying a platter of meat, fish or chicken that they set on the table dead center in a row. Finally, Josh entered and the parade ended. As everyone began to sit, he carried an enormous silver platter to the buffet. On it were numerous bottles of wine, many chilling in a very large ice bucket. He picked up a single pink rose and a small bell and turned, handing them to Twyla and giving her a small kiss and a large smile.

Twyla gifted him with her own kiss and smile and then turned to the writer.

"Emily, you’re the guest here, come sit by me."

She led her to the first seat to the left of the head of the table. Josh held her chair as she sat while J.D. held his mothers. As Josh took his seat to the right of Twyla, Emily noticed that the table had been set toward her end. Many seats were empty but it still looked like a formal party more than a family dinner. She had just taken notice of the fabulous smells of the food and was looking at the assortment of side dishes when Twyla rang the small silver bell she’d been given.

Silence!

The sudden stillness was so profound it made her try to slow her breathing in order to avoid breaking it. After just a few seconds, Twyla spoke.

"Ladies and gentleman, for those of you who haven’t had the pleasure yet, let me introduce our guest and friend, Ms. Emily Cutter." Twyla smiled at her and at once everyone at the table, including the little ones said, "How do you do, Ms. Cutter?"

Again, Emily found herself flummoxed. Her first thought was that their reaction reminded Emily a little bit of the Stepford Wives, but as she looked at them one on one, she realized they were sincere. It was the tiny blonde girl sitting next to the pretty blonde woman that did it. She had her head bent to the side and her chin down like she was embarrassed but her eyes couldn’t look away from the guest. Emily made sure to look just at her as she too, smiled.

"It’s so nice to meet all of you, and please just call me Emily."

"Now, you’ll all have a chance to speak to her after diner so please, no yelling across the table." Josh said with a smile of his own for Emily.

Twyla rang the tiny bell again and closed her eyes. "Let’s take a silent moment to give thanks for our multitude of blessings."

Once again the silence was like a living thing as Emily watched every adult and child still and close their eyes. It was only for a few seconds but she felt the peace of it like nothing she’d known before.

"Now, let’s eat!" Twyla said, opening her eyes and the noise was back with a vengeance. "Emily what will you have?" She asked.

The writer’s eyes finally had a few free moments to look at the plethora of food on the table. Spare ribs, short ribs, T-bone steak, chicken, salmon, swordfish, and every side dish ever created to go with a barbeque. And it all looked and smelled wonderful. While she sat there salivating unable to make a decision, Twyla spoke up.

"Why don’t we let you have something a little easier to eat with one hand in a cast? Do you like salmon? Swordfish?"

"Both! They’re my favorite fish."

"Well, then by all means you should have your favorites. Everyone else at this table does," Josh said as he took her plate and sent it down the table to be filled by the diners opposite the fish platter.

In seconds it was returned with a beautiful grilled filet of both salmon and swordfish and Twyla was taking the plate out of his hand and heaping small portions of at least eight different side dishes on it.

"You just take a taste of these and tell us what you like most and what you like least and we’ll know for next time, okay?"

Emily could do nothing but smile at the forceful but caring woman as she put her fork to her meal and began to eat. The first melting bite of the swordfish, flavored with hickory wood smoke had her moaning. It took her almost twenty minutes to return her attention to her hosts and family.

It was then she realized that Harley was the only member of the family not at the table.

Suddenly the wonderful food lost some of its appeal and her stomach felt heavy. She laid down her fork and concentrated on the wine in her glass, trying to make pleasant conversation while, all the time, wondering if the sheriff’s absence was her fault.

By the time dinner ended, and Emily was sure it had lasted for several hours, she was smashed.

She’d finished eating, leaving at least a third of the fabulous food on her plate and concentrated on her wine and her guilt. She tried to remember to take a token bite now and again in order to avoid Twyla’s inquiries, but the more she drank the less she remembered to do that. She was grateful Christi Ravensdown was seated to her left as her dinner conversation centered on Emily’s writing. The former journalism major was very charming, as well as very pretty, and it was easy to lose her self in Christi's conversation, especially since they didn’t talk about Harley.

Christi had helped her to know the rest of the clan by pointing out everyone at the table she hadn’t met. By the time dinner ended, and she was helped into the game room, Emily had a pretty accurate idea of who was whom and to whom everyone belonged, either by marriage or by birth.

Emily knew it wasn’t the courteous thing to do, but she felt compelled to bring her newly refilled wine glass with her as she left the table and put a lot of effort into not spilling a drop on the way. By the time she was seated on a comfortable couch, she realized she’d lost some of her tablemates. The very youngest of the kids were being taken upstairs to bed she was informed, and the Ravensdown children and most of their wives were nowhere to be seen. She was about to ask Christi about it when Savvy sat down next to her, told Christi that she would be keeping the writer company. Savvy turned, pulling up a long leg to sit on as she faced the writer.

Christi nodded, told Emily that she enjoyed talking with her and hoped to see her again while she was here and left.

Emily must have worn her question on her face because Savvy provided the answers.

"Every Sunday the family has dinner with Twyla and Josh. Any family that is here anyway." She smiled. "Then after dinner, the little ones are put to bed, the older kids come in here and play games or watch TV while one of the adults gets babysitting duty and the rest of the group clear the table in the dining room and have a board meeting."

Now, it’s true that Emily was very drunk, but she was also really good at it. She’d spent hundreds of hours getting and being under the influence by the grace of many kinds of liquors, chemicals and intoxicants. So, even though she knew she was really plowed she was able to follow the conversation, not spill her drink, keep from slurring her words and in general, appear not to be anything more that a little tipsy.

"Board meeting?" She sipped some more and waited for Savvy’s answer.

"Yep. All of Josh and Twyla’s kids are members of the board of directors for Josh’s company and it’s various holdings. They all have voting rights and switch around holding the various offices." As a commotion at the pool table broke out, Savvy excused herself and went to smooth things over between the kids.

Emily kept sipping and concentrating on trying to come up with short relevant questions to ask Savvy. In the first place, she did want to know these things but in the second place, she didn’t want to have to carry the conversational ball. She really was pushing the limit of her sobriety and the last thing she wanted to do was appear to be as smashed as she was.

A few minutes later as Emily sipped the last of her wine, another disagreement broke out, this time between Tonya, J.D.’s thirteen-year-old daughter, and Randy, Wilson’s twelve-year-old son. Emily heard that the argument was about the ethics of using a cheat code on one of the video games. As Savvy got up to intervene, Emily took that opportunity to ease herself up from the couch and out of the room. Her goal was to get something else to drink.

Expecting to find the rest of the wine from dinner in the kitchen, she made that her destination. She was having a little trouble though. She never did get around to having that tour of the house Twyla promised her and she wasn’t quite sure where the kitchen was in relation to the game room. She oriented herself as well as she could and took off in the direction she thought she needed to go. After a couple of wrong turns in hallways she didn’t recognize, she followed some noise and a light and found herself near the parlor and that meant the kitchen was just down the hall. She was just congratulating herself for finding it as she turned into the room and stopped cold.

Suddenly every drop of wine she’d drunk hit her like a Mack truck and just as she slid into complete darkness watching the floor coming up to greet her, she whispered, "Harley?"

*********************************************************************************

Harley spent her day working on the case and when that led to one dead end after another, she made her rounds and ended up spending a couple of hours sparring with Paris at The Village.

She’d just barley gotten away with not talking about her feelings for Emily. Paris wouldn’t see it, she knew, so she’d spent most of her time there trying again to keep her mind more concerned with her muscles than her emotions. They’d fought with staff’s first, then with swords and ended with hand to hand until they were full out wrestling on the mat. The guests were fascinated and word had spread until the sparring room was filled with an audience.

Most were just appreciating the beauty of a well fought match, some were kind of glad to see Paris take a real beating when no one there had been able to get the upper hand on her. A few were watching with lascivious intent at the sight of the two glistening, sculpted, bodies wearing all that spandex, smiling and taunting one another as they shared blows, but one had a suspicion this was more than just a need to exercise.

As soon as she thought it was prudent to end it without risking her partner’s ego, Dani stepped in and put a stop to the show. After the applause, a handshake between combatants and the ever-constant taunt by Paris of getting her the next time, Harley headed to the showers hoping to be dressed and gone before Dani could corner her. She saw that look in Dani’s eye when she broke up the match and it made her very uncomfortable.

The devious little woman was waiting for her as soon as she set foot out of the bathroom of the owner’s personal quarters. Thankfully, just then her phone rang and she made an excuse that she had to get to the station. Dani nodded, but her eyes told the sheriff that Dani was going to talk to her later.

Once she got back in the office Harley called Hobie, who had just returned from checking on Polly. The news wasn’t good. So far, Polly hadn’t regained consciousness since that one moment in recovery. The doctor’s hadn’t really expected her to and though it was a bit worrisome, she wasn’t any worse. Her condition was listed as critical, but stable. Hobie couldn’t give Harley any idea when she’d be able to question the woman.

When she realized what time it was, she sent Cole home to get his family over to their folks for dinner saying she’d be by after she tied up a few things. She would have been on time for dinner if she hadn’t tried one last time to reach Livie, Polly’s daughter, and finally found her in. Livie and her family had gone to Disney World for the weekend and just got back home minutes before the sheriff called.

It took her over an hour to calm Livie and assure her everything that could be done, was being done. They also made plans to meet as soon as she got back to L.A. and saw her mother. Finally, Harley calmed the worried woman enough to ask her if she knew of anything strange going on with her mother or if she had been upset or worried lately. Livie said she didn’t know of a thing and couldn’t think of anything to help. Finally, Livie agreed to think it over when she was calmer and to call the sheriff if anything occurred to her. If not, she’d speak to Harley tomorrow some time, as soon as she could get a flight in.

When she finally hung up, Harley was wrung out and very late. As she closed up the station to head to her parents house, Harley admitted to herself she was kind of grateful to have missed dinner. She still wasn’t quite ready to deal with Emily one on one and felt relieved that any awkwardness in her attitude toward Emily could wait for another time. Now, if she could just sneak in, grab a little dinner and make it to the board meeting without running into the writer, she’d assure herself of a much calmer night.

She’d just taken her dinner out of the microwave, and the smell of the hickory smoke permeating the tender flakes of salmon was too much for a stomach that forgot to eat lunch. As she put a moist, warm, chunk in her mouth with her fingers and moaned at the flavor, she heard someone enter the kitchen. Opening her eyes and licking her fingers she saw Emily, heard the small blonde call her by name and watched as the woman started to collapse to the floor.

Instinct took over and she made it across the floor, grabbing the blonde before she hit, face first, on the tiles. She’d just turned the limp body in her arms over, when Savvy came in.

"Should I turn down the lights and leave?" The tall woman crossed her arms and leaned on the door jam. "Although I know you’re too pragmatic to ever be a true romantic, Harley, I still would have expected a little better from you than the kitchen floor." A beat later. "Unless you want me to pass you the butter?" Her grin was huge now.

For the sheriff it was huge and irritating. "Enough! She just walked in, said my name and passed out. I caught her before she broke something else."

"Of course she passed out. Why just look at you, darlin. Who wouldn’t? Women all over the world have been overcome by the mere sight of your overwhelming beauty." She could see Harley was about to get angry and hurried along. "Besides, she’s dead drunk."

"She’s what?"

"Drunk. Inebriated. Sloshed. Blotto. Wasted."

"How did that happen?" The sheriff was talking to and looking at her cousin’s partner, but her right hand was busy stroking the soft hair of the woman her left arm was holding across her lap.

"Four glasses of Pinot Grigio, three glasses of Chardonnay and three glasses of White Zinfandel."

"Jesus! How did she stand up, let alone walk?"

"I don’t know. She’s a biological wonder. What I want to know is, how can one body so small consume all that liquid and only use the facilities once. The whole idea of the waste of time" she cleared her throat, "eliminating is, has always bothered me. I mean if we used our bodies to process what we consume more efficiently and had to waste less time with, well…waste; think of the things that could be accomplished. I’ve often wondered, while wasting my own time in that activity, just how much the female bladder can hold, at maximum volume."

"Around thirty ounces, give or take."

Two surprised sets of eyes darted to the small blonde. The voice came from the woman on Harley’s lap, but her eyes were still closed.

Harley gently rubbed the writer’s cheek. "Emily? You in there?"

Emily was in there but she was sure she was dreaming. Since she often talked in her sleep, answering Savvy’s question didn’t seem odd. She was held in warm arms and surrounded by a lovely scent and someone’s hand kept petting her head. She was just fine where she was and had no intention of ending it.

Seconds later, they heard the blonde begin to snore and Harley realized she had to do something about that.

"Well, it looks like she’s not going to join us here so why don’t you help me get her up to bed."

Savvy raised both brows and looked with incredulity. "Now, I know you didn’t just ask me to do something that butch. I may be tall but you know I’ll bet she weighs more than I do. Nope, cher, she’s in your arms, you carry her to bed." She turned and headed out of the room. "I’ll go and open the door and pull down the sheets."

Grumbling under her breath about ungrateful relatives, and hungry sheriffs with cold dinners, she stood and hefted the dead weight of the writer as she followed the professor up the stairs.

Once deposited on the bed, she turned and was about to speak when Savvy volunteered.

"Now, sheriff, you go get your supper and get to the powwow before it’s over. I’ll take care of the lush, here."

Harley only smiled gratefully and hurried from the room.

Rubbing her hands together, Savvy turned to the woman on the bed. "Now, sweetie, lets get you comfortable and make sure I get my behind out of here before my wife finds me undressing another woman and misunderstands my humanitarian efforts."

Emily was only mildly aware of anything beyond the velvet darkness in which she rested and suffered the lifting and pulling and manipulating of her body with good grace. Then it was gone and she felt cool sheets and warm blankets tucked up around her chin. She took in a sleepy breath, turned to her left, and brought up her knees.

That’s when her body screamed the need for relief. She kicked off the covers and stumbled blindly toward the bathroom door, glad beyond all reason that some kind soul had left the night light on.

Seconds later she sighed in contentment as she released and total relaxation took her.

That was exactly where Twyla found her the next morning, propped up on the glass shower doors, still sitting on the toilet.

*********************************************************************************

Why wasn’t the old woman answering the phone? She’d been told to expect this call. Why wasn’t she there?

After a while of trying and getting no answer, the caller hung up and headed to the diner to eat. The gossip was easy to eavesdrop on and in short order, Polly’s condition and the reason she hadn’t answered the phone became clear.

Dinner was eaten in a hurry and the minute it was possible to do so without being overheard, another call was placed, but Valerie wasn’t answering her phone either. A quick drive through the parking lot of The Village confirmed that the redhead wasn’t there and it didn’t take a genius to realize that the chances of her being anywhere else in Bramble were less than zero.

Realizing there was nothing to be done about the whole debacle Valerie perpetrated, at least until tomorrow, did nothing to quell the fury welling in Darla’s breast. She spun the wheel, stomped on the accelerator and headed to the one place she knew she could vent her rage in secret.

Her smile was manic and her eyes, terrifying, holding the promise of a night of agony for someone. Maybe, several someones.