Patricia and Jessica, having completed what they set out to do, must now try to return home and pick up their lives. Elements and Themes listed apply to entire story, Rating to this submission. Thanks to Marina Kelly and Robyn Hoode for editorial assistance. I appreciate the perseverance of all those readers who stuck with me to the completion of this story. See my authors page for information about my next story and the possibility of a sequel to "Severance Pay"

CHAPTER SEVENTY THREE

All my boys are working hard this evening. We got a match in a few days and I want each and every one of ’em at their peak, right on the razor’s edge. Cruz and Javier are sparring in the ring while the others are working out at other stations; the heavy bags, the speed bags and rope work. It’s an old, outdated gym with worn out patched together equipment but we make it work.

“Coach?”

It’s Esmeralda, one of the kids who volunteers in the office. “What can I do for you, Esme?”

“Mrs. Zendahas sent me to get you. A package for you was just delivered. She didn’t know if you were waiting for it or something so she told me to tell you.”

“Thanks. I didn’t order anything and it ain’t my birthday. I’ll be down as soon as I’m free.”

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

“Were you expecting something, Sister?”

“No, Rita, I wasn’t. Unexpected packages always make me suspicious. Particularly ones without return addresses.”

“I hadn’t noticed that. Do you think it’s dangerous?”

“Not likely, but let’s be safe. You have a seat in the reception area while I open it.”

“Sister Carmela! You can hardly expect me to stay out there while you risk your life.”

“It’s hardly life threatening, Sister Rita. Just better safe than sorry.”

“Then I’ll open it.”

”Rita … you know that isn’t happening.”

“Then I’m staying right here.”

I sigh. I shouldn’t have said anything.

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

“What you got there, Coach?”

“Don’t know Martha, let’s find out.”

The box has one of those easy open pull strips so I yank it, tearing down one side. Prying open that side, there’s a padded bag inside. When I remove the bag, I can feel things shifting around inside, kinda like marbles. Better open the bag a bit more carefully.

“Hand me a pair of scissors will ya, Martha.”

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

I cut off the short side of the bag.

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

“What are they, Sister?”

“They appear to be an assortment of clear crystals. Did Mrs. Connelly order some supplies for one of her classes?”

“Not that she told me, Sister Carmela.” She reaches into the bag and removes one of the crystals, holding it up to the window. “It’s very pretty. See how it reflects the light?”

“Very nice. Why were they delivered to St. Ann’s?”

Rita looked into the bag again, moving the stones around with her hand.

“Wait a minute … there’s something else here.” She pulls out a small envelope about the size of an index card. “It was buried in the crystals.”

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

“What does it say, Coach?”

“Can’t say. I need my reading glasses. You read it, Martha.” I hand it to her. She squints as she moves the card closer then further from her eyes. Looks like she needs reading glasses too.

“Ah, here we go. ‘The items in this bag are uncut diamonds …’”

Diamonds?!!

“‘… which are being donated to the YWCA anonymously. The proceeds from their sale should first be used to improve and update the facilities used by the mixed martial arts team. Any remaining money is to be spent at the discretion of the Board of Directors. The current value of the stones is approximately ten million dollars.”

“TEN MILLION!! … SON OF A …”

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

“MOTHER OF MERCY!!”

I look down at the bag in my trembling hands. Ten. Million. Dollars.

It’s a joke. A cruel joke. It has to be a joke.

“My heavens, Sister! Who would do such a thing? Ten million dollars to upgrade our sports facilities.”

“I doubt they’re real, Rita. It’s an elaborate prank, no doubt. Just very convincing glass.”

“There’s one way to tell, Sister.”

Sister Rita walks over to the picture of the Pope, steadies it with her left hand, takes the crystal in her right hand and slowly drags it diagonally across the glass, from the upper left corner to the lower right corner, making an ear splitting, high pitched scratching squeal as the stone cuts a deep groove in the surface as it moves across the Pope’s visage. She casually tosses me the stone.

“I’d say that it’s certainly not glass. Glass doesn’t cut glass like that. Perhaps it’s time to have a little faith.”

I stare at the crystal resting in the palm of my right hand, the size of a bird’s egg. The things we could do with that kind of money. I’m almost afraid to consider the possibilities. Even after upgrading the gym and sports fields, we should have money left over to start a foundation. Looking up at Sister Rita’s smiling face, I begin to catch her fever.

“You’re right, Sister. A little bit of faith is what we need.”

She begins to laugh and shake her head side to side, then does a quick shuffle that I’ve seen her do on the sidelines after a particularly good play by one of her girls. Her good spirits are contagious and I can’t help but join her.

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

“… ‘scuse my French, Martha.”

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

I’m still avoiding Gretchen. It’s been weeks since all hell broke loose but we’re almost finished, assuming Tyson can get us those pardons. I could tell he wanted to. The man is a pragmatist at heart. He wants what we’re selling, the only question is can he convince his superiors. The stuff I gave him ought to whet their appetites but you never know. Politicians are most worried about covering their asses. Since they’ve got nothing on either mom or I for any of those deaths, they’re not giving up much.

Even with Gretchen at school, I’m careful pulling my bike up to Hobbes’ front gate. Took more than I expected to fix everything, it was shot up pretty good. We’ve still got enough money left to get by though. I’ve already given away most of my half of Lipscomb’s diamonds. Mom’s setting up some kind of foundation to fund drug recovery programs. Long term, she’ll probably do more good than I did but I like to reward the people I know.

Mom did send Randi Brown half a million, anonymously of course. Retirement will come a few years early for her. Mom’s really getting into this philanthropy stuff. It suits her.

They buzz me in and the main gate swings open. There are fewer guards around, though Henry and Lou are still here. I’m glad about that. Zipping up the driveway to the house, I swing around to the East side and park my bike in some bushes by the side entrance to the kitchen.

In the past, it was locked and set up as an emergency exit but now it’s propped open. I stick my head in and look around.

“Raul … you here?”

He walks out of the large freezer, a big roast in his hands.

“Patricia! How you today?”

“I’m fine. Mr. Hobbes wanted to see me. You know where he is?”

“No, have not seen him since lunch. You staying for dinner, I hope?”

“’Fraid not. Gretchen still doesn’t know I’m back.”

“You need tell her. She very sad you not around.”

“I’m sad too but it should be soon. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.”

One thing everyone around here is good at is keeping secrets. If everything breaks right, Mom and I can go back to where we were almost two months ago. What we do after that … we haven’t really talked about.

I’m clearly stuck where I am. Either that or I get a new ID but what good is that? A rose by any other name is still a seventeen year old girl. Mom said she’d stick with me, no matter what, if that’s what I wanted. I don’t want to make her give up her old life for the uncertainty of this one but I appreciate the offer. She doesn’t have much to go back to any way. Though she did say that if she stayed with me, she’d have the chance of grandkids.

I punched her in the arm for that one.

Not hard.

Not too hard anyway.

When I reach the main entrance from the dining room, Henry’s waiting for me.

“Kid! You know the drill. I gotta check you in.”

“Sorry, Henry. Came in through the kitchen. Didn’t want to take any chance that Gretchen was around.”

“Do you think we’re idiots? Of course she’s not around.”

“Just being careful, that’s all.” I hand him my purse. “That’s all I’ve got today.

He tosses it on the conveyor belt and grabs the wand. When he passes it over my head, he pauses, swinging it back and forth in a narrow arc, listening to the quiet warble.

“What would you have done if I’d heard that the first time you came through here?”

“Say I’d been in an auto accident and that they were surgical screws.”

“You always had a lie on the tip of your tongue, didn’t you?”

“That’s my job and I was darn good at it.”

“You were that. He’s waiting for you out on the veranda.”

Not the office? Fine by me. I walk through the main room and out onto the veranda. Hobbes is sitting at a table shaded by a large cantilevered umbrella.

“Patricia! Welcome! Have a seat. Care for something to drink?”

I pull out a chair and sit down. “What’s in the pitcher?”

“Just lemonade.”

“Then I’ll have some.” He pours me a glass. “Can’t have alcohol, I’m driving.”

“How is your motorcycle?”

“Pretty much the way it was, at least mechanically. The bullet holes add character.”

“You should buy a car.”

“We can’t afford that right now. Mom’s gotta find a job and I’ll start looking for something part time once we get squared away.”

“Speaking of which, have you heard anything from Mr. Tyson yet?”

“No, but I’m optimistic.”

“Either way, it was a magnificent performance.”

“Thanks. You wanted to see me?”

“Yes … yes I do. I understand that someone is giving away large quantities of uncut diamonds.”

“Really? Who is this someone?”

“They wish to remain anonymous.”

“How public spirited.”

“Quite. Coincidentally, I paid Daniel Lipscomb in uncut diamonds.”

“I remember you telling me that.”

“Is there a connection?”

“There’s almost always a connection of some kind if you look hard enough.”

“Why didn’t you and your mother just keep them?”

“Too bloody for her taste. Lipscomb killed two people and tried to kill her for them. She wanted some good to come from their deaths.”

“And you agreed?”

“For her sake, yes. I’ve got some money put away. We’ll be fine for awhile, even without work.”

“Which brings me to my second subject. You performed quite a service for me and my family. We never discussed compensation.”

“I didn’t do it for the money. I did it for Gretchen.”

Plus Jenny Jo, Thomas Matthews, Peter Harris and Jessica Warren.

“Nevertheless, I have greatly benefited and, as others have pointed out to me at every opportunity, you deserve the credit for that. You also deserve to be paid, regardless of your motives. I believe the standard agent fee is ten percent.”

“You’re offering me ten percent of eight billion dollars?”

“And not a penny more.”

I don’t want to react right away, pretty sure he’s not joking but there could be more going on here than first appears. Like who’d be telling him he owes me for what I did?

“What does Gretchen know, Mr. Hobbes?”

“Why would she know anything?”

“Because she’s the only person you’d listen to and she wouldn’t say anything unless she knew details. So what does she know? Actually, I’ve got a pretty good idea of some of what she knows. The question is, does she know about the people I killed?”

“No. I told her the truth about Enrique, all of it. You were just there when I did it. I said nothing about anyone else. She needed to know you were still alive. The stress on her was terrible!”

He’s trying to make me feel guilty. Like I don’t already feel bad enough about leaving Gretchen in the dark. “Fine, but we’d agreed to let me tell her when the time was right. Guess it doesn’t matter now, we’re close enough to the finish.”

“What about the money? She will not leave me alone! You should pay her ten percent yourself.”

“Does she know how much money we’re talking about?”

“Not really, but she does know the percentage. Since you know the total and she’ll ask you …”

“Then you’re stuck.”

“Exactly. I know that Jessica may object to taking my money.”

“You got that right.”

“You must convince her, Patricia. My sanity is at stake!”

“I’ll try but can’t promise anything. You know that I’ll take the money. Is that all?”

“No. We need to discuss the right to manufacture your spy camera.”

“You’re really interested in that?”

“Yes. I don’t plan on being part of the idle rich. I need to start a business and that will be a good way to begin.”

“I thought you wanted to be a rancher?”

“That is a sideline. Maybe when I retire.”

“Once we get Walter Tyson’s response, I’ll think about your offer. Until then it’s tough to plan a future.”

“Don’t wait too long … I may find something else to manufacture.”

Already bargaining with me. This will be fun.

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

I found Mom in her bedroom of our current home in the converted office space. She was organizing her meager wardrobe.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hello, honey. What did Hobbes want?”

“Turns out that Gretchen knows a lot more than I wanted her to.”

“How did that happen?”

“Hobbes told her.”

She put down the blouse she had been folding. “You know, I’m not surprised. The more I see of him without that Cardoza man around, the more I suspect that Hobbes couldn’t have been a drug dealer without him. He just doesn’t seem aggressive enough.”

“Well, Hobbes was always the one with the charisma.”

“Oh, he has that in spades!”

“Plus, he’s the one with more of a business approach to things. Cardoza may have been more of the backbone of the operation.”

“I can believe it.”

“Does that mean you’re feeling a bit more … forgiving?”

“Not at all. Why would it matter?”

“Well … it seems that since Gretchen discovered our involvement in the sale, she’s pushed Hobbes to pay us.”

“How much?!

“Ten percent.”

“Of eight billion dollars?”

“Yes.”

“Eight hundred million dollars?”

“That’s what I come up with. Now I know that you’ve got a problem with Hobbes and …”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you’ve got a problem with Hobbes or yes, you’ll take the money?”

“We earned every penny of that eight hundred million. He’d be dead if not for you. Anything we can take from him is money he won’t be able to spend. And we can do much more good with it than he would ever consider. So, yes, we take every red cent.”

“I gotta say, Mom, you still surprise me sometimes. If you’ve got no problem with it then I certainly don’t …”

My phone rings.

“Hello? … I am. Hello, Mr. Tyson … Tomorrow, same time, same place … we’ll be there … thanks.” I flip the cell phone shut. “Looks like we’ll have our answer tomorrow at noon, Mom.”

“Can we trust him?”

“I think so. He can’t afford to prosecute us.”

“Prosecution isn’t his only option.”

I smile at her. “Now that’s the way to think out of the box. We’ll be ready … just in case.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY FOUR

I’ve been waiting for ten minutes, no sign of them. Maybe they spotted the agents. I raise my right hand to scratch my nose and block the view of my mouth.

“Do you think they made you?”

The earpiece clicks softly. “No, Sir. Not possible.”

“I hope not. That little girl is a handful.”

“We’re completely invisible, Mr. Tyson. We’ve got you covered from all sides and above.”

They’ll probably come from below. I take a sip of coffee from my extra large styrofoam cup and subtly look around the plaza. I have a hard time locating the agents and I know where they are. All except the guy on the fifth floor with a sniper rifle.

It’s another three minutes before I notice anything unusual. There’s a high pitched engine noise, like a high revving motorcycle engine but not one of the big hog types, more like a little one, a motor cross type. Whoever’s riding it is running the engine hot, hotter than just idling in traffic, but I can’t even see the bike.

Suddenly, a large van locks up its brakes as the bike cuts him off, turns hard into the curb and slides to a stop, the woman rider standing high on the footrests. She’s wearing a full helmet but there’s no doubt she’s female as she swings her leg over and steps down. Black leather knee high boots with 4 inch heels, laced tight. Painted on low rise jeans. Cropped black leather jacket, the bottom edge just below her rib cage and just above a fat free tummy. No muffin top in sight. Only the bottom two snaps on the jacket are fastened, displaying the kind of cleavage men my age dream about late at night once the wife is sound asleep.

She strides my way, swinging her hips and slowly removing her gloves, one finger at a time. My earpiece clicks.

“Is that her?”

“I … I don’t know,” I whisper. She’s taller, thinner and … a lot sexier, but she is headed straight for me. Just as she gets within ten feet, she stops and gracefully turns all around as she finishes removing her gloves. She pauses just a moment after completing her turn then continues her march towards me.

Click. “We’re ready if she tries anything, Mr. Tyson.”

I just nod my head slightly, she’s too close for me to risk saying anything. She tosses her gloves underhanded and they land lightly next to me. Reaching up, she quickly removes her helmet, shaking her head briefly, redistributing her curly blonde hair. Posing for a moment, hip pushed to the right, her right hand resting gently on it while the helmet dangles from her left hand, she then smoothly slides down next to me on the bench, reaches over and removes the foam cup from my hand. She brings it to her plump, brilliant red lips, takes a sip, then returns the cup to my hand.

Click. “Damn!”

Damn indeed.

“Do you have something for me, Mr. Tyson?”

“Aaaahhhhhh, that’s a … different look for you, Miss Conner.”

“Thanks for noticing.”

The blind guy running the news stand in the lobby a hundred yards away noticed it.

“Yes … yes I do.” I consciously compel my eyes to stay fixed on hers, though a force of about ten G’s is dragging them towards her breasts, just inches from my increasingly sweaty hands. “I have everything here.” Tapping my right breast coat pocket.

“Can I … see it?”

“In a moment. Where’s Jessica Warren?”

“Mom? She’s around here … somewhere.”

“Where exactly?”

“Now that’s hardly fair. You’ve got at least six people watching over you and I’ve just got Mom to take care of little ol’ me.”

“I don’t know what …”

“The guy in the blue three piece suit, the attractive young woman with the baby carriage, the man and his attack dog, the lovey dovey couple and Joe construction worker over there. Since this is the Federal building, you’re bound to have someone sitting in a window on an upper floor.”

Seven for seven. “How did you know?”

“They were all watching me like a hawk when I stopped and turned around.”

“I imagine a lot of people were watching you.”

“Not the way they were.”

“So, where is mom?”

She reaches up and takes my cup again. Taking another sensuous sip, she swivels up off the bench.

“Tell your people not to freak out.”

She struts over to the edge of the fountain, looks up at a number of tall buildings, carefully places the cup on the concrete lip of the fountain and returns to the bench, once again settling uncomfortably close to me.

“It’ll take just a moment.”

“What’ll take just a … “

The cup explodes, with a pop barely audible over the background noise, most everything ending up in the fountains’ pool. Didn’t hear the gun shot, not even the crack of the bullet, which means she’s got a hell of a gun or it’s subsonic, which means she’s close by.

My earpiece clicks. “Can’t spot her. Sorry, Sir.”

Great. I’m in her cross hairs again. Conner picks a loose bit of Styrofoam off my jacket and flicks it away.

“I told you she was a good shot.”

“Her records indicate no firearms experience.”

“I’ve been working with her, an excellent student. What exactly do you have for me, Mr. Tyson?”

All the agents should have been listening in so they know their covers are blown. Most of them are openly standing at their stations, ready to act. Bull by the horns time.

“I have your pardons, like I said. They weren’t easy to come by. A lot of people burnt the midnight oil researching you and your mother before going to the president.”

“Nothing but good news, I hope.”

“For Jessica Warren, yeah. For Jenny Jo Hamilton and Peter Harris … not so much.”

“Hope it wasn’t a deal breaker.”

“Not yet. The final decision is my call. The President signed them but I don’t deliver them until I’m certain that this is the end of your vigilante activities. No more killings.”

“Can’t promise you that I won’t defend myself in the future. Someone comes after me or Mom, I’m putting them down but I’ve recently come into a little money so I plan on retiring very soon. No more late night raids, no more dusk to dawn stakeouts. A nice, peaceful, quiet life for both of us.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Peter Harris I read about.”

“Does this look like the Peter Harris you read about? People can change. I promise you, we will not go looking for trouble. Someone receiving a Presidential Pardon owes the President the duty not to embarrass him by getting into more trouble. Mom and I understand that. We take it seriously.”

“I need some assurances, Miss Conner.”

“I can’t do any more than give you my word, Mr. Tyson.”

“What about Jessica Warren? She’s sitting out there somewhere with a gun, ready to kill.”

“What about your little army, why are they here?”

What do I say? That I was afraid for my life? That it was just a precaution? The truth?

“They’re here in case I decide not to give you the pardons. We can’t afford to have someone like you roaming around unfettered.”

“Extrajudicial?”

“If necessary.”

“That’s why Jessica is out there, to make sure I leave here, with or without the pardons. We don’t want to hurt anyone but we’re not going to just disappear either. You don’t trust me? Fine. We go our separate ways. You think you can prosecute me? Give it your best shot. But you won’t make us disappear. Did you explain to your superiors how far your ass was hanging out?”

Not in so many words. The way she’s looking at me, she knows that. If I had, they wouldn’t be leaving the choice to me. If I say “No pardons”, I could end up in the same place they do, assuming I get out of this plaza alive and we can catch her. Two really big ifs. I reach into my coat pocket, slowly remove a thick envelope and hand it to her.

“It’s all there.”

She pulls her jacket aside, exposing even more of her boobs, reaches in with two fingers and removes the DVD.

“Just as promised, Mr. Tyson.”

I hold out my hand and she drops it into my palm. It’s still warm. The agent dressed as a construction worker warily approaches us. I pass the disc to him and he hurries over to the one dressed as a businessman. They open his laptop and insert the disk.

“It’s a PDF,” she says.

“They can handle it. Don’t you want to check the envelope?”

“It’s not necessary. I know where to find you if something’s missing.”

A threat without making a threat. I can see why she’s so damn good.

“Mr. Tyson, were you able to get the letter I wanted?”

“Ahh the letter. Yeah, it’s in there. In fact, he enjoyed writing it. Beyond that, he wants to meet you. Turns out he’s a fan.”

“A fan?”

“Your little video. He said he wanted to shake the hand that hit that shot.”

“Well, he should be in Florida sometime in the next few months.”

“You can bet on that.”

“I’d like to meet him too. I’ll be in touch.”

The agent gives me a thumbs up. Conner stands, stuffing the envelope into the waist of her jeans in the small of her back. I’d have bet she couldn’t have done that.

“Guess we’re done for now, Mr. Tyson. When I call about the meeting, we can talk about how to work out the delivery of the rest of the information. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

“You keep your nose clean.”

She has her helmet poised to pull down over her head but she pauses and smiles, a bright, innocent, playful smile.

“You sound just like my mother, Mr. Tyson. I’ll be in touch.”

She strides towards her motorcycle, adjusting her helmet as she goes. I signal the agents to back away. She straddles her bike, rocking her hips until getting comfortable. A sharp stomp on the starter and a little wave of her fingers and she was gone, moving quickly into traffic. The lead agent stepped next to me.

“Mr. Tyson, if she’s got a boyfriend, he’s either one lucky bastard or he’s fucking insane. I don’t know which.”

“Probably both, agent.”

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

Mom’s waiting for me in the parking garage four blocks away from the plaza, just as planned. She drove the van I used to block the view of the people on the ground as I rode to the exchange. She’s already got the back doors open and the ramp in place so I pull into the back of the van, jump off the bike, help her slide the ramp into the back and close the doors. We hurry to the cab as I yank the envelope from my pants. Once inside, I scan it with the metal detector Hobbes loaned me. No beeps. I’m looking for some kind of tracking device.

“Did it work?” asked Mom.

“Like a charm. I slipped the charge into his cup and it disintegrated. They assumed it was you out there showing off your inner Annie Oakley.”

“Did you get everything?”

“Give me a minute,” I answer, carefully opening the envelope and extracting the papers. I scan each one individually and then hold it up to the light to inspect it. Nothing that I can see. After inspection, I pass each page to Mom and she starts to read.

“President of the United States … powers invested by the United States Constitution … for services rendered to the United States of America … at great risk to life and limb … blah, blah, blah, … here it is, hereby pardons Jessica Warren, also known as Jessica Conner, for all past crimes and misdemeanors. Signed Barack H. Obama, President of the United States. Very nice. Yours says the same, except for a few additional names. I can’t believe it. We’re done. We’re finally done. How many months has it been, sweetheart?”

“We started in late May, 2011 and it’s now late February, 2012, so nine months, give or take.”

“Only nine months. It feels so much longer.”

“Time doesn’t fly when you’re under stress and we’ve been stressed from the start. You’re done but I’m not. I’ve got two things left to do and I start tomorrow. We’ll stop by the bank, rent a safety deposit. box and stash those two pardons. I’m taking the letter with me.”

“I don’t understand about the letter, surely, you could …”

“Not a chance, Mom, and you know it. Frankly, I didn’t need that pardon. It’s nice and all but they weren’t going to pin anything on me anyway. The same for you.” I take the letter from the pile of papers. “This letter, on the other hand, I desperately needed. I’d have traded everything else for it.” I buckle up my seat belt. “Let’s go home.”

“You mean …”

“Yup, our real home. We can get our stuff from the office suite later. Tonight, I want to sleep in my bed and say hello to my long lost plastic friends.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE

Twenty minutes early should be about right. The team’s still lifting weights in the morning so I want to get there before they get done showering. I know, twenty minutes is hardly enough time to get ready for class but the school puts so many limits on clothes and makeup, it really doesn’t take that long.

I’m glad to see that they haven’t assigned my parking spot to someone else. With the bike, it’s impossible to make a quiet entrance but I kill the engine when I’m almost a block away and just roll in off the hill, dodging a couple of cars that are poking along.

There’s no immediate reaction when I come to a silent stop in my spot. Still nothing when I dismount, hanging my helmet on the back of my seat. In fact, I get almost half way to the gym door before the first girl says anything, shouting “OH! MY! GOD!” I keep moving. A number of girls look my way after the exclamation but they don’t say anything. They’re too surprised. Unfortunately, that doesn’t last long. In seconds, girls are screaming, jumping and running towards me. I could make a break for the gym door but that hardly seems right. A lot of them are my classmates, some of them are even friends. I know a lot of them were worried about me, prayed for me. I can’t ditch them now.

I’m quickly surrounded, tossed here and there, hugged every time I move. Most of the girls are laughing and cheering. Many are smiling and crying. The crowd keeps getting larger. I need to put a stop to this fast. Putting two fingers in my mouth, I give a piercing whistle. It settles things down a bit, just enough for me to yell and be heard.

“THANK YOU! THANKS! I’M REALLY HAPPY TO BE BACK! I GOTTA SEE YOU KNOW WHO AND TALK MY WAY BACK INTO CLASS. WISH ME LUCK!”

I back out of the crowd, waiving my hands wildly. Some girls waive back but most sprint for the front door, wanting to be the first to spread the word of my miraculous return from wherever. I get stopped several times for more hugs but keep moving.

Eventually, I reach the door to the gym and push it open. Walking onto the floor, I can hear the girls in the locker room, talking and laughing. I just stand there, basking in the sound. I never realized how much I missed this place. The girls, the teachers, the nuns, playing ball, my teammates … all of it. Even classes were enjoyable, particularly when you know all the answers. This place just feels like … home.

There’s a couple of balls sitting on the bench so I jog over, grab one and start dribbling. I set up and shoot a three pointer from the top of the key.

Swish.

Aaahh, that’s the stuff. I chase down the bouncing ball but as soon as I reach it, I hear a door bang behind me. Turning around, I see Gretchen running full tilt straight towards me, the rest of the team right behind her. As she gets close, I reach out to hug her.

“You have no idea how … OOOOFFFF!”

She tackles me, knocking me to the floor. Terri screams “DOGPILE!” and the rest of the girls jump on, laughing and screeching. It’s just a mass of arms, legs and boobs. I’d be laughing with them if I could breathe. Right now, I don’t care about that.

I hear Sister Rita scream, “What are you girls doing?!! Get up this instant! Are you mad?! Classes begin in minutes!” The girls start to unpile. “Cassie! Theresa! BeeBee! Suzie! Get up, get up right now! What possessed all of you? Terri! Gretchen! Patricia! Line up here right …” She looks down at me, her eyes growing larger by the second, her mouth wide open.

I stand up, dusting myself off. “Hey Sister …”

She dives in, hugging me as hard as I’ve been grabbed all morning, mumbling “Thank you God! Oh, thank you Lord. Thank you, thank you” over and over. The other girls start applauding. I can hear her sob quietly.

I pat her shoulder “I’m fine Sister, I’m okay, I’m okay.”

She loosens her grip and steps back, reaching into her pocket and removing a handkerchief. She dabs at her eyes for several seconds before stuffing it back into her pocket, sniffing. “We … aaahhh … we need to get you to Sister Carmela right away, Patricia.”

“I know. I was headed that way but I had to see the team first.” All the girls are smiling, some giggling quietly.

“I understand, but we really must see Sister Carmela right now. She’ll be so happy … you have a lot of explaining to do … where’s your mother? Is she …”

“Mom’s fine, Sister. I’m fine, we’re all fine. I know, you’re right. I’ve got a lot of explaining to do. I figured it was best for me to talk with Sister Carmela myself. I’ll get my bag.”

I’d dropped my bag at the bench when I picked up the ball. I sling it over my shoulder and walk towards the exit, Sister Rita falling in next to me, grabbing my arm but not in anger, more like she’s just making sure I’m really here.

“Sister, I’m really sorry about all this. I didn’t have many other options. I did what I thought was best for everyone. If I’d have known how it was going to affect all of you … I’d … I’d … tried to …”

“I’m alright now, Miss Conner. It was just a shock to see you there, back with the team, with my girls … where you belong.”

“How upset will Sister Carmela be?”

“After she gets up off her knees from thanking God for your safe return? I’m thinking … Mount Vesuvius.”

“At least it isn’t Krakatoa.”

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

The news of my return broke a land speed record spreading through the school. I think a few of the girls are actually psychic. Even though classes start in about two minutes, the hallway in front of the office is absolutely jammed. Regardless, they make room when Sister Rita and I show up.

The parting of the Red Sea.

Ms. Jensen’s waiting at the door as we enter, grabbing me and holding me tightly to her chest.

“We thought we lost you. Sister Carmela never gave up hope but I was sure you were … God brought you back to us. Welcome Home!”

“Thanks Ms. Jensen. I’m happy to be back if Sister will let me stay.”

She lets me go. “I’m sure you’ll think of something to convince her. You always do.” She pats my hand. “Good luck.”

I nod my head, acknowledging her best wishes. Approaching the door to Sister Carmela’s office, I pause and look back. Sister Rita and Ms. Jensen are standing shoulder to shoulder, Ms. Jensen giving me a thumbs up with her right hand while rubbing away tears with her left. Girls are practically climbing on top of each other to look in the office window.

Here we go. I grab the doorknob, turn it and push the door open.

Sister Carmela looks like she’s over the thankful stage and has moved on to barely restrained anger. Sorry I wasn’t around for the happy part.

“Have a seat, Miss Conner.”

I deliberately pull out a chair and sit down, dropping my bag next to me. The class bell rings as I move the chair back to its original spot. Wonder how many of the girls out there are hurrying off right now. If they could see what I see, it’d be all of ‘em.

“Your absence was unprecedented. I hardly know where to start.”

“Actually, Sister Carmela, it’s not that …”

She raises her hand, stopping me. “Your persuasive skills are extraordinary, Miss Conner. Permit me to go first. I took your disappearance personally. Not a day went by that we didn’t all pray for your safe return. Every time there was an announcement about an unidentified body being discovered, the mood here fell to the bottom of the barrel, only to rise again once it was determined it wasn’t you. Do you have any idea what you put us through, what you put me through? Girls were out distributing fliers with your photo on it all over town, all over this part of the state! And now, without any advance notice, you show up as if nothing had happened.”

“Safe and sound, just like you prayed for.”

“Don’t interrupt me. Yes, you’re back, apparently unharmed, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be any consequences for this little sabbatical of yours. Unless you can provide me with one whale of an explanation, I will terminate your scholarship and expel you. Don’t think for a second that I won’t. If I let you get away with this, others will try. St. Ann’s has the highest standards and I expect every single girl to live up to those standards. Right now, you are woefully short.”

She sits back in her chair, arms folded. Must be my turn now. I reach down into my bag and remove a plain, white, unmarked business size envelope. I place it on the edge of her desk nearest me.

“I underestimated how my disappearance would affect people here at St. Ann’s. It couldn’t have been helped but, if I had to do it all again, I’d try to think of something that might have made things easier on everyone, though, to be absolutely truthful, there may not have been a single thing I could have done differently.”

“What is that?” she asks, gesturing towards the envelope.

“The last part of my explanation. You remember way back when I took care of your Caitlin McBride problem? You assumed that I’d replace her, be a bit more amiable to your wishes. You remember what I said?”

“Yes, that you had bigger fish to fry.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing.”

“There is nothing more important for a girl your age than education. It is the bedrock upon which your future will be built. I don’t know what you have been doing these past seven weeks but you have greatly exceeded the number of unexcused absences permitted by the state.”

“And if I had someone to vouch for me?”

“I’m afraid that your mother’s word will not be good enough. She’s facing criminal prosecution for failing to make sure you were in school. The rules are quite clear, my hands are tied.”

“But there are exceptions, when there are unusual circumstances, like when a student is in an accident or gets sick and spends a lot of time in the hospital.”

“You look perfectly healthy to me. You aren’t proposing some kind of fake illness are you? Because, if you are, St. Ann’s will have nothing to do with fraud.”

“No, I’m not suggesting anything of the sort. It’s just an example. Sister, I want to come back to St. Ann’s. I want to make things right, but I’m not making a general apology. There were some things that I had to do, important things. Things I can’t explain and I won’t be telling anyone about. Not you, not Sister Rita, certainly not any of the girls. I know, if I come back here, they’ll bug the heck out of me about it but that’s my problem.”

“Even if I was willing to allow you to return, the state requires a minimum number of hours. You couldn’t possibly get those hours with the number of weeks left in the semester.”

“Sister, you and I both know that I can handle the academics, no matter how many days are left. Besides, there’s that extenuating circumstances exception.”

“Which you’ve yet to show you qualify for.”

“And if I could? Would you let me back into St. Ann’s?”

She looks at me, calculating the risk I present to her, to the school.

“If I do, what do we get from you?”

“A dedicated student, an outstanding scholar, an opportunity to provide guidance to a girl with lots of potential … and a state basketball championship.” I place the index finger of my right hand on the envelope and slide it slowly across the desk towards her. “This is my extenuating circumstance, Sister.”

She takes the envelope, opens it and removes the letter inside, unfolding it.

Dear Sister Carmela,

Please excuse the recent absences of Patricia Conner from
St. Ann’s. She and her mother have been performing an invaluable service to the United States government at great personal risk to themselves. A number of corrupt officials and police officers have been discovered thanks to their efforts. Unfortunately, I’m not in a position to reveal any details of their activities and would consider it a personal favor if you would refrain from asking either Miss Conner or her mother questions about this, as there is an ongoing investigation.

Any assistance you can provide Miss Conner will be greatly appreciated by both your government and myself. Should you have any questions, feel free to call the number at the top of this page. Thank you for your attention to this matter.

Very truly yours,

Barack H. Obama
President of the United States

She lays the letter on her desk, the slightest tremor in her hands.

“My heavens, child. What are you involved in?”

“Sorry, Sister. I’m not supposed to say.”

“I know, sorry, but how … the President? Of the United States? How is this possible?”

“Truth is stranger than fiction, Sister. The big question is … am I still a member of the Class of 2014?”

She looks at me, then picks up the letter, rereading it, then lays it back onto her desk.

“I don’t really have any choice, do I?”

“Don’t say that. I need you to want me back. I’m not going to force my way back into St. Ann’s. You don’t want me, I’ll go somewhere else but I really want to stay here with all my friends. I didn’t realize how much I missed this place until I rode back onto campus this morning. Seeing all the other girls, my teammates, Sister Rita, how they responded to me … all the old feelings came flooding back. I need this place, Sister. I may seem so mature and confident but I’ve seen things, done things these past few months. I’m not the same person who walked through your door at the beginning of the semester. I don’t know exactly who I am anymore. I think you and everyone here can help me find out. Please Sister, help me find my way home. I won’t let you down.”

“How could the government do this too you? You’re a child, for heaven’s sake! These things are too much for a young girl, no matter how gifted, to deal with.”

“I volunteered, Sister.”

“That’s more to your credit than theirs, Patricia.”

“It’s a long, strange story, one you’ll likely never know. It wasn’t supposed to work out this way. I was only going to be here for a few weeks, maybe months and then leave once the job was done. But it took longer. Maybe I made sure it took longer, I don’t know. I got comfortable here.”

“This was planned from the very beginning?!”

“It was, but we were betrayed. I had to improvise. People died, I’m not saying how.”

“Did you …”

“I’m not saying, Sister.”

“I see … well, that’s between you and the Lord, Patricia. Is it really Patricia Conner?”

“It is now. My mother is Jessica Conner.”

“Your mother? The woman who looks nothing like you?”

“Yes, my mother. We have the same nose, if you look close enough.”

“I’ll take your word on that.”

“I’m not looking for pity, Sister Carmela. Like I said, I volunteered and knew that things might not work out. I’d just like to have the chance to try life as a regular girl and figure out what my future will be.”

“You’re hardly a regular girl, Patricia.”

“I know, but I can dial it back and fit in.”

“You most certainly will not, not here. I expect each and every one of my students to give the maximum effort at all times. I expect more from a girl who has been given great gifts by God.”

“God may not have had much to do with my gifts.”

“God has something to do with everything that happens, planned or unplanned.”

“Does this mean that I’m back in school?”

She opens the middle drawer of her desk, removes a small pad of paper, picks up her pen and writes something on the top page then tears it off. She gets up and walks around her desk until she’s standing right next to me, extending the hand holding the paper.

“Here’s a tardy slip. I believe that Ms. Truax is expecting you in French.”

I stare at the slip, tears starting to gather in my eyes. Pushing myself up from the chair, I take it from her hand and look up at her. “Thank you, Sister. You don’t know what this means to me.”

She reaches out, pulling me into her body, hugging me fiercely. “You’re welcome. Don’t ever do this to me again.”

“I won’t. I’m done with all that.”

She loosens her grip, holding me at arms length. “Good, but if there’s more trouble in the future, you’ll always have a home at St. Ann’s. Now, get to class, Miss Conner.”

“Right.” I head for the door as she returns to her chair. I pause at the door as she sits down. “There are a couple more things, Sister Carmela.”

She freezes for a few seconds, then sighs. “What couple of things, Miss Conner?”

“Due to circumstances I can’t get into, I no longer need the scholarship.”

“You don’t?”

“No. Send me a bill for tuition. In fact, add last semesters’ tuition to the bill.”

“That’s certainly good news. What else?”

“I have this cousin. She lives in Wisconsin. She’s finishing eighth grade and probably coming to live with me in the summer. I’d like to get her into St. Ann’s fall freshman class.”

“Is this … cousin anything like you?”

“We look an awful lot alike but she’s much better behaved.”

“I doubt St. Ann’s could survive two of you. I look forward to meeting her.”

“Thanks, Sister.”

She gestures with her hand, dismissing me. As soon as I’m out of her office, I bolt for class.

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

The whole team sat together at lunch. I was the last to arrive.

“Look, guys, I need to tell you a few things …”

“Don’t bother,” says Terri. “Gretchen told us everything.”

“She did? What’d she tell you?”

“That you were safe and were helping her father sell his business.”

“You guys believed that?”

“Why not?” asks Cassie. “We all know what her dad did for a living. The sooner he got out of that, the better for her. We couldn’t figure out why you were involved but Gretchen said you knew about that stuff. We understood why it all needed to be kept on the QT. We were all worried and stuff until she told us.”

“Guess I’m glad Gretchen was able to assuage your concerns.”

“Huh?”

“She’s happy Gretchen told us,” says Linda, translating for Cassie.

“So, what’s happened since I left?”

“We won thirteen out of fourteen games,” says Debbie.

“What happened on the loss?”

“Gretchen got in foul trouble.”

“It was the same crew who did the St. Agnes game,” grumbles Gretchen. “They couldn’t ref their way out of a paper bag. I say they were still pissed at us for that video that proved they sucked.”

“Who beat us?”

“Heritage Christian. They were pretty good,” answers Terri.

“We were better,” Gretchen grouses.

“You’re right, Gretch, we are. We may see ‘em again in the tourney. What else happened?”

“You missed the Valentines Day Dance at the Y,” says Terri with a sly smile. “Guess who spent the whole night with her new boyfriend, ignoring all her friends.”

“I didn’t ignore you!” Gretchen exclaims. “Gary and I sat with you and Javier and the rest of the team for at least half an hour.”

“And the two of you spent the entire time in your own little world.”

Gretchen is blushing so the other girls pile on.

“Don’t get on her case. It’s just new love with a hot guy,” says BeeBee.

“A very hot guy,” adds Lynne.

“With really long fingers,” chimes in Claire. “Have you seen those fingers?”

“What’s his fingers have to do with anything?” asks Gretchen.

The other girls just giggle so I fielded her question.

“It’s an old wives tale. The longer the fingers the bigger … little Gary is.”

“Little Gary?”

Most of the girls are choking back their laughter. Terri doesn’t bother.

“You know … the little guy … down there … the one who gets bigger when excited.”

BeeBee jumps in. “We all hope.”

More giggling.

“I don’t know anything about that,” Gretchen huffs.

I do. “It’s just an old saying. It’s not true, not at all.”

“How would you know?” asks Linda.

“I’ve known a lot of guys with long fingers that didn’t … measure up.”

Several girls howl with laughter, attracting lots of attention. I don’t want to be anymore of a spectacle than necessary on my first day back.

“Calm down, calm down. I can’t afford the heat right now. Was it a nice dance?”

Terri settles down, wiping tears from her eyes. “Pretty good. The band was decent and the food wasn’t as greasy as usual. You’d have enjoyed it, Patty.”

“I doubt if I’d even been there. Stag at a Valentine’s Day dance is not my idea of fun.”

“I don’t know about that,” says Terri, the sly grin returning.

“What?”

“The stag thing. Eric and the French girl broke up.”

“WHEN? HOW?”

“Gretchen did it.”

Everyone looks at her.

“It wasn’t on purpose!” she cries. “It was Terri’s fault!”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What happened?”

The whole team leans in towards Terri, trying to keep the story just between us girls.

“Okay, first off, Claudette DesCartes was NOT a team player. I understand that when you’ve got a new relationship you’re all googly eyed and can’t stand being apart but she was too much. If Eric wasn’t at work, or school, or practice, he had to be with her; and she wasn’t too happy about practice. If the team got together on any other thing, Eric wasn’t allowed to come out and play.”

“And he put up with that?”

“You DID see her?”

“Yeah, you’re right. A girl like that could wrap any guy round her little finger. Go on.”

“Well, right after you disappeared, Gretchen organized everyone to distribute flyers all over the place with your picture on it, ‘Have you seen this girl?’ and all that.”

I turn towards Gretchen. “You did?”

“I had to do something!”

“No, you didn’t. Go on, Terri.”

“She did a great job. We all helped and so did the Martial Arts Team. Eric worked harder than any of them. A lot of the time, it was Eric and Gretchen working together.”

I turn to Gretchen again. “Reeeaaallyy?”

“Nothing happened! I knew he had a girlfriend. We were worried about you, that’s all.”

“I know, Gretch. You’re not that kinda girl.”

Terri continues. “You’re right. You know that and I know that, but Claudette didn’t know that. She’d been giving Eric all kinds of grief about the time he was spending distributing posters but she didn’t even know who he was working with. And remember … she had never met Gretchen.”

“Wait a minute, what about the New Year’s dance?”

“By the time she got there, Gretchen was sitting with Gary and his friends. If she ever saw her, they never met.”

“OOhhh, that’s a problem.”

“A BIG problem.”

“So, Terri … what did you do?”

“Nothing much, just introduced them.”

“And Claudette …”

“Freaked. Totally. It was epic.”

“Ultimatum?”

“Absolutely. Eric told her to drop dead. More or less.”

“That’s terrible!”

“Isn’t it. Someone needs to console that poor boy.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX

Practice was great. I was a little out of shape and got tired at the end but I could see why they had only lost one game since I left. Gretchen had really improved, taking charge inside, getting good position and demanding the ball. The other girls delivered.

They had become a team.

At first, I was afraid my return would screw things up but they wanted me there, to run the show. I didn’t have to shoot every shot, just dish and drive, keep ‘em all involved. They’d all developed more confidence in their shots, their game … themselves.

I was sitting on the bench with Sister Rita while the rest of the team scrimmaged. They were relentless with each other.

“They don’t need me out there, Sister.”

“You’re right, but they want you. We all missed you.”

“From the look of things, not that much.”

“Don’t be fooled. Gretchen had faith from the first that you’d be back. She said that we couldn’t let you down, we had to be strong and keep playing hard. The rest of them ran with it.”

“You know that me … going away … it wasn’t personal. It had nothing to do with you or the girls.”

“I know. I spoke with Sister Carmela. She didn’t tell me everything but she told me enough. Impressive letter.”

“I’d appreciate it if that didn’t get around.”

“Understood. Get in there for BeeBee.”

After practice, I asked Terri to hang around and rebound for me while I worked on my shot. I was more interested in talking with her.

I work around the three point arc, shooting several shots from each position, hitting most of them. After about twenty minutes we take a break, sitting on the bench.

“That thing with Eric. You really shouldn’t have messed with him,” I tell her.

“I didn’t mess with him. Anyone could see it was inevitable. I just sped up the process.”

“Maybe, but you shouldn’t mess with other peoples lives.”

“PLEASE! You’ve done nothing BUT mess with other people’s lives since you walked through that front door in your little home made uniform. Gretchen’s been your pet project for months. I’m not saying you don’t do good work but don’t criticize when other people follow your example. Besides, you know you want a second chance with Eric, now you’ve got it. Don’t blow it this time.”

“I don’t need a second chance with anybody.”

“Whatever.”

Just then, Gretchen comes walking out of the locker room. She’s changed back into her school uniform. While she walks towards us, Terri stands and walks towards her. As they pass each other, they slap hands.

“I got this,” says Gretchen.

“She’s all yours,” Terri responds.

Terri continues walking across the gym, pushing open the locker room door and letting it slam behind her. Gretchen quickly approaches me and sits down on the bench, a serious look on her face.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“An intervention.”

“Doesn’t that usually involve several people?”

“Okay, a mini intervention.”

“About what? I’m not using any drugs and haven’t had a drink since that champagne at your house.”

“We think it’s time you took care of yourself.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“The team. Your friends.”

“Who says I don’t take care of myself?”

“I do. And Terri. All of us. We’re all fine. We can get by for a little while longer without you. Go take care of what you need.”

“What if I don’t know what I need? What if I haven’t had time to decide what my future will be?”

“Like I have? Like any of us have? Why should you be any different? I know you’re super girl and all but you’re more like the rest of us than you’d like to admit.”

Well … now I am. “So then … how does this mini intervention work?”

She puts her arm over my shoulder, pulls me up and we walk towards the locker room.

“We start by me driving over to your house tomorrow after practice, we fix supper together, and we talk.”

“What do you mean you drive over to my house? When do you drive anywhere? You’re always driven.”

“Not anymore. I’ve got a car.”

“Please tell me it’s not one of those gold plated status symbols everyone else around here drives.”

“It’s a used Miata, green. I found it on Craig’s List. Low miles. Very reasonable. You’ll look great in it. We both will.”

“How’d you talk your dad into that?”

“It was a compromise. I started out asking for a Harley.”

“About tomorrow evening … I don’t think my mom will be home. She said she had something to do.”

“Even better.”

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

It’s taken over an hour for me to get home tonight. The neighborhood is great for Janet and the kids but the commute is not fun, particularly with all the new road repairs and detours. I could use a driver if I wanted to but it just doesn’t feel right. As I pull into the driveway, there’s an unfamiliar car parked in front of the house. Janet’s waiting for me at the connecting door to the house as soon as the garage door settles in place. She looks worried. I quickly exit the car.

“What’s wrong?”

She waives her hand, signaling for me to come closer. She doesn’t want to alarm the kids.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper.

“There’s a woman waiting to see you.”

“A woman? Where?”

“She’s in your office.”

“Did she say what she wanted?”

“No, just that she was sorry but that she needed to see you. Said her name was Jessica Conner.”

HERE? JESSICA CONNER?! Janet read the look on my face.

“Is she dangerous?”

“No, no, it’s fine. Just surprised that she’s here. Thought I was done with her. I’ll take care of it. You and the kids stay in the kitchen. Confidential stuff.” I force a smile, hoping it’s comforting. She’s not buying it.

“If there’s a problem, I want to know about it and right now!”

“I’m sure it’s fine. I just finished working out a deal for her and her daughter. She’s probably got some questions, that’s all.”

“Then why doesn’t she ask her lawyer?”

“She didn’t have a lawyer, they did it themselves.”

“Isn’t that unusual?”

“The whole case is unusual. I’ll talk to her, she’ll leave, we’ll have supper. In fact, you guys start without me. Okay?”

I think I’ve finally persuaded her that things are under control. Too bad I don’t believe it.

I’ve got a gun but never carry it. I’m a lawyer, for God’s sake, not a cop. Of course, the gun is in my office.

I walk through the kitchen, kissing my kids on the tops of their heads, acknowledging their greetings, then hurry to my office at the other end of the house. Stopping at the door, I have to decide how to approach this, passive or aggressive. If she’s here to cause trouble, passive ain’t gonna cut it. I open the door and charge in.

“You don’t bring this stuff into a man’s home, you don’t threaten his family, Ms. Conner.”

She sitting in one of the padded chairs opposite my desk, head hanging down. She jerks her head up.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tyson, I just didn’t know what else to do.”

She’d clearly been crying before I came in, her eyes wet, puffy and red. Aww jeez.

“Look, Ms. Conner … Jessica, it’s kind of an unwritten rule in this game. You don’t bring this type of thing to a person’s home. Didn’t Patricia tell you that?”

“She doesn’t know I’m here. I’ve decided that I can’t live with a lie. I can’t be a good mother if I don’t stand for the truth.”

The truth? What the hell does that mean?

“Are you saying that I’ve been lied too? That I’ve given bad information to the President of the United States?”

“Yes, but don’t blame Patricia, she meant well. She was just trying to protect me.”

“Protect you from what?”

She looks away for a moment and sighs. “I killed Daniel Lipscomb.”

“You?”

“Yes, I did and Hobbes killed Enrique Cardoza, who may have been more responsible for the success of his business than Hobbes was.”

“Why’d you kill Lipscomb?”

“The same reasons Patricia gave you. He tried to kill me and he did kill Thomas Matthews and Peter Harris. He also tried to sell Patricia into sexual slavery.”

“And Cardoza?”

“I wasn’t there but Patricia said that Cardoza was attempting to take over Hobbes’ empire by killing him and blaming Patricia for it, also killing her in the process. Hobbes got to him before Patricia did. Also, it turns out Cardoza killed Hobbes’ wife a number of years ago.”

“So everything I was told was true except for who did the actual killing.”

“Yes. I haven’t had a peaceful night’s sleep since I did it.”

“You’re not a dead eye marksman, then.”

“Hardly.”

“How’d she pull off that trick with the cup at the …”

“Some kind of water activated thing, like Mentoes and Diet Coke. It expanded until it popped, shredding the cup.”

“What if I hadn’t been drinking that cup of coffee?”

“She’d have gotten one from a nearby trash can. It looked more spontaneous using your cup.”

She had that right. “Why’d she come up with the story where she took all the blame?”

“Patricia said it was a neater package, that prosecutors like everything tied up in a package with a pretty bow, makes their job easier. Anything that complicates issues just makes life harder for everyone. Her story was easier to understand and fit the known facts so she thought you’d be more likely to buy it and be able to sell it.”

“That’s certainly true.”

“I think it’s more than that. She’s trying to protect people. She was doing that earlier and it’s only gotten worse since the … never mind.”

“Since the what?”

“I shouldn’t say.”

“Jessica, I appreciate what you’ve told me but it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t matter which one of you killed Lipscomb or Cardoza. Pardons were given in exchange for the information and the promise of future good behavior by both of you. As for Raymond Hobbes, we’ll still keep our agreement to withhold prosecution. I’m more concerned about you. I’ve checked into your history, I know about your husband and daughter so it’s easy to see how you got involved in Lipscomb’s scheme. I also know Peter Harris’ record. Thomas Matthews was a little harder to track down. The upshot of all this is that if Lipscomb had told me about your involvement, he would never have gotten my approval.”

“Why?”

“You were much too close to the target to ever be permitted to participate in an operation like this. And Thomas Matthews was the ultimate loose cannon.”

“And Peter?”

“He already had that propensity to protect people. It’s one of the things that made him so successful. His targets all came to trust him because he always had their backs, to the bitter end. His psych profile indicated turning those people in ate him up inside.”

“It bothered Patricia too. Constant nightmares.”

“She calls you her mother and you refer to her as your daughter. I assume you both acknowledge reality on that point.”

“It was our cover and we did our best to live our parts. Now … it’s a matter of choice. Legally, it’s true because we ARE Jessica and Patricia Conner. We both like it and don’t plan on making any changes. That’s why I’m here now. I can’t have her sacrificing her life for mine. That’s my job.”

“I’m a parent too. I understand the feeling, but you still have your own life to live. I’m sorry both of you ever got involved in this situation. Peter Harris didn’t deserve what happened to him. Frankly, I still have a hard time believing it despite what my tech guys say they found in that blood sample. You didn’t deserve it either, nor did Matthews. I know that I’m more than a little responsible. I trusted Lipscomb.”

“We all did … except Patricia.”

“Smart girl. If you continue to have problems, contact me at the office and I can give you the name of someone who can help. All our officers undergo mandatory counseling whenever there’s an officer involved shooting. You’ll need it more than they do. Peter’s already been there a couple of times.”

“It obviously helped him soooo much.”

“Hey, it may have been worse for him without it, who knows. Get help, that’s all I’m saying. I’d have said it earlier if I’d have known the straight story. You and Patricia have nothing to fear from me. The information you gave us is good so far. Internal Affairs has already identified a dozen people in key jobs who are looking at immediate transfers.”

“You’re not going to prosecute them?”

“That comes later, once we build a case. Now, we just want to limit damage and funnel the information through a few carefully controlled double agents. Patricia was right about that too. Wish she was on my staff.”

“You’re not the first person to say something like that.” She stands up. “I’m sorry for disturbing you at home. I wasn’t aware of the rules. It was the only thing I could think of doing without Patricia finding out and trying to stop me.”

“Where is she?”

“At home with one of her friends. They haven’t seen each other for weeks and they’re making up for lost time.”

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

I didn’t plan on spending the evening impaling myself on the strap on that Gretchen was wearing while she lay on her back in my bed, clasping my hips in her hands, driving up as I plunge down, each of us gasping, grunting, and moaning, with the intermittent whimper from me. I occasionally fall forward and spend time massaging and licking her boobs, nibbling and sucking on her nipples but she’s all about the fucking.

It all started innocently enough. She intentionally splashed me while we were washing dishes after supper. I cooked most of it but she did help a little. After we cleaned off the table, she dropped a plate into the sink, splashing water all over the front of my T-shirt.

She said she was sorry but she was smiling. I let it slide.

Then she did it again, smiling all the time. She started to apologize but I wasn’t buying it. I cut her off by flipping a handful of water out of the sink at her, splashing her blouse, causing her to shriek. She answered with a half glass of water right in my face.

I didn’t respond right away. I just stared at Gretchen, her arm bent, hand holding the now empty glass, waiting for my next move. We both just stood there, the floor getting wetter as the water dripped from my head and shirt. She’s still mostly dry. She glanced over at the spray nozzle sitting next to the spigot. She wouldn’t dare …

She dove at it. I moved too but slipped on the wet floor. Usually, she wouldn’t have had a chance of beating me to it but the slip slowed me up so we reached the nozzle at the same time. It started spraying instantly as we both grabbed the handle and yanked it from its base. She got the worst of it initially as I forced the nozzle towards her face but her height gave her leverage so she managed to twist it back towards me as I lost my footing again. She’s wearing sport shoes with rubber soles and I’m wearing leather soled shoes with three inch heels.

I could finish this quick if I wanted to and she knew it but we kept wrestling around, shrieking, laughing and getting totally soaked. I finally managed to get the sprayer out of her hands without hurting her, but slipped again. This time, I’m going down so I released the nozzle so I didn’t rip it out of the sink and I grabbed Gretchen, pulling her down with me, hitting the floor with a loud squelch.

I landed on my back and Gretchen lands on top of me, face to face. We laugh and giggle for a few seconds then I caught my breath.

“Alright … okay … that’s enough … let me up … come on Gretch, get up.”

“No. I like it here.”

“I don’t. I’m on a cold wet floor.”

“Maybe I can warm you up.”

“Don’t be crazy … aaahhHH!”

She slid up my body a little, planting her knee between my legs and nuzzled my neck.

“Come on … uhhuhh … stop it … ahh hhaahh … Gretchen … hhhuhh … mmmff.”

She’d worked her way over to my mouth, gently kissing me. I could feel her arms slide up the sides of my body. Her hands lightly pressed against the sides of my head as her upper body lifted slightly. She rested on her elbows as she broke off the kiss, working down my neck with her lips and tongue.

She’d been practicing.

“Gretchen … what are you …”

“Sshhhhh. Not now.”

“Not now? Why … mmmff!”

She kissed me again, more forcefully this time, tightly gripping my head. With her knee where it was, I was practically trapped underneath her. I could’ve escape in seconds, not hurting her too badly in the process … but I could do that anytime. Right then, I was beginning to enjoy her new found skills.

She pressed harder against my mouth, probing with her tongue. In all the prior times we’d made out, I was more the aggressor but she really took command. It was … different … interesting … exciting.

I worked my arms free and wrapped them around her neck. It only encouraged her to become more driven, forcing her tongue deeper into my mouth. Two could play that game. We fought for dominance a bit before I gave in … you know, for her sake.

She let go of my head and started to pull away, but I kept a grip on her neck as we rose up off the floor. She moved her hands to my waist and lifted me as she continued to stand up. I ended up cradled in her arms, having never broken our kiss, my arms still around her neck. Finally, I pulled away to catch my breath.

“Wow! Who taught you that move?”

“No one. We’ve been lifting weights for over three months. I’m a lot stronger than I was. We’re going upstairs now.”

“Whatever you say, lover.”

And that’s how I ended up doing the bouncy bouncy on the delicious pole of vibrating silicon.

When we got upstairs, there wasn’t any question as to who was going to wear the strap on. Gretchen undressed me then stripped down herself, after getting me a towel to dry off with. I rubbed her dry myself and then actually sucked the strap on, while she ran her hands through my damp hair and called me a good girl the entire time. When the time came, she had me get on all fours and she took me from behind, slowly at first but soon she was pounding away, bent over my back, groping my boobs, grunting and sweating with the effort. I pushed back with everything I had.

We were animals, rutting animals.

After my first orgasm, she flipped me over and we did it facing one another, going at it just as hard as before but this time I could see her face, see the emotion … the resolve … the anger. She was smiling, no … more like leering at me but I caught brief glimpses of anger. That’s when it hit me.

We were having make up sex.

That great, physical sex you have when you and your wife have just gotten over a fight about something but you’ve still got to release the anger and aggression that you felt. That no holds barred, take that you bitch, thank God for endorphins kind of sex.

Except, this time, I’m the bitch.

There’s more here than that little water fight. We were both laughing. Most of the time. I don’t know why she’s doing it this way. I ceased to care why when she reached down and grabbed both my nipples.

After the second orgasm, I got on top and rode her until my legs were rubber, then I’d stop to work on her boobs and rock my hips until I’d get my second … or third … or fourth wind. This time, I made sure Gretchen got off before I did, though she wasn’t far behind me the other two times. She seemed really into the power trip.

After the third orgasm, I was too spent to do anything but crawl up next to her and cuddle close as she put her arm around my shoulder, hugging me, caressing my breast idly with her fingertips.

“Did you like that, baby?”

“Ummmm yeah,” I cooed.

We stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, slowly coming off the endorphin rush of repeated, multiple orgasms. It was the best make up sex I’d ever had. Now, I had to figure out what we’d fought about … and do it again as soon as possible.

Gretchen stirred, sitting more upright. I gripped just a little tighter so she wouldn’t go anywhere.

“Patty?”

“Yeah?”

“I know what you did.”

That could be about a hundred different things. Never admit anything, get more information.

“What do you mean?”

“I know who you are, what you are, what you did and why you pretended to be my friend.”

Oh crap.

CHAPTER SEVENTY SEVEN

I slide out of Gretchen’s grasp and sit up, wrapping the sheet around my breasts, giving me time to think. I could play dumb, I could lie, I could ask a lot of questions to figure out exactly what she knows, but all of those will likely make things worse. She’s a smart girl, I need to treat her like one.

“Alright, what do you know?”

“Just like that? No apology?”

“I’m not apologizing for anything I did, not yet at least. You said you know all about me. Fine, let’s find out.”

“Where do I start?”

“Where ever you want.”

“I know that you’re not … completely normal.”

“That’s hardly news.”

“I mean, you’re different from other girls. You’ve got … stuff inside you.”

“What kind of ‘stuff’?”

“I don’t know! All the guards say you’re like an android or a robot or a cyborg or something.”

“Who told you that?”

“No one. They wouldn’t talk to me. They were told not to.”

“So where’d you get this inside scoop about me?”

“I did what you did. I talked to Raul.”

“Does he believe that I’m some kind of hybrid thing?”

“No, but he did tell me what the guards were saying. You have to admit, you’ve done some pretty amazing things.”

“Fine. What else do you know?”

“So it’s TRUE?!”

“I admit nothing. What’s next?”

“I know that you stole computer files from my father, that you were some kind of undercover agent.”

“For who?”

“The police, I guess.”

“Okay, what else?”

“You’re not going to say anything?”

“Not until you’ve got it all out. Next.”

“You killed Tony Escaban.”

She’s got me dead to rights on that one. “Anything else?”

“Anything else?! You KILLED someone, right in my backyard!”

“It was more like your sideyard, let’s be accurate. Anything else?”

She looks exasperated, like things aren’t going quite as she planned them.

“You’re the one who arranged the sale of my father’s business to the other cartels. In fact, you did most of the work.”

“Is that everything? Don’t leave anything out.”

“You were there when Father killed Enrique.”

“Good thing, otherwise you’d be an orphan now … assuming he decided not to kill you too or sell you into sex slavery. You’re strong, Gretchen, but life on the streets is very tough on a girl. Trust me.”

“How do YOU know that?”

I look up at her, all beautiful and indignant. She hasn’t even bothered to cover herself. This is it. Make or break time. Do I tell her everything? Nothing? Deny it all?

She’s right about some things and she knows it. She’s fuzzy about a lot of other things. That gives me some working room. I can’t tell her everything, not yet. Maybe never. But, sometimes, a lot of truth and a few lies are more believable.

“So, you think I’m not human, a creature of some kind, sent to fake a relationship with you so that I could get in your house and steal information about your dad and get him thrown in jail. Is that about it?”

She seems a bit uncertain about it now. “Something like that.”

“No. Not something like that, it’s exactly that. That’s what you’re accusing me of, isn’t it?”

She sets her jaw, raising her head. “Yes, it is.”

“I see. Good. Alright. Fine. I died December 3rd, 2010.”

“WHAT!”

“Just what I said. I died on December 3rd, 2010 of a drug overdose. I was a street whore, a run away and I was dead.”

“How could you be here now if you died?”

“Because my body was stolen from the morgue and repaired by a rogue scientist.”

“Like Frankenstein?”

“No, the Creature was an assemblage of parts from different bodies. I’m all original equipment with some additions in my brain, though there are some similarities.”

“I don’t believe it!”

“Why not? You said you knew it already.”

“I know … but … I didn’t really … I had no idea.”

“You still don’t. One of the additions was a Controller. Whoever had the remote could control aspects of my behavior. It’s not like a robot, more like controlling my emotions and my desires, though it turns out there were a few hard wired behaviors.”

“Like what?”

“Like sex. The scientist and the Federal Prosecutor were men. They saw the potential.”

“Did they …”

“Not right away, but it came up eventually. I was sent to St. Ann’s to become your friend … well you know the rest of my assignment. Of course, nothing worked as they planned.”

“Why not?”

“I had more resistance than they thought I would, more free will. I had to do what I was told but I did it my way.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It’s hard to describe. Shortly after I got to know you, after I discovered what a wonderful person you are, I knew I had to do everything to save you from your isolation, from a friendless life.”

“What about your mother … she’s not really your mother, is she?”

“No, she’s not. She started out as part of the group controlling me. You’re not going to like this. Your father’s men killed her husband and daughter, a girl a lot like you. They were just innocent bystanders and they were gunned down.”

“NO! OH MY GOD! NO WONDER SHE HATED HIM!”

“Exactly! I needed her help to make my plan work so it took time for me to give her a chance to meet you and learn to like you just like I did. My handlers weren’t happy with me. They wanted results now but I wasn’t ready yet. There was so much I had to do. Get you out of your house, get you on the basketball team, take you to the dance.”

“Why all that?”

“Because you needed friends to turn to when the police came to arrest your father. I wasn’t going to be around anymore so I had to make sure you’d have a chance when everything turned bad. I had almost got everything the way I wanted it when Cardoza tried to have me killed at the New Year’s dance.”

“Now, wait a minute. I was there. Nothing like that happened.”

“Coach Tobey saw it all. He banned me from the Y after it was done. He agreed to keep it quiet so I could try to salvage something from the situation. Talk to him if you don’t believe me.”

“No … that’s alright.”

“You sure? I wouldn’t want you doubting me or anything. Maybe I should call him right now?”

“No! … I’ll think about it.”

“You do that. After Cardoza forced my hand, I finally got the computer data and handed it over to the prosecutor in charge of the operation, Daniel Lipscomb. That’s when he kidnapped me, killed the other guy and tried to kill mom.”

“Why are all these people killing each other?”

“Why do you think? MONEY! Lipscomb was planning on blackmailing your father, threatened to give all the information to the other cartels, destroying his business. He also handed me over to Cardoza to use how ever he wanted.”

It looks like she’d heard a lot more than she wanted to but I wasn’t going to let her off the hook. “That’s when the sex stuff started.”

“Patty … I’m sooo sorry … I didn’t know.”

“Really? I thought you knew all about me, everything I’d done, everything that happened to me. You sure Raul didn’t mention it? Your father?”

“No,” she says quietly.

“Too bad. Actually, it worked out for the best. I managed to break the Controller and escape. After that, I came up with the final plan, how to get your father out of the drug business and set you free. Your father wouldn’t talk to me so I had to break into the compound. That’s when Escaban died. He’d help arrange for the three guys who attacked me at the dance and was shooting at me when I shot him, so I don’t feel too bad about it. I gave him a chance to walk away but he refused. That’s when Cardoza was shot too.”

“By my father. Did you know that Enrique killed my mother?”

“Yeah, but not ’til late in the game. There’s no doubt he was going to kill me and your father. I was going for him but your dad got to him first. You apparently know the rest, we sold the business, making your father a billionaire.”

“A BILLIONAIRE?!”

“Your dad didn’t tell you? Eight billion dollars. You’re the richest girl in school, by far. Thanks to you, I’m probably the second richest. We should start a club. I worked a deal with the feds, they’ll leave your father alone if he keeps to the straight and narrow and rats out his enemies in about a year. We’re hanging on to some information as an ace in the hole. That’s pretty much it. There’s some other stuff but it doesn’t involve you. Want me to tell you about it?”

“NO! No … God no! When you did all this, were you getting paid?”

“At first, yes, but not after it all went to hell.”

“So why do it? Why not just run away?”

“Because of you, silly. I couldn’t leave you hanging out there. I had to save your dad to save you. Mom agreed with me, though, frankly, there were a couple of times I thought she was going to kill him herself. She’s better now but I still wouldn’t leave her alone with him.”

“I think he likes her.”

“Leave it to your dad to pick the one woman on the face of the earth he doesn’t have a snowball’s chance with … though, if they did, we’d be sisters.”

“Then they better not because I couldn’t do this.”

She lunges at me, knocking me back and landing on top of me, kissing me almost as hard as before. I let her go on for a few seconds, reliving our last session before gently pulling away.

“Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

“Yes but don’t do it again. You could have gotten yourself killed!”

“Several times.”

“That’s right! So no more of that crazy stuff! We’ll just stay here for the rest of our lives.”

“What about school?”

“Who needs school? We’re rich!”

“What about your boyfriend?”

She frowns and rolls off me onto her back. I shift onto my side and prop myself up on my elbow right next to her.

“I like Gary. A lot. We haven’t done anything like this but we’ve messed around a little. I think he’s still afraid of you.”

“I’ll give him my blessing.”

“You don’t like this?”

“Gretchen, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I love this and I love you but there’s no future for us, not as a couple. You aren’t gay. I’ve seen you with Gary. You’re straight.”

“What about YOUR boyfriend?”

“I don’t have one.”

“The hell you don’t. Eric can’t stop talking about you. All the time we were out delivering flyers, that’s all we did, talk about you.”

“You didn’t tell him about us, did you?”

“Gawd no! But, I think he may have suspected. I got a little emotional at times. So are you … straight?”

Good question. I enjoyed all this sex with Gretchen but I also find myself watching boys more and more. Last night, when using my vibrator, I couldn’t really enjoy myself until I imagined a romantic scene … with Eric. I reach out and lightly caress her breast with my fingertips, teasing her right nipple.

“How about, when it comes to you, I’m bisexual.”

“I like that. Maybe, we can get our boyfriends to understand it.”

“Maybe they’d like to join us.”

“No! Are you crazy! I’m not ready for anything like that.”

Not yet. “Fine. Give me that strap on. We’ve got enough time before Mom gets back and it’s my turn to show you some things you can teach Gary when the time comes.”

Gretchen giggles as she scrambles to take the strap on off. No matter what happens to us; where we end up, who we end up with, how long we’re together, I love her and it’s all been worth it.

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

WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED IN HERE?!

The floor is soaked, the curtains dripping water, the countertop’s a mess. I saw Patricia’s motorcycle parked in the driveway next to a cute green Miata when I got home from my meeting with Tyson. I didn’t recognize the car; it probably belongs to one of her school friends. I was hoping to avoid questions from Patricia as to where I’d been. If there’s someone else in the house, she’s not as likely to give me the third degree.

Now, with this disaster, she’s the one who’ll be getting the third degree. I look all around the first floor but don’t find her. Marching to the bottom of the stairs, I grab the railing and inhale deeply.

“PATRICA TAYLOR CONNER!!” I bellow. No response. I take a deeper breath.

“PATRICIA TAYLOR CONNER!!”

I hear rapid footsteps upstairs, running back and forth, here and there. In seconds, Patricia comes pounding down the stairs, wearing her robe and holding a wad of wet clothes tucked against her chest, Gretchen right behind her, wearing my robe and holding a similar bunch of wet clothes against her chest. Patricia stops on the step right below me, lifts up on her toes, leans in and kisses me on the cheek.

“Hey, Mom.”

She runs down the last few steps, giggling, and turns toward the utility room. Gretchen stops right next to me and also kisses my cheek.

“Hey, Mom.”

She follows Patricia, giggling uncontrollably the entire way.

This better be a real good story.

I stalk after them, reaching the utility room just as Patricia finishes turning the timer button on the dryer and pushing the “start” button.

“What’s going on you two?”

Gretchen is standing right behind Patricia, their bodies pressed against each other. It’s always a bit of a surprise as to how much taller Gretchen is than Patricia. It’s amazing that she ever adjusted to the change. I don’t know if I could have done it.

“Gretchen and I … we were doing the dishes and she splashed me. It was an accident and I overreacted.”

“No, it wasn’t an accident. I was mad at her. I did it twice.”

“I see.”

“I got mad too,” says Patricia, a bit sheepishly, having been caught trying to protect Gretchen. Again.

“So what happened next?”

Patricia continues. “After a couple more splashes …”

“And a glass of water to your face,” interjects Gretchen.

“… and a glass of water to my face, we both went for the big gun.”

“The big gun?”

“The spray nozzle.”

“Oh my.” That explains a lot. “Who won?”

“We both ended up on the floor … then we went upstairs … then we … made up,” Patricia explains.

“Made up?” I inquire. Gretchen eases her arms around Patricia, hugging her lightly around the neck as she rests her head on top of Patricia’s, Patricia reaching up and caressing Gretchen’s arms where they crossed below her neck. They both smile shyly. “Oooohh. ‘Made up’. Good to know.”

“So, I guess we both won,” says Gretchen, suppressing another series of giggles.

“What was this fight about?”

“Gretchen was upset because she’d found out about me and you and what we did and why.”

OH LORD! Play it cool. “What we did? I don’t understand …”

“Show her the scar, Mom. Where Lipscomb shot you in the head. Show Gretchen the scar.”

My hair had just recently grown back enough that I didn’t have to take elaborate measures to hide the fact that a small portion of my head was shaved to clear the area for stitches. “Patricia, are you sure?”

“She’d already found out most of it on her own. I told you she was very smart.”

Gretchen’s smile widens and she hugs Patricia more tightly.

“Go on, Mom, show her. It’s alright.”

I hesitantly step closer to them, carefully pulling my hair back to uncover the scar. It’s still quite red and easy to see if you’re looking for it. Gretchen moves closer, not releasing her grip on Patricia.

“OOOOOOooo, gross. Did it hurt?”

SHE’S smart?

“Yes dear, getting shot almost point blank in the head hurts. On a scale of one to ten, I’d say it’s about, ohhh, let’s say, twenty. Crawling through a burning building on your hands and knees right after getting shot in the head was a lot of fun, too.”

“Patty, you didn’t say anything about a burning building.”

“I hit the highlights. We’d have been upstairs for a week if I told you every little detail. You’d already discovered the important stuff.”

“The important stuff?” I ask.

“Yeah. The undercover job, the information we were after, that stuff. I told her how I was a run away from Wisconsin, that I died, that Matthews brought me back from the dead with his illegal tech, how I was controlled by Lipscomb but that you and I were able to turn the tables on him after discovering how good a person Gretchen was and he tried to use the information to blackmail her dad. That’s some of the stuff she didn’t know.”

“I really had no idea,” says Gretchen. “I thought I knew everything but when Patty told me the whole story, I just felt so bad about doubting her and you. I mean, it all really worked out for the best, didn’t it?”

That little … She did it again. Spun gold out of shit. Guess I better get used to it.

“Yes, Gretchen, it did work out for the best. I hope you realize that you can never tell anyone else. Not your father, not your friends, not your boyfriend, no one. If the authorities ever found out about Patricia, they’d take her and tear her apart looking for the secret.”

Gretchen is aghast. “What secret?!”

“The secret as to how she came back from the dead. Ironically, the man who did it is dead and his lab burned to the ground. The only way to get any information is from Patricia’s body. Unscrupulous men would stop at nothing for the secret of immortality. We’re both in the greatest of danger if the barest sliver of truth ever gets out. Understand?”

“Absolutely! You can count on me. No one will get anything out of me, ever!”

“Good. We both appreciate your resolve and integrity, Gretchen. After all, Patty’s very life is at stake.”

“Believe me, I understand.”

“Excellent. We’d better start cleaning up that mess in the kitchen before something is permanently damaged.”

Gretchen jumps, quickly releasing her grip around Patricia’s neck.

“I know where the mop and bucket are! I’ll get ‘em and be right back.”

We both watch as she hurries off. Patricia slides over next to me.

“Laying it on a little thick there at the end, Mom,” she whispers.

“Sorry. I haven’t had nearly the experience you have at pulling stories out of my ass.”

“I’m not complaining. You were good.”

“I’ve spent too much time around you. What did you tell that poor girl?”

“Mostly the truth. Eighty, eighty five percent the truth. I didn’t mention Peter Harris or our Wisconsin trip.”

“Aren’t you afraid that she and her father will compare notes some day?”

“A little bit, but you’ve laid down a good foundation. All I have to do is build on it. Maybe, someday, I can give her the total truth. I’ll have to say something if Penny comes to live with us later this year. We’ll see.”

“The way you manipulate people amazes me.”

“I love her, you know that, right?”

“I know, but it doesn’t stop you from doing what you want with her.”

“What’s best for her, for all of us.”

“You mean, what’s best for you.”

“No, not always. She eventually may decide that she loves Gary Hubertz more than she loves me. She’s not gay, she just likes ME, not other girls, probably because of Peter Harris’ male attitude. Well that’s gone, not exactly gone but less dominant than it was. She could go with Gary or some other guy. I won’t stop her, if that’s what she wants. We’ll hopefully stay friends but not lovers. I did this to save her, not to get the girl or get rich. That I’ve got both for right now wasn’t part of the plan. Maybe Sister Carmela’s right, that God has a hand in everything, planned or unplanned, I don’t know. I just wasn’t going to continue doing ‘the right thing’ and destroying innocent people’s lives in the process. I drew the line at Gretchen … for whatever reason.”

“What about me?”

“You’re not innocent, you bought the package when you signed on with Lipscomb. You were betrayed, you were cheated, you deserved better and I did what I could to get it for you but you weren’t innocent. I’m more innocent than you.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because the computer part of me had no choice about being involved in this case and neither did Jenny Jo. Peter was
the only one with a choice and he rode that choice to the end, not flinching when faced with the final consequences. He took responsibility for his choices.”

“So did I. I told Walter Tyson that I killed Lipscomb, not you.”

“When?”

“Today, that’s where I was before coming home and finding all this.”

“Did telling him change the deal?”

“No, but I had to do it.”

“I understand why, guess I should have expected it. You really should have let me deal with Lipscomb. It would have avoided complicating things.”

“Too late for that now. Tyson suggested I see someone about it.”

“If you’re going to take full responsibility for killing Daniel, he’s right. You thought you were entitled to take his life in vengeance. I know you’re not sleeping well, I recognize the symptoms.”

“What about you and your father? What was that?”

“I did it to prevent a greater harm, to protect my sister. I took over his responsibilities to care for his wife, my biological mother and his daughter, my sister. And I’ll do a better job than he ever would have done.”

“And vengeance had nothing to do with it?”

She holds up her thumb and forefinger separated by a gap of about an inch and a half.

“Just about this much, mother. Escaban was self defense, pure and simple. Gretchen knows about that one, too. Let’s get to the kitchen before she comes back.”

“That’s your problem. You two lovebirds can clean up your own mess. I’m going upstairs to take a bath.”

“UUhhh … there’s a bit of a mess up there too, but we’ll get to it.”

As I climb the stairs, I can hear them in the kitchen, laughing about something. Patricia and Tyson may be right, I need to deal with Lipscomb’s death. I don’t regret doing it, I never will, but it haunts me. I can’t let that bastard ruin the rest of my life. Tomorrow, I find a therapist.

Ugghhh! What did they do up here?
CHAPTER SEVENTY EIGHT

They’ve already started renovating the place. There’s “Pardon our Mess” signs up and a couple of blueprints plus several artist renditions of the new look posted in the lobby.

It seems like they’re putting Hobbes’ diamonds to good use.

If I’m reading the schematic right, the guys are using a smaller space on a temporary basis but the drawings of the renovated space look impressive. I can hear them working out as I get closer. If I stand on my tiptoes, I can just barely look into the room through the glass in the door.

The ring’s shoved into one corner, there’s hardly enough space between the wall and the ropes for a person to climb into the ring. Or get knocked out it. The rest of the equipment is jammed here and there. It looks efficient but it’s a tight fit.

I take a deep sniff, smelling the mix of sweat, muscle rub and testosterone. It makes me shiver. Better get this over with.

I pull the door open and walk in, dodging a particularly musky boy working on the speed bag. It takes a few seconds for someone to recognize me. Javier’s the first.

“HEY!” he shouts. “SHE”S BACK!”

Most everyone first looks at him and then where he’s pointing at me. They’re all over me in an instant, shouting and slapping my hands.

“Pee!”

“Were the fuck ya’ been?”

“Shit girl! I knews you’d be back, no worries!”

Javier wades into the crowd. “Give her air! Give her air! Back off, bros.”

He quickly gets everyone to back off a little, giving me some room. He ends up next to me, with Cruz on my other side. Both of them are smiling broadly.

“You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

“Gretchen told Terri a couple weeks ago that you were okay. Swore her to secrecy and all but I got a way with women,” says Javier.

“He begged,” Cruz stage whispers.

Javier glares at him. “Whatever. Once we all stopped worrying, we knew you’d get back here eventually, specially when Terri said you were back in school. What the hell happened?”

“I really can’t say …” I don’t see Eric anywhere. “… I need to talk with Coach first. Is he here?”

Cruz points to a door on his left. “Yeah, he’s in his office.”

“That’s a closet.”

“Was a closet, now an office. Did you see the plans out front?”

“Couldn’t miss ‘em. Pretty sweet.”

“Fuckin’ right pretty sweet. We’ll be able to host meets when they’re done. We’ll actually have a home court advantage for once. Still don’t know where all the money came from. You hear about all that?”

“Hear about what?”

“Some dude dropped ten million in uncut diamonds on the Coach, just like that. Out of the blue, no name, no return address, nothin’. Said we were to get most of it, fix up the Y with the rest. Weird shit. Some of us think it’s drug money.”

“Why would someone give drug money to the Y?”

“Don’t know,” says Javier. “Deal gone bad, guilty conscious, who knows. He’s in the locker room.”

“Who’s in the locker room?”

Javier drops down a little bit so he’s not standing so tall. “I seen how you been looking around. HE’s in the locker room. I’ll go get him.”

“No. Let me deal with Coach first.”

“Okay, but Terri’s got expectations.”

“So she’s told me. Thanks.”

Javier turns to the rest of the team. “Back to work, boys. Lady’s got bidness with Coach.”

There’s a few more hand slaps and fist bumps but the guys head back to the various workout stations scattered around the room. Cruz pats my back.

“Good luck, Pee.”

I nod my head and walk to the door, knocking on it.

“Open!” Coach shouts. I turn the knob, open the door and stick my head in the closet. He’s got papers all over a tiny desk that nearly fills the room. There’s barely space for his chair behind the desk or for someone to stand in front of it and close the door. He’s got his head down, staring at the papers.

“How the fuck am I supposed to know what these God damn builders are talking about? I don’t know SHIT about this …” he looks up “ … crap … uhhhh, pardon my French. You’re back.”

I step in and shut the door. “Yeah. What’s you’re problem?”

“With you?”

“With the builders.”

He’s chewing gum. He looks up at me, while chewing, rolling the wad around in his mouth, considering me, then turns the largest paper on his desk around so that I can see it.

“They want me to approve this change to the original plans, something about structural support.”

As I scan the schematics, I feel the silicon parts of my brain become more engaged, like everything speeds up.

“Where’s the originals?”

Coach reaches into the corner, which has a bunch of rolled tubes of paper. He hands me one, which I unroll on top of the revised plans. Comparing one to the other, the changes are obvious.

“There’s not enough structural support in the existing space to increase the load capacity to complete the original plans. They need to add more reinforcement, which increases your costs. If you don’t, you wont be able to have more than … oh, about seventy five or eighty people at a match.”

“Dammit! Pardon my …” I hold up my hand to waive him off. “We really were counting on being a match host but that’s way too small.”

“What’s the big deal, pay the extra …” I look at the two plans again “ … three hundred thousand or so.”

“It’s not that easy. The Board set the budget and they’re not going to just give us the money.”

“What a minute, you guys come first, then the Y gets the rest.”

He squints at me. “How do you know that?”

“Javier told me all about it. The diamonds and everything. I saw the stuff in the lobby. Very nice.”

He goes back to rolling the gum around in his mouth while staring at me over the top of his glasses, then reaches up and scratches his nose.

“Why are you here, Patty?”

“I want to come back, Coach. You’re one of the last things on my list. I need to get square with you.”

“You know what I need to hear.”

“I’m done with it, Coach. All of it. I’m just trying to live my life. I never meant for anyone to get hurt, that’s what I was trying to avoid, but everyone’s happy now. I’ve got no problems with anyone. I’ve got a copy of a letter I gave to my principal, it explains a lot. You can read it if you promise to keep it secret. Really secret.”

“Alright, I promise.”

I drop my bag on his desk, unzip it and remove the copy, handing it to him. He adjusts the glasses and begins to read, chewing slowly. As he reads, he doesn’t react, except, occasionally, the chewing stops. Finally, he lays the paper on his desk.

“It says what you did and I don’t need to know the why, but I do need to know the how.”

“You mean everything I did?”

“No, I mean how you could do everything you did. I’ve accepted a lot at face value, stuff that I probably should have questioned from the start, but I’ve also seen things that I can’t accept, not without some kind of explanation. You need to explain what it is about you that lets you do all that insane stuff you do.”

The same old question, how little detail can I get away with and still succeed.

“Originally, I was a runaway. I did all the things that most teenage runaway girls do.” He nods his head in understanding. The Y’s got a program to help runaway girls. A lot of anonymous horror stories circulate through the building. “Anyway, something very bad happened to me, nearly died. After that, a research scientist managed to get hold of me and he made some changes to my body, my brain. All completely illegal stuff but not reversible either. If you could see an x-ray of my head, you’d understand what I mean. I’m totally stuck this way now. That’s how I can do what I do, those changes.”

“What happened to this scientist?”

“He died and his place burned down, along with all his papers and equipment. There’s no one left to undo what he did and no way for someone else to know what to do.”

He taps the paper on his desk. “How’d you get involved in this?”

“I volunteered. Didn’t have much of anything going on in my life, no future, so what the hell. That’s all changed. I’ve got things to do now, people I care about, a future, though I’ve got no idea what that is. I know I’ve hurt some people and that I’ve made mistakes but I’m trying to make up for that. No one’s perfect. I did the best I could with the situation I was in.”

“There’s a lot you’re not telling me.”

“You’re right, Coach. I’m not and I likely never will. You already know more than almost everyone else. It’s as much as I can safely say. If it’s not enough, then I’m sorry.”

He returns to his gum, chewing with intensity. “If I let you come back, you gotta promise me that if anything new happens, you’ll let me know. We’ve got … I’ve got too much to lose.”

“I understand. I promise.”

He stands up, the chair banging into the wall behind him. He holds out his hand. “Welcome back, Da Pee!”

I grab his hand and we shake. “Thanks Coach, you won’t regret it.”

“Probably will but that’s okay. Right now, you’re the least of my worries.”

I reach into my bag and remove a cloth wrapped bundle. “About that, this may help.” I hand it to him. He drops it on top of his desk and begins to unwrap it.

“What’s this supposed to …” His eyes grow large as he falls silent, the now unwrapped bundle revealing three medium size uncut diamonds. His head snaps up to look me in the eyes.

“YOU?!”

“I held a few back for emergencies. The gift is to remain anonymous but I wouldn’t let the Y’s Board know too much. That should cover your budget shortfall.”

“Where in hell did you … you’re not going to answer that, are you?”

“Nope. Sorry. I tell people they can have the money or the answer but not both. So far, they’ve all taken the money.”

“It’s human nature. Why didn’t you just give them to me at the beginning?”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was trying to bribe you. I knew it’d piss you off.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have taken the diamonds. I’ll keep this between the two of us, Patty. I hope you know how much we all appreciate what you did. That money will help a lot of people. The Women’s Shelter, the counseling programs, the children’s programs, the whole damn Y. You sure you want to stay anonymous?”

“I do. If I didn’t, then I might have to explain where they came from and that might be tricky. Cruz wasn’t far from the truth.”

“Gotcha. Your business, not mine as long as you remember your promise. You gonna make the St. Patrick’s Day Dance?”

“Depends on what happens when I leave this office.”

“He’ll be happy to see you. I know that for a fact.”

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

I see Eric as soon as I open the office door. He’s standing at the far end of the room. Our eyes meet and he smiles, walking towards me. All the other guys act busy but they’re all watching. I can feel my face get warm and my pulse start to race, breathing becomes more difficult. Who turned the heat up?

When he reaches me, he pulls me to him, hugging me fiercely.

“God, Patricia, it’s so good to see you! We were all worried as hell!”

I wrap my arms around his waist and hang on, feeling safe and secure.

“Gretchen told me what you did to try and find me. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“I put up a lot of flyers too,” says Cruz. He’s standing right next to us, spoiling the moment. Now, I feel self-conscious. Our arms slip away from each other.

“We all did, Cruz,” says Javier.

“I put up more than you did,” answers Cruz.

“No one was keeping count, fool.”

“AAHHEMMM!”

It was Coach, leaning on the door frame to his office. Cruz and Javier stopped arguing.

“I think you two need a little privacy,” he says, stepping away from the door. Eric reaches out and I take his hand, he leads me towards the office. As we pass Coach, he puts a hand on each of our shoulders, leaning down so that his head was between us.

“Now, don’t you two do anything too … physical in there.”

“Coach, there’s hardly room enough to breathe in there.”

“Patty, compared to some of the places where me and the misses have done it over these many years, that place is like a hotel suite.”

He claps us both on the shoulder a couple of times then gently pushes us towards the door.

Before he closes the door, Javier and Cruz start up again.

“I’m just saying, I spent as much time as Eric handing out those things. I don’t see why he gets all the attention.”

“Yeah Cruz, it was a contest. Whoever put up the most posters gets the girl. Idiot!”

The door clicks shut, closing off their conversation. Eric sits on the edge of the desk, spreading his legs. He pulls me close between his legs, hands resting lightly on my hips. I reach up and drop my arms around his shoulders. He doesn’t say anything, just sits there, smiling at me. It’s a little unnerving.

“Stop it,” I whisper.

“Stop what?”

“Smiling at me.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Say something. Ask me for an apology or an explanation or something. Everybody else has.”

“Not interested.”

“You don’t care enough to even ask?”

“Nope. I prayed to God that if he brought you home, I’d never ask.” He shrugs. “You’re back. Time for me to live up to my end.”

“What if I just told you without you asking?”

“That’d be cheating.”

“What if I really need to tell you?”

“If you have to, I won’t stop you, but I’m honestly cool with it if you don’t want to.”

“Really?”

“Really. I won’t ever ask. I’m just so glad you’re back home. It’s all I wanted.”

I tighten my grip around his shoulders, nestling a little closer to him. “That’s all you wanted?”

“Yep.”

“I heard you broke up with Claudette. I hope it wasn’t my fault.”

“Not exactly. We had some problems; you disappearing sort of brought it to a head. We might have been able to work it out but she wasn’t interested.”

“If we had problems, would you be willing to work them out?”

“I guess so. You think we’d have problems?”

“No doubt. I’m a born trouble maker. Trouble’s practically my middle name.”

He tightened his grip around my waist ever so slightly.

“I suppose, to be certain about it, I’d need to know if it’d be worth it.”

I slide my hands up to the sides of his head and pull him down to meet my lips as I stretch up to reach his. The kiss is gentle and warm, sweet and lingering. He doesn’t push any harder than I do, letting me show him my skills, which are considerable. Finally, I pull back. Eric slowly exhales.

“Oh yeah,” he quietly gasps, “definitely worth it.”

I let my hands fall from his cheeks and rest on his chest.

“You know that Gretchen and I are close friends, right?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Really close friends.”

“I know.”

“Really, really close friends.”

“Patricia. I know. I spent a lot of time with her right after you left. We talked about you a lot. A whole lot. She never gave me any details, but I could tell. It was the look in her eyes. She’s a very good person. I understand. Anyone who meets her likes her. Except Claudette, of course.”

“Is that going to be our first problem?”

“No, not right now. We’ll have to see. I’m not used to sharing.”

“How about being shared?”

His eyes widen. “I … I … hadn’t thought about that.”

“We’ll have to see. I understand there’s another dance coming up soon.”

“Yeah, the St. Patrick’s Day Dance. Wanna go?”

“With you?”

“Yes, with me.”

“I can’t wait, as long as it doesn’t conflict with a basketball game. We’re going to win state, you know.”

He leans down and kisses me, this time giving me a sample of his skills. Not bad at all.

“Patricia, I don’t doubt that for a second.”

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

We leave Coach’s office, holding hands. Everyone starts to applaud. It’s embarrassing. I try to let go of Eric’s hand but he won’t release it. Instead, he smiles at me, lifts it to his lips and lightly kisses it.

“I’ll see ya,” he says, finally freeing my hand.

“Later,” I say, then he trots off to start his workout. My eyes follow his thin, muscular frame until he’s lost in the crowd. What an ass. I sigh. Our kids wouldn’t be tall but they’d be built.

“Walk you out?”

The Coach startles me.

“Yeah. Sure.”

We walk out the door and side by side through the building.

“This is a different place, thanks to you,” he says.

“Mom had as much to do with the donation as I did.”

“I’m not talking just about that, though it’s a big deal, no doubt. I mean that, since you came through those front doors months ago, this place has had a different vibe.”

“Vibe? Where’d that come from, the 70’s?”

“Forgive an old man his lingo. You’ve had an impact, that’s a fact.”

We walk through the front double doors and around the corner to where my bike is parked.

“You’re still riding that piece of crap Cruz’s brother sold you? Wait … are those bullet holes?”

I straddle the bike and grab my helmet. “Yeah. How cool is that? Adds all kinds of character, don’t cha think?”

Coach just rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m regretting it already. You be careful out there, say ‘Hi’ to your mom for me. I expect to see you both at the next dance.”

I drop the helmet over my head, stomp on the starter and rev the engine until it runs smoothly. “Wouldn’t miss it,” I shout over the rumble. Backing the bike up a couple of feet, I gas it and shoot off, popping just a tiny wheelie as I roar away.

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

I hear the familiar pop and whine of Patricia’s motorcycle a block away. I was hoping she’d get rid of it as soon as we were done but adversity has only made their bond stronger. She spent four times its worth to fix it up. Said it saved her life. I might have known. One look at her room should have told me she’s a collector.

She bursts into the room full of smiles and energy, hugging me as I sit on the living room couch then flopping down into the chair next to me.

“I take it things went well?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Coach Tobey lifted your banishment?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You spoke with Eric Spikeman?”

She grins, her eyes sparkling. “Uh-huh.”

“I see. Anything else?”

“You volunteered to work at the St. Patrick’s Day dance.”

“What did I volunteer for?”

“Whatever you want. Coach knows where the diamonds came from.”

“WHAT?! Patricia, we’d agreed to keep that all quiet! It was YOU who insisted! How could you …”

“Calm down. He’s agreed to keep our secret. I only gave him three from my portion of the reserve. They’ve got cost overruns for the renovation.”

“Already? That didn’t take long. They need a facilities manager with a bit of business sense.”

“Like you?”

“Not like me. I’m retired.”

“You’ll have to do something eventually. Retirement isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. When the highlight of your day is 'Judge Judy', it’s time to get a life. Trust me, I know.”

“Why did you have them with you in the first place? I thought the remainders were in the safety deposit box at the bank.”

“I kept a few out for emergencies. I was going to give them to him anyway. The man needs a retirement fund.”

“Even though it’s out of your half, we should discuss it, though you’re right. Coach Tobey certainly deserves it.”

“The man was ready to die for me. I can’t forget that, Mom.”

“I understand, sweetie. Debts must be paid.”

She turns her head to read the section of the newspaper sitting next to me on the couch, then quickly leans forward, snatching it up.

“What are you doing with the Real Estate ads?”

“Just looking, that’s all. There’s a lot wrong with this house and we are just renting it.”

“No, Mother. This is home. I fought like hell to get back here, to get back to school, to the Y. I wanted my life back. The life I knew, with my friends and my family. I gave up everything for this. I’m not moving anywhere.”

“I know, honey, but, as you said, you’ll have to do something eventually. You graduate next year. Change is coming, whether you like it or not.”

“Okay, true, but not right now. I need time to adjust, to fill the holes in my life. I have to discover who Patricia Conner is before deciding what she can become. Please, Mom?”

What can I say? No one really knows what she went through, no one’s ever done it before. She gave so much and accomplished the impossible.

“Alright, baby. We can stay. Maybe we can buy this place and fix it up. The neighborhood’s not bad, very middle class.”

“I’m very middle class. All four parents and eight grandparents were solid middle class. Not counting you, of course.”

Smart ass. I look around the room. “We could get the roof fixed, paint the walls, refinish the floors, renovate the kitchen …”

“Yes! The kitchen! And replace that totally icky wallpaper in the bathroom.”

“Yes, that too.”

She hops out of her chair, smoothing her skirt and flicking her hair aside, as natural as you please. No one would ever suspect or believe the truth. “See, Mom. You’ve got a new project already. We get the place fixed up real nice, get rid of that occasional funky smell …”

“The only funky smell is in your room. The rest of the house is spotless.”

She sticks her tongue out at me, then smiles her million watt smile.

“Eric doesn’t have to work tonight so he’s coming to pick me up and we’re going out to eat and see a movie after he gets off practice. Is that a problem?”

“On a school night?”

“We won’t be late.”

“You’re right, you won’t. You’ve got an eleven thirty curfew.”

“MOM! ME?! A CURFEW?!!”

“It’s more for him than you. Eric needs his sleep. He doesn’t have your advantages. You want him to do well at school, keep up his training, right?”

She frowns at me. “I hate it when you’re right, you know that?”

“You’ve made it quite clear.”

“Fine. Eleven thirty. I’m going up to shower and change. If he gets here before I’m down, don’t embarrass him with a bunch of questions. Pleeeassse.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Thanks, you’re not bad … for a mother.”

She turns and pounds up the stairs, unbuttoning her blouse as she goes. The world owes that girl so much and few will ever know it or of Peter Harris’ sacrifice that made it all possible. I owe him because he gave me a daughter to love and guide. Her potential is enormous, almost incalculable. Peter Harris had a Herculean sense of righteousness but a fluid morality. Jenny Jo was a ball of rage. The Program was all logic and no emotion. Combine all that and I don’t know what you get. Neither does Patricia right now. She’ll need a lot of help in the years to come. God knows I’m not perfect but she’s my responsibility and I’m going to do the best I can.

Debts must be paid.